From the analysis of the different functions of our intellect given in the
whole of the preceding chapters, it is clear that for a correct use of it,
either in a theoretical or a practical reference, the following conditions
are demanded: (1.) The correct apprehension through perception of the real
things taken into consideration, and of all their essential properties and
relations, thus of all _data_. (2.) The construction of correct
conceptions out of these; thus the connotation of those properties under
correct abstractions, which now become the material of the subsequent
thinking. (3.) The comparison of those conceptions both with the perceived
object and among themselves, and with the rest of our store of
conceptions, so that correct judgments, pertinent to the matter in hand,
and fully comprehending and exhausting it, may proceed from them; thus the
right _estimation_ of the matter. (4.) The placing together or
_combination_ of those judgments as the premisses of _syllogisms_. This
may be done very differently according to the choice and arrangement of
the judgments, and yet the actual _result_ of the whole operation
primarily depends upon it. What is really of importance here is that from
among so many possible combinations of those different judgments which
have to do with the matter free deliberation should hit upon the very ones
which serve the purpose and are decisive. But if in the first function,
that is, in the apprehension through perception of the things and
relations, any single essential point has been overlooked, the correctness
of all the succeeding operations of the mind cannot prevent the result
from being false; for there lie the data, the material of the whole
investigation. Without the certainty that these are correctly and
completely collected, one ought to abstain, in important matters, from any
definite decision.
A conception is _correct_; a judgment is _true_; a body is _real_; and a
relation is _evident_. A proposition of immediate certainty is an _axiom_.
Only the fundamental principles of logic, and those of mathematics drawn
_a priori_ from intuition or perception, and finally also the law of
causality, have immediate certainty. A proposition of indirect certainty
is a maxim, and that by means of which it obtains its certainty is the
proof. If immediate certainty is attributed to a proposition which has no
such certainty, this is a _petitio principii_. A proposition which appeals
directly to the empirical perception is an _assertion_: to confront it
with such perception demands judgment. Empirical perception can primarily
afford us only _particular_, not universal truths. Through manifold
repetition and confirmation such truths indeed obtain a certain
universality also, but it is only comparative and precarious, because it
is still always open to attack. But if a proposition has absolute
universality, the perception to which it appeals is not empirical but _a
priori_. Thus Logic and Mathematics alone are absolutely certain sciences;
but they really teach us only what we already knew beforehand. For they
are merely explanations of that of which we are conscious _a priori_, the
forms of our own knowledge, the one being concerned with the forms of
thinking, the other with those of perceiving. Therefore we spin them
entirely out of ourselves. All other scientific knowledge is empirical.
A proof proves _too much_ if it extends to things or cases of which that
which is to be proved clearly does not hold good; therefore it is refuted
apagogically by these. The _deductio ad absurdum_ properly consists in
this, that we take a false assertion which has been made as the major
proposition of a syllogism, then add to it a correct minor, and arrive at
a conclusion which clearly contradicts facts of experience or
unquestionable truths. But by some round-about way such a refutation must
be possible of every false doctrine. For the defender of this will yet
certainly recognise and admit some truth or other, and then the
consequences of this, and on the other hand those of the false assertion,
must be followed out until we arrive at two propositions which directly
contradict each other. We find many examples in Plato of this beautiful
artifice of genuine dialectic.
A _correct hypothesis_ is nothing more than the true and complete
expression of the present fact, which the originator of the hypothesis has
intuitively apprehended in its real nature and inner connection. For it
tells us only what really takes place here.
The opposition of the _analytical_ and _synthetical_ methods we find
already indicated by Aristotle, yet perhaps first distinctly described by
Proclus, who says quite correctly: “Μεθοδοι δε παραδιδονται; καλλιστη μεν
ἡ δια της αναλυσεως επ᾽ αρχην ὁμολογουμενην αναγουσα το ζητουμενον; ἡν και
Πλατων, ὡς φασι, Λαοδαμαντι παρεδωκεν. κ.τ.λ.” (_Methodi traduntur
sequentes: pulcherrima quidem ea, quæ per analysin quæsitum refert ad
principium, de quo jam convenit; quam etiam Plato Laodamanti tradidisse
dicitur._) “_In Primum Euclidis Librum_,” L. iii. Certainly the analytical
method consists in referring what is given to an admitted principle; the
synthetical method, on the contrary, in deduction from such a principle.
They are therefore analogous to the επαγωγη and απαγωγη explained in
chapter ix.; only the latter are not used to establish propositions, but
always to overthrow them. The analytical method proceeds from the facts;
the particular, to the principle or rule; the universal, or from the
consequents to the reasons; the other conversely. Therefore it would be
much more correct to call them _the inductive and the deductive methods_,
for the customary names are unsuitable and do not fully express the
things.
If a philosopher tries to begin by thinking out the methods in accordance
with which he will philosophise, he is like a poet who first writes a
system of æsthetics in order to poetise in accordance with it. Both of
them may be compared to a man who first sings himself a tune and
afterwards dances to it. The thinking mind must find its way from original
tendency. Rule and application, method and achievement, must, like matter
and form, be inseparable. But after we have reached the goal we may
consider the path we have followed. Æsthetics and methodology are, from
their nature, younger than poetry and philosophy; as grammar is younger
than language, thorough bass younger than music, and logic younger than
thought.
This is a fitting place to make, in passing, a remark by means of which I
should like to check a growing evil while there is yet time. That Latin
has ceased to be the language of all scientific investigations has the
disadvantage that there is no longer an immediately common scientific
literature for the whole of Europe, but national literatures. And thus
every scholar is primarily limited to a much smaller public, and moreover
to a public hampered with national points of view and prejudices. Then he
must now learn the four principal European languages, as well as the two
ancient languages. In this it will be a great assistance to him that the
_termini technici_ of all sciences (with the exception of mineralogy) are,
as an inheritance from our predecessors, Latin or Greek. Therefore all
nations wisely retain these. Only the Germans have hit upon the
unfortunate idea of wishing to Germanise the _termini technici_ of all the
sciences. This has two great disadvantages. First, the foreign and also
the German scholar is obliged to learn all the technical terms of his
science twice, which, when there are many—for example, in Anatomy—is an
incredibly tiresome and lengthy business. If the other nations were not in
this respect wiser than the Germans, we would have the trouble of learning
every _terminus technicus_ five times. If the Germans carry this further,
foreign men of learning will leave their books altogether unread; for
besides this fault they are for the most part too diffuse, and are written
in a careless, bad, and often affected and objectionable style, and
besides are generally conceived with a rude disregard of the reader and
his requirements. Secondly, those Germanised forms of the _termini
technici_ are almost throughout long, patched-up, stupidly chosen,
awkward, jarring words, not clearly separated from the rest of the
language, which therefore impress themselves with difficulty upon the
memory, while the Greek and Latin expressions chosen by the ancient and
memorable founders of the sciences possess the whole of the opposite good
qualities, and easily impress themselves on the memory by their sonorous
sound. What an ugly, harsh-sounding word, for instance, is “_Stickstoff_”
instead of _azot_! “_Verbum_,” “_substantiv_,” “_adjectiv_,” are
remembered and distinguished more easily than “_Zeitwort_,” “_Nennwort_,”
“_Beiwort_,” or even “_Umstandswort_” instead of “_adverbium_.” In Anatomy
it is quite unsupportable, and moreover vulgar and low. Even “_Pulsader_”
and “_Blutader_” are more exposed to momentary confusion than “_Arterie_”
and “_Vene_;” but utterly bewildering are such expressions as
“_Fruchthälter_,” “_Fruchtgang_,” and “_Fruchtleiter_” instead of
“_uterus_,” “_vagina_,” and “_tuba Faloppii_,” which yet every doctor must
know, and which he will find sufficient in all European languages. In the
same way “_Speiche_” and “_Ellenbogenröhre_” instead of “_radius_” and
“_ulna_,” which all Europe has understood for thousands of years.
Wherefore then this clumsy, confusing, drawling, and awkward Germanising?
Not less objectionable is the translation of the technical terms in Logic,
in which our gifted professors of philosophy are the creators of a new
terminology, and almost every one of them has his own. With G. E. Schulze,
for example, the subject is called “_Grundbegriff_,” the predicate
“_Beilegungsbegriff_;” then there are “_Beilegungsschlüsse_,”
“_Voraussetzungsschlüsse_,” and “_Entgegensetzungsschlüsse_;” the
judgments have “_Grösse_,” “_Beschaffenheit_,” “_Verhältniss_,” and
“_Zuverlässigkeit_,” _i.e._, quantity, quality, relation, and modality.
The same perverse influence of this Germanising mania is to be found in
all the sciences. The Latin and Greek expressions have the further
advantage that they stamp the scientific conception as such, and
distinguish it from the words of common intercourse, and the ideas which
cling to them through association; while, for example, “_Speisebrei_”
instead of _chyme_ seems to refer to the food of little children, and
“_Lungensack_” instead of _pleura_, and “_Herzbeutel_” instead of
_pericardium_ seem to have been invented by butchers rather than
anatomists. Besides this, the most immediate necessity of learning the
ancient languages depends upon the old _termini technici_, and they are
more and more in danger of being neglected through the use of living
languages in learned investigations. But if it comes to this, if the
spirit of the ancients bound up with their languages disappears from a
liberal education, then coarseness, insipidity, and vulgarity will take
possession of the whole of literature. For the works of the ancients are
the pole-star of every artistic or literary effort; if it sets they are
lost. Even now we can observe from the miserable and puerile style of most
writers that they have never written Latin.(24) The study of the classical
authors is very properly called the study of _Humanity_, for through it
the student first becomes a _man_ again, for he enters into the world
which was still free from all the absurdities of the Middle Ages and of
romanticism, which afterwards penetrated so deeply into mankind in Europe
that even now every one comes into the world covered with it, and has
first to strip it off simply to become a man again. Think not that your
modern wisdom can ever supply the place of that initiation into manhood;
ye are not, like the Greeks and Romans, born freemen, unfettered sons of
nature. Ye are first the sons and heirs of the barbarous Middle Ages and
of their madness, of infamous priestcraft, and of half-brutal,
half-childish chivalry. Though both now gradually approach their end, yet
ye cannot yet stand on your own feet. Without the school of the ancients
your literature will degenerate into vulgar gossip and dull philistinism.
Thus for all these reasons it is my well-intended counsel that an end be
put at once to the Germanising mania condemned above.
I shall further take the opportunity of denouncing here the disorder which
for some years has been introduced into German orthography in an
unprecedented manner. Scribblers of every species have heard something of
conciseness of expression, but do not know that this consists in the
careful omission of everything superfluous (to which, it is true, the
whole of their writings belong), but imagine they can arrive at it by
clipping the words as swindlers clip coin; and every syllable which
appears to them superfluous, because they do not feel its value, they cut
off without more ado. For example, our ancestors, with true tact, said
“_Beweis_” and “_Verweis_;” but, on the other hand, “_Nachweisung_.” The
fine distinction analogous to that between “_Versuch_” and “_Versuchung_,”
“_Betracht_” and “_Betrachtung_,” is not perceptible to dull ears and
thick skulls; therefore they have invented the word “_Nachweis_,” which
has come at once into general use, for this only requires that an idea
should be thoroughly awkward and a blunder very gross. Accordingly a
similar amputation has already been proposed in innumerable words; for
example, instead of “_Untersuchung_” is written “_Untersuch_;” nay, even
instead of “_allmälig_,” “_mälig_;” instead of “_beinahe_,” “_nahe_;”
instead of “_beständig_,” “_ständig_.” If a Frenchman took upon himself to
write “_près_” instead of “_presque_,” or if an Englishman wrote “_most_”
instead of “_almost_,” they would be laughed at by every one as fools; but
in Germany whoever does this sort of thing passes for a man of
originality. Chemists already write “_löslich_” and “_unlöslich_” instead
of “_unauflöslich_,” and if the grammarians do not rap them over the
knuckles they will rob the language of a valuable word. Knots,
shoe-strings, and also conglomerates of which the cement is softened, and
all analogous things are “_löslich_” (can be loosed); but what is
“_auflöslich_” (soluble), on the other hand, is whatever vanishes in a
liquid, like salt in water. “_Auflösen_” (to dissolve) is the _terminus ad
hoc_, which says this and nothing else, marking out a definite conception;
but our acute improvers of the language wish to empty it into the general
rinsing-pan “_lösen_” (to loosen); they would therefore in consistency be
obliged to make “_lösen_” also take the place everywhere of “_ablösen_”
(to relieve, used of guards), “_auslösen_” (to release), “_einlösen_” (to
redeem), &c., and in these, as in the former case, deprive the language of
definiteness of expression. But to make the language poorer by a word
means to make the thought of the nation poorer by a conception. Yet this
is the tendency of the united efforts of almost all our writers of books
for the last ten or twenty years. For what I have shown here by _one_
example can be supported by a hundred others, and the meanest stinting of
syllables prevails like a disease. The miserable wretches actually count
the letters, and do not hesitate to mutilate a word, or to use one in a
false sense, whenever by doing so they can gain two letters. He who is
capable of no new thoughts will at least bring new words to market, and
every ink-slinger regards it as his vocation to improve the language.
Journalists practise this most shamelessly; and since their papers, on
account of the trivial nature of their contents, have the largest public,
indeed a public which for the most part reads nothing else, a great danger
threatens the language through them. I therefore seriously advise that
they should be subjected to an orthographical censorship, or that they
should be made to pay a fine for every unusual or mutilated word; for what
could be more improper than that changes of language should proceed from
the lowest branch of literature? Language, especially a relatively
speaking original language like German, is the most valuable inheritance
of a nation, and it is also an exceedingly complicated work of art, easily
injured, and which cannot again be restored, therefore a _noli me
tangere_. Other nations have felt this, and have shown great piety towards
their languages, although far less complete than German. Therefore the
language of Dante and Petrarch differs only in trifles from that of
to-day; Montaigne is still quite readable, and so also is Shakspeare in
his oldest editions. For a German indeed it is good to have somewhat long
words in his mouth; for he thinks slowly, and they give him time to
reflect. But this prevailing economy of language shows itself in yet more
characteristic phenomena. For example, in opposition to all logic and
grammar, they use the imperfect for the perfect and pluperfect; they often
stick the auxiliary verb in their pocket; they use the ablative instead of
the genitive; for the sake of omitting a couple of logical particles they
make such intricate sentences that one has to read them four times over in
order to get at the sense; for it is only the paper and not the reader’s
time that they care to spare. In proper names, after the manner of
Hottentots, they do not indicate the case either by inflection or article:
the reader may guess it. But they are specially fond of contracting the
double vowel and dropping the lengthening _h_, those letters sacred to
prosody; which is just the same thing as if we wanted to banish η and ω
from Greek, and make ε and ο take their place. Whoever writes _Scham_,
_Märchen_, _Mass_, _Spass_, ought also to write _Lon_, _Son_, _Stat_,
_Sat_, _Jar_, _Al_, &c. But since writing is the copy of speech, posterity
will imagine that one ought to speak as one writes; and then of the German
language there will only remain a narrow, mouth-distorting, jarring noise
of consonants, and all prosody will be lost. The spelling “_Literatur_”
instead of the correct “_Litteratur_” is also very much liked, because it
saves a letter. In defence of this the participle of the verb _linere_ is
given as the root of the word. But _linere_ means to smear; therefore the
favoured spelling might actually be correct for the greater part of German
bookmaking; so that one could distinguish a very small “_Litteratur_” from
a very extensive “_Literatur._” In order to write concisely let a man
improve his style and shun all useless gossip and chatter, and then he
will not need to cut out syllables and letters on account of the dearness
of paper. But to write so many useless pages, useless sheets, useless
books, and then to want to make up this waste of time and paper at the
cost of the innocent syllables and letters—that is truly the superlative
of what is called in English being penny wise and pound foolish. It is to
be regretted that there is no German Academy to take charge of the
language against literary _sans-culottism_, especially in an age when even
those who are ignorant of the ancient language venture to employ the
press. I have expressed my mind more fully on the whole subject of the
inexcusable mischief being done at the present day to the German language
in my “Parerga,” vol. ii. chap. 23.
In my essay on the principle of sufficient reason, § 51, I already
proposed a first _classification of the sciences_ in accordance with the
form of the principle of sufficient reason which reigns in them; and I
also touched upon it again in §§ 7 and 15 of the first volume of this
work. I will give here a small attempt at such a classification, which
will yet no doubt be susceptible of much improvement and perfecting:—
I. Pure _a priori_ Sciences.
1. The doctrine of the ground of being.
(_a._) In space: Geometry.
(_b._) In time: Arithmetic and Algebra.
2. The doctrine of the ground of knowing: Logic.
II. Empirical or _a posteriori_ Sciences. All based upon the
ground of becoming, _i.e._, the law of causality, and upon the
three modes of that law.
1. The doctrine of causes.
(_a._) Universal: Mechanics, Hydrodynamics, Physics, Chemistry.
(_b._) Particular: Astronomy, Mineralogy, Geology, Technology,
Pharmacy.
2. The doctrine of stimuli.
(_a._) Universal: Physiology of plants and animals, together with
the ancillary science, Anatomy.
(_b._) Particular: Botany, Zoology, Zootomy, Comparative
Physiology, Pathology, Therapeutics.
3. The doctrine of motives.
(_a._) Universal: Ethics, Psychology.
(_b._) Particular: Jurisprudence, History.
Philosophy or Metaphysics, as the doctrine of consciousness and its
contents in general, or of the whole of experience as such, does not
appear in the list, because it does not at once pursue the investigation
which the principle of sufficient reason prescribes, but first has this
principle itself as its object. It is to be regarded as the thorough bass
of all sciences, but belongs to a higher class than they do, and is almost
as much related to art as to science. As in music every particular period
must correspond to the tonality to which thorough bass has advanced, so
every author, in proportion to the line he follows, must bear the stamp of
the philosophy which prevails in his time. But besides this, every science
has also its special philosophy; and therefore we speak of the philosophy
of botany, of zoology, of history, &c. By this we must reasonably
understand nothing more than the chief results of each science itself,
regarded and comprehended from the highest, that is the most general,
point of view which is possible within that science. These general results
connect themselves directly with general philosophy, for they supply it
with important data, and relieve it from the labour of seeking these
itself in the philosophically raw material of the special sciences. These
special philosophies therefore stand as a mediating link between their
special sciences and philosophy proper. For since the latter has to give
the most general explanations concerning the whole of things, these must
also be capable of being brought down and applied to the individual of
every species of thing. The philosophy of each science, however, arises
independently of philosophy in general, from the data of its own science
itself. Therefore it does not need to wait till that philosophy at last be
found; but if worked out in advance it will certainly agree with the true
universal philosophy. This, on the other hand, must be capable of
receiving confirmation and illustration from the philosophies of the
particular sciences; for the most general truth must be capable of being
proved through the more special truths. Goethe has afforded a beautiful
example of the philosophy of zoology in his reflections on Dalton’s and
Pander’s skeletons of rodents (_Hefte zur Morphologie_, 1824). And like
merit in connection with the same science belongs to Kielmayer, Delamark,
Geoffroy St. Hilaire, Cuvier, and many others, in that they have all
brought out clearly the complete analogy, the inner relationship, the
permanent type, and systematic connection of animal forms. Empirical
sciences pursued purely for their own sake and without philosophical
tendency are like a face without eyes. They are, however, a suitable
occupation for men of good capacity who yet lack the highest faculties,
which would even be a hindrance to minute investigations of such a kind.
Such men concentrate their whole power and their whole knowledge upon one
limited field, in which, therefore, on condition of remaining in entire
ignorance of everything else, they can attain to the most complete
knowledge possible; while the philosopher must survey all fields of
knowledge, and indeed to a certain extent be at home in them; and thus
that complete knowledge which can only be attained by the study of detail
is necessarily denied him. Therefore the former may be compared to those
Geneva workmen of whom one makes only wheels, another only springs, and a
third only chains. The philosopher, on the other hand, is like the
watchmaker, who alone produces a whole out of all these which has motion
and significance. They may also be compared to the musicians of an
orchestra, each of whom is master of his own instrument; and the
philosopher, on the other hand, to the conductor, who must know the nature
and use of every instrument, yet without being able to play them all, or
even one of them, with great perfection. Scotus Erigena includes all
sciences under the name _Scientia_, in opposition to philosophy, which he
calls _Sapientia_. The same distinction was already made by the
Pythagoreans; as may be seen from Stobæus (_Floril._, vol. i. p. 20),
where it is very clearly and neatly explained. But a much happier and more
piquant comparison of the relation of the two kinds of mental effort to
each other has been so often repeated by the ancients that we no longer
know to whom it belongs. Diogenes Laertius (ii. 79) attributes it to
Aristippus, Stobæus (_Floril._, tit. iv. 110) to Aristo of Chios; the
Scholiast of Aristotle ascribes it to him (p. 8 of the Berlin edition),
but Plutarch (_De Puer. Educ._, c. 10) attributes it to Bio—“_Qui ajebat,
sicut Penelopes proci, __ quum non possent cum Penelope concumbere, rem
cum ejus ancillis habuissent; ita qui philosophiam nequeunt apprehendere
eos in alliis nullius pretii disciplinis sese conterere._” In our
predominantly empirical and historical age it can do no harm to recall
this.