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Kinder- und Jugendkultur, -literatur und -medien Theorie – Geschichte – Didaktik 101

Charles Iris Schäfer S. Peirce

Von Prolegomena der Hysterie to a

Science zur Magersucht of Reasoning –

Adoleszenz und

Phaneroscopy, Semeiotic, Logic

Krankheit in Romanen

Edited by Elize Bisanz

und Erzählungen der Jahrhundert- und der Jahrtausendwende

Semeiotic, Logic Krankheit in Romanen Edited by Elize Bisanz und Erzählungen der Jahrhundert- und der Jahrtausendwende
Semeiotic, Logic Krankheit in Romanen Edited by Elize Bisanz und Erzählungen der Jahrhundert- und der Jahrtausendwende

Kinder- und Jugendkultur, -literatur und -medien Theorie – Geschichte – Didaktik 101

Charles S. Peirce Iris Schäfer

Prolegomena Von der Hysterie to a zur Science Magersucht of Reasoning

Charles Sanders Peirce (1839-1914), Die American Adoleszenz Scientist, geht Mathematician, nicht nur mit Krank- and

heiten Logician, einher; developed sie gilt much oft selbst of the als logic eine

widely Krankheit, used die today. durchgestanden Using copies werden of his

muss. unpublished Neigten manuscripts, um die Jahrhundertwende this book

Adoleszente provides a comprehensive oft zur Hysterie, collection so leiden of sie

Peirce’s um die Jahrtausendwende writings on Phaneroscopy vielfach and unter the

outlines Magersucht. of his Die project Nähe to von develop Adoleszenz a Science

of und Reasoning. Krankheit The ist ein collection prominentes is focused Thema on

three von Jugenderzählungen main fields: Phaneroscopy, und Romanen the sci- der

ence Zeit um of observation, 1900 und um Semeiotic,the 2000. Dabei ähneln science

of sich sign die relations, literarischen and Logic, Adoleszenz- the science und of

inferences. Krankheitsdarstellungen Peirce understands beider all Zeitab- thought

schnitte to be mediated auf verblüffende in and through Weise. signs Hysterie and

its und essence Magersucht to be diagrammatic. erscheinen jeweils The als book

Strategien, den während der Adoleszenz sich einstellenden psychischen Konflikten

serves as a timely contribution for the in-

troduction zu begegnen, of Peirce’s diese zu Phaneroscopy verarbeiten und to the

emerging durch körperliche research Signale field of nach Image außen Sciences. hin sichtbar zu machen. Beide Krankheiten kommunizieren über den Körper.

The Editor Elize Bisanz holds a PhD in Commu- nication Die Autorin Sciences from the Technical

University Iris Schäfer of studierte Berlin. She Allgemeine is an advisory und

Vergleichende board member Literaturwissenschaft of the German Association und

Germanistik of Semiotic Studies an der as Goethe-Universität well as a perma- in

Frankfurt nent research am Main member und of dem the King’s Institute Col-

for lege Studies in London. in Pragmaticism Ihre Forschungsschwer- at Texas Tech

punkte University. sind literarische Krankheits- bzw. Abweichungsnarrative im Bereich der Jugendliteratur.

at Texas Tech punkte University. sind literarische Krankheits- bzw. Abweichungsnarrative im Bereich der Jugendliteratur.

Prolegomena to a Science of Reasoning

Charles S. Peirce

Prolegomena to a Science of Reasoning

Phaneroscopy, Semeiotic, Logic Edited by Elize Bisanz

Charles S. Peirce Prolegomena to a Science of Reasoning Phaneroscopy, Semeiotic, Logic Edited by Elize Bisanz

Bibliographic Information published by the Deutsche Nationalbibliothek The Deutsche Nationalbibliothek lists this publication in the Deutsche Nationalbibliografie; detailed bibliographic data is available in the internet at http://dnb.d-nb.de.

Cover Image:

Charles Sanders Peirce, a member of the American Expedition to study the solar eclipse, Catania, Sicily, 23.December 1870. By permission, Preston Tuttle Collection, Institute for Studies in Pragmaticism, Texas Tech University.

ISBN 978-3-631-66602-9 (Print) E-ISBN 978-3-653-05900-7 (E-Book) DOI 10.3726/978-3-653-05900-7

© Peter Lang GmbH Internationaler Verlag der Wissenschaften Frankfurt am Main 2016 All rights reserved. Peter Lang Edition is an Imprint of Peter Lang GmbH.

Peter Lang – Frankfurt am Main ∙ Bern ∙ Bruxelles ∙ New York ∙ Oxford ∙ Warszawa ∙ Wien

All parts of this publication are protected by copyright. Any utilisation outside the strict limits of the copyright law, without the permission of the publisher, is forbidden and liable to prosecution. This applies in particular to reproductions, translations, microfilming, and storage and processing in electronic retrieval systems.

This publication has been peer reviewed.

As a member, I am grateful for the continuing research collaboration and assistance of the Institute for Studies in Pragmaticism, College of Arts and Sciences, Texas Tech University, Lubbock.

For permission to use Peirce manuscripts, special thanks to the department of Philosophy at Harvard University.

Charles Sanders Peirce, a member of the American Expedition to study the solar eclipse, Catania,

Charles Sanders Peirce, a member of the American Expedition to study the solar eclipse, Catania, Sicily, 23. December 1870. By permission, Preston Tuttle Collection, Institute for Studies in Pragmaticism, Texas Tech University.

Diploma (Summa cum Laude) of Charles S. Peirce from the Lawrence Scientific School (a graduate

Diploma (Summa cum Laude) of Charles S. Peirce from the Lawrence Scientific School (a graduate institution) at Harvard University 1863. His professors were: Benjamin Peirce—Astronomy and Mathematics; Joseph Lovering—Mathematics and Natural Philosophy (Physics); Asa Gray—Botany; Jeffries Wyman—Anatomy; Josiah P. Cooke Jr.— Chemistry and Mineralogy.

By permission, Preston Tuttle Collection, Institute for Studies in Pragmaticism, Texas Tech University.

Table of Contents

Phaneroscopy, Semeiotik, Logik. Eine Einführung

13

Reasoning

25

Scientific Method

29

Notes for a Syllabus of Logic

33

Exact Logic. Introduction. What is Logic?

35

Logic. The Theory of Reasoning By C.S. Peirce

43

Logic Viewed as Semeiotic

47

Logic as the General Theory of Signs of all Kinds

49

Phaneroscopy: Or, the Natural History of Concepts

65

Phaneroscopy

77

Signs, Thoughts, Reasoning

95

Logic. Book I. Analysis of Thought

115

Common Ground

123

How to Define

135

Essays toward the Full Comprehension of Reasonings. Preface

145

Quest of Quest. An Inquiry into the Conditions of Success in Inquiry

157

An Appraisal of the Faculty of Reasoning

169

Part II. Mathematical Reasoning

173

Bibliography

179

Index of Technical Terms

183

Name Index

185

Phaneroscopy, Semeiotik, Logik Eine Einführung

Charles S. Peirce – bekannt als der Gründer der modernen Zeichenwissenschaft – richtet sein wissenschaftliches Interesse nicht primär auf die formale Grundlage von Zeichen, sondern auf das Zeichen als die Objektivation von Gedankenprozes- sen. Denkprozesse, erklärt er, bestehen aus einer Reihe von Bedeutungstransfor- mationen, sind eingebettet im Interpretationsprozess und gestützt durch logische Strukturen. In Peirces umfangreichem Oeuvre sind zahlreiche Hinweise und Passagen zu finden, deren Gedankenkonzepte und Architektonik trotz der brei- ten Zerstreuung auf ein einheitliches, mit festen theoretischen Zügen erfassbares und inhaltlich kohärentes Werk über eine Wissenschaft des Denkens hindeuten. Dies umreißt konstitutive Elemente eines Wissenschaftsmodells, das das Den- ken – samt seiner Struktur und Entwicklungsdynamik – erklärt und Konzepte von Zeichenrelationen, von Temporalität, von Bedeutungsgenerierung sowie eine funktionale Ebene von logischen Gesetzmäßigkeiten aufweisen kann. Alles Denken, so Peirce, beginnt und endet im Zeichen. Zeichen kommuni- zieren Ideen, indem sie Ideen von vergangenen Gedanken mit denen der Zu- kunft verbinden. Mehr als reine Gedanken oder imaginäre Zeichen verkörpern sie Potentialitäten, die sowohl zu intern-mentalen wie auch extern-universalen Zeichen transformiert werden. Zeichen entstehen im Denkprozess und sind des- sen Manifestation und Fixierung zugleich: daraus darf allerdings nicht gefolgert werden, dass die Wissenschaft des Denkens mit einer Wissenschaft des Zeichens gleichzusetzen sei. Denn, das Zeichen als Resultat des Denkprozesses ist vor allem die Repräsentation einer vergangenen Handlung, und als solche ist sie lediglich in der Lage, die formalen Bedingtheiten von Zeichen, aber niemals den Ansatzpunkt sowie den Prozess seiner Entstehung zu erklären. Demgegenüber verspricht eine Wissenschaft des Denkens all dies zu verbinden; für diesen Zweck bestimmt Peirce drei einander bedingende Bereiche: Phaneroscopy, Semeiotik und relationale Lo- gik, jeweils begleitet mit den Funktionsfeldern des Beobachtens, des Entwerfens und der Interpretation, sowie deren Konkretisierung in Objekt, Zeichen und In- terpretant. In seinem Buch Studies in Logic beendet Charles S. Peirce das Kapitel unter dem Titel A Theory of Probable Inference mit dem folgenden Absatz:

„Side by side, with the well established proposition that all knowledge is based on expe- rience, and that science is only advanced by the experimental verifications of theories,

we have to place this other equally important truth, that all human knowledge, up to the highest flights of science, is but the development of our inborn animal instincts.” 1

In dieser und in zahlreichen weiteren Passagen seines Werks zum Ausdruck ge- brachte Verflechtung und Einbindung von Erfahrung, Experiment und von In- stinkt bestimmtem Handeln prägt Peirces Entwurf eines Wissenschaftsmodells. Für sein Ziel eine umfassende Erkenntnislehre zu gründen, in der sowohl das Subjekt als Erfahrungsmoment, das Experiment als das Moment der Zeichenset- zung sowie die Einbettung des Interpretanten in einer universalen instinktgelen- kten Erfahrung einbezogen werden, setzt Peirce unterschiedlichste methodische Instrumente ein. In dieser methodischen und instrumentellen Heterogenität liegt der genuin interdisziplinäre Charakter Peirces Wissenschaftslehre; sie ist eine pol- yphone und aus multiplen Perspektiven entworfene Annäherung an das Denken und an dessen Folge, das Erkennen. Die erkenntnisorientierte Suche nach einer Universalordnung des Wissens und der Drang, sie auf logischen Fundamenten zu erfassen, bestimmen die Architektonik Peirces Gesamtwerks; allerdings folgt sein Logik-Modell einem durch Relationen bestimmten dynamischen Prozess, in dem die Hierarchie der Zeichenelemente situationell verhandelbar bleibt. In diesem Modell bildet die triadische Verflechtung von Objektbestimmung, Zeichenset- zung und Bedeutungsnormierung durch den Interpretanten eine molekulare Kräfteeinheit, deren Wirkung zugleich durch die Potenzialität von weiteren syn- aptischen Anschlüssen bestärkt wird. In Peirces Wissenschaftsmodell bleibt der Anfang jedes Erkenntnisprozesses sinnlich sensuell, so auch die Kunst der Erfas- sung von Wissen, sie beginnt mit der Beschreibung der sinnlichen Perzeption, dem Phaneron, als die Schnittstelle, als das Interface zwischen Zeichendaten und dem wahrnehmenden Subjekt. Mit seiner Lehre der Phaneroscopy, der Wissen- schaft zur Erfassung des Phanerons, führt Peirce den forschenden Blick in die strukturimmanente Architektonik und Logik von Zeichenprozessen, öffnet einen kontemplativen Raum, aus dem heraus jeglicher phänomenologischer Prozess der Sinnerzeugung und -erfassung ihren Ursprung hat. Die erste Frage, die sich Phaneroscopy stellt, ist, so Peirce, die Frage nach der Ursache der Aufmerksamkeit, als die erste Stufe des Bewusstwerdens des Denkprozesses. Das primäre Untersuchungsobjekt der Phaneroscopy ist dem- entsprechend das Phaneron, das Manifeste, das den Betrachter anblickt. Es ist die Schnittstelle zwischen einer externen Wirklichkeit und deren momenta- nen Wahrnehmung, der Ausgangspunkt der Semeiosis, mit ihren konstitutiven

1 Charles S. Peirce, Studies in Logic by Members of the Johns Hopkins University, (Boston:

Little, Brown, and Company, 1888), 181.

Elementen Empfindung, Wille und Gedanken, jeweils als Repräsentationen von unterschiedlichen Bewusstseinsformen. Charles S. Peirce gehört zu den wenigen Zeichenwissenschaftlern, die nicht das Sprechen sondern das Sehen als die Grundlage des logischen Denkens verstan- den und dies in einer Wissenschaft des genauen Beobachtens eingebettet haben. Bekanntlich hat er seinen Entwurf einer Science of Reasoning und ihrer Haupt- formen in zahlreichen Manuskripten dokumentiert; so zum Beispiel werden im Manuskript Nr. 655, unter dem programmatischen Titel „Quest of Quest“, die Wissenschaften in drei Kategorien unterteilt: in eine Theoretische Wissenschaft, deren Ziel die Suche nach der Wahrheit um des Wahrheitswillens ist, eine Prak- tische Wissenschaft, die Suche nach der Wahrheit und ihrer Zwecke, sowie eine Angewandte Wissenschaft, deren Ziel die Erprobung und Umsetzung von the- oretischen Erkenntnissen ist. Diese erweitert Peirce um eine „Wissenschaft der Schlussfolgerung“, deren Architektonik vor allem drei Wissenschaftskonzepte umfasst: eine Lehre des Beobachtens (Phaneroscopy), eine Zeichenlehre und eine Interpretationslehre. Die vorliegende Publikation hat sich zur Aufgabe gemacht, sich dem ersten Teil, der Lehre des Beobachtens, sowie deren Stellung im Gesamtkontext Peirces Wissenschaft des Denkens anzunähern. Neben ihrer hohen Relevanz für die bild- wissenschaftliche Forschung öffnet die Lehre der Phaneroscopy einen erkennt- nistheoretischen Zugang zu Peirces Werk, denn sie erfasst den ersten Schritt, den Auslöser jeglichen Gedanken- und Zeichenvorgangs. Auch in dieser Hinsicht kann Phaneroscopy die Grundmotive Peirces Denkens exemplifizieren und die so oft proklamierte Schwierigkeit eines sachgemäßen Zugangs zumindest in be- scheidenen Schritten entkräften. 2 Die Stärke und Originalität Peirces Werks – wie es die Phaneroscopy modell- haft darstellt – liegt in der Überwindung der Kluft zwischen dem natur- und geisteswissenschaftlichen Denken und Wirken. Peirces ausgeprägte Nähe zu na- turwissenschaftlich orientierten Methoden liegt auf der Hand; schon im jungen Alter lernt er, dass konkretes Beobachten und abstrakte Folgerungen feste Be- standteile einer Wissenschaft sind. Sein Vater Benjamin Peirce, Mathematiker und

2 Im philosophischen Kontext ist Peirces Phaneroscopy vor allem als Synonym für Phänomenologie gelesen worden, eine Fehlinterpretation, die zwangsläufig zur the- oretischen Unschärfe und schließlich zur Hinterfragung ihrer wissenschaftlichen Standhaftigkeit führt. Folgende Quellen stellen einige Beispiele des philosophischen Diskurses dar: Herbert Spiegelberg. „Husserl’s and Peirce’s Phenomenologies: Co- incidence or Interaction,“ Philosophy and Phenomenological Research, Vol. 17, No. 2 (Dec. 1956): 164–185.

Astronom, war an der Entdeckung der Planeten Uranus und Neptun beteiligt, war Autor zahlreicher Studienbücher und Monographien zu den Bereichen Trigono- metrie, Algebra, Geometrie, Astronomie und Nautik, spielte eine entscheidende Rolle bei der Gründung des Harvard Observatoriums sowie der Gründung der American Academy of Arts and Sciences. Somit wächst der Sohn Charles Peirce in einer von Wissenschaft und Innova- tion geprägten Umgebung auf, hat nicht nur fundiertes Wissen über Geodäsie, Theorie der Pendelschwingung, Kartographie, sondern ist auch als Wissenschaft- ler an zahlreichen Studien aktiv beteiligt, wie zum Beispiel im Rahmen der as- tronomischen Studien seines Vaters. Peirce ist ein Pionier in der Nutzung des Spektroskops zur Beobachtung des Spektrums und der Bestimmung der Spektral- klassen von Sternen, sowie der Entwicklung des Spektrometers zur Messung von Spektren, für die er sogar ein eigenständiges Messverfahren entwickelt, das später als Teil des berühmten Michelson/Morley-Experiments etabliert wird. 3 Auch als Physiker arbeitet Peirce bis 1891 für die United States Coast and Geodetic Survey, dessen Leiter sein Vater von 1867–74 war. All diese Erfahrungen erklären Peirces unermüdliche Suche nach einem um- fassenden Wissenschaftsmodell, das in der Lage sein sollte, die Perspektive un- terschiedlicher Disziplinen in zwei Kernpunkten zu bündeln: das Beobachten von Universalstrukturen und das Beobachten von Quantenstrukturen. Eine ent- scheidende Rolle für die Umsetzung dieser Idee spielt sein Studium der Chemie. Peirce war ein begeisterter Schüler von Josiah Cooke, Professor für Chemie und Mineralogie an der Harvard Universität, der für eine angewandte Wissenschaft eintrat. Cooke, ähnlich wie später Peirce, unterteilte die Wissenschaft in zwei gleichwertige Komponenten, eine subjektive und eine objektive:

„Objectively it is a body of facts, which we have to observe, and subjectively it is a body of truths, conclusions, or inferences, deduced from these facts; and the two sides of the subject should always be kept in view.” 4

Drei Schwerpunkte Cookes Wissenschaftstheorie zeigen direkte Parallelen mit Peirces Wissenschaftsmodell, es sind: die Kunst des Beobachtens Phaneroscopy, die anwendungsorientierte Wissenschaft der Zeichenlehre und die interdisziplinäre

3 In ihrem 2003 veröffentlichten Text „Peirce, Clifford, and Quantum Theory“ zeigen Beil und Ketner eine direkte Verbindung zwischen Peirces Logik und der Quantum Theorie. Die Autoren schlagen eine neue Anwendung Peirces Denkens für die lineare Algebra und Logik vor und präsentieren ein graphisches System für dessen Darstellung.

4 Josiah P. Cooke, Scientific Culture, and other Essays. (London: Macmillan and Com- pany, 1882), 24.

Methodik. Cooke zählt die Fähigkeit des genauen Beobachtens zu den entschei- denden wissenschaftlichen Qualitäten, setzt sich sogar für die Schulung dieser Fähigkeit ein:

„We are all gifted with senses, but how few of us use them to the best advantage! ’We have eyes and see not;’ for, although the light paints the picture on the retina, our dull percep- tions give no attention to the details, and we retain only a confused impression of what has passed before our eyes. ‘But how‘, you may ask, ‘are we to cultivate this sharpness of perception?’ I answer, only by making a conscious effort to fix our attention on the objects we study, until the habit becomes a second nature. […] It is a question of sight, not of understanding, and all the optical theories of the cause of the luster will not help you in the least toward seeing the difference between diamond and glass, or anglesite and heavy spar.” 5

Nicht nur die Öffnung naturwissenschaftlicher Denkgrenzen prägt Peirces me- thodischen Ansatz. Bekanntlich machte Peirce kein Geheimnis daraus, welche Wirkung Schillers Ästhetische Briefe auf sein Denken hatten und welche Rolle er der Ästhetik zuschrieb: „It is now forty-seven years ago that I undertook to expound Schiller’s Aesthetische Briefe to my dear friend, Horatio Paine. We spent every afternoon for long months upon it, picking the matter to pieces as well as we boys knew how to do. In those days, I read various works on esthetics; but on the whole, I must confess that, like most logicians, I have pondered that subject far too little. The books do seem so feeble. That affords one excuse. And then esthet- ics and logic seem, at first blush, to belong to different universes. It is only very recently that I have become persuaded that that seeming is illusory, and that, on the contrary, logic needs the help of esthetics.” 6 Die Spuren Schillers Denkens sind in Peirces Werk allgegenwärtig, vor allem hinsichtlich der Kerngedanken seiner Phaneroscopy. Schiller macht die Verein- barkeit von Empfindung und Vernunft zum zentralen Motiv der Ästhetik, deren Verschmelzung vor allem über die ästhetische Wahrnehmung gelingen könnte. Er definiert die ästhetische Wahrnehmung als einen Zustand der vollständigen Freiheit, losgelöst von konkurrierenden Kräften der Natur und der Kultur, einen

5 ebd. S. 26.

6 Peirce: CP 2.197. Weitere Hinweise zu diesem Thema in Ketner, His Glassy Essence, p. 139: „I read very carefully Schiller’s Ästhetische Briefe. A great part of my time was taken up by a most painstaking study of it, which was my first dip into philosophy, and its mark is still on my soul. It produced so powerful an impression upon me, that I am unable to this day to disabuse myself of it.”

Zustand der reinen Beobachtung, des emanzipierten Blicks von jeglichem na- türlichen Trieb und jeglichem vernunftbestimmten Drang nach Materialität. Im dritten Brief schreibt Schiller:

„Die Natur fängt mit dem Menschen nicht besser an, als mit ihren übrigen Werken: sie handelt für ihn, wo er als freie Intelligenz noch nicht selbst handeln kann. Aber eben das macht ihn zum Menschen, daß er bei dem nicht stille steht, was die bloße Natur aus ihm machte, sondern die Fähigkeit besitzt, die Schritte, welche jene mit ihm antizipierte, durch Vernunft wieder rückwärts zu thun, das Werk der Noth in ein Werk seiner freien Wahl umzuschaffen und die physische Nothwendigkeit zu einer moralischen zu erheben.“ 7 In diesem Prozess bleibt der Mensch das Bindeglied zwischen Natur und Ver- nunft. Schiller erklärt die Natur zum „Objekt“, das durch die Prozesse der reinen Beobachtung, der Benennung und der Interpretation geformt wird; 8 diese These der kulturellen Umwandlung durch die Formgebung von Naturzuständen fin- den wir in ausgeprägter Form in Peirces triadischem Zeichenkonzept. Auch die Kategorie der Erfahrung, ein weiterer Baustein Peirces Semeiotik, erklärt Schiller zur entscheidenden Gesetzmäßigkeit für den Erhalt des Gleich- gewichts zwischen Natur und Kultur. Denn Erfahrung sichert die sinnliche Formgebung der unsichtbaren Gesetze. 9 Sie öffnet die Möglichkeit eines „dritten Charakters“ jenseits des reinen Naturcharakters – der materiellen Welt der will- kürlichen physischen Eindrücke – sowie jenseits des sittlichen Charakters – der Welt der Herrschaft der Sittlichkeit und der moralischen Gesetze. „Wenn also die Vernunft in die physische Gesellschaft ihre moralische Einheit bringt, so darf sie die Mannigfaltigkeit der Natur nicht verletzen. Wenn die Natur in dem morali- schen Bau der Gesellschaft ihre Mannigfaltigkeit zu behaupten strebt, so darf der moralischen Einheit dadurch kein Abbruch geschehen; gleich weit von Einför- migkeit und Verwirrung ruht die siegende Form.“ 10 Anders als in der Phänomenologie steht im Zentrum Peirces Phaneroscopy nicht das Phänomenon sondern das „Phaneron“ als beobachtbare Relation und als die Bezeichnungsbewegung der Semeiosis. Peirces Entwurf einer auf Zeichen- logik basierten Wissenschaftslehre ist zugleich eine auf das Sehen basierte, in der

7 Friedrich Schiller, Über die ästhetische Erziehung des Menschen, (Stuttgart: Reclam, 2000), 11.

8 ebd. S. 103.

9 ebd. S. 9.

10 ebd. S. 114.

das Phaneron den Übergang zum sehenden Denken markiert. 11 Bereits auf der Begriffsebene ist Peirces programmatische Unterscheidung zur Phänomenolo- gie sichtbar; während das Suffix -ologie im Begriff Phänomenologie – -λογια als die Untersuchung von oder das Sprechen über – auf eine disziplinäre Erzählung hinweist, konnotiert das Suffix -scopie das mikroskopische Sehen, das vor allem eine Tätigkeit ist, die Instrumente des Sehens, seien es auch logische, verwendet. Phaneroscopy definiert Peirce als die Wissenschaftslehre des sehenden Denkens, das die konkrete sinnliche Wahrnehmung des physischen Beobachtens unter- sucht und zugleich ein auf mentales Sehen basiertes physikalisches Beobachten ankündigt. Somit hat sie die Aufgabe, die eidetische Erscheinung einer Erstheit im Prozess der Kommunikation bzw. des Erschließens zu untersuchen. Während Phaneroscopy sich auf die Beschreibung des Phanerons, die Beob- achtung und Klassifizierung der Inhalte der momentanen beobachtenden Wahr- nehmung auf Präsenz beschränkt, umfasst die Phänomenologie, so Peirce, auch die Untersuchung des Objektes der Beobachtung. Demgegenüber hat Phanero- scopy allein die formalen Elemente des Phanerons, des Gesehenen im Visier:

„Phaneroscopy is the description of the phaneron; and by the phaneron I mean the collective total of all that is in any way or in any sense present to the mind, quite regardless of whether it corresponds to any real thing or not.” 12 Phaneroscopy fungiert als Organon (das Instrument oder die Methodenlehre), das die Entfaltung triadischer Relationen dokumentiert, gefolgt durch das Wissen über das Zeichen – Zeichenlehre – und die Logik des Erschließens – Interpre- tationslehre; gemeinsam bilden sie eine allgemeine Wissenschaftslehre. Insofern bleibt ihr, sowie der Phänomenologie, ohne wissenschaftliche Instrumente (ein- schließlich der Gedankeninstrumente) der Weg zum logischen Denken und des- sen Analyse versperrt. „The faculties which we must endeavor to gather for this work are three. The first and foremost is that rare faculty, the faculty of seeing what stares one in the face, just as it presents itself, unreplaced by any interpretation, unsophisticated by any allowance for this or for that supposed modifying circumstance. […] The second faculty we must strive to arm ourselves with is a resolute discrimination

11 Logik, so Peirce, muss als eine Zeichenwissenschaft verstanden werden, einschließlich der Zeichenarten, deren Relationen, sowie die sinnliche Wahrnehmung und Emotionen, die zu den Zeichen führen. Peirce plädiert für die Erweiterung der Logik durch den Ein- schluss aller Elemente der Semeiotik, durch eine Logik von ikonischen, indexikalischen wie auch symbolischen Zeichen.

12 Peirce: CP 1.284.

which fastens itself like a bulldog upon the particular feature that we are study- ing, follows it wherever it may lurk, and detects it beneath all its disguises. The third faculty we shall need is the generalizing power of the mathematician who produces the abstract formula that comprehends the very essence of the fea- ture under examination purified from all admixture of extraneous and irrelevant accompaniments.” 13 Mit der Idee der Logik als Werkzeug (Organon) für die Wissenschaft reiht sich Peirce in eine lange Wissenschaftstradition ein. Diese Linie findet ihre neuzeitli- che Formulierung in Bacons Novum Organum Scientiarum, in der, ähnlich wie in Peirces Phaneroscopy, die Rolle der Erfahrung und der kognitiven Ordnung von Erkenntnisprozessen hervorgehoben wird. Auch der Erfinder des Begriffs der Phänomenologie, der Mathematiker und Logiker Johann Heinrich Lambert, formuliert seine Wissenschaftstheorie in die- ser Tradition. Er denkt das wissenschaftliche Werkzeug in einem unmittelbaren Zusammenhang mit dem Sichtbaren, zu deren Quellen das Bewusstsein, das Ge- dächtnis und die Einbildungskraft gehören: „Die Theorie des Scheins und seines Einflusses in die Richtigkeit und Unrichtigkeit der menschlichen Erkenntnis, macht demnach den Teil der Grundwissenschaft aus, den wir die Phänomeno- logie nennen, und in diesem ersten Hauptstücke den Begriff davon entwickeln werden.“ 14 Lambert versteht die Einbildungskraft keineswegs nur als eine geistig-emotio- nale Empfindung, sondern als eine sinnliche Empfindung, die ihren Ursprung in einer biologisch-physikalischen Wirklichkeit hat. Dementsprechend überprüft seine Phänomenologie die Scheinwelt anhand dreier Fragen, nach der „Richtig- keit der Begriffe“, nach der „Wahrheit der Urteile“ und nach der „Zulässigkeit der Fragen“. „§15. Sodann ist die Einbildungskraft die eigentliche Quelle jeder Hirnge- spinster, Chimären, leeren Träume und Einbildungen. Sie unterscheidet den von den Sinnen herrührenden Schein von dem wahren nicht, sondern setzt die Bil- der zusammen, so unvollständig sie auch sein mögen, und lässt sie als richtig gelten, so lange sie keine Dissonanz bemerkt, und jedesmal scheinen die Bilder vollständig, weil die Lücken darin, als etwas Leeres, nicht empfunden werden können. Daher sind die Ausschweifungen der Einbildungskraft und ihre Illusi- onen und Blendwerke nicht selten, und es gebraucht viele Vernunft dazu, wenn

13 Peirce: CP 5.42.

14 Johann H. Lambert, Neues Organon oder Gedanken über die Erforschung und Bezeich- nung des Wahren und dessen Unterscheidung vom Irrthum und Schein, 2. Band. (Leipzig:

Johann Wendler, 1764), 217.

man voraus bestimmen soll, wie weit man ihr könne den Lauf lassen, und wo die Grenzlinie anfängt, da man sie wieder zurücke lenken muß, dafern man bei dem Wahren und Zulässigen bleiben will.“ 15 Peirces Phaneroscopy wurde sehr häufig in Zusammenhang mit dem moder- nen Begriff der Phänomenologie diskutiert. Dazu hat auch Peirce selbst beige- tragen, indem er sie in zahlreichen Passagen erörtert, vor allem aber seine Kritik äußert. Nichtsdestotrotz soll hier festgehalten werden, dass Peirces häufige An- wendung des Begriffs Phänomenologie in Zusammenhang mit Phaneroscopy keineswegs als deren Gleichsetzung gedacht ist. So zum Beispiel formuliert Peirce:

„I will so far follow Hegel as to call this science Phenomenology although I will not restrict it to the observation and analysis of experience but extend it to describing all the features that are common to whatever is experienced or might conceivably be experienced or become an object of study in any way direct or indirect.“ 16 Abschließend soll hier ein kurzer Vergleich mit Husserls Phänomenologie die Differenzen zur Phaneroscopy hervorheben. Während Husserl die Phänomenolo- gie als die Restauration der Metaphysik der Präsenz, als die Suche nach der Wahr- heit des Begriffs erklärt, fokussiert Peirce auf das Zeichenwerden des Zeichens, auf die Bewegung der Semeiosis. Ähnliche Vorstellungen äußern beide Denker zur Rolle der Logik, auch für Husserl soll Phänomenologie auf Logik basieren, allerdings anders als Peirce sollen die phänomenologischen Analysen dazu dienen, „das Wesen der ineinander fundierten Realitätskategorien Materie, Leib, Seele und seelisches Ich aus den Urquellen zu schöpfen und damit den dadurch bestimmten originären Sinn der entsprechenden Wissenschaftsgebiete zu erfassen.“ 17 Phäno- menologie ist für Husserl die Wissenschaft der „Ursprünge“, die „Mutter“ aller Erkenntnis. Für Peirce dagegen gründet sich alles Denken auf Repräsentationen und wird durch sinnliche Wahrnehmung und Interpretation ermöglicht. Demnach sollte eine Erweiterung der Logik zu einer Wissenschaft des Denkens, verstanden als die Wissenschaft des „sachorientierten Beobachtens“ (keeping to point), alle Vorgän- ge der Semeiosis erschließen. 18

15 ebd. S. 226.

16 Peirce: CP 5.37.

17 Edmund Husserl, Die Phänomenologie und die Fundamente der Wissenschaft, (Hamburg:

Meiner Verlag, 1986), 23.

18 Interdisciplinary Seminar on Peirce, “Peirce’s NonReduction and Relational Complete- ness Claims in the Context of First-Order Predicate Logic,” Kodikas, 34 (2011): 3–14.

Die Auswahl der Manuskripte

Die Chronologie der ausgewählten Manuskripte, entstanden im Zeitraum 1890– 1910, folgt der Entwicklung Peirces Entwurfs einer allgemeinen Wissenschaft des Denkens unter dessen Obhut die Texte zu den Schwerpunkten Phaneroscopy und Reasoning in ihrer Originalfassung zusammengebracht werden. Des Weite- ren sind zwei Texte mit den Titeln Reasoning und Scientific Method aus Peirces umfangreichen Beiträgen für den Baldwin-Dictionary hinzugefügt worden. 19 Diese erleichtern den sach- und inhaltsorientierten Einstieg in die Thematik und fungieren zugleich als eine kurze Zusammenfassung und Vorschau für die in den Manuskripten behandelten Schwerpunkte zu den Themen Phaneroscopy, Semeiotik und Logik als wissenschaftliche Kategorien. Die Gedankenfäden sämtlicher dargestellter Kategorien und Begriffe der aus- gewählten Texte führen zur Analyse des logischen Denkens. Alles Denken basiert nach Peirce auf Repräsentationen und wird ermöglicht durch die sinnliche Wahr- nehmung und durch Interpretation. Demnach soll eine Erweiterung der Logik zu einer Wissenschaft des Denkens führen, verstanden als die Wissenschaft des „sachorientierten Beobachtens“, die alle Elemente der Semeiosis erschließt. Sowohl die Wissenschaft der Logik wie auch der Prozess des Denkens basieren auf Zeichen. Denkvorgänge können in unterschiedlichen Formen zum Ausdruck gebracht werden, die ähnliche logische Eigenschaften mit deren Repräsentati- onen teilen. Denken ist eine Tätigkeit des Gehirns, seine Prämisse sowie seine Schlussfolgerung sind Repräsentationen der Wirklichkeit, sie sind stets und aus- schließlich Repräsentationen der Welt und niemals identisch mit der Welt. Eine weitere prominente Stellung in der Textreihe wie auch in Peirces Ge- samtwerk hat sein Verständnis der Wissenschaft; sie ist, so seine Definition, pri- mär die Suche nach der Wahrheit. Hier wird zunächst auf zwei Unterteilungen der bestehenden Wissenschaften hingewiesen: auf einer Metaebene die Unter- scheidung zwischen Kritik oder Taktik, deren Aufgabe ist Wissen zu strukturie- ren und eine reine Wissenschaft der Erfindung. Die Wissenschaft des Denkens dagegen strukturiert Peirce in drei Bereiche: Phaneroscopy, Psychologie (die in späteren Texten durch Semeiotik ersetzt wird) und schließlich Logik in ihrer er- weiterten Form der relationalen Logik. Phaneroscopy beobachtet und fragt nach

Interdisciplinary Seminar on Peirce, “Betagraphic: An Alternative Formulation of Predicate Calculus,” Transactions of the Charles S. Peirce Society, Vol. 51, No. 2, (2015):

137–172.

19 Peirce veröffentlichte zahlreiche Beiträge für den Baldwin Dictionary of Philosophy and Psychology.

den Voraussetzungen des Bewusstseins, Semeiotik sucht nach den formalen Ge- gebenheiten des Denkens und schließlich formuliert Logik Theorien zur Erklä- rung von hypothetischen Relationen; die letztere bleibt für Peirce das formale Feld der Wissenschaft des Denkens. Der Logiker weist auf Phänomene hin und analysiert die konstitutiven Bestandteile des Denkvorgangs und des Denkens im Allgemeinen. Daraus folgt, dass Logik als Teil der Zeichenwissenschaft zu ver- stehen ist, einschließlich der Zeichenarten, deren Relationen, sowie die sinnliche Wahrnehmung und Empfindungen, die zu den Zeichen führen. Jede Wissenschaft, so Peirce, braucht Instrumente, die Strukturen und Prozes- se manifestieren können; das Visualisierungsinstrument der Logik des Denkens ist für ihn das Diagramm. 20 Diagramme erklärt er als ikonische Darstellungen von logischen und nachvollziehbaren Relationen zu den Objekten, die die Eigenschaft besitzen, sowohl die Korrelate von Relationen wie auch ihre Objekte darzustel- len. Im Gegensatz zu Indizes, die auf Objekte hinweisen, und Symbole, die auf Konventionen und Gewohnheiten basieren, visualisieren Diagramme das Nach- vollziehbare, indem sie die Schlussfolgerungen, die Ergebnisse des logischen Pro- zesses in ihrer Gesamtheit zeigen. Das Objekt der logischen Untersuchung ist das Zeichen; denn Denken, so Peirce, ist primär eine Tätigkeit der Repräsentation, ein Zeichengewebe, dessen Ausgangspunkt und Grundlage die Erfahrung bildet. Nicht zuletzt soll hier abschließend auf zwei weitere Kategorien hingewiesen werden, die nahezu in jedem Manuskript zur Sprache kommen. Alles Wissen, so Peirce, entstammt aus Erfahrung; diese erklärt er als den kognitiven Zustand, eigene Handlungen bewusst wahrzunehmen. Erfahrung unterscheidet sich von Wahrnehmung dadurch, dass sie diejenige geistige Tätigkeit ist, die eine Verän- derung im Denken hervorbringt. Wir nehmen Objekte der Wirklichkeit wahr, wir erfahren die Wirklichkeit durch ein Ereignis und unterscheiden schließlich die qualitativen Besonderheiten von Erfahrungen mittels unserer Empfindung.

20 Die folgende Definition von Peirce gibt ergänzende Einsichten zum besseren Verständ- nis des bildhaften Charakters der Logik: „Imaging: (in Logic) Abbildung, (in Math- ematics) représentation. A term proposed to translate Abbildung in its logical use. In order to apprehend this meaning, it is indispensable to be acquainted with the history of the meanings of Ab- bildung. Since Bild is always translated image, imaging will answer very well for Abbildung. Any mathematical function of one variable may be regarded as an image of its variable according to some mode of imaging. For the real and imaginary quantities correspond, one to one and continuously, to the assignable points on a sphere.“ John Baldwin, Dictionary of Philosophy and Psychology, (New York: Macmillan, 1902).

Eine weitere, diesmal stilistische Besonderheit der hier mehrheitlich zum ers- ten Mal transkribierten und publizierten Texte ist ihre essayistische Natur und die erfrischend kritisch-ironische Rhetorik. Trotz der manchmal fehlenden Pas- sagen und Textunterbrechungen gehören die Texte zu den Kernmotiven Peirces Denkens, mit denen der aufmerksame Leser entscheidende Leerstellen der an- dauernden Peirce-Forschung ergänzen kann. Die vorliegende Manuskriptreihe präsentiert die wichtigsten Texte zur Wissen- schaftsmethodik Phaneroscopy – die Wissenschft des Sehens und des Blickens –, die Peirce als Ausgangspunkt jeglichen Denkprozesses erklärt; daher bietet die Textreihe auch für die bildwissenschaftliche Forschung überzeugende Gedanken- elemente, Peirces Stärke nicht in seinem zeichnerischen Talent, das er bekannt- lich nicht besaß, sondern in seinem Bemühen zu sehen, den Denkprozess samt Anfang, Entfaltung und Fixierung in Zeichen primär als einen visuellen Prozess zu erklären. 21, 22

21 Als weitere Lektüre zum Schwerpunkt Bild im Kontext der Peirce-Forschung ist die folgende Publikation zu empfehlen: Nöth Winfried, „Warum Bilder Zeichen sind“, Bild- Zeichen: Perspektiven einer Wissenschaft vom Bild, ed. Stefan Majetschak, (München:

Wilhelm Fink Verlag, 2005).

22 Für ausführliche Quellen siehe: http://www.pragmaticism.net.

Reasoning 23

Reasoning is the process in which the reasoner is conscious that a judgment or judgments, the premises, according to a general habit of thought, which he may not be able precisely to formulate, but which he approves as conducive to true knowledge. By true knowledge he means, though he is not usually able to analyze his meaning, the ultimate knowledge in which he hopes that belief may ultimately rest, undisturbed by doubt, in regard to the particular subject to which his conclu- sion relates. Without this logical approval, the process, although it may be closely analogous to reasoning in other respects, lacks the essence of reasoning. Every reasoner, therefore, since he approves certain habits, and consequently methods, of reasoning, accepts a logical doctrine, called his logica utens. Reasoning does not begin until a judgment has been formed; for the antecedent cognitive opera- tions are not subject to logical approval or disapproval, being subconscious, or not sufficiently near the surface of consciousness, and therefore uncontrollable. Reasoning, therefore, begins with premises which are adopted as representing percepts, or generalizations of such percepts. All the reasoner’s conclusions ought to refer solely to the percepts, or rather to propositions expressing facts of percep- tion. But this is not to say that the general conceptions to which he attains have no value in themselves. Reasoning is of three elementary kinds; but mixed reasonings are more com- mon. These three kinds are induction, deduction, and presumption (for which the present writer proposes the name abduction). 24 Induction takes place when the reasoner already holds a theory more or less problematically (ranging from a pure interrogative apprehension to a strong leaning mixed with ever so little doubt); and having reflected that if that theory be true, then under certain conditions certain phenomena ought to appear (the stranger and less antecedently credible the better), proceeds to experiment, that is, to realize those conditions and watch for the predicted phenomena. Upon

23 [Editor: Dictionary of Philosophy and Psychology edited by J.M. Baldwin, New York:

Macmillan, 1902.].

24 [Editor: Peirce introduced the term “abduction” in his work on the logic of science to denote a type of non-deductive inference. Further reading on this topic, see: Fann, K.T. Peirce’s Theory of Abduction 1970. For the numerous changes in Peirce’s terminology see: Kenneth L. Ketner, “Peirce’s Ethics of Termionology”. In: Transactions of the Charles S. Peirce Society. Vol 17. No. 4. Fall, 1981.].

their appearance he accepts the theory with a modality which recognizes it pro- visionally as approximately true. The logical warrant for this is that this method persistently applied to the problem must in the long run produce a convergence (though irregular) to the truth; for the truth of a theory consists very largely in this, that every perceptual deduction from it is verified. It is of the essence of induction that the consequence of the theory should be drawn first in regard to the unknown, or virtually unknown, result of experiment; and that this in regard to the unknown, or virtually unknown, result of experiment; and that this should virtually be only ascertained afterward. For if we look over the phenomena to find agreements with the theory, it is a mere question of ingenuity and industry how many we shall find. Induction (at least, in its typical forms) contributes noth- ing to our knowledge except to tell us approximately how often, in the course of such experience as our experiments go towards constituting: a given sort of event occurs. It thus simply evaluates an objective probability. Its reality does not depend upon the uniformity of nature, or anything of that kind. The uniformity of nature may tend to give the probability evaluated an extremely great or small value; but even if nature were not uniform, induction would be sure to find it out, so long as inductive reasoning could be performed at all. Of course a certain degree of special uniformity is requisite for that. But all the above is at variance with the doctrine of almost all logicians; and, in particular, they commonly teach that the inductive conclusion approximates to the truth because of the uniformity of nature. They only contemplate as inductive reasoning cases in which, from finding that certain individuals of a class have certain characters, the reasoned concludes that every single individual of the class has the same character. According to the definition here given, that inference is not inductive, but is a mixture of deduction and presumption, Of INDUCTION, and PROBABLE INFERENCE. On the methods of inductive reasoning see DIFFERENCE (method of), CON- COMITANCE (logical), AGREEMENT (method of), and Elimination under SCIENTIFIC METHOD. For Eliminative Reasoning (Ausschlussverfahren— Eisler) see SYLLOGISM. Presumption, or, more precisely, abduction (which the present writer believes to have been what Aristotle’s twenty-fifth chapter of the second Prior Analytics imperfectly described under the name of άπαγωγή, until Apellicon substituted a single wrong word and thus disturbed the sense of the whole), furnishes the rea- soned with the problematic theory which induction verifies. Upon finding him- self confronted with a phenomenon unlike what he would have expected under the circumstances, he looks over its features and notices some remarkable char- acter or relation among them, which he at once recognizes as being characteristic

of some conception with which his mind is already stored, so that a theory is sug- gested which would explain (that is, render necessary) that which is surprising in the phenomena. He therefore accepts that theory so far as to give it a high place in the list of theories of those phenomena which call for further examination. If this is all his conclusion amounts to, it may be asked: What need of reasoning was there? Is he not free to examine what theories he likes? The answer is that it is a question of economy. If he examines all the foolish theories he might imagine, he never will (short of a miracle) light upon the true one. Indeed, even with the most rational procedure, he never would do so, were there not an affinity between his ideas and nature’s ways. However, if there be any attainable truth, as he hopes, it is plain that the only way in which it is to be attained is by trying the hypotheses which seem reasonable and which lead to such consequences as are observed. Presumption is the only kind of reasoning which supplies new ideas, the only kind which is, in this sense, synthetic. Induction is justified as a method which must in the long run lead up to the truth, and that, by gradual modi- fication of the actual conclusion. There is no such warrant for presumption. The hypothesis which it problematically concludes is frequently utterly wrong itself, and even the method need not ever lead to the truth; for it may be that the features of the phenomena which it aims to explain have no rational expla- nation at all. Its only justification is that its method is the only way in which there can be any hope of attaining a rational explanation. This doctrine agrees substantially at variance with a common theory and with a common practice. This prescribes that the reasoned should be guided by balancing probabili- ties, according to the doctrine of inverse PROBABILITY (q.v.). This depends upon knowing antecedent probabilities. If these antecedent probabilities were solid statistical facts, like those upon which the insurance business rests, the ordinary precepts and practice would be sound. But they are not and cannot, in the nature of things, be statistical facts. What is the antecedent probability that matter should be composed of atoms? Can we take statistics of a multitude of different universes? An objective probability is the ration of frequency of a specific to a generic event in the ordinary course of experience. Of a fact per se it is absurd to speak of objective probability. All that is attainable are subjective probabilities, or likelihoods, which express nothing but the conformity of a new suggestion to our prepossessions; and these are the source of most of the errors into which man falls, and of all the worst of them. An instance of what the method of balancing likelihoods leads to is the ‘higher criticism’ of ancient history, upon which the archeologist’s spade has inflicted so many wounds. Cf. PRESUMPTIVE INFERENCE.

The third elementary way of reasoning is deduction, of which the warrant is that the facts presented in the premises could not under any imaginable circum- stances be true without involving the truth of the conclusion, which is therefore accepted with necessary modality. But though it be necessary in the modality, it does not by any means follow that the conclusion is certainly true. When we are reasoning about purely hypothetical states of things, as in mathematics, and can make it one of our hypotheses that what is true shall depend only on a certain kind of condition—so that, for example, what is true of equations written in black ink would certainly be equally true if they were written in red—we can be certain of our conclusions, provided no blunders have been committed. This is ‘demon- strative reasoning.’ Fallacies in pure mathematics have gone undetected for many centuries. It is to ideal states of things alone—or to real states of things as ideally conceived, always more or less departing from the reality—that deduction ap- plies. The process is as follows, at least in many cases:

We form in the imagination some sort of diagrammatic, that is, iconic repre- sentation of the facts, as skeletonized as possible. The impression of the present writer is that with ordinary persons this is always a visual image, or mixed visual and muscular; but this is an opinion not founded on any systematic examination. If visual, it will either be geometrical, that is, such that familiar spatial relations stand for the relations asserted in the premises, or it will be algebraical, where the relations are expressed by objects which are imagined to be subject to certain rules, whether conventional or experiential. This diagram, which are abstractly expressed in the premises, is then observed, and a hypothesis suggests itself that there is a certain relation between some of its parts—or perhaps this hypoth- esis had already been suggested. In order to test this, various experiments are made upon the diagram, which is changed in various ways. This is a processing extremely similar to induction, from which, however, it differs widely, in that it does not deal with a course of experience, but with whether or not a certain state of things can be imagined. Now, since it is part of the hypothesis that only a very limited kind of condition can affect the result, the necessary experimentation can be very quickly completed; and it is seen that the conclusion is compelled to be true by the conditions of the construction of the diagram. This is called ‘dagram- matic or schematic, reasoning.’ Literature: F.A. Lange, Logische Stud. (1877, unfinished); J.S. Mill, A System of Logic (1842); treatises on logic generally; many treatises on psychology, in loc.

Scientific Method 25

Ger. wisseschaftliche Methode; Fr. méthode scientifique. Ital. Metodo scientifico. The general method of successful scientific research. The following are some of the characteristics. (1) The student’s first step is to form a perfectly definite and consistent idea of what the problem really is; then he ought to develop the mathematics of the subject in hand as fast as possible; and to establish a mathematical method ap- propriate to the particular problem, if it be one which allows exact treatment. As examples and models of what is meant, may be mentioned Maxwell’s researches on colour sensation in the Philos. Trans. for 1860, Flinders Petrie’s book Inductive Metrology, the last chapters of Pearson’s Grammar of Science. Of course, as the student’s understanding of the matter advance, he will return to this first task, and continually improve upon his first essays. The second step will be to consider the logic and methodeutic of the research in hand, unless it is itself a question of pure mathematics, where the logic is in- separable from the mathematics. He will do well to study the manner in which questions somewhat analogous to his own have been successfully resolved in widely different fields; for the greatest advantage has accrued from the extension of methods from one subject to a widely different one, especially from simple to intricate matters. The third step should be to reform his metaphysics, if the question is a broad one. Perhaps he thinks he has no metaphysics, and does not wish to have any. That will be a sure sign that he is badly handicapped with metaphysics of the crudest quality. The only way to disburden himself of it is to direct his atten- tion to it. But he cannot reduce himself for anything like absolute skepticism in metaphysics without arresting his work. (This is especially true and important for psychologists.—J.M.B.) The fourth step will be to study the laws of the phenomena dealt with, so far as they can be made out at this stage. The general order of discovery in the nomo- logical sciences is first to pick up the phenomena by excursions in these fields in which they are to be found, with alertness of observation, with those clear ideas that makes the new fact instantly recognizable as new, and with the energy that seizes upon the faint trace and follows it up. Witness the manner in which all the

25 [Editor: Dictionary of Philosophy and Psychology, J.M. Baldwin, New York: Macmillan,

1902.].

new phenomena of radiation have been brought to light during the last genera- tion: cathode rays, X rays, Becquerel rays, etc. After making some acquaintance with the phenomena, the next discovery is of their laws (nomological). In the light of one’s metaphysics and general conception of the department of truth dealt with, one considers what different hypotheses have any claims to investigation. The leading considerations here will be those of the ‘economics’ of research. If, for example, a hypothesis would necessitate an experimental result that can be cheaply refuted if it is not true, or would be greatly at variance with preconceived ideas, that hypothesis has a strong claim to early examination. But one must not give up a hypothesis too readily. Many a discovery has been missed by that fault. Gravitation would have been known a decade earlier if Newton had not lastly thought it refuted, and so set back all the subsequent history of physics by some- thing like that amount of time lost. It is likely that thousands of persons more will be of consumption—as remote as that may seem—than would have died if he had not made that error. The testing of the hypothesis proceeds by deducing from it experimental consequences almost incredible, and finding that they re- ally happen, or that some modification of the theory is required, or else that it must be entirely abandoned. The law of the phenomena once made out, it only remains to measure with precision the values of the coefficients in the equation which expresses it. The problem under investigation may not be of a nomological kind. Not that the phenomena are not conceivably subject to law, so that the subject may ulti- mately be received into the nomological sciences,—as chemistry, for example, promises some day to mature into a nomological science; but in the present state of knowledge the question, we will suppose, cannot be so studied. Still, a certain amount of nomological study is a necessary preliminary to engaging with the problem itself. Biology calls for aid from physiology. The student who is studying the growth of languages must avail himself of all the knowledge that there is about the physics of speech sounds. In case, then, the question has not yet reached the nomological stage. But such orderlinesses as ‘Grimm’s Law’ (see GENDER) and ‘Mendeléefs Law’ are not laws in the sense in which the association of ideas and the three laws of motion are laws. They are not satisfactory for a minute. They are nothing that can blend with our metaphysics; they are not of a universal kind; and they are not precise. You may imagine that there might be a chain of more and more universal, precise, and reasonable regularities leading from these to those. But there is, in fact, a great gap, which has to be acknowledged. A hypothesis may be made about the cause of the three laws of motion; but we can have no present hopes of satisfactorily proving the truth of such a thing; while we at once set to work with great hopes of making considerable steps towards explaining

Mendeléef ’s Law and Grimm’s Law. But the most important distinction between true laws and such regularities lies in the very different way in which we proceed to the discovery of the one and of the other. The whole attitude of mind is so dif- ferent that it is difficult to believe that the same man would have great success in the two tasks. We have seen in our day the establishment of a great example of each kind, the Law of the CONSERVATION OF ENERGY (q.v.) and the Periodic Law. The one dealt with a small number of observations. Exactitude was the main thing. The hypothesis itself sprang almost immediately from the natural light of reason. In the other case, it was necessary with a positive effort to put ideas of exactitude aside and to find order in a great tangle of facts. Perhaps the problem in hand relates to one of those sciences basely called descriptive, that is, sciences which study, not classes of facts, but individual facts, such as history, descriptive astronomy, geography. No science is merely descriptive. These sciences are investigations of causes. The historian’s facts of observation are not these contained in his text, but those mentioned in the foot-notes—the docu- ments and monuments. It is the supposed causes of them which make the text. Nor is he contented with a mere chronicle of striking public events; he endeavours to show what hidden causes of them were. So the astronomer’s real business is to prove the NEBULAR HYPOTHESIS (g.v.) or whatever ought to replace it. The ge- ologist does not merely make a geological map, but shows how the existing state of things must have come to pass. To do this the historian has to be a profound psy- chologist, the geologist a master of physics and dynamics. Just as the classificatory sciences tend to become nomological, so the descriptive, or explanatory, sciences tend to become classificatory. The astronomer finds so many examples of systems in formation that he can formulate the cycle of events through which they gener- ally pass; as the historian formulates cycles through which communities usually pass, and the geologist formulates cycles through which continents commonly pass. These are analogous to the cyclical laws of the classificatory sciences. But perhaps the problem before the student is not one of theoretical physics or of theoretical psychics, but a practical problem. He wishes to invent. In that case he ought to have a great knowledge both of facts about men’s minds and of facts about matter; for he has to adapt the one to the other. He ought to know more than any pure scientist can be expected to know. Of course, as the world goes, he does not. (2) The most vital factors in the method of modern science have not been the following of this or that logical prescription—although these have had their value too—but they have been the moral factors. First of there has been the genuine love of truth and conviction that nothing else could long endure. Given that men strive after the truth, and, in the nature of things, they will get it in a measure.

The greatest difference between the scientific state of the modern scientific era from Copernicus and the middle ages, is that now the whole concern of students is to find out the truth; while then it was to put into a rational light the faith of which they were already possessed. The chief obstacle to the advance of science among students of science in the modern era has been that they were teachers, and feared the effect of this or that theory. But the salvation from this danger has been the fact that there was no vast institution which anybody for a moment hoped could withstand the mighty tide of fact. The next most vital factor of the method of modern science is that it has been made social. On the one hand, what a scientific man recognizes as a fact of science must be something open to anybody to observe, provided he fulfills the necessary conditions, external and internal. As long as only one man has been able to see a marking upon the planet Venus, it is not an established fact. Ghost stories and all that cannot become the subject of genuine science until they can in some way be welded to ordinary ex- perience. On the other hand, the method of modern science is social in respect to the solidarity of its efforts. The scientific world is like a colony of insects, in that the individual strives to produce that which he himself cannot hope to enjoy. One generation collects premises in order that a distant generation may discover what they mean. When a problem comes before the scientific world, a hundred men immediately set all their energies to work upon it. One contributes this, another that. Another company, standing upon the shoulders of the first, strike a little higher, until at last the parapet is attained. Still another moral factor of method of science, perhaps even more vital than the last, is the self-confidence of it. In order to appreciate this, it is to be remembered that the entire fabric of science has to be built up out of surmises at truth. All that experiment can do is to tell us when we have surmised wrong. The right surmise is left for us to produce. The ancient world under these circumstances, with the exception of a few men born out of their time, looked upon physics as something about which only vague surmises could be made, and upon which close study would be thrown away. So, ventur- ing nothing, they naturally could gain nothing. But modern science has never faltered in its confidence that it would ultimately find out the truth concerning any question in which it could apply the check of experiment. These are some of the more vital factors of the method of modern science. For the purely logical elements the reader should consult special topics, e.g. REASON- ING, PROBABLE INFERENCE, PSYCHOPHYSICAL METHODS, ERRORS OF OBSERVATION, EMPIRICAL LOGIC, VARIATION, &c. (C.S.P., J.M.B.).

Notes for a Syllabus of Logic 26

1. Division of Human Life into life of Enjoyment, life of Ambition, and Life of Research

2. Division of Science into Heuretic, Cartographic and Applied

3. Division of Heuresis into Mathematics, Cenoscopy, and Idioscopy

4. Remarks on Mathematics

5. Division of Cenoscopy in Phaneroscopy, Nomology, and Metaphysics

6. Remarks on Phaneroscopy

7. Division of Nomology into Esthetics, Ethics, and Logic

8. Remarks on Esthetics

9. Remarks on Ethics

10. Division into Positive and Negative Ethics

11. Division of Logic and Stechiology, Critic, and Methods

12. Nature of Signs

13. Divisions of Signs

14. Relations of the Divisions

15. General Principles of Critic

16. Scientific Reasonings and Practical Reasoning

17. Divisions of Scientific Reasoning

18. Abduction

19. Deduction Corellarial and Theorematic, also Necessary and Probable

20. Induction and its Varieties

21. Practical Reasoning

22. Methodeutic

In the sum total of all of which we have in mind,—which total I call the phaneron, and this is necessarily and intentionally a vague term,—we can discern a multi- tude of ingredients, and we notice too, that these are of several widely different kinds. In order to put the meanings of these two remarks beyond danger of being mistaken, the writer will at once set down some of the things that have been in his mind during the last few minutes. Being a little out of his usual health he was aware of certain sensations in the truth of his body. Then the delightful cool warmth of the June afternoon, the charming sunshine half shaded up by the green bushes outside his windows,

26 [Editor: MS 477, dated 1903.]

the absolute quiet of his study, gave him feelings of joy and of gratitude. The idea came to bring that all it was for selfish and too idle. No doubt he was making an intense effort to get these sentences compose and set down,—no such easy task as one might suppose. He cannot say that he was immediately aware of that effort, as he was of these feelings. To have a feeling and not to be conscious of it would be at once to feel and not to feel. The words make nonsense. But it is entirely possible to exert an intense effort without being at all aware of doing so. Such effort is particularly effectual. Not that nothing passes in the mind, espe- cially in case the effort is a mental one. What is the peculiar quality of conscious- ness in effort? There is a sort of superposition of the idea of the state of things one is trying to bring about, upon the perception of the state of things one is trying to annul. I will leave it to the psychologists to say more precisely what the quality of consciousness is. Suffice it to say that it is a sort of duplicate idea. One contemplates the actual through a transparent image of the object desired. One anticipates the time when the desired object shall be perceived with the super- seded state lying behind it in memory. But the writer was thinking more particularly of a subsequent part of this book, which, it seemed to him was going to be disjointed, out of harmonious connection with the rest. He was trying to think what he should do about that. But after think- ing of the matter a few moments, he perceived that the very feature of that part which he thought was going to put it out of joint would, on the contrary, if were only developed in a certain way give the whole a much firmer consistency; and thereupon he formed the resolution that he would so develop that feature; and he took some pains to weave that purpose into his plan. What was this weaving ac- tion of the mind? His soul was teaching itself a trick, much as he might teach a dog or a parrot. It was certainly not more feeling; and was quite opposed in character to the uneasiness of effort. For it was, on the contrary, decidedly a comfortable and comforting process. If we call whatever is in the mind, whether as feelings, as stresses, or efforts, as habits, or habit growths, or of whatever other kind they may be by the name of ingredients of the Phaneron, then we may obviously say that no things what- ever can differ more from one another than ingredients of the Phaneron may differ; since whatever we at all know we must know through ingredients of the Phaneron, and we cannot say things differ at all if we have no notions whatever of them. 27

27 [Editor: The main text ends at this point. The manuscript includes additional pages about diverse topics.]

Exact Logic 28 Introduction. What is Logic?

Logic is the Theory of Reasoning. Its main business is to ascertain the conditions upon which the just strength of reasoning depends. Such has always been under- stood to be its nature, at any rate, approximately; so that this statement, though it may be superseded as a scientific definition, yet like the meaning popularly attached to any common word, must forever be respected as alone authoritative in a vague sense.

28 [Editor: MS 735, not dated. The manuscript is a collection of three different versions around the topic EXACT LOGIC with the following subtitles:

a. Introduction. What is Logic?

b. The Theory of Reasoning.

c. Of the Place of Logic among the Sciences.

It includes also a fourth section under the title EXACT LOGIC. Introduction. What is Logic? which is a slightly different version of the first part. The following letter sent to his student Christine Ladd-Franklin and dated Nov. 1900, gives the approximate date of the Ms. In: Charles S. Peirce at the Johns Hopkins, The Journal of Philosophy, Psychology, and Scientific Methods. Vol. XIII. No. 26: Dec. 21, 1916 pp. 715–723.

My dear Mrs. Franklin:

I want you kindly to read the enclosed article Exact Logic and show it to your husband

whose judgment I have much faith in, if he will be so good as to look at it. I told Prof. Baldwin when I took up this work that I should expect “unlimited swing” in exact logic.

Still, I don’t know but it is too much to ask him to print this; and I don’t want to ask what is not right. The purpose of it is to put Exact Logic in its place as a branch of philoso- phy. It is an extremely careful statement of the small ground it covers. I do not see how

I could say less without reducing it to a general statement that would be without force.

I am too close to it to get a good mental sight at it. I request you to read it and tell me plainly whether it seems to you and your husband calculated to do the cause of exact logic any good, … also whether there are any modifications you can suggest, especially to shorten it. A short vocabulary of terms omitted in Vol. I. of the Dictionary will have to be added. You had better, I should think, follow my example in this respect in your articles, inserting, for instance, … I should not wonder, if you look into my Virgo sym- bol, but you might find it resulted in a valuable rule of elimination.

Very faithfully,

C.S. Peirce.]

If a more exact definition is asked for, logicians of different schools will give different replies. Throughout the nineteenth century, the professors of logic in the universities have for the most part followed the lead of Kant although with innumerable di- vergences in every direction. If a logical doctrine of one of these sects (which we may collect under the designation of critical logic, giving them the appellative of Kant’s metaphysics) be attacked, it will be defended either by an ipse dixit, as self- evident, or by a remark about some language (most often German), or directly by some physiological phenomenon, or by a metaphysics or theory of cognition founded on psychology. During a considerable part of the century, and outside of the universities, the most influential conception of logic has been that of John Stuart Mill. Although his book was written entirely in the interest of a metaphysics quite similar to that of Kant and founded mainly upon the psychological doctrine of association, Mill does not build his logical system upon psychology but upon what he enounces as a law of nature, namely that nature is uniform. 29 There have been, besides, several logical doctrines, hardly to be called systems of logic, which have been founded upon the history of science. Among these, those of Auguste Comte and of William Whewell may be mentioned. 30 (The present work belongs to a fourth sect; small in the number of its adher- ents, but not so small in the value of their logical discoveries.) The method is to deduce the rules of reasoning by mathematical reasoning from initial properties which ordinary observation forces upon every man and which must be true if there is any such thing as true reasoning. The principal achievements of that method hitherto have been three. The first is the doctrine of chances, which ger- minating in a mere act of gaming, has grown up to be the veritable logic of the physical sciences, and is developing into something more general and impor- tant. The second is the logic of relatives which De Morgan in 1860 first rendered important and which shed such a flood of light upon every part of logic as alto- gether to reform all our conceptions of the subject. The third is the algebraical method put forth by Boole in 1847, and since considerably developed. To those three achievements there will soon be added the full elucidation of the logic of continuity. The general conception of logic, which has already proved itself so

29 [Editor: Peirce refers to John Stuart Mill and his book A system of logic, ratiocinative and inductive, being a connected view of the principles of evidence and the methods of scientific investigation, published 1859.]

30 [Editor: Comte, A. Cours de philosophie positive, 1830. Whewell, W. The History of Scientific Ideas, in two volumes, 1858.]

useful may be called Exact Logic, not at all by way of an unseemly Teutonic brast, but simply in the sense in which we speak of the exact sciences, meaning those whose exactitude is guaranteed by their mathematical methods. The exact logician can have no positive objection to the historical logic of Comte or Whewell. He must admit that their labors have been extremely helpful. Only there is no reason at all to believe than any general outline of the whole of logic could be produced by that method. Comte’s maxim that hypotheses ought to be verifiable is excellent as far as it was. But he never explains what ought to be understood by “verifiable.” Probably no precise definition of it could be worked out by Comte’s method. Whewell made the great discovery that the process of sci- ence must at any stage await the growth of appropriate ideas. This explains many things, but it does not show us what is good reasoning and what bad. Nor, as Whewell succeeded in throwing any light upon that matter by his methods. The logic of Mill in one important respect commands the approach of the ex- act logician. Namely, he sees that the question whether a given reasoning is good or bad is not a question of a way of thinking or of a tendency to think in any way, but is a question of truth and of fact. Mill may be and is mistaken as to the matter of the fact which makes the virtue of reasoning. He says that it is the uniformity of nature. But, at any rate, he is right in saying that it must be some real fact of the universe. Take the following as an illustration:

Premise. Enoch and Elijah are men; and all men die. Conclusion. Enoch and Elijah die.

The premise may not be true; but that will not make the reasoning process bad. But if there is any state of things, whether it to be natural constitution of the uni- verse, or any world of dreams or of fiction, in which such a premise as that is true while the conclusion related to that premise as the above conclusion is to its premise is not true, then the reasoning is bad; while if in every possible world the truth of such a premise would ipso facto constitute the truth of the conclusion the reasoning is good. For the purpose of reasoning is to proceed from the truth. Hence Mill is quite right in maintaining that the circumstance that the uniformity of nature is only discovered by reasoning is no objection to basing the validity of reasoning upon the uniformity of nature. For it is not what men think to be true, but what is true, which makes the conclusion to be true if the premiss is so. The fault of Mill’s Logic is that, with all his extraordinary ocumen, he is so blinded by his psychological doctrine of a tabula rasa and his rationalistic prejudices that his thought becomes vague at critical points; and this vagueness hides errors which make his whole system and all his maxims of reasoning worthless or worse. Who- ever, having already attentively read Mill’s System of Logic will carefully reperuse

it with special reference to the questions, what does Mill mean by a “uniformity,”

and what by “uniformity of nature,” how far are we assured that that uniformity of nature exists, and what is its relation to the validity of reasoning, will find that the book is not nearly so perspicuous and convincing as it had, at first, seemed to be. He will find that at one time Mill speaks of “uniformities” as if he meant what others call laws of nature, but which he prefers to call uniformities to indicate that there is no real generality, but that they are merely the bringing together by the mind of similar facts. But if the phenomena explained as due to laws of nature had no other bond of connection than our own classing them together, their resem- blance would be merely fortuitous, and there would be no reason at all to expect that events would continue to happen, Mill seems to mean by a uniformity the tendency of certain characters to extend through a whole genus if they belong to any species of it. His “uniformity of nature,” however, must be a real generality and

not a merely factitious one, if it is to lend any support to reasoning. He tells us that by the uniformity of nature, he means that under like circumstances like events will occur. But we constantly see unlike events occurring under circumstances very much alike, and circumstances precisely alike can never be found at all. Mill, with the subtlety that never deserts him, says that he means that under circum- stances sufficiently familiar events are alike. But I would ask whether he means all sorts of events or only some events. Every event is a relation. Does he then mean that under circumstances sufficiently similar all men whose names begin with G will do right? If so, that is as much to say that every kind of circumstance contributes to every kind of result, a proposition not at all in accordance with experience. If, on the other hand, he merely means that under sufficiently similar circumstances, some results will be similar, this at least as an approximate state- ment, cannot be questioned by anybody. But this will not establish the validity of any kind of reasoning, until some criterion is found for distinguishing such events from others. Now this principle itself cannot by itself produce such a criterion, and consequently cannot make any kind or reasoning just. Much more might be brought against Mill’s logical method; but the above may serve as an example of its defects. Only one theory of logic can be true; and therefore it is not surprising that faults are found with all but one. (But as to the two theories just criticized, it must be granted that they are in important respects correct and that they have served

a good purpose. I cannot say as much for the schools of critical logic.) Hav-

ing studied an incredible number of their treatises on exact logic with the most respectful consideration, to find the principal lesson I have learned from them

is how small a factor reason is and how large a factor fashion is in determining

what shall be taught from German philosophical chairs. I have often thought of

writing a book in order to show how many warning absurdities are to be found in the best of those works. But it is sufficient here to mention one error which most of them share. It is that of imagining that the aspect under which a fact is regard- ed, or even the form of words in which it is expressed, can make the difference of another fact following logically from it or not. For example, perhaps no book is so often mentioned in terms of high laudation by critical logicians as a brochure by Kant entitled “Die falsche Spitzfindigkeit der vier syllogistischen Figuren.” It is written in a world-shattering style, as if what the author had to say made

a great revolution in logic. Yet all the effort of the argument is applied to prove

a doctrine held by all logicians since Aristotle, namely that all syllogism can be

reduced to direct syllogism in the first figure; while the principal new doctrine of the book, that it follows from the reduction that no other syllogisms involve any logical principle other than that of the direct syllogisms of the first figure, is not argued at all. Another doctrine of the book is that every reasoning, or Schluss, has two premises. And how is this established? Very simply; by merely calling reasoning from a single premise by another name, inference, or Einführung, in- stead of Schlüsse! This is the kind of stuff that the whole body of critical logicians extols as almost superhuman.

In this treatise Kant insists that from the premises

Every spirit is simple, Everything simple is incorruptible,

It does not follow that

Something incorruptible is a spirit;

Although he admits that from the premises it follows that

Every spirit is incorruptible,

And from this that

Some thing incorruptible is a spirit.

This is a good specimen of the absurdities into which these logicians are betrayed who think the validity of an argument depends upon how it is thought. If we turn to one of the latest and most admired treatises of the critical class, the second edition of the logic of Sigwart, we find large sections of it taken up with discussions of grammatical constructions which are treated as coextensive with logic. Although they are not universal, even in the languages of Western Europe. Although in Irish it is usual to put the subject of a verb in the genitive case, and although languages are scattered all over the globe in which the subject of a verb is

treated like its direct and indirect objects and is not set off into contrast with them, yet Sigwart uncritically accepts the conception of those languages with which he is familiar that the subject is something quite familiar. Somebody may ask what great harm there can be in adding to the science of logic something extra that does not strictly belong to it. The answer is that in the science of reasoning, everything depends upon keeping to the point. If in considering the strength of a reasoning the attention is carried to something ir- relevant, it is perforce removed from that which alone is relevant. Accordingly, we find Sigwart making the value of reasoning consist in nothing at bottom but the feeling of conviction. Were this really all, there would be no science of logic, because good reasoning would be nothing more than what seemed good. But it is not all. For if a rule of reasoning be such that it may not lead to truth on the whole, although truth be attainable, that rule is bad, no matter how convincing it may seem; while in the contrary case the rule is a good one however indisposed we may feel to following it. The critical logicians have been much affiliated to the theological seminaries. About the thinking that goes on in laboratories they have known nothing. Now the seminarists and religionists generally, have at all times and places set their faces against the idea of continuous growth. That disposition of the intellect is the most catholic element of religion. Religion’s truth having been once defined is never to be altered in the most minute particular; and theology being held as queen of the sciences, the religion is to have bitterly fought by fire and tortures all great advances in the true sci- ences; and if there be no true continuous growth in men’s ideas where else in the world should it be looked for? Hence, we find this folk setting up hard lines of demarcation, or great gulfs, contrary to all observations, between good men and bad, between the wise and foolish, between the spirit and the flesh, between all the different kinds of objects, between one quantity and the next. So, shut up are they in this conception of the world that when the seminarist Hegel discovered that the universe is everywhere permeated with continuous growth (for that, and nothing else, is the “secret of Hegel”) it was supposed to be an entirely new idea, a century and a half after the differential calculus had been in working order. Were their conception just, a sense of constraint to think in a certain way (though it would be more than a mere feeling) would be an indication of an impossible barrier in thought, which would be absolute truth in its pity way. But he who really desires to learn,—and not merely to teach,—is constrained to hope and is encouraged by all experience to hope that constraints upon thought are mere temporary bars to progress. Even if there are any that are eternal, they cannot be distinguished from others by an immediate feeling as history abundantly proves.

The above seem to be sufficient reasons for not accepting current concep- tions of logic. Let us now remark that not everything that may be true about reasoning is necessarily pertinent to logic. To take an extreme and unquestion- able example, it is certainly true of reasoning that the English word for it begins with an R; but this has nothing to do with logic. In like manner, it may perhaps be true that reasoning can only be performed by a mind more or less like that of man, although there are machines which will produce the conclusions from certain premises. But reasonings can be expressed in words, in algebraic formu- lae, and in diagrams; and such expressions have the same logical characteristics that the mental representations have. Logic, therefore, concerns itself as directly with the outward, as with the inward representations. On the other hand, among the characters of reasoning which are pertinent to logic, one of the chief is that reasoning is essentially of the nature of a representation or sign. In saying this, I anticipate one of the results of the study of logic, and the reasons which lead to this conclusion cannot be fully appreciated in advance of such study. The prem- ise of a reasoning is supposed to be true, and as such it represents the real world, although only in part. The conclusion represents the very same world. Neither is the world; for one is no more so than the other; and were both the same world they would be identical. They are alike representations, or signs, of the world. But the reasoning does not lie in the premise nor in the conclusion nor in their mere aggregations. It lies in the representation that in every world an analogous conclusion would, either invariably or mostly, be true for every similar premiss that was true. Reasoning is therefore not only a representation, but a representa- tion of possibilities. Now what are possibilities, what mode of being have they but the mode of being of representations? Whether or not they have any real mode of being, I do not ask; for it is not here a pertinent question. I only say that so far as they are real, the real is of the nature of a representation.

Logic The Theory of Reasoning by C.S. Peirce

Part I. Exact Logic Part II. The Traditional Logic Part III. Examination of diverse logical Doctrines

Part I. Exact Logic Book I. The Facts Book II. Necessary Reasoning Book III. Probable Reasoning Book IV. Applications

Exact Logic Introduction. Of the Place of Logic among the Sciences

Logic proper is the theory of reasoning. That is to say, it is the study which aims to ascertain what must be the perceptible relations between possible facts in or- der that the knowledge that certain ones are true may warrant us in assuming that certain others are not true. This definition is opposed to the treatment of logic as a branch of psychology or as founded upon psychology. For according to our definition, it makes no dif- ference to the logician whether a fact is thought in this way or in that way unless the distinction will alter our right to draw a conclusion. If it be true that Enoch and Elijah were men and that all men die, then it is true that Enoch and Elijah die, no matter how or what we think. If I endeavor to separate the fundamental stars into two equal classes such that the stars of the first class shall be generally nearer to us than those of the second by putting into the first all those stars which have any two of the following quantities greater than the majority of the funda- mental stars, namely, 1 st , their brightness, 2 nd , their proper motion perpendicular to the suns path, 3 rd , their proper motion along the sun’s path, then it is logically pertinent to inquire how I came to pick out these criteria, and whether or not, the parallaxes of the stars are not known. To such extent and no further is it true that logic has to consider how a fact is thought. But even the English logics are perpetually arguing as if logical ques- tions could be settled by an appeal to the construction of some language, generally the English, while to read the most admired German treatises one would imagine

that logic different from German grammar chiefly in its extreme vagueness. Every kind of reasoning can be translated into every language on the globe and remains the very same argument, although the ways of thinking are utterly different. Most of the writers alluded to treat forms of speech common to French, English, Ger- man, Latin, and Greek as if thought could not go on without them, quite forgetting that those five languages are very much alike and very peculiar in their characters among the languages of mankind.

Exact Logic Introduction. What is Logic?

Logic is the Theory of Reasoning. That is to say, its main business is to ascertain the conditions upon which the just strength of reasoning depends. This is the statement of what logic has always been understood to be, at least approximately, and of how the word ought always to be used, so far the exigencies of science will permit. It embodies the original charter of the term; and though it may be super- seded as a scientific definition, must, like the definition of a fish as any aquatic vertebrate, forever be respected as alone authoritative in a rough way. Let us consider the following reasoning:

Premiss. All men die, and Enoch and Elijah are men. Conclusion. Enoch and Elijah die.

The question of whether this reasoning is sound or not, is the question of whether in any world, whichever, be it the world of reality, or a world of dreams, or any supposable world, it is possible for the premise to be true without the conclusion being true. It is a question of the relation between the truth of two supposed facts. In what language these supposed facts may be expressed, or what aspect they may be viewed, are matters altogether aside from the logicality of the reasoning. This is evident enough; yet since it is virtually denied by the majority of the logicians of our day, I will endeavor to make it still more manifest. Logic, then, is a science and as such aims to ascertain what really is the truth, whether people believe it to be the truth or not. It, therefore, supposes that the distinction be- tween good and bad reasoning subsists independently of opinions about it. Is the fact expressed in the conclusion of our example ipso facto real as soon as the fact expressed in the premiss is real? Then the reasoning is good, although any man or men should be under a blind “necessity of thought” to believe it’s bad. But if the fact expressed in the conclusion is not ipso facto real wherever the premise of fact is real, the reasoning is bad, however irresistible maybe the tendency to

think it’s good. For otherwise, reasoning could only show us how we feel and think, but could never give us any assurance of the truth. I shall be told that I am uncritical, because a man can never escape from his own thoughts, so that a logic such as I conceive would be utterly inscrutable. I reply that it is not I but the so-called “critical philosophy” which is uncritical and drifts about without a rudder, in consequence of a confusion of ideas. The confu- sion is between thought, in general, and a particular man’s thought in a particu- lar stage of development. I grant that a man cannot think without thoughts; but every man is perpetually growing out of his thoughts. Our hope is, in reference to any particular object of study, that this development would in time result in the man’s being more and more drawn out of the ways of thinking that are peculiarly his, and brought toward the same result toward which every other man would be brought. This ultimate destiny of opinion is quite independent of how you, I, or any men may persist in thinking. It is thought, but it is not my thought or yours, but is the thought that will conquer. It is that every student hopes for. It is the truth; and the reality of this truth lies, not at all in its being thought, but in the compulsion with which every thinker will be made to bow to it, a compulsion which constitutes it to be exterior to his thought. If this hope is altogether vain, if there is no such compulsion, or externality, then there is no true knowledge at all and reasoning is altogether idle. If the hope is destined only partially to be realized, then there is an approximate reality and truth, which is not exact. This hope constitutes a hypothesis of mathematical definiteness from which, together with a few facts of ordinary experience, can be deduced with math- ematical certainty rules for reasoning. Logic developed by this method is called Exact Logic, not by way of a rude Teutonic boast, but in the sense in which other sciences which repose largely upon mathematics are called exact sciences. Like other branches of genuine science, exact logic, once started upon the practicable path, was able to make important progress before its nature was thor- oughly understood even by those who pursued it with the most brilliant success. It began with the doctrine of chances, which from a theory of gaming developed into the veritable logic of the physical sciences. Boole in 1847 produced his logi- cal algebra, a wonderful stroke of genius which has immensely facilitated further progress. De Morgan’s studies, all of which are of positive value, began to appear in 1846. In 1860, he published the first important work upon the Logic of Rela- tives, which throws an entirely new light upon the science of logic. Those incep- tors have been succeeded by a school of some two dozen students, none of them university professors of logic, all of whom have made positive contributions to our knowledge of reasoning.

The priests of logic in the universities during the nineteenth century have mostly followed the lead of Kant, but with innumerable divergencies in every direction. All these doctrines may be classed together under the name of critical logic. The rules of reasoning deduced by exact logic are much more stringent than those of critical logic and the theory of the former departs widely from all those of the latter. Especially, in the matter of classification of logical concep- tions, upon which Kant insisted very strenuously, the critical logicians have fol- lowed him, without giving any serious reasons for doing so, though he himself dismissed the subject in a few words, not marked by much exactitude or profun- dity; while the exact logicians have come to conclusions while opposed to the ideas of Kant. The critical school found logic either directly upon psychology, or else upon a metaphysics or a theory of cognition which itself rests upon psychology. The same thing is true of the logic of Mill. In the view of the exact school psychology and metaphysics more than other sciences need to repose upon a correct theory of logic, so that if logic in its turn is made to rest upon them, neither it nor they have a solid basis.

Logic Viewed as Semeiotic Introduction Nr. 2. Phaneroscopy 31

Chapter I

The word φανερόν, in Greek, means manifest. Now the manifest I take to be that which we find ourselves forced to admit rather than persuaded in deliberate rea- soning to admit, yet under the belief in which we are so far from chafing that it seems to us more satisfactory than any ulterior reason could render it. It is that the compulsion does not seem to come from within ourselves, in which case it might be due to a too narrow association of ideas, that is, a defective experience, but seems to be the positive action upon us of the object we wish to know, which is just what makes it surely knowledge, whatever misapprehension we may per- haps have mingled with it. We reach against the compulsion, no doubt; for oth- erwise we should not feel ourselves to be forced. But we only react just enough to assure ourselves that it is veritably to the force of reality that we yield. Once convinced recognizing the source of the force, we are only too glad to yield to it, because experience has shown us that it is our own impulse toward believing this or that are our only enemies, while the majesty of reality our true friend. As an example of the most manifest sort of thing there is, we may take a case in which we look at an object and judge that it seems red. If anybody should ask how we can be so sure that it seems red, we shall reply “Do we not see it? Seeing is believing.” Yet we certainly do not see that it seems red. What we see is an im- age; what we say is a judgment, and is as utterly disparate to any image as can be. But we have a sense that it is the perceptual image that determines the judgment somewhat as the real object determines the percept. Such being, as I conceive the matter, the primitive implications of the Greek word I beg the privilege, in the interests of that exactitude of technical terminol- ogy without which no study can become scientific, of creating an English word, phaneron, to denote whatever is entirely open to assured observation, in all the entirety of its being, even if this observation be not quite as direct as that of a percept is. An external reality is not a phaneron because it is not entirely open

31 [Editor: MS 337, dated 1904.]

to observation. The phaneron resembles rather what many English philosophers call an idea. 32 When I say a phaneron is open to observation, I use the word “observation” in a pretty broad sense. Whatever, whether in a purposive or cognitive sense, we mean, or rather, when this is any distinction, what we think we mean is a phan- eron, although it maybe vague and is usually general, so that it cannot react upon us as a percept does, is a phaneron. Again, that which is observed, as a percept is absent, must be objectified, while mere tones of consciousness are phanerons. But though subject and object are not discriminated in these feelings, yet it is that element of them which becomes developed into the immediate object which is the phaneron.

32 I find various objections to using that word in place of phaneron, some of them com- monplace enough. The psychological connotations that we mixed with it. I desire par- ticularly to avoid. An idea is generally supposed to be entirely present consciousness in an instant, while a phaneron may not be capable of being so known. Perhaps the objec- tion that weighs most with me is that the English philosopher have a habit of saying that there is such idea as this or that, when in the very same breath they describe such an object. Thus, Berkeley says there is no such “idea” as that of a triangle in general, yet when he uses this phrase he supposes its meaning to be understood. Now that meaning is a phaneron.

Lecture I to the Adirondack Summer School 1905 33

Logic as the General Theory of Signs of all Kinds

I have a difficult task before me to render these four lectures profitable to you. It would be less so if we came without a single idea on the subject. But everybody, every butcher and baker, have ideas of logic and even used the technical termi- nology of the subject. He says he deals in articles of “prime necessity”. Perhaps he would be surprised to learn that the phrase “prime necessity” was invented by logicians to express a logical conception which has now become in common

mouths very vague, it is true; but which still has a little of the original concept in

a vague form clinging to it.

If I had a class in logic to conduct for a year, I should have still, as I used to do at the Johns Hopkins, upon the maientic character of my office,—which means that I should do all I could to make my hearer think for themselves, by which

I earned the gratitude of men who are useful to mankind. I should insist, that

they must not suppose that my opinions were bound to correct, but must work out their own ways of thinking. But now that there are but four lectures, and all falling in one week, the case is otherwise. I must beg you to remember that com- prehension comes first and criticism later. It will be as much as you can possibly do in this week with diligent endeavors, to understand what I mean by logic and what the general outline of my system is. In order to do as much as that you must endeavor to take up a sympathetic attitude,—to try to catch what it is that I am driving at, and to store up in your minds an outline of my theory which you will subject to criticism in the months to come. In order that you may understand me, that you may for this one week put yourselves, as far as you can, in my intellectual shoes,—leaving ourselves to de- cide only after you have worn them for a while whether they really fit or not,— that I am going to begin by telling you something about any classification of the sciences; because it will aid you in the difficult task of imbibing my notion of the kind of science that I hold logic to be. I have gained an unfortunate reputation as a writer upon the algebra of logic. It is generally understood that I hold logical algebra to be the main part of logic. But that is quite a mistake. I am in the world, but not of the world of formal logic. A

33 [Editor: Ms 1334, dated 1905. The subtitle has been added by the editor].

calculus, even in mathematics proper, is like the sword, that our warriors by sea and land to carry at their sides. Having it there at hand marks the mathematician as the sword marks the officer. Moreover, it is like a sword a most handy instrument. There is a traditional use of the calculus just as there is a traditional sword practice. But just as words as far as genetical use goes one more to the purpose in opening tomato cans than men’s abdomens, so the calculus is put by real mathematicians to use the inventor little dreamed of. Which, if this is true of the differential calculus, it is a hundred times more true of any logical calculus. Professor Dedekind, one of the leading logico-mathematicians,—but like the rest a mathematician in fact, and not a logician,—urges that mathematics is nothing but a particular branch of logic he is quite mistaken. 34 Having no inside acquaintance with the logical household, he does not know as to do from having been an inmate of both houses, that the logician’s aims and ideals are entirely foreign to the mathematician’s, and the mathematician to the logician. The math- ematician is intent on finding ways of making intricacies intelligible. He wants to facilitate reasoning. The logician does not care a straw about that. He wants to know what the essential ingredients of reasoning and thought in general are. Far from wishing to abridge reasonings, as the mathematician is perpetually doing where he can, the logician prefers to have them cumbrous so that no element may be overlooked. This difference is striking enough, even where the logician is upon the mathematical ground. I should not, however, have mentioned it in these lectures for any other purpose than to say how much nearer the mathema- tician comes to understanding the nature of logic than do the psychologists or even the greater part of those who call themselves logicians. I refer to those who think that logic, if not a branch of psychology, is founded on psychology, since it deals with human thought. Yes, it deals with human thought just as the theory of the quadratic equation deals with human thought,—just so much and no more. I have not the slightest doubt that if pure mathematics had not so developed itself that it was perfectly hopeless to attempt to give it a new direction, the present race of thinkers would make that to be founded on psychology. They would have the same reason to do so that they have to dig a similar foundation for logic. But my classification of the sciences will give you a first inkling of my notion of the position that logic holds among the sciences. This classification adopts the general ideas of the classification called Comte’s. When I speak of it as “the classification called Comte’s,” I must state that of my own

34 [Editor: Richard Dedekind was Carl Friedrich Gauss’s doctoral student in Göttingen. His main book is: Stetigkeit und irrationale Zahlen (1872).]

knowledge, I know no reason for not simply calling it Comte’s classification. But Dr. Robert Flint and other writers are very solemnly, “If that classification possess any merits they must be ascribed to Dr. Bentham, who conceived it and to Saint- Simon, who first received and published it; and not to Comte, although he showed how much could be made of it.” Notwithstanding the scoundelly character of cleri- cal profession in times past, I cannot believe that! Dr. Flint would use such lan- guage without conclusive proof of its truth, convincing to every mind. I am sorry that I cannot quite suppress a lingering suggestion of doubt in my mind owing to the unspeakable mendacity of the cloth, in times too recent. I certainly cannot for an instant believe that Comte was a conscious plagiarist. 35 This scheme, as you know, arranges what are called by Comte the “abstract sciences” in a ladder, with the idea that each derives its principles from the dis- coveries of the mere abstract science that occupies the rung above, while all are at the same time pressing upwards in the endeavor to become more “abstract.” Since Comte first set forth that scheme, many others have been proposed; but among the score or more which have seemed to me to be at all deserving of study, including all that are widely known, I have not found one which was not manifestly founded upon that which goes by Comte’s name; and if my own has no other distinction, it shall have that of honestly owning a filiation to a system of philosophy to which I am profoundly opposed,—a filiation of which too many of its offspring seem to be basely ashamed to own. This, however, is not the only peculiarity of my classification. In order to make it useful I wished it to be a natural classification, that is, I wished it to embody the

35 [Editor: Comte was known primarily as the founder of philosophy and history of sci- ence. His classification examines six fundamental sciences: mathematics, astronomy, physics, chemistry, biology, sociology. Peirce developed his classification of sciences according to Comte’s classification which had the basic idea of an interdependence of sciences on fundamental principles. He compared Comte’s philosophy of science with Willhelm v. Humboldts Cosmos as well as Spencer’s Synthetic Philosophy as “science of review.” Main topics which are mentioned in this context are Infalibility, Pragmatism, Abduction. Nevertheless Peirce criticized the lack of verifying methods in Comte’s work. For further reading see Peirce, C.S. (Winter 1867–1868). Critique of Positivism. Unpublished manuscript, Charles S. Peirce Papers (MS 146). Institute for Studies in Pragmaticism. Texas Tech University, Lubbock, TX. Beverley Kent Charles S. Peirce:

Logic and the Classification of the Sciences. McGill-Queen’s University Press (1987), also Kenneth L. Ketner “Charles S. Peirce: Interdisciplinary Scientist” in Charles S. Peirce. The Logic of Interdisciplinarity, 35–57. (Bisanz, 2009). About the topic Comte vs. CSP see Mathew Fairbanks “Peirce and the Positivists on Knowledge” in Transactions of the Charles S. Peirce Society 6 (2) 111–122 (1970).]

chief facts of the relationship between the sciences so far as they present them- selves to scientific and observational study. Now to my apprehension, it is only

natural experiential objects that lend themselves to such a natural classification.

I do not think, for example, that we can make a natural classification of plane

curves or of any other mere, possibilities. We do classify them, or rather, divide them, according to their orders and classes or their so-called deficiencies. This is a mere enumeration of the logically possible cases. It embodies, no positive information or cannot therefore serve the same purpose as a natural classifica- tion. My notion is that what we call “natural classification” is, from the nature of things limited to natural objects. Now the vast majority of classifications of the sciences are classifications of possible sciences, which are certainly not natural

objects. What is a science as a natural object? It is the actual living occupation of an actual group of living men. It is in that sense only that I presume to attempt any classification of the sciences. A very considerable proportion of all the so called classifications of the sciences are classifications of Scientia, or ἐπιστήμαι in the ancient sense of perfect knowledge. Others are classifications of not of sci- ence, but of the objects of systematized knowledge. But what I mean by a “science,” both for the purpose of this classification in general, is the life devoted to the pursuit of truth according to the best known methods on the part of a group of men who understand one another’s ideas and works as no outsider can. It is not what they have already found out which makes their business a science; it is that they are pursuing a branch of truth according,

I will not say, to the best methods, but according to the best methods that are

known at all time. I do not call the solitary studies of a single man a science. It is only when a group of men, more or less in intercommunication, is aiding and stimulating one another by their understanding of a particular group of stud- ies as outsiders cannot understand them, that I call their life a science. It is not necessary that they should all be at work upon the same problem, or that all should be fully acquainted with all that it is needful for another of them to know; but their studies must be closely allied that any one of them could take up the problem of any other after some months of special preparation that each should understand pretty minutely what it is that each one’s or the others work consists in; so that any two of them meeting together shall be thoroughly conversant with each other’s ideas and the language he talks and should feel each other to be brothers. In particular, one thing which commonly unites them is their common skill unpossessed by outsiders, in the use of certain instruments, their common skill in performing certain kinds of work. The men of that group have dealings with the men of another group whose studies are more abstract, to whom they go

for information about principles that the men of the second group understand better, but which the men of the first group need to apply. At the same time the men of this first group will probably have far more skills in their special ap- plications of these principles than have the members of the second group who understand better the principles themselves. Thus the astronomer reports to the student of optics, who understands the principles of optics better than he does. But he understands the application of the principles to astronomical instruments and to work them far better than the pure optical student does. One group may be on such wise dependent upon several other groups. Now I do not pretend that all the ramifications of dependence of one science upon another can be fully represented by any scheme of arrangement of the names of these sciences, even if we limit the kind of dependence that we seek and represent to dependence for principles. But I do undertake to represent somewhat vaguely the dependence for principles only of each science and each group of sciences upon others after the manner of Comte, or Charles Burdin or whoever was that made that wonderful discovery. All human lives separate themselves and segregate themselves into three grand groups whose members understand one another in a general way, but can for the life of them understand sympathetically the pursuits or aims of the oth- ers. The first group consists of the devotees of enjoyment who devote themselves to earning their bread eating as fine bread as they can and who seek the higher enjoyments of themselves and their felons. This is the largest and most necessary class. The second group despises such a life and cannot fully understand it. Their notion of life is to accomplish results. They build up great concerns, they go into politics, not as the healer does, for a living, but in order to wield the forces of state, they undertake reforms of one and another kind. This group makes civili- zation. The men of the third group who are comparatively few cannot conceive at all a life of enjoyment and look down upon a life of action. Their purpose is to worship God in the development of ideas and of truth. These are the men of science. They again segregate themselves into three great groups distinguished by their different conceptions of the purpose of science. There are those who look upon themselves as the tutors and superiors of the doers. Science to their minds tells how the world’s work is to be done; and the sciences they cultivate are the Practical Sciences. But in order to develop any practical science, a man must have the equivalent of a digest of science. A systematized account of all hu- man knowledge. Therefore, there must be a second class of men whose purpose it is to produce such digests, one working upon one part of it and another upon another. For these men, science is what Coleridge defined it as being, organized

knowledge. 36 This very business I am engaged in, of classifying the sciences is a necessary part of this work of systematizing and digesting human knowledge.

I have called such sciences the Sciences of Review, and also Tactics, or Taxospu-

de, the endeavor to arrange science. The third great division of science I call heuretics or heurospude, the endeavor of discovery. It is true that all scientific men are engaged upon nothing else than the endeavor to discover. This is true of taxospudists and the prattospudists as much as of the heurospudists. But the dif- ference is that the prattospudists endeavor to discover for the ultimate purpose of doing, and the taxospudists endeavor to discover for the purpose of applying knowledge in any way, be it in action or more especially in cognition. But the heurospudists look upon discovery as making acquaintance with God and as the very purpose for which the human race was created. Indeed, as the very purpose of God in creating the world at all. They think it’s a matter of no consequence whether the human race subsists and enjoys or whether it be exterminated, as it

[in] time very happily will be, as soon as it has subserved its purpose of develop- ing a new type of mind that can love and worship God better. You must not think that I mean to say in any wooden sense that God’s notion of creating the world was to have somebody to admire him. We cannot possibly put ourselves in God’s shoes, even so far as to say in any definite, wooden sense that God is. I only mean that the purpose of creation as it must appear to us in our highest approaches to an understanding of it, is to make an answering mind. It is God’s movement toward self reproduction. And when I say that God is,

I mean that the conception of a God is the highest flight toward an understand-

ing of the original of the whole physico-psychical universe that we can make. It has the advantage over the agnostics and other views of offering to our apprehen- sion an object to be loved. Now the heurospudist has an imperative need of find- ing in nature an object to love. His science cannot subsist without it. For science to him must be worshipped in order not to fall down before the feet of some idol of human workmanship. Remember that the human race is but an ephemeral thing. In a little while it will be altogether done with and cast aside. Even now it is merely dominant on one small planet of one insignificant star, while all that our sight embraces on a starry night is to the universe far less than a single cell of brains is to the whole man.

36 [Editor: Samuel Taylor Coleridge’s philosophical ideas included philosophy of science as well as romantic medicine as the philosophy of life sciences. Romantic philosophy developed a new theory of knowledge based on the study of both natura naturata and natura naturans (inert and vital nature).]

So the three great branches of science are Heurospude, Taxospude and the Prattospude. I have drawn up a very elaborate classification of the Practical Sci- ences; but I could not take up time with any account of that. I have never yet at- tempted any classification of the Sciences of Review. But it is Heurospude, or Pure Science which concerns us. Now pure science as it now exists, happens to have three grand divisions. There is Idioscopy, or the Special Sciences, such as Sociol- ogy, Astronomy, and the like, the great business of which is to discover and study hitherto unknown phenomena. Secondly, there is Philosophy, or Cenoscopy, which does not bother with novel phenomena, but finds enough to do in endeav- oring to understand those which are brought before every grown person every day of his life; and finally there is Mathematics, which never makes a single posi- tive assertion of fact, but merely invents hypothetical states of things and says that if such and such were the case, not caring a snap of the fingers whether it be so or not, though usually it is not the case, then such and such would therein be true. An opinion, which I ask nobody to share, is that in the future Heurospude will divide into Mathematics, Positive Science, and another branch hitherto undevel- oped, the Natural History of Thought, Pure Science consisting only of Cenoscopy and Idioscopy. Now idioscopy, or special science, has two wings the physical and the psychical. The psychical depends on the physical. Yet on the whole, it is truer to regard them as two parallel rings. Each has its nomological, its taxonomic, and its descriptive divisions. The nomological sciences are pure physics on the physi- cal side, general psychology, general sociology, general economics, on the psychi- cal side. These sciences all tend to pass into metaphysics on which they depend. The taxonomic or classificatory sciences are chemistry, crystallography, mineral- ogy, ethnology, and special psychology on the psychical side. The classificatory sciences tend to become nomological. Chemistry and physiology tend to pass into general physics, parts of linguistics to become general psychology, etc. The descriptive sciences, so called, endeavor not only to describe but also to account for the characters of individual objects. They are astronomy and geognosy on the physical side, history, archeology, etc. on the psychical side. We now come to what particularly concerns us, Cenoscopy, or Philosophy. You will observe that I make this a branch of science upon which all special sci- ence, including psychology depends, while the empirical philosophers generally, Comte, followed by his […] ([for] all their violent opposition to him only marks their dependency more strongly) Spencer and Fiske, and as well as Wundt and many others, make philosophy to depend upon the special sciences. I do not however so totally disagree with them as would appear at first glance. On the contrary, I quite acknowledge that there is such science as they call positive phi- losophy or Synthetic Philosophy or Cosmic Philosophy, or by some other such

name. That science stands in my opinion at the head of the Sciences of Review. But all these philosophers make one of the most disastrous mistakes possible in confounding science with Cenoscopy, which must not depend upon the special sciences in as much as they, on the contrary, need depend upon it. 37 The reason that I hold this unification of widely separated sciences to be disas- trous is that it leads to the most important questions, especially logical questions, never receiving any serious consideration at any time. One branch of cenoscopy is logic, and one branch of logic is methodeutic which should investigate the general principles upon which scientific studies should be carried on. But under the plan of these philosophers, logic is to be founded upon the study of all the other sciences. That is to say you are first to make your researches and after that inquire how they ought to be made, locking the barn door after the horse is al- ready stolen. To be sure, these philosophers maintain that two sciences can be reciprocally dependent upon each other. But the question of whether they can be so dependant or not, them which no question is of greater importance to the well-being of science, never receives at their hands any serious study. The ques- tion is asked in the vaguest terms, without any exact determination of what kind of dependence is referred to; and is answered on the basis of a loose analogy to cases in which when the number of observations exceeds the number required to draw a conclusion the conclusion is utilized to correct the observations. They do not analyze the conditions under which such a thing is possible. For the reason that under their method they first assume an answer to it without any serious examination; and then having asked upon that hasty answer throughout, it has naturally lost all practical importance, and so never does get any serious consid- eration. If they were to analyze the case which they fancy sustains their notion of reciprocal dependence, they would see that, far from sustaining that idea, it is quite opposed to it. A student of one subject say Dr. A may go to a student of another subject, say Dr. B, and ask him a question and make use of his answer; and subsequently Dr. B who gave the answer may ask a question of Dr. A, and if it is a wholly independent question there is no reason why he should not de- rive solid information from him. But the idea that Doctors A and B can each supply the other with the very same information or with information virtually the same is ridiculous. I maintain that no two sciences can depend each upon the results of the other for principles without which it cannot exist as a science.

37 [Editor: The term cenoscopy goes back to Jeremy Bentham whose students were among others James Mill and his son John Stuart Mill. Bentham’s main work An Introduction to the Principles of Morals and Legistlation was published in 1789. Peirce adopted the term cenoscopy, as the theory of common experience, for his classification of sciences.]

Now all the special sciences,—in particular, dynamics the most fundamental of the physical sciences and the science of association the most fundamental of the psychical sciences, depend for their existence as sciences upon princi- ples which only the metaphysician properly discuss. To show how differently the ultra-empiricists think, I will quote a sentence from the second-edition of Wundt’s “System der Philosophie.” He says: “Ich muss zugeben: wenn man es als ein Axiom betrachtet, metaphysische Systeme müssten unabhängig von allen Einflüssen des Einzelwissens, sozusagen durch eine wissenschaftliche generatio aequivoca, entstehen, so lässt sich gegen jene Meinung nicht viel einwenden. In der That glaube ich, dass es einen Unterschied macht, wo man anfängt, und wo man aufhört. Da ich von den Naturwissenschaften ausgegangen und dann durch die Beschäftigung mit empirischer Psychologie zur Philosophie gekommen bin, so würde es mir unmöglich erscheinen anders zu philosophieren als nach eine Methode, die dieser Folge der Probleme entspricht.“ 38 It [is] that dur about the generatio aequivoca that I wish to call attention, which implies that a doctrine which is not based upon a result of one of the Einzelwissenschaften, or special sciences, has no basis at all. Now all such results depend upon logical principles without which no special science would have any credibility. It would therefore follow that logical principles are based on nothing at all, and that the special sciences which are based on these baseless principles have no solid basis, were it not that Wundt thinks that Logic and the Special Sciences, like two lying wit- nesses in court, sustain each other’s credit. But according to me there are certain principles that no man doubts,—that you do not doubt in the least degree. Very vague, I confess, or rather insist, that they are, but still not entirely nonsensical; and it is upon these Principles of Common Sense that Logic and all Cenoscopy must rest; and since they are absolutely indubitable there can be no consistent dissatisfaction with them. These are not the results of any special science, but on the contrary, antecede all scientific research and are taken for granted by all scientists. For scientific men are not sophists and wranglers over nothing, but are eminently men of Common Sense, that is of Human Instinct, beyond the gates of which it is impossible for men to push their criticism. I could not ask for more convincing support of this Common Sensism than is furnished by the ultra-empiricist Ernst Mach in his book “Die Mechanik in ihrer Entwicklung historisch-kritisch dargestellt.”

38 [Editor: Wilhelm Wundt known as the founder of experimental psychology was a cen- tral figure in Peirce’s thoughts concerning psychology. His main works include: Beiträge zur Theorie der Sinneswahrnehmung, 1862, as well as Logik. Eine Untersuchung der Principien der Erkenntniss und der Methoden wissenschaftlicher Forschung, 1880–1883.]

My views of Cenoscopy are, no doubt, immature. I have only been working on the problem some forty odd years and what can be expected from an infant? Give me a few more years, more of vigor, be it in this body you see before you, or in that of some young man who will take up the work and find a successor, and we shall have something better than vague guessing. The division I guess ought to be, into three parts: Phaneroscopy, or Protoscopy, Deuteroscopy, and Tritoscopy. Phaneroscopy is the description of the phaneron; and by the phaneron I mean the collective total of all that is in any way or in any sense present to the mind quite regardless of whether it corresponds to any real thing or not. If you ask pre- sent when, and to whose mind, I reply that I leave these questions unanswered, never having entertained a doubt that these features of the phaneron that I have found in my mind are present at all times and to all mind. So far as I have de- veloped this science of phaneroscopy it is occupied with the formal elements of the phaneron. I know that there is another series of elements imperfectly rep- resented by Hegel’s categories. But I have been unable to give any satisfactory account of them. 39 The second division of Cenoscopy, or Deuteroscopy must, I think, break away from Phaneroscopy in distinguishing between what is as a fact and what appar- ently might be, but isn’t. It thus strikes its dominant note of duality on its first inception. In harmony with this duality, in its substance, I think it should divide into two problems, Ontology, which recognizes two kinds of existent, Mind and Matter, and Normative Science. The normative sciences are usually said to be esthetics, ethics, and logic; but Herbart and others put esthetics and ethics to- gether, perhaps rightly. 40 They are all largely and to my say principally occupied with a dual distinction, the distinction of the approved and the unapproved. Es- thetics relate to the immediately contemplated; ethics to doings; logic of thought. But remembering that we are in the region of cenoscopy, the idea of ethics is too narrow. How can there be a science of ethics before psychology is under- stood? As a cenoscopic science, I think it must be broader and include then exist- ent generally. Moreover, I do not see how there can be any rational approval or disapproval of a mere idea in itself and therefore I think there can be no esthetics until something is to be done with the idea. Esthetics, therefore, can be nothing

39 [Editor: Peirce refers to Hegel’s book Wissenschaft der Logik which was published between 1812–16.]

40 [Editor: Johann Friedrich Herbart the prominent nineteenth century pedagogist; for further reading, Psychologie als Wissenschaft (1816), Allgemeine Praktische Philosophie (1808). Also in James E. Cook C.S. Peirce Contributions to The Nation 2, “Herbart and Herbartians” (1978) 103–105, by Charles DeGarmo.]

but a branch of ethics. It is not very easy to seize the exact meaning of the phrase normative science. It means the science of the approvable and unapprovable, or better the blamable and the unblamable. These sciences are distinguished from most others by involving dual distinc- tion. But it would be easy to exaggerate its prominence in them. This prominence

is greatest in ethics, least in esthetics. There arose in the Lyceum after the death of Aristotle as to whether Logic was

a speculative or Practical Science, an Art, or an Organon. 41 This not worthwhile

to explain the meanings of these terms, the dispute, like many others, continued long after its meaning had been forgotten; and to this day Normative Sciences are frequently confronted with Practical Sciences. They are, however, properly speaking pure sciences, although practical studies are joined to them, so that in part they are truly Practical Sciences. But the normative science proper is not a practical science, but is a study in the pure interest of theory. The conception of

a family of sciences of that description is, I believe, due to Herbart, together with

the word normative. If we are to admit only two normative sciences, the first of these, which for convenience, we call ethics relating to control of the excellent, or say to actualization, and the second to thought, then that first ethics must have two sections, one on the ultimate aims, or summum bonum, which will be the same as esthetics, if esthetics is not to be confined to sensuous beauty, but is to relate to the admirable and adorable generally, while the other, which may be called critical ethics treats of the conditions of conformity to the ideal. If a new word must be made to designate that first section, I will suggest that axiagastics be the name of the science of the worthy of adoration. For I hold that the science must consist in the analysis of that which is admirable, without any ulterior reason for being admirable, or in other words the analysis of what it is that excites that feeling akin to worship that fills one’s whole life in the contem- plation of an idea that excites this feeling. We must suppose that primitive or bar- barous people hardly have this idea, since hardly any word in any language (as far as I know) expresses it. The French beau approaches it, but is poor and cold. The primitive man found too much reason to think of the divine not as something to be passionately loved, but as something to be feared. Only the Greek ἄγαμαι is an exception, a glorious verb expressing how the common people in primitive times looked up to their leaders with passionate admiration and devotion, and comes

41 [Editor: The Organon is the standard collection Aristotle’s six works on Logic: Catego- ries, De Interpretatione, Prior Analytics, Posterior Analytics, Topics, Sophistical Refuta- tions.]

nearest to expressing the idea. Repeating the root, although the linguists do not say they are the same, it makes the word axiagastics, as the science of that which is worthy to be admired and adored. But I am not thoroughly persuaded that Baumgarten’s word esthetics will be too unwarrantably wrenched in being given this meaning. Critical ethics will be the science of the general conditions of control; and it is easy to see that it comes chiefly to the doctrine of self-control. Logic takes its start in that. It is but an application of ethics to thought. For reasoning differs from the formation of a new belief by the action of the associa- tion of ideas only by being a deliberate, controlled, piece of conduct. However, the one sole way to success in logic is to regard it as a science of signs; and I defined it in 1867 as the theory of the relation of symbols to their ob- jects. Further experience has convinced me that the best plan is to consider logic as embracing more than that, and the general theory of all kinds, not merely in their relation to their objects but in every way. This way of looking upon logic is the one salvation for the science. You will ob- ject, you will say, “What have not these signs got to be understood by some mind?” I reply, yes, undoubtedly. But when you speak vaguely of some minds understand- ing them, you mingle confusedly many circumstances, some of them essential, but furnishing no science until they are separated and each is definitely recognized in its precise functions and the merely accidental circumstances cleared away. What is thinking? It can only take place in signs. What is to understand a sign? It is merely that the sign is interpreted in a sign in your minds. The whole function of the mind is to make a sign interpret itself in another sign and ultimately perhaps in an action or in an emotion. But the emotion is an idle thing unless it leads to an action. The action is an idle thing unless it produces a result which agrees with a sign through a sign. The whole problem is of signs; and if a mind has to be taken into account, it should be considered in its relation to signs. There will be no preparation for understanding these lectures, which, judging by great psychologists, are not easy to understand, and I may say I am sure they are quite impossible to understand from the psychological standpoint since they turn principally upon elements of experience that the psychologist takes pains to shut out from view,—I say there is no better preparations than that of spending an hour more or less, remembering for how very short a time attention can be on the sketch without relaxation, in spending then the remnants of an hour most of it given to next and to bringing attention back, in thinking how thought is a discourse of the self that has been to the critical self that is coming. “I say to my- self,” say the wise unlearned. Thought is nothing but a tissue of signs. The objects concerning which thought is occupied are signs. To try to strip the signs and get

down to the very meaning itself is like trying to peel an onion and get down to the very onion itself “You may get down, however, to actions,” say some of the pragmatists. I beg their pardon. You may get down to resolutions to act. But they are not actions, but signs of action. Get down to the very actions themselves and you can no longer find in them the meaning of the signs. Let us talk about the word chair. “Chair” is a word. It is a sign. The chair is a sign. What will you have? Get down to the very impressions of sense, and there is no chair there. The life we lead is a life of signs. Sign under sign endlessly. In one of my early papers, in the second volume of The Journal of Speculative Philosophy, I compared the case to the dipping of an ivory object down into water. 42 There will be at any instant, as the dipping proceeds, a water line, or locus which is at once occupied by air, water, and ivory. No matter of how early an instant in the dipping process, we snap our mental camera, there will have been lines already. Where there has been no line already there is no line, but only a point. Some men, like our dear James and like Thomas Davidson, the founder of this school, think that this is absurd. 43 They think there must be a first line. That is, against the testimony of the sense or imagination they invoke logic. Well, we say to them, put the arguments, if there be one into any syllogistic form. They are unable to do so. Very well, we say, if it cannot be put into any of the recognized forms of syllogism, tell us under what new form of reasoning you can put the argument that makes the testimony of fact absurd,—that makes it absurd that Achilles should overtake the tortoise,—for that is the same thing. They are un- able to do that. Then, we say do you mean to say that the real Achilles will not overtake the real tortoise as a fact? No, they admit that he will. So then, we say, we and all mathematicians, who are the only exact reasoners see no absurdity at all in this. But you have an inscrutable logic, which cannot be reduced to any principle, which requires you from true premises to insist upon what you your- selves admit to be a false conclusion. What is logic for, if not to prevent the pas- sage from two premises to false conclusions? To this, they have nothing to say, but they go their way still insisting that it is absurd that Achilles should overtake

42 [Editor: The following articles by Peirce were published in The Journal of Speculative Philosophy:

“Questions Concerning Certain Faculties Claimed for Man.” 1868, 103–114; “Some Consequences of Four Incapacities.” 1868, 140–157. “Grounds of Validity of the Laws of Logic: Further Consequences of Four Incapacities.” 1869, 193–208.]

43 [Editor: Thomas Davidson was a Scottish-American philosopher (1840–1900). His writings focused mostly on art, education and religion.]

the tortoise. “Absurd” we call after them in a last appeal, should mean contrary to reason, and you are unable to formulate this reason. Why not give up this kind of

logic and adapt that of all mathematicians? But it is all in vain. More ineradicable with them than reason itself, is that tendency of theirs to consider the general, the law, as an existent thing. I do not see what remains to us, to whom the whole matter is perfectly clear, but to say that they are minds congenitally incapable of

a necessary form of thought. Certainly a logic which leads one from premises to

admittedly false conclusions appears to us to be poor form of logic; and when that logic is unable to formulate itself we are tempted to call it mental incapacity. Yet they base their whole philosophy up this unhesitatingly. I for my part prefer to cast my lot with the mathematicians whose logic does not kick up such capers, and able to give an account of itself. 44

[…] Coming at last to signs, let us begin by asking what is a sign. It is easy enough

to say if one speaks of men’s signs. But if one asks what is essential to the form of

a sign it is hard to say. A sign is something which is in a triadic relation to two

things being a sign of an object for an interprete. Its relation to its object is such as to determine the sign while producing little or no change in the object; at least,

44 [Editor: The following paragraphs from sheet Nrs 50, 52, 53 have been excluded from the main text. A further uncompleted paragraph from sheet 50, as well as Verso pages 49V, 50V and sheet Nrs 54, 55 are left out.] “Well,” says James, “I hate logic.” I reply that I am sorry, but a philosophy ought not to be based upon that sentiment. But though these gentlemen are unable to formulate their own logic, we have no dif- ficulty at all in formulating it for them. They sometimes think that it is continuity only that they object to. They are mistaken. Continuity is not necessarily involved in what they pronounce absurd. What they find absurd is the endless. The very idea of the future, as endless, is to them absurd, though they may not at once see that it is. In short, though they think in signs like the rest of us, they do not really think in general signs, but only in such imperfect interpretations as can be made into images and slight inhibited efforts. Logic has three branches, The first which treats the condition of signs, what for exam- ple it is that […] distinguishes a proposition from a name, is called in scholastic logic peri hermeneias and grammatical speculative in German logics Elementar Lehre in English stecheology. The second part which I call logical critic is also called syllogistic, prior analytics, etc. The third part is called Method, or Methodeutic, or Methodology, or posterior Analytics. Tritocenoscopy is a subject of which a few problems have had some light thrown upon them such as the nature of the different limits of causation, the nature of time, etc. while the greater part of them such as the reason why the number of dimensions of space should be three, are still unpenetrated.

the sign must actually be affected as by an object. But it is not essential that it should be more than fit to have an interprete. In order that the sign may actually function as a sign it must have an interprete, but it is not essential that it should so function. It may suffice that it fits so to function. Toward its interprete the sign is agent, the interprete patient. That is the sign essentially affects the interprete without being much affected itself. The relation of the sign to its object may be only dyadic, though in the case of symbols it is triadic. But the relation of the sign to its interprete is essentially triadic and consists in determining the interprete to a relation to the object corresponding the relation of the sign itself to that object. In fact the interprete usually becomes itself a sign, in the case it is equivalent to an assertion or to an argument is a sign of itself for its interprete. Thus, there are two relations in which the sign stands for its object.

1. The object as independent of the sign, is regarded as acting on it, really or virtually.

2. The object is represented by the sign to the interpretant and as such has a representing being in them.

And there are three relations of the sign to its interprete.

1. The sign, if it functions as such, acts on the interprete

2. The interprete represents the object for an actual or possible interprete

3. The sign may represent itself to its interprete.

In consequence of these relations there are two aspects of the object:

1. The object as acting on the sign. That is called the real object

2. The object as represented in the sign, or the immediate object.

And there are three aspects of the interprete 45 […] A sign. A tertian, say for example a law, is also by a special appropriateness a sign. We might therefore divide signs according to the nature of their being. But this would not be a division of the modes of being representative. This, however, points to such a division. Let us ask whether there are not different modes of representation referentially to the different elements of the sign’s being. Can anything be a sign by virtue of its character? Can anything become a sign by force of its brute actions and reactions?

45 [Editor: Page 54 is missing.]

Can a thing become a sign by its intellectual relations? It may be so; and if it be so there is a threefold division of signs. Next, consider signs in their relations to their objects. First, in regard to their immediate objects, the objects as represented in the sign. Can a sign be a sign in representing its object in its character simply as some- thing possible in itself? Can a sign be a sign in representing its object in its brute existence acting upon the sign? Can a sign be a sign in representing its object in its intellectual character as informing the sign? Yes a predicate, a subject, a copula Secondly, consider signs in regard to their real objects, their objects in so far they act on their signs. Can a sign be a sign of a given real object simply by virtue of partaking a character of that object? Can a sign be a sign of a given real object by virtue of a constant action of that object upon it? Can a sign be a sign of a given real object by virtue of being interested as being a sign of that object? Next, consider signs in the relations to their interpretants. First as to their internal interpretants, that is to their interpretants As these are represented in the sign. Can the sign act on the interprete by community of being? Can the sign act on the interprete by compulsion? Can the sign act on the interprete as a representation of the mind acts on matter, as a judge can appoint a constable and arrest him to use force or as a law acts upon fact. Secondly, in this way Can a sign intend its interpretant to represent it as to all intents and purposes, the object, or as a substitute for the object? Can a sign intend its interpretant to represent it as an effect of its object? Can a sign intend its interpretant to regard it as a sign of its object? Thirdly, this way, Can a sign be interpreted in a feeling? Can a sign be interpreted in an action? Can a sign be interpreted in a sign? Here is a hypothesis, our scheme of possibilities. Now let us see what facts we can find that seem to accord with.

Phaneroscopy: Or, the Natural History of Concepts 46

Every undertaking begins,—its purpose being determined beforehand,—with a review of the materials and other means at one’s command. Now science, in the sense in which I have defined that word,—namely, as the cooperative business, or life-occupation, of finding out and making sure of the truth by the speediest methods known,—is an undertaking. Whence, etc. We have to consider that the great body of truth can only be discovered and as- certained by specially devised observations made by specially trained senses with specially informed intelligences behind them. I follow Jeremy Bentham in calling all that business by the name of Idioscopy. But in its entirety and in every part, Idioscopy presupposes a considerable body of other truth, which may be roughly described as instinctive, that is, traditionally hereditary, but familiarized by the everyday experience of everybody. As it first comes to us, this fundamental and unscientific knowledge is immeasurably more trustworthy than any scientific re- sults ever can be; for the scientist rests his whole procedure upon propositions that form parts of it, and that hardly anything can drive him even to correct a lit- tle, and that nothing at all can induce him to deny. But that fundamental knowl- edge as we first find ourselves possessed of it is exceedingly vague. It answers well as a guide in everyday life; but when we come to scientific theory, it is insufficient and must be subjected to criticism. That criticism has, however, unfortunately hitherto yielded only doubtful and actually much doubted results. Yet without it, all scientific conclusions are uninsured against disastrous fallacies. It must be completely done over again with the utmost thoroughness. That is, no step must be taken without first thoroughly considering the proper method to be pursued; and the proper method of determining that method; and so on until we reach (as we probably may) a point at which the results of all further questioning along that endless line can be evidently foreseen, and its limitary upshot ascertained. That study, by which that upshot is to be so ascertained that all men must assent to it, will constitute the department of science that Bentham called Cenoscopy for the reason that it rests on the experience of all men distributively taken, and must be acknowledged by all.

46 [Editor: MS 299, dated 1906.]

Let us inquire what this science or cluster of sciences called Cenoscopy has to

do. There are several ways of investigating this question that lead to one result.

I will take the simplest of these. This consists in finding out what such a study as

Cenoscopy can discover, and then setting down the whole of that and nothing more as Cenoscopy’s task. But we here find ourselves regarding Cenoscopy as a single department of Sci- ence. We have adopted a definition for science in general; but what are we to understand by A science, and what shall be the boundaries of any single science? Science, in our view, is a life-occupation, a business. A question analogous to that just formulated might be asked about business in general. Namely, knowing what business is collectively can we say what A single business consists in? It would not quite suffice to say that A Business is so much of the grand total of Business 47 as

one man or company conducts or might [conduct]. For an old friend of mine was

a world-renowned poetical translator of La Divina Commedia and at the same

time was a dentist. 48 But were these two pursuits parts of one business? I trow not, since neither could contribute to the other except indirectly as a recreation and relief from it. So A science is usually so much of the totality of science as one social group of men either do or can with direct advantage devote their lives to prosecuting. To be sure, every man of the group will have paid special attention to certain problems; which he will understand better than his colleagues do; and undoubtedly, every growing science tends to undergo a process of segmentation. Yet each member of the group comprehends the work of every other in all but its minutest details. Sciences are kept separate by their prosecution requiring dif- ferent environments, different natural gifts, and different trainings. These three terms (like most of my expressions, in such discussions), must here be under- stood in wide senses. The Cenoscopist, in so far as he has employed his time exclusively in developing his capacities as a Cenoscopist, neither carries in his skull the ready encyclopædia of facts that every kind of Idioscopist possesses, nor has he the dexterity in making microscopically thin slices through hard and soft, that the Biologist needs nor the Chemist’s beautiful manipulative neatness, nor the scent of the historical investigator for records, monumental or documentary. His science rests upon experience, no doubt, no less than does the Idioscopist’s. But with him it rests not upon any peculiar personal experience of his own, but upon the experience of all men.

47 Remember I always use this word in the sense of life-occupation, without reference to any extrinsic gain.

48 [Editor: By the “old friend” Peirce probably means the American writer Henry Wads- worth Longfellow who was the first American to translate Dante’s The Divine Comedy.]

What do we mean by ‘Experience’? Surely, a correct and precise analysis of that will be worth more than a little pain, as long as we hold that all human knowledge, and especially all assurance of knowledge, springs from the soil of Experience. I answer the question thus: Experience is that state of cognition which the course of life, by some part thereof, has forced upon the recognition of the experience, or person who undergoes the experience, under conditions due usually, in part, at least, to his own action; and the Immediate object of the cognition of Experi- ence is understood to be what I call it ‘Dynamical’, that is, its real object. I fear this statement stands nearly as much in need of elucidation as the term it defines. Objections, too, will at once array themselves against it; and one or two of them ought to be met or flanked without delay. But I begin with the explanations. By a “cognitive” state, as opposed to a state markedly involving only elements of feeling and volition, I mean a state which, as it is in itself, and not as it may be represented reflectively, is a sign of an object for an interpretant state, which last may involve feeling, volition, or cognition, alone or in combination with either of the other of these elements of mental life. Even this familiar triad [feeling, volition, cognition] calls for a word of comment. For through all I write upon this subject I find myself in the plight that has incommoded every man who has attempted a thorough revi- sion of philosophy; namely, that the old landmarks are so clean washed away that he knows not how to begin a description of any field of thought. If (to change the figure), he clothes an unfamiliar concept in the ready-made language of philoso- phy, he will get a horrible misfit. If, once a few categories are made clear, he resorts to definitions for the rest, even if he surmounts the difficulty of analysis, the very greatest of human minds will be apt to blunder in executing the correlative syn- thesis of an unfamiliar notion. He may, no doubt, explain himself by conducting his reader along the same path which he himself followed in reaching his new concept, the reader’s mind, being hurried in as many minutes over the course as the days, or perhaps weeks, that the pioneer’s exploration consumed, will be kept tense so long that, by an inexfugible law of chemistry, the brain becomes fatigued, and the thread of meaning gets lost. The whole difficulty reminds me of the dif- ficulty of representing the geographical features of our Globe in a plane map. Each map-projection has its own characteristic failure; and perhaps that projection is best which has the faults of all the others, but has no one fault in so objectionable a degree as it must have had if that one had been its only fault. 49 In like manner,

49 [Editor: Peirce was an expert on map projection and cartography; see Carolyn Eisele, Studies in the Scientific and Mathematical Philosophy of Charles S. Peirce (The Hague, 1979), pp. 145–159.]

I

incline to think that the philosophist who has original conceptions to commu-

nicate will do best to reunite all three of the faults above-mentioned, in different judicious proportions in different cases. The triad, feeling, volition, cognition, is usually regarded as a purely psycho- logical division. Long series of carefully planned self-experiments, persistent and much varied, though only qualitative, have left me little doubt, if any, that there are in those elements three quite disparate modes of awareness. That is a psychological proposition; but that which now concerns us is not psychologi- cal, particularly: namely the differences between that of which we are aware in feeling, volition, and cognition. Feeling is a quality, but so far as there is mere feeling, the quality is not limited to any definite subject. We hear of a man whose mind is jaundiced. That phrase well expresses feeling without reason. Feeling also as such is unanalyzed. Volition is through and through dual. There is the duality of agent and patient, of effort and resistance, of active effort and inhibition, of acting on self and on external objects. Moreover, there are active volition and passive volition, or inertia, the volition of reform and the volition of conservatism. That shock which we experience when anything particularly unexpected forces itself upon our recognition (which has a cognitive utility as being a call for an explanation of the presentment), is simply the sense of the volitional inertia of expectation, which strikes a blow like a water-hammer when it is checked; and the force of this blow, if one could measure it, would be the measure of the energy of the conservative volition that gets checked. Low grades of this shock doubtless accompany all unexpected perceptions; and every perception is more or less unexpected. Its lower grades are, as I opine, not without experimental tests of the hypothesis, that sense of externality, of the presence of a non-ego, which accompanies perception generally and helps to distinguish it from dreaming. This is present in all Sensation, meaning by Sensation the initiation of a state of feeling;—for by Feeling I mean nothing but sensation minus the attribution of it to any particular subject. In my use of words, when an ear-splitting, soul-bursting locomotive whistle starts, there is

a sensation, which ceases when the screech has been going on for some con-

siderable fraction of a minute; and at the instant it stops there is a second sensation. Between them there is a state of feeling. As for pleasure and pain which Kant and others have represented to be of the essence of feeling, wheth- er it be merely because they and the section of the psychological world for which at this moment I have the presumption to speak apply the word feeling to different modifications of awareness, or whether there be faulty analysis on the one part or the other, we certainly do not think that unadulterated Feel- ing, if that element could be isolated, would have any relation to pain or to

pleasure. 50 For in our opinion, if there be any quality of feeling common to all pleasurable experiences or components of experience, and another one qual- ity of feeling common to all that is painful (which we are inclined to doubt, to say the least), then we hold the opinion that the one is the feeling of being attracted, the other that of being repelled, by the present state of experience. If there be two such feelings, they are feelings of states of volition. But perhaps pleasure and pain are nothing more than names for the state of being attracted and that of being repelled by present experience. Of course, feelings accom- pany them, but under the latter hypothesis, no feeling would be common to all pleasures, and none to all pains. If we are right, the position of the hedonists is preposterous, in that they make mere feelings to be active agencies, instead of being merely conscious indications of real determinations of our subconscious volitional beings. {I may mention that their talk (however it may be with their thought), is fur- ther preposterous as seeming to make pain a mere privation of pleasure, although it is plain that it is pain that indicates an active, and pleasure only a passive, de- termination of our volitional being.} As for volition, I would limit the term in one way and extend it in another. I would limit it to the momentary direct dyadic consciousness of an ego and a non-ego then and there present and reacting each upon the other. In one, the action is generally more active, in the other more passive; but precisely what this difference consists in I do not feel sure. I think, however, that the will to produce a change is active, the will to resist a change is passive. All sensation is essentially, by its very definition active. The objection to this is that, according to it, the voluntary inhibition of a reflex should not give a sense of effort; and probably the definition of the distinction between the sense of externality in willing and in perception requires a supplement or other slight modification on this account. But the important point [is], that the sense of exter- nality in perception consists in a sense of powerlessness before the overwhelming force of perception. Now the only way in which any force can be learned is by something like trying to oppose it. That we do something like this is shown by the shock we receive from any unexpected experience. It is the inertia of the mind, which tends to remain in the state in which it is. No doubt there is a marked difference between the active and intentional volition of muscular contraction and the passive and unintentional volition that gives the shock of surprise and the sense of externality. But the two are to be classed together as alike modes of

50 [Editor: Further reading on this topic in: Kant, I., Beobachtungen über das Gefühl des Schönen und Erhabenen, 1764, Bd. 5.]

double consciousness, that is, of awareness, at once and in the same awareness, of an ego and a non-ego. The next phrase of my definition of experience,—to the effort that it is forced upon a percipient mind by “the course of life”,—is the kernel of the definition. But the brief phrase fails to convey all that must be understood in order to un- derstand the definition; and there are two parts of this phrase that require com- ment; namely, the “course of life” and “forced upon” the percipient. I will first say something to elucidate the meaning behind the phrase “course of life.” The essence of anything that has an essence, and whose constituents are not thrown together promiscuously, consists in the function that is proper to it,—its virtual purpose. This is more than its ultimate purpose: it includes all the details of the particular way in which the thing in question must carry out that ultimate purpose. The function of a person is twofold; or perhaps I should say threefold; to work out his own nature and impulses, to aid others, and to contribute to the fulfill- ment of the destiny of his generation. The ultimate utility to him of his experi- ence is to enable him to do this. But experience has no existence apart from the person to whom it attaches; and therefore its utility to that person is its whole function. But it tends to lead to that purpose in a particular way; namely, by fur- nishing the person premisses of knowledge. Thus, the essence of experience lies in the manner in which it contributes to knowledge. Now the manner in which experience contributes to knowledge is very pecu- liar, and has not been generally recognized. Two characters of reasoning from experience have, however, become, as we may say, proverbial. That is, without any accurate understanding of these char- acters, philosophists (a word I use without the least shade of disdain, for I call myself by this name, which I [prefer] to “philosopher,” because the latter seems to me rather pretentious), and men of science are in the habit of using phrases which, vaguely and with some admixture of error express true characters of such reasoning. One of these is to the effect that inferences from experience can be no more than probable, the other that the proper method of reasoning from experi- ence is by induction. It is convenient to call the modern scientific method of rea- soning from observation the Inductive Method; and this name is justified by the fact that it is largely by careful induction that it is distinguished from the methods of the principal schools of Athens. But it consists of two steps of entirely different natures by one of which the theory is framed while by the other it is tested. It is this latter only, that is, strictly speaking, inductive. The other, which goes before it, is inference from a consequent to a previously unrecognized antecedent. I have called it, when I did not well understand it, hypothesis, and later abduction. But

recently I have used the term retroduction as avoiding some objection to abduc- tion. The higher, and more characteristic kinds of induction, and the only ones of any great probative weight, far from depending for their validity upon any general “uniformity of nature,” as usually supposed, but very vaguely, since those who talk glibly of the uniformity of nature would, for the most part, be quite non- plussed were one to press them for any exact explanation of what they mean by it, and would probably betray their embarrassment by a loss of temper, and it would ultimately appear that they mean little or nothing about “nature,” but when they are nearest the truth are using the phrase to denote an adaption of the mind to its environment, which renders inductions possible but, granted their possibil- ity, does little or nothing for their validity after they are made,—for, I say from depending on any such order in experience, the really strong inductions depend on the absence of order, on the promiscuity of experience. For example, if there were any ascertainable law,—and I speak of an unascertainable law would be a contradiction in adjecto,—connecting the number of years, which an applicant for life-insurance had to live and the ordinal number of his entrance into the building, it is obvious that the business of life insurance, as it now exists, would be at an end. If there were any exact law by which we could know what children were to be born on each day, and how long each was to live, the observations on which natal statistics are based would come to an end. If there were a certain fixed order of succession of the throws of a pair of dice, calculations of chances would lose all significance in this case. These illustrations sufficiently show that probabili- ties depend upon the promiscuity of the course of events. Now the higher and more valuable kinds of induction depend upon, and conclude in, probabilities. It is possible to reason by induction concerning the integer numbers. 51 The kind of reasoning which is sometimes abusively called ‘mathematical induction’, but which ought to be called ‘Fermatian inference’, is not inductive, since Inductive inference, as I understand the term is the acceptance of the provisional result of such a method that if it provisionally leads to any error will if sufficiently per- sisted incorrect any definite error to which it may have provisionally led. Fer- matian inference is not of this kind because it claims its conclusion to be final and irreversible. 52 It is Deductive, or necessary, inference having two associated

51 [Editor: Peirce had intended a footnote at this place, which he obviously did not insert later.]

52 [Editor: More about the topic CSP and Mathematics in: Carolyn Eisele, Charles S. Peirce. The New Elements of Mathematics. Four volumes in five books: Arithmetic, Algebra and Geometry, Mathematical Miscellanea, Mathematical Philosophy (The Hague: Mouton, 1976).]

peculiarities which render the logical account of it difficult. One of these is that it turns upon the concept of relation of a plural to its singulars; and this is a difficult relation to define. For example, a neophyte in logic might think it sufficient to say that X being any common noun, ‘the Xs’ is that the object of which everything can be predicted which is predicable of any X you please. But anybody fit to teach elementary logic would at once ask him how that applied to the predicate ‘is an indecomposable individual’. Suppose that every X is an indecomposable individ- ual. Does this prove that all Xs collectively form an indecomposable individual? The second difficulty of the Fermatian inference is that it applies the collective mode of conception to a succession of operations. After the race in which Achil- les was so ignominiously defeated by the tortoise, he retired to his tent to talk the matter over with his friend. “Why, you see,” said Patroclus, “that the whole diffi- culty lies in the impossibility of motion. If you persuade your divine mother with her friends Hera and Athena, who have such a pull with Zeus, to confer on you the power of instantly absenting yourself from one place and simultaneously ap- pearing in any other vacant place, you will not have the impossibility of continu- ity to grapple with and will easily overtake the tortoise.” Achilles had no difficulty in obtaining his simple request, and challenged the champion tortoise, honestly explaining his purpose. The tortoise assented readily, with the proviso he should have to start of one mile and that Achilles should never skip over an interval without first performing some part of it, for otherwise it would not be a race at all. This being agreed to, the tortoise stood stock still. Now said he you might begin by doing the first half mile. It was no sooner said than done. Next said he you will do some fraction of the remainder, say to the end of the first 2 / 3 of a mile. It was done. Now said he did some fraction of the remainder. When Achilles had done 999999 millionths of a mile he gave up, and went to see his mother. ‘Why’, said she, ‘if your head were as swift as your heels, you would see that continuity is not in question at all.’ But nothing can ever be done that requires something else to be previously done. That does not so much as to suppose even indefinite divisibility except at the end of the performance. And full infinite divisibility is not continu- ity, as the series of rational fractions shows. By a suitable application of these conceptions Fermatian Inference may be reduced to ordinary relative deduction, as is shown in a note appended to this paper. Sound induction, as I have defined it, has several grades; for while it is per- fectly sound and logical, it may be extremely weak; so that it would cease to be sound if any close approach to certainty were claimed for it. The weakest of all sound inductions is like this: “No apparition of a ghost or a phoenix has ever been satisfactorily proved. Hence, we may assume that no such thing will ever be proved.” For if this conclusion is wrong persistent inquiry along the line indicated

will certainly lay bare the error. It is a very weak and yet an entirely indispensable mode of reasoning. The strongest kind of induction is that which rests upon the cautious application of numerical probabilities, and which concludes a probabil- ity not generally numerical. For the doctrine of Laplace and others that induction can be reduced to mathematical probability has been proved to be fallacious. 53 Nevertheless a probability may be proved by induction. Finally, I will remark that an induction of a weak kind may nevertheless be a strong inference, while an induction of a strong kind may be a weak inference, owing to the greater or less multitude and variety of the instances, and owing to [being] supported or op- posed by other reasonings. In pure mathematics there is, properly speaking, no such thing as mathemati- cal probability, unless a special hypothesis introduces it. What is called local prob- ability is again merely a variety of deduction. It follows that the strong kind of induction has no place in pure mathematics. For there is nothing like experience there, since there is no appeal to promiscuous instances of a course of life. There remain two or three clauses of the definition that require examination. It is stated that cognition is forced upon the experiment, willy-nilly, and yet that it is due in part to his own action. For a man who lies, “viridi membra sub arbuto stratus,” in entire passivity, as gazing on vacancy without a thought or any ten- dency to act, can receive no cognitive shock until he has first been roused; since no force can be expended upon an object that presents no resistance. It is nothing surprising to see men putting month’s of hard work and spending besides many thousands that somebody must have earned by the sweat of his brow, in order to undergo the compulsory experience of a solar eclipse that rarely lasts as long as five minutes; and how much effort has been made to undergo the experience of being at the North Pole, which, after all, is just like any other place well within the arctic circle. This illustrates the necessity of action in order to be subjected to any given experience. We are here confronted by a question which touches the very vitals of the defi- nition. What is the nature of the distinction between that which is experienced and that which is imagined, or those phenomena of a cognitive kind which are not experienced?

53 [Editor: Pierre-Simon Marquis de Laplace was a french scholar, mathematician and astronomer. His work Théorie analytique des probabilités, issued in 1812, was about probability and statistical methods. Laplace’s inductive reasoning is based on his prob- ability theory discussed in his Essai philosophique sur les probabilités published later in 1816. Peirce refers to his work in many of his manuscripts.]

Now it must be borne in mind that this definition of experience is designed to give an exact and scientifically valuable signification to a word which students of philosophy have hitherto employ in a somewhat vague way. The desire is to conform as closely to philosophic usage as the necessity of precision of thought and as philosophical utility will permit. Some writers insist that all experience consists in sense-perception; and I think it is probably true that every element of experience is in the first instance applied to an external object. A man who gets up out of the wrong side of the bed, for example, attributes wrongness to almost every object he perceives. That is the way in which he experiences his bad tem- per. It cannot, however, be said that he perceives the perversity which he wrongly attributes to outward objects. We perceive objects brought before us; but that which we especially experi- ence,—the kind of thing to which the word experience is more particularly applied,—is an event. We cannot accurately be said to perceive events; for this requires what Kant called the “synthesis of apprehension,” not, however, by any means, making the needful discriminations. A whistling locomotive passes at high speed close beside me. As it passes the note of the whistle is suddenly low- ered, from a well-understood cause. I perceive the whistle, if you will. I have, at any rate, a sensation of it. But I cannot be said to have a sensation of the change of note. I have a sensation of the lower note. But the cognition of the change is of a more intellectual kind. That I experience rather than perceive. It is [a] special field of experience, to acquaint us with events, with changes of perception. Now that which particularly characterizes sudden changes of perception, is a shock. A shock is a volitional phenomenon. The long whistle of the approaching locomo- tive, however disagreeable it may be, has set up in me a certain inertia, so that the sudden lowering of the note meets with a certain resistance. That must be the fact; because if there were no such resistance there could be no shock when the change of note occurs. Now this shock is quite unmistakable. It is more particularly to changes and contrasts of perception that we apply the word experience. We ex- perience vicissitudes, especially. We cannot experience the vicissitude without experiencing the perception which undergoes the change; but the concept of ex- perience is broader than that of perception, and includes much that is not, strictly speaking, an object of perception. It is the compulsion, the absolute constraint upon us to think otherwise than we have been thinking that constitutes experi- ence. Now constraint and compulsion cannot exist without resistance, and re- sistance is effort opposing change. Therefore, there must be an element of effort in experience; and it is this which gives it its peculiar character. But we are so disposed to yield to it as soon as we can detect it, that it is extremely difficult to convince ourselves that we have exerted any resistance at all. It may be said that

we hardly know it except through the axiom that there can be no force where there is no resistance or inertia. Whoever may be dissatisfied with my statement will do well to sit down and cipher out the matter for himself. He may be able to formulate the nature of the oppositional element in experience and its relation to ordinary volition better than I have done; but that there is an oppositional ele- ment in it, logically not easily distinguished from volition will, I make no doubt at all, be his ultimate conclusion. Of course we must distinguish between knowing by experience and experi- encing itself. We know all the actual facts that we do know by experience; but our experience itself is limited to that which we are irrationally immediate, and absolutely, constrained to accept. 54

54 [Editor: The sentence is followed by the words “I say irrationally because” and is inter- rupted at this point. The manuscript includes further copies and different drafts of the identical excerpts.]

Phaneroscopy 55

I. The Gist of the Argument

My parting word to you, Reader, in the number for October, 1906, 56 was a prom-

ise that in the present article the relevancy of the system of Existential Graphs to the question of the truth of Pragmaticism should be disclosed. Today, I straight- way proceed to redeem that promise. I have already explained to you what Prag- maticism is; so that you are already aware that it is a theory in regard to the common nature of the meanings of all concepts. But you have seen (or should you not be satisfied with it, the next following sections of this article shall make

it clear to you), that Existential Graphs furnish a moving picture of the action of

the mind in thought,—that is, to so much of that as is common to thoughts on

all subjects. The study of that system, then, must reveal whatever common nature

is necessarily shared by the significations of all thoughts. You ‘catch on’, I hope.

I mean, you apprehend in what way the system of Existential Graphs is to furnish

a test of the truth or falsity of Pragmaticism. Namely, a sufficient study of the

Graphs should show what nature is truly common to all significations of con- cepts; whereupon a comparison will show whether this nature be or be not the very ilk that Pragmaticism (by the definition of it) avers that it is. It is true that the two terms of this comparison, while in substance identical, yet might make their appearance under such different garbs that the student might fail to rec- ognize their identity. At any rate, the possibility of such a result has to be taken into account; and there with it must be acknowledged that, on its negative side, the argument may not turn out to be sufficient. For example, quâ Graph, a con- cept might be regarded as the passive object of a geometrical intuitus, although Pragmaticism certainly makes the essence of every concept to be exhibited in an influence on possible conduct; and a student might fail to perceive that these two aspects of the concept are quite compatible. But, on the other hand, should the theory of Pragmaticism be erroneous, the student would only have to compare concept after concept, each one, first, in the light of Existential Graphs, and then as Pragmaticism would interpret it, and it

55 [Editor: MS 298, dated 1906. Following the contents this manuscript is probably the second part of Phaneroscopy.]

56 [Editor: Peirce refers to the Text “Prolegomena to an Apology for Pragmaticism” one of his Monist articles, also published in Elize Bisanz (ed.), The Logic of Interdisciplinarity. Charles S. Peirce. The Monist Series. Berlin: Akademie Verlag, 2009).]

could not but be that before long he would come upon a concept whose analyses from these two widely separated points of view unmistakably conflicted. In the present article mention can be made of but a small percentage of the concepts whose analyses have been subjected by me to such examination. For we shall manage to dispense with scrutinizing them one by one; and the presented state- ment represents merely the general drift of my argument. It will be of service, however; and the more so, in that the argument itself is of somewhat complex structure, is very long, and carries a number of subsidiary arguments of some difficulty; so that, without the guidance of the general statement, the clearest minded reader might lose his bearings, and run aground; and even with this aid some supplementary resumés will not come amiss.

II. Thought and Thought-sign

The first point to be made in the argument,—the first position secured,—is that Existential Graphs afford a moving-picture of thought in all its essential details. But the proposition in this abridged enunciation leaves room for several miscon- ceptions of vital importance against which I must take care that the reader is well guarded before I attempt to convince him of its truth. 57 To begin with, then it is not pretended that the system of Existential Graphs is indispensable to such an analysis of thought as may serve as a pattern to which Pragmaticism, in order to be true, must conform. Indeed, for many years before my own possession of this system, and while I, as yet, had nothing but only the traditionary methods of logic for my implements, I had succeeded in making myself acquainted with the principal points in the substance of teachings of this system, recognizing them as true though I could know nothing of their resulting from any such picture of mind. I do not claim that the Graphs furnish a perfect picture of any reasoning in respect to being photographically detailed, or that they fully represent all kinds of reasoning (though they approach doing this closer than might be supposed), or finally, that in their present state they are free from all faults. Nor, as appears from what I have been saying, can I claim for the system that it is indispensable to achieving a comprehension of the structure and working of thought; but what I can, and do, claim for it is that it provides a singular and signal facilitation of

57 [Editor: For a close reading and understanding of this topic including the implementa- tion of the Existential Graphs as well as a comprehensive bibliography see: Kenneth L. Ketner, Elements of Logic. An Introduction to Peirce’s Existential Graphs. 1996, Arisbe Associates, Lubbock Texas, contact: info@thecopyoutlet.com.]

that achievement, by so imaging the otherwise nebulous, ghostlike, dubious ab- stractions of metaphysics as to endure them with something of the distinctness of geometrical diagrams and with much of the convincingness of working models. Only, in order that this result should be attained, it is requisite that the reader should fully understand the relation of Thought in itself to thinking, on the one hand, and to graphs, on the other hand. Those relations being once magisteri- ally grasped, it will be seen that the Graphs break to pieces all the really serious

barriers, not only to the logical analysis of thought, but also to the digestion of a different lesson by rendering literally visible before one’s very eyes the operation of thinking in actu. In order that the fact should come to light that the method of Graphs really accomplishes this marvelous result, it is first of all needful, or at least highly desirable, that the reader should have thoroughly assimilated, in all its parts, the truth that thinking always proceeds in form of dialogue,—

a dialogue between different phases of the ego,—so that, being dialogical, it is

essentially composed of signs, as its Matter, in the sense in which a game of chess has the chessmen for its matter. Not that the particular signs employed are themselves the thought! Oh, no; no whit more than the skins of an onion are the onion. (About as much so, however) One selfsame thought may be carried upon the vehicle of English, German, Greek, or Gaelic; in diagrams, or in equa- tions, or in graphs: all these are but so many skins of the onion, its inessential accidents. Yet that the thought should have some possible expression to some possible interpreter, is the very being of its being. Do I hear a mutter, something like this? “If he intends that thought is the meaning of the signs, I wonder what he can mean by his strange phrase, ‘the meaning of a concept’!” “Well, wonder on,” says the bully Bottom, “till Truth make all things plain;” 58 that is, until the

green-curtain of intellectual experience shall have rolled up and fully disclosed to you what the word “meaning” means. An unpenetrating study of the rules of Graphs would not much more aid

a person to comprehend the common nature of significance of thoughts than would an unpenetrating study of Greek or Gaelic grammar, that which would in its turn avail for some purpose not very much more than would an unpenetrat- ing study of the psychology of thinking. Now that would advance the problems, no whit more than would the examination of the brain under a microscope, pro- vided we could manage two things; first, to see how the whips of the brain-cells

58 [Editor: Bottom (a weaver by trade) is a character in Shakespeare, A Midsummer Night’s Dream; this line is from act v, scene i. Peirce’s adjective bully expressed admiration for the character. The remark below about a green curtain may be an allusion to the open- ing curtain of a play, as a prelude to whatever truth the play, like research, will reveal.]

are thrashed about in life; and secondly, to recognize the significance of each lash. Those two things would, I dare say, do wonders for psychology; but they would probably not answer our logical purpose so well as will the study of the graphs. How many writers of our generation (if I must call names, in order to direct the reader to further acquaintance with a generally described character let it in this case be the distinguished name of Husserl), after underscored protestations

that their discourse shall be of logic exclusively and not by any means of psychol- ogy (almost all logicians now put that protest on file), forthwith become intent upon those elements of the process of thinking which seem to be special to a mind like that of the human race as we find it, to too great neglect of those ele- ments which must belong as much to any one as to any other mode of embody- ing the same thought. It is one of the chief advantages of Existential Graphs, as

a guide to Pragmaticism, that it holds up thought to our contemplation with the

wrong side out, as it were; showing its construction in the barest and plainest manner, so that it neither seduces us into the bye-path of distinctively English logicians,—nor does it lead us into the divarications of those who know no other logic than a “Natural History” of thought. As to this remark, I pray you, that “Natural History” is the term applied to the descriptive sciences of nature, that is to say, to sciences which describe different kind of objects and classify them

as well as they can while they still remain ignorant of their essences and of the ultimate agencies of their production and which seek to explain the properties of those kinds by means of laws which another branch of science called “Natural Philosophy” has established. Thus, a logic which is a natural history merely, has done no more than observe that certain conditions have been found attached to sound thought, but has no means of ascertaining whether the attachment be ac- cidental or essential; and quite ignoring the circumstance that the very essence of thought lies open to our study; which study alone it is that men have always called “logic,” or “dialectic.” Accordingly, when I say that Existential Graphs put before us moving pictures of thought, I mean of thought in its essence free from physiological and other accidents. But why do you still clamour, Reader, for further elucidation of what

I mean by “Thought”? Has not my metaphor of the onion told you? You remind

me of some athlete, capable of doing a lot of wonderful feats upon the trapeze and the slackrope, able to balance a long pole upon his nose with a glass of wine stand- ing unspilled on the end of it, but who has now been vainly trying for a quarter of an hour to thread a cambric needle, and whose unfailing failures would provoke my laughter, if I were not myself so intent upon seeing him succeed. It is that he is too right-handed as to the use of his eyes, and looking at the needle with his

right eye alone, though he sees it with both, while this eye being off at one side, he always misses the eye of the needle. Do, for God’s sake, and for the sake of God’s truth, try to look with that unpracticed eye of your mind! Learn to look with both eyes at once! Good, my heart warms to you at seeing your cool and active perse- verance! I must try if a fresh metaphor will not help you. This one shall be redolent of a different aroma; so that you shall not be surfeited with monstrous delight! A soul, as most men rightly think, cannot live without a body, though it will preserve its identity through all metapsychoses and through all the obliv- ia thereto appertaining; whether this body be of that kind that we can readily comprehend;—I mean the spiritual body,—to the existence of which the spiritu- alists at last begin to awaken my torpid intelligence, 59 or whether the body be of

59

It was the consideration of the utter inadaptability of the theory of telepathy to explain

the assumed facts that it was framed to explain, that first made me see that spiritualism alone could explain many of those facts, assuming them to be such. It was not that I had any a priori objection to telepathy; for on the contrary, it seemed then to me, as it does now, that there must be such a faculty in some minute degree; and when the whip of one brain-cell is attracted to another cell (and, though no man has seen it or can as yet see it, Ramón y Cajal’s idea that it does happen is irresistible), what can this be, internally viewed, but telepathy? I had, however, hardly heard some dim rumor of wonderful preparations that Ramón y Cajal put before our eyes at Clark University

in 1899, when I was quite otherwise led to the conviction that there must be some phenomena, whether observable or not, of the nature of telepathy. How for example could speech ever have come into existence without a preexisting basis of other signs ultimately resting properly on a basis of telepathy? But when Meyer invented this word

in order to explain certain manifestations, I was greatly struck with the singular incon- gruency between the character of the explanation and that of the facts it was proposed to explain. And this phenomenal incongruency I could only explain by an irration aversive to admitting the existence of spirit-fleshed souls. This led me to consider that hypothesis apart from any evidence; and the more I considered it, the better it satisfied my logical conception of what a hypothesis should be, provided only that there were any good evidence. All the evidence I was acquainted with, however, seemed to me then and does now, to be of the most suspicious category possible. Still, I had to admit that there might be even in this suspicious class of evidence, instances of such force as more than to counter balance that general suspiciousness, and several narratives that

I subsequently became acquainted with I found to be irresistible. Finally, I found an

entirely new kind of evidence of the utmost weight for a pragmaticist in the influence of the belief upon character. Plainly the [?thing?] must involve the most precious truth by no means to be let slip no matter with how much dross it may be mixed up. There is still another argument, albeit a difficult one. We are already acquainted with a sort of semeiotic life beyond the grave in the continued influence of individual charac- ter. But it can be shown from the fact that the soul is itself of the nature of a sign, that

that mysterious nature that we call “matter.” The soul without the body is simply an impossibility and an absurdity. The soul in the body certainly has characters utterly incongruous to those of a body without a soul, however. A sign must have an interpretation, or interpretant as I call it, this [interpretant,] this significa- tion is simply a metempsychosis into another body; a translation into another language. This new version of the thought receives, [in turn] an interpretation, [and] so on, until an interpretant appears which is no longer of the nature of a sign; and this I am to show to you by good evidence is, for one class of signs, a [quality,] and for another, a deed; but for intellectual concepts, is a conditional determination of the soul as to how it would conduct itself under conceivable circumstances. (I here merely give a roughly simplified statement that must re- ceive fine corrections further on, in a part of my argument which I am relegat- ing to another article.) That ultimate, definitive, and final (i.e. eventually to be reached), interpretant (final I mean, in the logical sense of attaining the purpose, is also final in the sense of bringing the series of translations [to a stop] for the obvious reason that it is not itself a sign) is to be regarded as the ultimate signi- fication of the [sign]. But this perfect fruit of thought can hardly itself be called thought, since it has no signification and does not belong to the faculty of cogni- tion at all; but rather to the character. Besides, these present themselves, at this stage of our meditation, some curi- ous distinctions for which no parallels occur to me beyond the sphere of thought. Namely, we have, in the first place, to distinguish between waking thought,— thought clothed and in its right mind,—thought in full possession of its own essential faculties,—and what I may call hypnotic thought, which is confined to

such semeiotic life there could not be unless there were a substantial and conscious life as the basis of it. [Editor: Santiago Ramon y Cajal (1852–1934), Spanish neuroanatomist, Professor of Histology and Rector of the University of Madrid. Shared the sixth Nobel Prize for Medicine in 1906 with Camillo Golgi. Cajal developed many of the key conceptual insights and much of the empirical support for the Neuron Doctrine, the principle that the nervous system is made up of discrete signaling elements: neurons. He estab- lished that adjacent nerve-cells did not actually join each other no matter how close their fibres might be, and suggested that nerve impulses passed from the axon of one neuron to the dendrite of the next and not in the opposite direction. Cajal described histologically a specialized contact zone where one neuron communicates with an- other. No doubt this empirical evidence for cellular communication was an exciting result for Peirce in view of his hypotheses about sign relations. In Science (P 751) Peirce reviewed Cajal’s long set of lectures published in Clark University, 1889–1899, Decennial Celebration (see pp. 310–382).]

thinking what has been explicitly and very imperatively suggested to it to think,

and can think of nothing else. You may object that the so-called hypnotic thought has either not been deprived of any essential character of thought, as I talk as

if it had, or else, by the definition of the term “essential,” is not properly called

“thought,” at all. Well, well; the fixing up of its phrases belongs to the decora- tive department of the edification: at present we have the work of science,—or its ecodomesis, if I may borrow a word from Plato, who, I fancy, copied it from Thucydides;—at present, we have not come to that stage of the work, being still occupied with structural parts. I do not see anything exorbitant in my petition to be allowed to use the word ‘thought’, as it is often used, though not with very ac- curate discrimination, to denote the only thing that is stowed or on board of what

all the world calls a “vehicle of thought,” especially since I engage not to produce confusion by calling anything else by the same name. The word so used means that which can only be known to us by thinking, just as ‘a sight’ is anything which can only be known by seeing, a percept, is that which can only be known by per- ceiving; a ‘concept’ is that which can only be known by conceiving; and there may very [well] be other similar formations; since people have taken kindly to the in- stances I have named. A certain class of thoughts which we call “resolutions,” are called up, and dwelt upon, with iteration and with a certain kind of effort called putting into expectation that the thinker may thereby cause himself to behave promptly upon occasion in the same way as he would behave if he had time to go through a long process of meditation before acting. That real effect upon a man, which he might hope that this vast formation, and dwelling upon, and putting a shine upon a resolution will determine, that is will effect, may properly be called

a “determination of the soul” or briefly a “determination” when no kind of effect

will happen to be meant. This is indeed the usual vernacular meaning of “deter- mination.” Only in the vernacular the use is limited to cases in which the man has actually formed a resolution; while I propose to extend the meaning so as to cover any state of a man having an accidental cause in which he would behave upon oc- casion in a way more special than men in general or even the person in question would usually be at all certain to behave in the absence of the special cause. By calling this cause accidental, I mean that it does not arise according to any general law of man’s biological ontology being or even according to any such law that is special to that man, independently of circumstances that might not have oc- curred. For example, I should not say that the fact that a person has erotic dreams argues any determination of his soul; but if he or she falls in love, I should say that the society of the person whom he or she loves has caused a “determination of the soul,” in its general faculty of love, to excite a passion for that particular person. The words “of the soul” in this phrase, as used by me, are not intended to imply

the existence of the substance called the soul (although personally I do believe in it), but merely to show that the word “determination” does not here bear any of its other senses, of which there are just a dozen, not counting three that are obsolete; as shown by these examples drawn from the Oxford Dictionary: 1. Stubbs in 1874, ….tes “The war …. seeming year by year further removed from a determination.” 2. An act of Parliament reads: “Determination of tenancy means the cesser of a contract of tenancy by reason of efflusion of time or from any other cause.” The last eleven words are what is termed “legal verbage.” 3. Sir R.V. Williams in 1891, uses another legal sense, thus: “The general question of the right of the licensee was not essential to the determination of that case.” Here it means a settlement by authority of what had before been undecided. 4. The promulgation of a decision. T. Balguy in 1785 has the words, “To harken to our Saviour’s determination,—‘He that is without sin’.” 5. The fifth meaning is really a collection of meanings, as is not unusual in this Dictionary. It is a statement or decree fixing the boundaries of space or any other circumstance that would otherwise in the statement or in be- ing have been indefinite, or is something that in some sense excludes what would otherwise be a possible alternative. 6. Sir W. Hamilton in 1838 writes: “Ever series of concepts which has been obtained by abstraction may be reproduced in an in- verted order when .… we, step by step, add on the several characters from which we have abstracted in our ascent. This process .… is call Determination.” 7. Bow- en, in 1864, writes: “Unless one is regarded as an attribute, or determination, of the other.” 8. The ascertainment of the precise description of a thing in a certain respect, so as to negative all other descriptions in that respect. The examples refer to the ‘determination’ of biological forms, meaning the ascertainment of their species; the manner of defining a physical property as a force; the determinations of an [ordinary] meaning the ascertainment of all its elements; the determination of a chemical ingredient, meaning the ascertainment of the percentage in which it is present in a given compound; the determination of a quantity meaning the ascertainment of its value. 9. A statement resulting from an attempt scientifically to ascertain in any of the above respects. 10. A real tendency of some inanimate object to grow, move, or otherwise change in a particular direction. The same for an involuntary tendency of a mind or body of minds (orig. No. 7). [Editor: 11 not given.] 12. The state of a bodily fluid which has excessively flowed to a particular part of the body [thereby rendering impossible its going to another part]. 60

60 [Editor: There is a gap in the manuscript at this point. The material given within < … > is from MS 298:58, and may be close to the sentences needed, although it is not a fully satisfactory fit.]

< So, then, when I say that Existential Graphs furnish a moving picture of the intellect, I do not mean of human thinking, to which sundry physiological ac- cidents attach; but I take it into consideration that all thought is dialogical, and is embodied in signs. These signs are not such as those of memory, which are constituted signs by themselves partaking of the characters they signify, that is, of the ideas they excite in the interpreting mind, nor are they symptoms, or such signs as are in fact connected with the objects of which they are the deputies or representatives, but they are such signs as [are] constituted signs by the knowl- edge that they will be interpreted as signs, and are >. The characters that they signify, that is, that they are intended, or virtually profess to be intended, to excite in the interpreter of them,—and therefore do excite in the correct interpreter; nor are they symptoms or subjects or vehicles, of symptoms, as that goodman and housewife who alternately come forth from and retire into their hygroscopic cottage, 61 are subjects of [behavior,] which is symptomatic moisture or dryness, being brute effects of the events they signal- ize. No, thought-signs belong to that class of signs which the prince of logicians has termed symbols; 62 namely, these signs which are made to be signs, and to be precisely the signs that they are, neither by possessing any decisive qualities nor by embodying effects of any special causation, but merely by the certainty that they will be interpreted as signs, and as just such and such signs. Now I use the term Thought in such a sense that I speak of any two symbols which are in- tended, or profess to be intended, to be representative of the same real object, be it thing, event, or law, and which further signify, or are intended to call forth the same response, or interpretation, be it an emotion, an obedient act, or another sign, I speak of these, I say, as being, or embodying, the same Thought, in differ- ent guises. (The highest kind of symbol is one which signifies a growth, or self- development, of thought, and it is of that alone that a moving representation is possible; and accordingly the central problem of logic is to say whether one given thought is truly, i.e. is adapted to be, a development of a given other or not. In

61 [Editor: In English today this popular household novelty is known as a weather house. It is shaped as a cottage front through which two figures on a small armature are sus- pended from a strip of rawhide which is sensitive to humidity changes. When humidity is low, the hide twists in one direction, thus a particular figure emerges while the other retreats inside; but when humidity is high, the hide twists in the opposite direction thus pushing the other figure to the front.]

62 [Editor: By the term “the prince of logicians” is most probably meant Aristotle; in On Interpretation, the second text of the Organon he explains the concept of the symbolon as a connexion between two correlates based on an agreement.]

other words, it is the critic of arguments. Accordingly, in my early papers I limited logic to the study of this problem. But since then, I have formed the opinion that the proper sphere of any science in a given stage of development of science is the study of such questions as one social group of men can properly devote their lives to answering; and it seems to me that in the present state of our knowledge of signs, the whole doctrine of the classification of signs and of what is essential to a given kind of sign, must be studied by one group of investigators. Therefore,

I extend logic to embrace all the necessary principles of semeiotic, and I recog-

nize a logic of icons, and a logic of indices as well as a logic of symbols; and in this last I recognize three divisions; Stechéotic (or stoicheiology), which I formerly called Speculative Grammar; Critic, which I formerly called Logic; and Metho- deutic, which I formerly called Speculative Rhetoric.) A fallacy is, for me, a sup- posititious thinking, a thinking that parades as a self-development of thought but is in fact begotten by some other sire than reason; and this has substantially been the usual view of modern logicians. For reasoning ceases to be Reason when it is no longer reasonable: thinking ceases to be Thought when true thought discovers it. A self-development of Thought takes the course that thinking will take, that is sufficiently deliberate, and is not truly a self-development if it slips from being the thought of one object-thought to being the thought of another object-thought. It is, in the geological sense, a “fault”;—an inconformability in the strata of think- ing. The discussion of it does not appertain to pure logic, but to the application of logic to psychology. I only notice it here, as throwing a light upon what I do not mean by “Thought.” I trust by this time, Reader, that you are conscious of having some idea, which perhaps is not so dim as it seems to you to be, of what I mean by calling Exis- tential Graphs a moving-picture of Thought. Please note that I have not called

it a perfect picture. I am aware that it is not so: indeed, that is quite obvious. But

I hold that it is considerably more nearly perfect than it seems to be at first glance,

and quite sufficiently so to be called a portraiture of Thought. Yet very likely you may be indisposed to admit this except in some very gross sense. Certainly, no true scholar of mine in any science, least of all in logic, for all my having sometimes playfully called my fundamental principle “Ceno-pythagoreanism” (“ceno” = καινός, new), at all knows the dialect of “αὐτός ἔφη”; and I should feel ashamed if he did. It behooves me, therefore, to put before you some apology for that high- sounding title, “a moving-picture of Thought,” or “of the Mind.” There are several conclusive reasons against my developing here the theory upon which I base this boast in my own mind, of which I need mention but two, First, that it is so elaborate and so unfamiliar in substance, that any tolerably clear exposition of it would occupy more pages than it would be decent to ask our good and admirable

editor to allow to one article; so that it would lead us completely away from our main subject. Another reason is that that theory, even if it were developed, would probably seem still more dubious to you than does the proposition that, to my mind, it sufficiently justifies. I am thus driven to the objectionable resort of en- deavouring to persuade you of the truth of a vague proposition by considerations that are confessedly and manifestly of a secondary relevance. I may as well, at once, acknowledge that, in Existential Graphs, the representa- tion of Modality (possibility, necessity, etc.) lacks almost entirely that pictorial, or Iconic, a character which is so striking in the representation in the same sys- tem of every feature of propositions de inesse. Perhaps it is in the nature of things that it should be so in such wise that for Modality to be iconically represented in that same “pictorial” way in which the other features are represented would con- stitute a falsity in the representation. If so, it is a perfect vindication of the system upon whose accusers, I suppose, the burden of proof lies. Still, I confess I suspect there is in the heraldic representation of modality as set forth in my paper on the System (Monist, Vol. XVI, pp. 525–527) 63 a defect capable of being remedied. If it be not so, if the lack of “pictorialness” in the representation of modality cannot be remedied, it is because modality has, in truth, the nature which I opined it has (which opinion I expressed toward the end of the footnote on p. 525 of the article just refered to); and if that be the case, Modality is not, properly speak- ing, conceivable at all, but the difference, for example, between possibility and actuality is only recognizable, much in the same way as we recognize the dif- ference between a dream and a waking experience, supposing the dream to be ever so detailed, reasonable, and thoroughly consistent with itself and with all the rest of the dreamer’s experience. Namely, it still would not be so “vivid” as waking experience. Now what is “vividness”? Hume, in the “Treatise,” confounds it with the intenseness of the feeling. They certainly cannot be the same since, although memory is notoriously dimmer, i.e. less vivid, than perception, we do not remember a gamboge yellow as olive-color, nor a somewhat warmer yellow

as brown. A slight experimental investigation, which I made in , 18 64 afterward

supplemented in various ways, has led to the following conclusions:

63 [Editor: the paper has the title “Prolegomena to an Apology for Pragmaticism”. Also published in: Elize Bisanz (ed.), The Logic of Interdisciplinarity. Charles S. Peirce. The Monist Series. pp. 307–342 (Berlin: Akademie Verlag, 2009).]

64 [Editor: It is likely that Peirce was referring to experiments conducted by Fechner, which was reported in 1884 in “On Minimum Differences of Sensibility,” see also vari- ous other studies by Peirce on color sensation cited in Comprehensive Bibliography.]

1.

A slight psychological connexion only exists between vividness with its op-

posite, faintness, and intenseness of feeling with its opposite, dullness; in that when a genuinely warm interest and attention had greatly increased the vividness of the sensation of a particular object, according to the direct introspective testimony of consciousness, measurement showed a very slight increase of its intenseness, an increase perhaps allied to hallucination, while it is common experience that an increase of the intensity of a sensation due to an increase of the rate of physical expenditure of energy (“power,” or “action”) there is a consequent considerable increase of vividness. It is possible directly to distinguish between intenseness and vividness, although they are less readily distinguished than is the luminosity, or true intensity of a light-sensation from the chroma, or height of color, or depar- ture from grey.

2. There is no phenomenon in the relation between the vividness of a feeling

and its causes that corresponds with that discontinuity in the relation between the intenseness of the feeling and its cause, the excitation, which is called the ‘threshold’ or ‘Schwelle’, of the sensation (or, less properly, of the excitation). With diminished attention, the feeling becomes fainter, without discoverable limit. As long as a feeling has any intenseness, however dull, a sufficient exertion of atten- tion will bring out some degree of vividness. In its relation to time (which is of special pertinency to the problem of modality), we find no past, so distant (short of babyhood) that immediate unreckoned memory may not recall; nor is there any remembered event so recent that when it was still more recent the memory of it, if it were called up, was not still more vivid. However, possibly this fact ought not be classed as relating to vividness, proper. It does not quite conflict with the doctrine of the span of time; yet I do not find that doctrine to be absolutely true. Indeed, regarded otherwise than as merely an approximate statement, it is plainly self-contradictory. Moreover, I have found that by mounting two seconds’ pen- dulums on one stand, with their knife-edges in one straight line; the stand being so stiff that their mutual influence is negligible for the purposes of the experi- ment; by then placing halfway between them a lens four times whose focal length equals the distance between the centres of the two pendulums diminished by the thickness of the lens; and thus bringing the image of a scale upon the one juxta- position with a vernier carried on the other, the time of coincidence of phase can always be noted (with a fine reading-telescope), within one second, as is shown by the perfect equality of the intervals, although the difference of periods is only one three hundredth part of a second. It appears that the perfect regularity of the intervals, except for a difference of one second at regular intervals, implies that lapses of time of less than a sixtieth of a second are accurately observed; which seems to conflict with any intelligible definition of the time-space as an exactly

definite quantity unless it be deprived of all utility in helping to account for any observed phenomenon.

It only remains under this head to notice that rare as it is for any degree of

interest to create a hallucination, or outward sensation not excited, even in part, by any physical cause, yet there is reasonably sufficient evidence that in certain states of mind some peculiar persons not only experience hallucinations, but that these may be vehicles of true information; so that the phenomenon sometimes goes by the name of clairvoyance and by far the most satisfactory explanation of this is to suppose them to be communications from intellectual beings the matter of whose bodies is of a non-chemical vaguely, called a “spiritual,” nature. But we remain in dense ignorance of this department of science owing to its having been cultivated by cheats and dupes, while physicists, who are all specialists, and as such incompetent to investigate phenomena so radically unlike those with which they are acquainted, in addition to being mostly university professors, and so be- ing prevented by the obligation to support their dignity from admitting their real ignorance, that which is, in all cases, the first step toward any knowledge radically novel to the student. It may be added that many of those who carry the most au- thority with the general public owe this to their having made the acquisition of such authority, regardless of its voracity, the chief object of their lives. 65

3. By a Feeling, I mean an instance of that kind of consciousness which in- volves no analysis, comparison or any process whatsoever, nor consists, in whole or in part of any act by which one stretch of consciousness is distinguished from another, which has its own positive quality which consists in nothing else, and

which is of itself all that it is, however it may have been brought about; so that if this Feeling is present during a lapse of time, it is wholly and equally present at every moment of that time. To reduce this description to a simple definition, I will say that by a Feeling I mean an instance of that sort of element of consciousness which is all that it is positively, in itself, regardless of anything else.

A Feeling, then, is not an event, a happening, a coming to pass, since a com-

ing to pass cannot be such unless there was a time when it had not come to pass; and so it is not in itself all that it is, but is relative to a previous state. A Feeling is

65 I formally knew positively of one’s devoting several hours daily in practicing imposing deportment before a pier-glass, and the result was a manner so irresistibly winning as well as imposing, that though I heard others, who only guessed what I secretly knew, make him the constant butt of contemptuous ridicule, I myself was quite under his charm, and so were most people, more or less. I would not, for the world, divulge his name, even now that he has passed to a world where we imagine the secrets of all hearts to lie exposed to the view of all.

a state, which is in its entirety in every moment of time as long as it endures. But

a Feeling is not a single state which is other than an exact reproduction of itself. For if that reproduction is in the same mind it must be at a different time and then the Being of the Feeling would be relative to the particular time in which it occurred, which would be something different from the Feeling itself, violating the definition which makes the Feeling to be all that it is regardless of anything else. Or, if the reproduction were simultaneous with the Feeling, it must be in another mind, and thus the identity of the Feeling would depend upon the mind in which it was, which is other than the Feeling; and again the definition would be violated in the same way. Thus, any Feeling must be identical with any exact duplicate of it, which is as much as to say the Feeling is simply a Quality of im- mediate consciousness. But it must be admitted that a Feeling experienced in an outward sensation may be reproduced in memory. For to deny this would be idle nonsense. For in-

stance, you experience, let us say, a certain color-sensation due to red-lead. It has

a definite hue, luminosity, and chroma. These three elements,—which are not

separate in the Feeling, it is true, and are not, therefore, in the Feeling at all, but are said to be in it, as a way of expressing the results which would follow, accord- ing to the principles of chromatics, from certain experiments with a color-disk, color-box, or other similar apparatus. In that sense, the color-sensation which you derive from looking at the red-lead has a certain hue, luminosity, and chro- ma which completely define the quality of the color. The vividness, however, is independent of all three of these elements; and it is very different in the memory of the color a quarter of a second after the actual sensation from what it is in the sensation itself, although this memory is conceivably perfectly true as to hue, luminosity, and chroma, which truth constitutes it an exact reproduction of the entire Quality of the Feeling. 66

66 [Editor: Peirce’s interest in color theories had direct impact on the work of his student Christine Ladd-Franklin. Ladd-Franklin was deeply engaged in theories of visual perception which she developed within the spirit of Peirceean logic. During 1891–92 she attended the seminars of physicians such as G.E. Müller in Göttingen, as well as H.v. Helmholtz and Arthur König in Berlin, two diverging positions in psychophysics of vision and developed her own evolutionary theory of color sensation. In 1892 she published her article „Eine neue Theorie der Lichtempfindungen“ in the Zeitschrift für Psychologie und Physiologie der Sinnesorgane. Her latest contribution was 1924, her epilogue for the second edition of H.v. Helmholtz’s Treatise on Physiological Optics.]

It follows that since the vividness of a Feeling;—which would be more accu- rately described as the vividness of a consciousness of the Feeling,—is independ- ent of every component of the Quality of that consciousness, and consequently is independent of the resultant of those components, which resultant Quality is the Feeling itself. We thus learn what Vividness is not; and it only remains to ascertain what else it is. To this end, two remarks will be useful. The first is that of whatever is in the mind in any mode of consciousness, there is necessarily an immediate conscious- ness and consequently a Feeling. The proof of this proposition is very instructive as to the nature of Feeling; for it shows that, if by ‘Psychology’ we mean the posi- tive, or observational, science of the mind or of consciousness, then although the entire consciousness at any one instant is nothing but a Feeling, yet Psychology can teach me nothing of the nature of Feeling, nor can we gain knowledge of any Feeling by introspection, the Feeling being completely veiled from introspection, for the very reason that it is our immediate consciousness. Possibly this curious truth was what Emerson was trying to grasp,—but if so, pretty unsuccessfully,— when he wrote the lines,

The old Sphinx bit her thick lip,— Said, “Who taught thee me to name? I am thy spirit, yoke-fellow, Of thine eye I am eyebeam. “Thou art the unanswered question; Couldst see thy proper eye, Alway it asketh, asketh; And each answer is a lie.” 67

But whatever he may have meant, it is plain enough that all that is immediately present to a man is what is on his mind in the present instant. His whole life is in the present. But when he asks what is the content of the present instant, his question always comes too late. The present has gone by, and what remains of it is greatly metamorphosed. He can, it is true, recognize that he was [at] that time, for example, looking at a specimen of red-lead, and must have seen that color, which, he perceives, is something positive and sui-generis, of the nature of Feeling. But nobody’s immediate consciousness, unless when he was much more than half

67 [Editor: This is an excerpt from Ralph Waldo Emerson’s poem The Sphinx, (1803–1882) an American poet and a central figure of the literary and philosophical group known as the American Transcendentalists, who shared the idea that individuals could transcend the physical world of the senses into deeper spiritual experience through free will and intuition.]

asleep, ever consisted wholly of a color-sensation; and since, a feeling is absolutely simple and without parts,—as it evidently is, since it is whatever it is regardless of anything else, and therefore regardless of any part, which would be something other than the whole,—it follows that if the red color-sensation was not the whole feeling of the instant it has nothing in common with the feeling of the instant. Indeed, although a Feeling is immediate consciousness, that is, is whatever of con- sciousness, there may be that is immediately present, yet there is no consciousness in it because it is instantaneous. For we have seen already that Feeling is nothing but a Quality, and a Quality is not conscious: it is a mere possibility. We can, it is true, see what a Feeling in general is like; that, for example, this or that red is a Feeling; and it is perfectly conceivable that a being should have that color for its entire consciousness, throughout a lapse of time, and therefore at every instant of that time. But such a being could never know anything about its own conscious- ness. It could not think anything that is expressible as a proposition. It could have no idea of such a thing. It would be confined to feeling that color. True, if you perceive that you must at the instant in question have been looking at a given specimen of red-lead, you know that that color has some resemblance to your feel- ing at that instant. But this only means that when the feeling gives place to com- parison this resemblance appears. But there is no resemblance at all in Feeling, since Feeling is whatever it is, positively and regardless of anything else, while the resemblance of anything lies in the comparison of that thing with something else. If all this which I am saying to you seems hardly intelligible, allow me to re- mind you, dear Reader, that there is no royal road to thought. If one person, A, has an idea, and it is deemed desirable that another person, B, should have it too, there is absolutely no other way than for B to go through substantially the same process of thought is that A has gone through; and if it happens that the particular mode of thought is one in which B is more or less unpracticed, there necessarily will be a certain awkwardness in his attempts to follow A’s thought. A can arrange the different stimuli to the thought so as to make the path somewhat easy, if B will only keep to that path. But he will stumble more or less because he has not been trained to going over that kind of ground. At first, the difficulties may be great; but at last he will get the knack of it, and it will become comparatively easy, although there will be a certain amount of mental energy to be expended, even when the unnecessary friction has been got rid of. Every operation of the mind, however complex, has its absolutely simple feel- ing, the emotion of the tout ensemble. This is a secondary feeling or sensation excited from within the mind, just as the qualities of outward sense are excited by something psychic without us. It seems at first glance unaccountable that a mere slight difference in the speed of vibration should make such a difference

of quality as that between deep vermillion and violet blue. But then it is to be remembered that it is doubtless our imperfect knowledge of those vibrations which has led us to represent them abstractly as differing only in quantity. There is already a hint in the behaviour of electrons that a lower speed and a greater one have differences which we have not been aware of. People wonder, too, how dead matter can excite feelings in the mind. For my part, instead of wondering how it can be, I feel much disposed to deny downright that it is possible. These new discoveries have reminded us how very little we know of the constitution of matter; and I prefer to guess that it is a psychic feeling of red without us which arouses a sympathetic feeling of red in our senses.

Signs, Thoughts, Reasoning 68

A variety of mob-madness to which we all seem to be more or less subject is

manifested in taking up vague opinions about which our associates and com- panions seem strenuous. I am apt, in some moments, to be wary of admitting doctrines of which no definition can be given. An eminent and admirable physi- ologist concludes a volume of great interest with this sentence: “The idea that mutation is working in a definite direction is a mere anthropomorphism, and like all anthropomorphisms is in contradiction with the facts.” 69 If I were to attack a definite reasoning to “anthropomorphism”, I should think it stood to reason that a man could not have any idea that was not anthropomorphic, and that it was simply to repeat the error of Kant to attempt to escape anthropomorphism. At the same time, I am confident a man can pretty well understand the thoughts of

his horse, his jocose parrot, and his canary-bird, so full of espièglerie; and though his representation of those thoughts must I suppose, be more or less falsified by anthropomorphism, yet that there is a good deal more truth than falsity in them,—and more than if he were to attempt the impossible task of eliminating the anthropomorphism, I am for the present sufficiently convinced. I am led to these remarks from reflecting that a good many persons who told themselves that they hold anthropomorphism in reprobation will nevertheless opine (though not

in

these terms,) that I am not anthropomorphic enough in my account of logic

as

a science of signs and in describing signs without making any explicit allusion

to

the human mind.

A line of bricks stands on end upon a floor; each facing the next one of the line. And one is tilted so as to fall over upon the next; and so they all successively

68 [Editor: MS 293, dated 1906, a title is added by the editor.]

69 [Editor: This is a perfect example which shows how Peirce was engaged in the scientific discourses of biology and physical sciences in general. The “eminent and admirable physiologist” is Jacques Loeb, the quote is taken from the book The Dynamics of Liv- ing Matter, Columbia University Press 1906, published in the same year as the present manuscript. The book is based on a lecture series at Columbia University held in 1902. It includes chapters about: general chemistry of life phenomena, general physical con- stitution of living matter, the role of electrolytes in the formation of living matter, and the dynamics of regenerative processes. Jacques Loeb was a German-American physiologist and biologist, his work was mainly about the physiology of the brain and animal tropisms. His classic text was The Mecha- nistic Conception of Life, published 1912.]

fall. The mechanical statement of the phenomenon is that a portion of the sum of the energy of motion that each brick had at the instant its center of gravity was

directly over its supporting edge, added to the energy of its fall is transformed into an energy of motion of the next brick. Now I assert no more than this, but less, since I do not say whether it was mechanical energy, or what it was that was com- municated, when, applying my definition of sign, I assert (as I do), that each brick

is a sign, (namely an index) to the succeeding bricks of the line, of the original ef-

fect produced on the first brick. I freely concede that there is an anthropomorphic constituent in that statement; but there is none that is not equally present in the

mechanical statement, since this asserts all that the other form asserts. Until you see this, you do not grasp the meaning that I attach to the word “sign”. I maintain that nothing but confusion can result from using in logic a more anthropomorphic conception than that. To ask how we think when we reason has no more to do with the security of the particular form of argumentation that may be under criticism than the histology of the cortex of the brain has to do with the same question of security. Here you may ask, “How does this gibe with your former statement that reasoning is self-controlled thought? There is no differ- ence between Thought and Thinking, is there?” I reply, there is indeed, ‘Thinking’

is a fabled ‘operation of mind’ by which an imaginary object is brought before

one’s gaze. If that object is a sign upon which an argument may turn, we call it

a Thought. All that we know of the ‘Thinking’ is that we afterward remember

that our attention was actively on the stretch, and that we deemed to be creat- ing objects or transformations of objects while noting that analogy to something supposed to be real. We choose to call an ‘operation of the mind’; and we are, of course, quite justified in doing so, provided be well understood that its being so consists merely in our so regarding it, just as Alexander Hannibal, Caessar, and Napoleon constitute a single quaterion, or plural of four, as long as we put them together in thought. The ‘operation of the mind’ is an ens rationis. That is my suf- ficient excuse for speaking of it a ‘fabled’. All necessary reasoning is diagrammatic; and the assurance furnished by all reasoning must be based upon necessary reasoning. In this sense, all reasoning depends directly or indirectly upon diagrams. Only it is necessary to distinguish reasoning, properly so called, where the acceptance conclusion in the sense in which it is drawn, is seen evidently to be justified, from cases in which a rule of inference is followed because it has been found to work well, which I call following a rule of thumbs, and accepting a conclusion without seeing why fur- ther than that the impulse to do so seems irresistible. In both those cases, there might be a sound argument to defend the acceptance of the conclusion; but to accept the conclusion without any criticism or supporting argument is not what

I

call reasoning. For example, a person having been accustomed to considering

finite collections only might contract a habit of using the syllogism of transposed quantity, of which the following is an instance

Every Hottentot kills a Hottentot No Hottentot is killed by more than one Hottentot Therefore, every Hottentot is killed by a Hottentot

Later forgetting why this necessarily follows for finite collection (if he ever did understand it) this person might by mere force of habit apply the same kind of reasoning to endless generations or other infinite class; or he might apply it to

a finite class, but with so little understanding that, only luck would present his

applying to infinite collections. Such a case is an application of a rule of thumb and is not reasoning. Many persons are deceived by the catch about Achilles and the Tortoise; and I know one extremely bright man who could not, for the life of him, perceive our fault in this reasoning:

It either rains or it doesn’t rain; It rains; Therefore, it doesn’t rain

Such people appear to mistake the rule of thumb for reasoning.

Descartes, in one of his letters, is quite explicit that his Je pense, donc je suis is not a syllogism with a suppressed premiss. I infer, then, that he thought it not im- possible that an imaginary being should think (i.e. be conscious) albeit he had no real existence. Of course, there would be a fallacy here, but not one that Descartes might not easily fall into. In the same fallacious manner; I suppose he said, It would be quite possible antecedently that I had never existed. But when he tried to suppose, not of a being in general, who might be imaginary, but of himself, that he was conscious without existing, he found that quite impossible; while yet he had no reason or principle that could sense as major premiss in the argument, this confused inability to suppose his being false, as long as he thought, was not, in my terminology, Reasoning, because Reasoning renders the truth of its conclusion plain and comprehensible, and does not, like the plagiaristic formula of Descartes, stumble in the dark against an invisible wall of inability to conceive something. In order to expound fully my proposition that all necessary reasoning is dia- grammatic, I ought to explain exactly what I mean by a Diagram. But at present it would be extremely difficult to do quite that. At a later place in this paper

I will endeavor to do so; but just now, I think it will better meet the reader’s needs to give an exposition that shall cover the main points, and to leave the others, whose usefulness is only perceived after a deep study, to follow when the need of them comes out.

To begin with, then, a Diagram is an Icon of a set of rationally related objects. By rationally related, I mean that there is between them, not merely one of those relations which we know by experiences, but know not how to comprehend, but one of the relations which anybody who reasons at all must have an inward ac- quaintance with. This is not a sufficient definition, but just now will go no further, except that I will say that the Diagram not only represents the related correlates, but also, and much more definitely represents the relations between them, as so many objects of the Icon. Now necessary reasoning makes its conclusion evident. What is this “Evidence”? It consists in the fact that the truth of the conclusion is perceived, in all its generality, and in the generality that how and why of the truth is perceived. What sort of a Sign can communicate their Evidence? No Index, surely, can it be; since it is by brute force that the Index thrusts its object into the field of Interpretation, the consciousness, as if disdaining gentle “evidence”. No Symbol can do more than apply a “rule of thumb” resting as it does entirely on Habit (Including under this term natural disposition); and a Habit is no evidence. I suppose it would be the general opinion of logicians, as it certainly was being mine, that the Syllogism is a Symbol, because of its Generality. But there is inaccurate analysis and confusion of thought at the bottom of that view; for so understood it would fail to furnish Evidence. It is true that ordinary Icons,- the only class of signs that remains for necessary inference,—merely sug- gest the possibility of that which they represent, being percepts minus the insisten- cy and percussivity of percepts. In themselves, they are mere semes, predicating of nothing, not even so much as interrogatively. It is, therefore, a very extraordinary feature of Diagrams that they show. As literally show as a Percept shows the percep- tual Judgment to be true,—that a consequence does follow, and moiré marvelous yet, that it would follow under all varieties of circumstances accompanying the premises. It is not, however, the statical Diagram-icon that directly shows this; but the Diagram-icon having been constructed with an Intention, involving a Symbol of which it is the Interpretant (as Euclid, for example, first announces in general terms the proposition he intends to prove, and then proceeds to draw a diagram, analyze a figure, to exhibit the antecedent condition thereof) which Intention, like every other, is General as to its Object, in the light of this Intention determines an initial Symbolic Interpretant. Meantime, the Diagram remains in the field of perception or imagination; and so the iconic Diagram and its initial Symbolic In- terpretant taken together constitute what we shall not too much wrench Kant’s term in calling a Schema, which is on the one side an object capable of being ob- served while on the other side it is general. (of course, I always use ‘general’ in the usual sense of general as to its object. If I wish to say that a sign is general as to

its matter, I call it a type, or typical.) Now let us see how the Diagram entrains its consequence. The Diagram sufficiently partakes of the percursivity of a percept to determine, as its Dynamic, or visible Interpretant, a state activity in the Interpreter, mingled with curiosity. As usual, this mixture leads to Experimentation. It is the normal logical effect; that is to say, it not only happens in the cortex of the human brain, but must plainly happen in every Quasi-mind in which Signs of all kinds have a vitality of their own. Now, sometimes in one way, sometimes in another, we need not pause to enumerate the ways, certain modes of transformation of Diagrams of the system of diagrammatization used have become recognized as permissible very likely the recognition descender from some former Induction, remarkably strong owing to the cheapness of mere mental experimentation. Some circumstance connected with the purpose which first prompted the construction of the diagram contributes to the determination of the permissible transformation that actually gets performed. The Schema sees, as we may say, that the transformate Diagram is substantially contained in the transformand Diagram,—and in the significant features of it, regardless of the accidents, that remains after a deletion from the Phemic Sheet is contained in the Graph originally there, and would do so whatever colored ink were employed. The transformate Diagram is the Eventual, or Rational, Interpretant of the transformand Diagram, at the same time being a new Diagram of which the Initial Interpretant, or signification, is the Symbolic statement, or statement in general terms, of the conclusion. By this labyrinthine path, and by no other, it is possible to attain to evidence; and evidence belongs to every necessary conclusion. There are at least two other entirely different lines of argumentation each very nearly, and perhaps quite, as conclusive as the above, though less instructive, to prove that all necessary reasoning is by diagrams. One of these shows that every step of such an argumentation can be represented, but usually much more ana- lytically, by Existential Graphs. Now to say that the graphical procedure is more analytical than another is to say that it demonstrates what the other virtually assumes without proof. Hence, the graphical method, which is diagrammatic, is the sounder form of the same argumentation. The other proof consists in taking up, one by one, each form of necessary reasoning, and showing that the diagram- matic exhibition of it does it perfect justice. Let us now consider non-necessary reasoning. This divides itself, according to the different ways in which it may be valid, into three classes, probable de- duction; experimental reasoning which I now call Induction; and processes of thought capable of producing no conclusion more definitive than a conjecture, which I now call Abduction. I examined this subject in an essay in the volume

of “Studies in Logic by members of the Johns Hopkins University”, published in 1883; 70 and have since made three independent and laborious investigations of the question of validity, and others connected with it. As my latest work has been written out for the press and may sometime be printed, I will limit what I say here

as much as possible. The general principle of the validity of Induction is correctly stated in the Johns Hopkins essay, but is too narrowly defined. All the forms of reasoning there principally considered come under the class of Inductions, as

I now define it. Much could now be added to the essay. The validity of Induction

consists in the fact that it proceeds according to a method which, though it may

give provisional results that are incorrect will yet, if steadily pursued eventually correct any such error. The two propositions that all Induction processes this kind of validity, and that no Induction processes any other kind that is more than

a further determination of this kind, are both susceptible of demonstration by

necessary reasoning. The demonstrations are given in my Johns Hopkins paper; and although the description of the mode of validity there is too narrow, yet it covers the strongest inductions and most of the reasoning generally recognized as Inductions. It is characteristic of the present state of logic that no attempt has been made to refute the demonstrations, but the old talk, conclusively refuted by me goes on just the same. To say that the validity of Induction rests on necessary Reasoning is as much as to say that Induction separated from the deduction of its validity does not make it evident that its conclusion has the kind of justifica- tion to which it lays claim. This being the case, it is not surprising that Induction separated from the deduction of its validity, makes no essential use of diagrams. But instead of experimenting on Diagrams it experiments upon the very objects concerning which it reasons. That is to say: it does so in an easily extended sense of the term “experiment”; the sense in which I commonly employ the word in the critical part of logic. The third mode of non-necessary reasoning, if we are to count the deduction of probabilities as a class, though it ought not to be reckoned such is Abduction. Abduction is no more nor less than guessing, a faculty attributed to Yankees. 71 Such validity as this consists in the generalization that no new truth is ever oth- erwise reached while some new truths are thus reached. This is a result of Induc- tion; and therefore in a remote way Abduction rests upon diagrammatic reasoning.

70 [Editor: the mentioned essay has the title “A Theory of Probable Inference”.]

71 In point of fact, the three most remarkable, because most apparently unfounded, guesses I know of were made of English men. They were Bacon’s guess that heat was a move of motion, Dalton’s of chemical atoms, and Young’s (or was it Wallaton’s) that violet green (and not yellow, as the painters said) and red were the fundamental colors.

The System of Existential Graphs the development of which has only been be- gun by a solitary student, furnishes already the best diagram of the contents of the logical Quasi-mind that has ever yet been found and promises much future perfectionment. Let us call the collective whole of all that could ever be present to the mind in any way or in any sense, the Phaneron. Then the substance of every thought (and of much beside thought proper) will be a constituent of the Phaneron. The Phaneron being itself far too elusive for direct observation, there can be no better method of studying it than through the Diagram of it which the system of existential graphs puts at our disposition. We have already tested the fruit-fruits of the method, we shall soon gather more, and I, for my part, am in confident hope that by-and-by (not in my brief time,) a rich harvest may be cornered by this means. What, in a general way, does the diagram of existential graphs represent the mode of the structure of the Phaneron to be like? The question calls for a com- parison, and in answering it a little flight of fancy will be in order. It represents the structure of the Phaneron to be quite like that of mechanical compound. In the imagined representation of the Phaneron, (for we shall not, as yet, under- take actually to construct such a graph,) in place of the ordinary spots, which are Graphs not represented as compound, we shall have Instances of the absolutely indecomposable elements of the Phaneron, (supposing it has any ultimate con- stituents, which, of course, remains to be seen, until we come to the question of their matter, and as long as we are, as at present, discursive only of their possible forms, their being may be presumed,) which close enough analogues of the atoms in the chemical graph or “Relation Formula”. Each elementary graph like each chemical element, has its definite valency. 72 The number of peas on the periph- ery of its instance,- and the lines of identity (which never branch) will be, quite analogous to the chemical bonds. Thus is resemblance enough. It is true that in existential graphs we have cuts, to which nothing in this chemical graph cor- responds. Not yet, at any rate. We are now just beginning to rend away the veil that has hitherto enshrouded the constitution of the protein bodies; but whatever I may conjecture as to those vast super-molecules, some containing fifteen thou- sand molecules, whether it seems probable on chemical grounds or not, that they contain groups of opposite polarity from the residues outside those groups, and whether or not similar polar submolecules appear within the complex inorganic

72 [Editor: Chemical methods had a central role in Peirce’s work; his chemistry teacher at the Lawrence school was Josiah Parsons Cooke, also an associate of the Florentine Academy. Further details about this topic see: His Glassy Essence by Kenneth L. Ketner. 234–35, 243, 255, 258, 261. (Nashville and London: Vanderbilt University Press, 1998.)]

acids, it is certainly too early to take these into account in helping the exposition of the constitution of the phaneron. Were such ideas ought to be laid aside as solid as they are in fact vaporous, until we have first thoroughly learned the lessons of that analogy between the constitution of the phaneron and that of chemical bod- ies which consists in both the one and the other being composed of elements of definite valency. In all natural classifications of form, once recognized, take precedence over differences of matter. Who would now throw Iron, with its valency, perhaps of eight, as used to be done, into the same class with manganese of valency seven, chromium, with its valency of six (though these three all belong to the even fourth series,) and aluminium, with valency three and in the odd series three rather than with nickel and cobalt and even along with ruthenium, rhodium, and palladium of the sixth series, and with the tenth-series osmium, sodium, and platinum? Or who would for one instant liken ordinary alcohol to methyl ether (which has the same material composition) instead of with the alcoholates? The same procedure of form over matter is seen in the classification of physical products. Some of Rafael’s greatest pictures,—the Christ bearing the cross for example,—are suffused with a brick red tinge intended, I doubt not, to correct for the violet blueness of the deep shade of the chapels in which they were meant to be hung. But who would classify Rafael’s paintings according to things pre- dominant tinges instead of according to the nature of the composition, or the stages of Rafael’s development? There is no need of insisting upon a matter so obvious. Besides, there is a rational explanation of the procedure of form over matter in natural classifications. For such classifications are intended to render the composition of the entire classified collection intelligible,—no matter what else they may be intended to show, and rationally form is something that the mind can “take in”, assimilate, and comprehend, while matter is always foreign to it, and though recognizable, is incomprehensible. The reason of this, again, is plain enough: matter is that by virtue of which an object is connected with an object gains existence, a fact known only by an index, which is connected with the object only by brute force; while form, being that by which object is such as it is, is comprehensible. It follows that, assuming that there are any indecompos- able constituents of the phaneron, since each of these has a definite valency, or number of pegs to its graph-instance, this is the only form, or at any rate the only intelligible form, the elements of the phaneron can have, the classification of elements of the phaneron must in the first place, be classified according to their valency, just as are the chemical elements. We call a spot a medad, monad, dyad, triad, tetrad, or by some other such name, according as its Valency, or the number of its Pegs, is 0, 1, 2, 3, 4, etc. It is

to be remarked that a Graph not only has attachments to the Graphs through its Pegs and through Lines of Identity, but is also attached to the Area on which it is scribed, this Area being a Sign of Logical Universe. But it is not the same kind of attachment, since the Entire Graph of the Area is after a fashion predicated by that Universe, while the Lines of Identity represent individual subjects of which the two connected Spots are predicated either being regarded as determining the other. There would therefore be a confusion of thought in adding one to the number of Pegs and calling the sum of the Valency. It would rather be the sum of two different categories of Valency. But in the case of the Medad, where there is no Peg, the possibility of scribing the Graph upon an Area is the only Valency that spot has—the only circumstance that brings it and other thoughts together. For this reason, we can, without other than a Verbal inconsistency, due to the incompleteness of our terminology, speak of a Medad as a Monad. For some purposes, it is indispensible so to regard it.

I am now going to make a few notes which may be useful to a person in reflecting upon this subject, even if I am not led to make here any further remarks upon them.

It is likely to prove convenient to have at one’s disposition a certain formula

which follows as a Corollary from Listing’s Census-Theorem. 73 The formula is, 2

(k + s – x) = V – L; or, in words, for any Graph which is separated from others, twice the sum of the Cyclosis, K, added to the excess of the number of spots, S,

over the Chorisis, X, is equal to the excess of the sum of the Valencies of all the Spots in the Graph, V, over the number of Loose Ends, L. The Chorisis, X, is the number of separate pieces which go to make up the Graph. The Cyclosis, K, is the number of Lines of Identity in the Graph which might be severed without increasing the Chorisis.

A Loose End is an extremity of a Line of Identity not abutting upon any Spot.

Such is the end of a Line of Identity on the Area of a Cut which abuts upon the Cut, itself. Since the Reader may not be familiar with the Census Theorem, I will give an immediate demonstration of the truth of the formula. Taking any Graph whatever, let the Capital letters, K, S, X, V, L, denote respectively its Cyclosis,

73 [Editor: Peirce was an expert on the works of Johann Benedict Listing, a mathematician and student of Carl Friedrich Gauß. Listing is the founder of the term topology. Further reading on this matter in: Reasoning and the Logic of Things. The Cambridge Conferences Lectures of 1898. “Consequences of Mathematics”, by Kenneth L. Ketner and Hilary Putnam, 1–54. Harvard University Press, 1992.]

number of Spots, Chorisis, Total Valency of its Spot, and number of Loose Ends. Lever every Line of Identity in the Graph at one point. (But it will not be necessary to cut any that has a loose end. Observe moreover, that we assume without proof that the number of lines of identity is finite. Ob- serve, too, that a point of teridentity must be regarded as a spot.) Let the little let- ters k, s, x, v, l, refer to the Graph resulting from this operation, each letter having the same predictive signification as the corresponding capital. There will now be no Cyclosis: k = D. The Spots will be the same as before: s = S. The Chorisis will be the same as the number of Spots: x = S. The total Valency will not have been altered: v = V. There will be loose end for every Peg: l = V. Thus, both members of the proposed formula will vanish; namely both 2 (k + s x) = 2(0 + s – S); and v l = V – V; and thus the formula verifies itself for this state of extreme dissec- tion. Now restore the original graph by bringing together the two loose ends that have resulted from severing each line of identity. Mend the lines one by one, in any order of succession you like. Each such act of mending will leave the total valency unaltered, but will diminish the number of loose ends by 2; thus increas- ing the value of the second member of the formula by 2. If the two loose ends brought together belong, at the time when they are brought together, to separate pieces of the graph, the mending cannot effect the Cŷclosis, nor the number of spots, but will diminish the Chorisis by 1, thus increasing the first member of the equation, 2 (k + s – x), by 2. If, however the loose ends brought together do not belong to separate pieces, or the time they are brought together, they belong to the same piece; and the mending will increase the Cyclosis by 1, while leaving the number of spots and the Chorisis is unchanged; thus again increasing the first member of the equation by 2. Thus, both members of the equation are increased by the same amount at each step of the operation, and the equation remains as true after the step as before. Hence, it remains as true after all the mendings as it was in its extreme dissection. But it was then true; and is therefore true at the end. At the end it is the original graph again; which was any graph we pleased. Hence, the formula is true of any graph we please, so long as the lines of identity are finite in number. The formula does not teach one much; but perhaps it will help to keep on in mind of what sort of work a really scientific research into the Phaneron must be. It must be a work of diagrammatic thinking, first and last. Logic requires great subtlety of thought, throughout; and especially in distin- guishing those characters which belong to the diagram with which one works, but which are not significant features of it considered as the diagram it is taken for, from those that testify as to the form represented. For not only may a dia- gram have features that are not significant at all, such as its being drawn upon

“laid” or upon “wove” paper; not only may it have features that are significant but are not diagrammatically so; but one and the same construction may be, when regarded in two different ways, two altogether different diagrams; and that to which it testifies in the one capacity it must not be considered as testifying to in the other capacity. For example, the entire existential graph of a phemic sheet in any state of it, is a diagram of the logical universe, as it is also a diagram of a quasi mind; but it must not, on that account, be considered as testifying to the identity of those two. It is like a telescope eye piece which at one focus exhibits a star at which the instrument is pointed, and at another exhibits all the faults of the objective lens. Among existential graphs there are two that are remarkable for being truly continuous both in their matter and in their corresponding signification. There would be nothing remarkable in their being continuous in either, or in both re- spects; but that the continuity of the matter should correspond to that of the signification is sufficiently remarkable to limit these graphs to two; the graph of identity represented by the line of identity, and the graph of coexistence, rep- resented by the blank. Here, reader, moreover, you asking what I mean by this continuity. If I miss-hear, it is because I am expecting you to ask the logical ques- tion—for questions may logically follow, as well as assertions. Well, reader, I reply, in asking me that question, “What I mean by true con- tinuity?” you are asking one of the most difficult questions of logic. We know very well that the continuity of functions, which I call pseudo-continuity, is a certain order among the individual members of a collection whose multitude is the same as that of the collection of all possible collections of integer numbers. But between any two points of what I call a truly continuous line there is room for any multitude of points whatsoever, and therefore of an endless series of mul- titudes all infinitely greater than the total multitude of points of which the linear pseudo-continuum consists. Now logicians have always rightly said that no col- lection of individuals, whatever is adequate for presenting all the possible vari- ations of a general term; and consequently the points of true linear continuum cannot be actual constituent parts of it. Its only parts, as Kant says, are homoge- neous [in respect to those qualities which belong to all the parts] with the whole and those homogeneous parts are indeterminate, in that each may end and the next begin where you will. This is why every continuum may be regarded as the actualization of a generalized relation having the form of the relation of three (or four?) points upon a line. But it is quite evident that Kant is right (though his nominalism made the truth appear to him more psychological than logical, as it truly is) in making the primitive relation to be of the form of the relation of two instants of time, or what is the same thing as the relation between a logical

antecedent and consequents. The reason that in order to define the relation of a

point upon a line to another point it is necessary to speak of a third, if not also of

a fourth, point is that on the line one does not distinguish, as in the sequence of time and in that of logic, one direction from the other. But here we come upon

a disputed question among exact logicians; namely, which is the more primi-

tive (or fundamental, or simple) form of relation, that of an equiparance [i.e. a reciprocal relation,) or that of a disquiparance? I say that it is the disquiparance, or rather, it is the opponency, or relation of which a specialization may be a dis- quiparance. All the arguments in favor of the primitivity of the equiparance will be found upon analysis to amount substantially and in principle to this: though “is a cousin of ” and “is a companion of ” are both equiparances, yet “is a cousin of a companion of ” is a disquiparance; and thus a disquiparence is a compound of two equiparances. Mr. Kempe in his great memoir published in the Philosophi- cal Transactions in 1886 has a system of graphs in which the spots have no defi- nite valency, and there is usually but one kind of line, which signifies whatever equiparance may have been agreed upon. Now he places on such a line two spots of different colors, as shown in fig. 1

a line two spots of different colors, as shown in fig. 1 And remarking that this

And remarking that this compounded line signifies a disquiparance (as it mani- festly usually will,) he regards that as proof that an undirected line is simpler than a directed line. But I propose to show that if this has any semblance of a sound argument, it must be so understood as to be a mere variant of the argu- ment about the cousin of a companion. For representing fig. 1 in an existential graph, and putting, l, for the equiparant relation signified by Kempe’s plain line, g for the gules spot, and x for the azure spot, the graph represented must be one or other of the three of fig. 2, or else some other, to which the same remarks

spot, the graph represented must be one or other of the three of fig. 2, or

will apply. The first and third of these graph-instances can be severed in the middle so as to separate each into two equiparents similar to “is cousin of ” and “companion of ”. But the second cannot be separated into two equipments and

therefore afford no semblance of an argument; and the same is true of the third, if

it be cut elsewhere than the middle. For an equiparant is a general description of

relation which, if it describes the relation of any individual object, A, to another,

B, in every case also describes the relation of B to A. Let l be such a relation, then the effect of joining z to it in the manner shown in the third graph is to make the relation inapplicable to the relation of A to B unless B happens to be described by z, which of course cannot always be the case, if z has any definite signification. If this will (or may) leave the description applicable to the relation of B to A yet inapplicable to that of A to B. In short, this fragment of the graph will (or may) signify a disquiparant relation; and there will be no semblance of arguments.

I will now refute the argument from the cousin of a companion in two distinct

ways. In the first place, when a relation forms the predicate of a proposition, it is,

in a certain sense, specialized. That is to say it is only a special case of the relation that has any relevancy to the two subjects of the proposition; and the relation as it is in the proposition only has that limited extension. An equiparance, however, is such only in the full generality, and usually ceases to be equiparant when limited to a special relate and correlate. That obviously is the reason why (to make use, for

a moment, of the general Algebra of logic) the relative product of two equipments

such as A:B Ψ B:A and A:C Ψ C:A, gives in one order B:C and in the other order C:B. That is, in first order, the A:B of one and the C:A of the other are irrelevant, while in the other order, the A:C of one and the B:A of the other are irrelevant and might as well be absent. Rectify this by making every index of an individual that occurs in either occur also in the other, as in

(A:B Ψ B:A Ψ C:D Ψ D:C)(A:C Ψ C:A Ψ B:D Ψ D:B)

and the product will be equiparant: A:D Ψ B:C Ψ C:B Ψ D:A. That is one answer to the arguments. In the second place, it cannot be that the fact that the relative product of the equiparants may be a disquiparant,—and it is not always so, nor ever so if either of the equiparants is a concurrent,—cannot suffice to prove that equiparance is more primitive, fundamental, or simple than disquiparance, inas- much as any disquiparant whatsoever relatively multiplied into its own converse, which is equally disquiparant, will give an equiparant product; and that without any specialization at all; so that the method of argumentation that any opponents have adapted much rather tend to prove my contention than theirs. When I speak of them as opponents, I mean they are accidentally so, as regards some particular questions. They are exact logicians, toiling in the honest and sincere scientific

way. That and their great genius commands any respect. I think them somewhat incautious and liable to fallacious thinking; but of all of us logicians that is the peculiar danger, owing to the nature of our subject of thought. In the discussion of this particular question the method mentioned comprises their entire armory of reason. They are given to applying it in most involved forms, notwithstanding the manifest danger of fallacy’s lurking complicated argumentation to prove any proposition that relates solely to extremely simple constituents of thought. That method of theirs makes decidedly in my favour. Nevertheless, I do not altogether approve of it. It seems to me to involve doubtful assumptions. I do not, to begin with, think that the distinction between equiparance and disquiparance has any just claim to primacy among divisions Dyadic Relative Terms. If I were quite sure that any formal division of them could lay such claim, I should unhesitat- ingly give my vote for the distinction between opponents and concurrents. Op- ponents are terms expressing relations in which one individual object can stand to another concurrents are mere specializations of identity. Ordinary objections are concurrents. In the next place, I conceive the question of the most important decision of signs of dyadic relation to be subordinate to the question of the forms of dyadism, or twoness, itself. Now dyadism itself has no generality. We should come down to the most specialized possible relatives. These are manifestly the relation of a single designate individual to another and the relation of such an individual to itself, (A:B) and (A:A). The latter form I hold to be degenerate, that is to say, it is eviscerated of the kernel of twoness, and is a mere empty shell of

twoness. It is, therefore, a derived idea. But I do not see that it is, on that account, necessarily composite, in any proper and usual sense. Yet since (A:A) is the mat- ter of oneness masquerading under the guise of twoness, while (A:B) is simply twoness in its own proper guise, I conceive the latter to be more direct and in the only sense in which either is composite, to be decidedly the simpler. Since dis- quiparants are assimilated to (A:B), and equiparants to (A:A), the disquiparant appears to me to be the primitive, and the equiparant to be the degenerate, form.

I have thus given a distant hint, and no more, of the way in which, as it seems to

me, this question ought to be treated. At this state of our study of the Phaneron,

I could not present the method, as it really is. This question being settled the nature of continuity may be regarded as suffi- ciently understood for our purpose. Let us return then to the continuous graphs, which are the blank and the line of identity. I will begin with the latter. The im- mediate interpretant of identity is, I think, simple. If it were the so-called “nu- merical” identity only that the line signified, perhaps it might not be so, since that sort of identity implies existence and apparently something more. But the line of identity is not confined to metallic areas: it is also scribed on color.

Now a possibility, not having existence, cannot be a subject of numerical iden- tity. Nor can we say that the identity signified by the line of identity is the most special agreement possible; for we should not hesitate to employ the line to ex- press that the same man who fought the battle of Leipzig fought the battle of Waterloo. Now, years having elapsed, it was certainly not in entire strictness the same individual; for an individual is determinate in all respects, and therefore in Sets. The eventual interpretant of the assertion “A is identical with B” is, “A will serve all purposes instead of B”, or in other words “Whatever is true of A is true of B”, and the “all purposes” and “whatever is true” refer to limited logical uni- verses of purposes or (what is the same at the bottom) of predicates. In form, this is the statement of a disquiparance. It is equiparant only because the denial of an assertion is itself an assertion and fitness for one purpose is unfitness for the reverse purpose. Hereupon you will remark that if the relation to be expressed is thus disquiparant in form but rendered equiparant by its Matter, then a perfect diagram of it should have its two extremities unlike in form, yet like in matter,— if any meaning can be attached to that; and you will ask how to make out that to be true of the line of identity. I answer that I am not hired as an advocate of exis- tential graphs. I suppose, like some other human inventions of which antiquaries can tell us, that it has its imperfections; and I am desirous of finding them out and expressing them to the comment of all my dear neighbours. Should you say, “if the system is as imperfect as that, its inventor, who has so many years upon it, must be very nearly an idiot;” your consequence will be very wrong, but nowhere in this world could you find more heartfelt assent to your consequent than in my solitary study. By no means accept anything that inventor says about logic, un- less you see for yourself that it is true. Yet let me tell you that, fool as he is, he has important truth to communicate that is not quite smothered in blunders. A line of identity that abuts upon a cut, whether on its area or on its place may look alike at two ends; but an essential part of every diagram is the convention by which it is interpreted; and the principle that graphs are Endoporeutic in interpretation, as they naturally will be in the process of scribing, confer a definite sens, as the French say, a definite way of facing, a definite front and back, to the line. If a line of identity does not abut upon a cut, then that extremity of it from which the motion of graphical pencil starts will be its hinder end, and while the extremity at which the motion ceases will be the forward end. But since the Interpreter is at liberty to take it the other way, it would be a grave logical fault to add any barb or other mark to show which way the line faced, because it would be introducing a rhetorical element into what is designed to be a purely logical diagram. If you ask how I make out that the line faces one way in form but the matter obliterates the distinction, I ask you to see all the definitions of matter and form that go back to

Aristotle (though it is hard to believe they are not earlier; and the metaphysical application of δλη sounds to me like some late Ionic philosopher and not a bit like Aristotle, whom it would also have been more like to claim it, if it were his,) form is that which makes anything such as it is, while matter makes it to be. From this pair of beautiful generalizations are born a numerous family of har- monious and interresemblant acceptions of the two words. In speaking of Graphs we may well call the Principles of their Interpretation (such as Endoporeutic Principle,) form; the way of shaping and scribing them (such as leaving the line without barbs,) the matter. Nothing could be in better accord with the general definitions of form and of matter. I have already, in a former chapter, shown how a continuous line of some thickness necessarily signifies identity in the system of existential graphs. The necessary character of this interpretation may win a pardon for any slight im- perfection in the Diagrammatization in it. Kant, in one of his most characteristic familiarly sanded chapters, beginning S. 642 of the “Critik der reinen Vernunft” 74 the well-known “Anhang zur transzendentalen Dialektik, (which treats) von dem regulativen Gebrauch der Ideen der reinen Vernunft,“ sets up a sharp distinction between the constitutive and the regulative application of concepts, and lays down, as regulative principles, three laws, of which one, the Gesetz der Affinität, 75 becomes highly pertinent to our present question, provided, in the first place, we understand his “continuierlicher Übergang” from one concept to another in the sense of True Continuity, as we should, and, in the second place, if we rec- ognize, as we must, that Kant’s distinction is not absolute, inasmuch as all the so-called “constitutive” applications of principles are at bottom, regulative. The reader will find means, I hope to admit the latter condition problematically. He cannot yet be expected to grant its truth, inasmuch as it is almost an exact defi- nition of Pragmaticism; but in that sense of a hypothesis, as a proposition that may possibly be true, it seems to me he virtually has granted it in concenting to read a defense of pragmatician). In order to illustrate what it would mean to say that identity is a continuous relation,—that is, continuous in meaning,—we may compare it with another. To say that he who commanded the French in battle of Leipzig commanded them in the final battle of Waterloo, is not merely a state- ment of identity, it is a statement of becoming. There is an existential continuity in time between the two events. But so understood, the statement asserts no significative identity, inasmuch as the intervening continuum is a continuum

74 [Editor: Peirce insisted on spelling this word with “C”.]

75 [Editor: this topic has been also discussed in the Monist paper „The Law of Mind“.]

of assertion. Now upon a continuous line there are no points, (where the line is continuous,) there is only room for points,—possibilities of points. Yet it is through that continuum, that line of generalization of possibilities that the actual point at one extremity necessarily leads to the actual point at the other extremity. The actualization of the two extremities consists in the two facts that at the first, without any general reason the continuum there begins while at the last, equally without reason, it is brutally, i.e. irrationally but forcibly cut off.

Keep for reference 10–18 inclusive 76

Renders the truth of its conclusion plain and comprehensible, and does not like Descartes’ plagiaristic formula stumble in the dark against a hard wall of inability to conceive something. In order to expand my proposition that all necessary reasoning is diagram- matic, it is requisite that I explain exactly what I mean by a Diagram, a word which I employ in a wider sense than is usual. A Diagram, in my sense, is in the first place a Token, or singular object used as a sign; that is, it denotes a general object. It is, indeed, constructed with that intention, and thus represents the ob- ject of that intention. Now the object of an intention, purpose, or desire is always general. The diagram represents a definite form of relation. This relation is usu- ally one which actually exists, as in a map, or is intended to exist, as in a plan. But this is so far from being essential to the diagram as such, that if details are added to represent existential or experiential peculiarities, such additions are distinctly of an undiagrammatic nature. The pure diagram is designed to represent and render intelligible the form of relation merely. Consequently, diagrams are re- stricted to the representation of a certain class of relations; namely, those that are intelligible. We may make a diagram of the battle of Gettysburgh, because in certain, it may thus be rendered comprehensible. But we do not make a diagram simply to represent the relation of killer to the killed, though it would not be impossible to represent this relation in a graph instance; and the reason we do not is that there is little or nothing in that relation that is rationally comprehen- sible. It is shown as a fact, and that is all. I believe I may venture to affirm that an intelligible relation, that is, a relation of thought, is created only by the act of representing it. I do not mean to say that if we should someday find out the meta- physical nature of the relation of killing, that intelligible relation would thereby

76 [Editor: the following pages included in the manuscript show no direct relations to the context of the original text, nevertheless, they allow interesting insights to the general topic.]

be created. For if such be the nature of killing, such it always was, from the date of a certain “difficulty” and consurrection in a harvest-field. No; for the intelli- gible relation has been signified, thought not read by man, since the first killing was done, if not long before. The thought of God,—if the anthropomorphism is too distasteful to you, you can say the thought in the universe had represented it. At any rate, a diagram is clearly in every case a sign of an ordered collection of plural,—or, more accurately, of the ordered plurality or multitude, or of an order in plurality. Now a plural,—say, for example, Alexander, Hannibal, Caesar, and Napoleon,—seems unquestionably to be an ens rationis, that is to be created by the very representation of it; and order appears to be of the same nature; that is, to be on respect, or the result of taking account of things in a certain way. But these are subtle points, and I should like to give the question mature consid- eration before risking much on the corrections of my solutions. No such doubt bedims our perception that it is as an icon of them that the diagram represents

the definite form of intelligible relation which constitutes its object, that is, that

it represents that form by a more or less vague resemblance to thereto. There is

not usually much vagueness, but I use that word because the diagram does not itself define just how far the likeness extends, and in some characteristic cases such definition would be impossible, although the form of relation is in itself

definite, since it is general. It is, however, a very essential feature of the diagram per se that while it is as a whole an icon, it yet contains parts which are capable of being recognized and distinguished by the affixion to each of a distinct seman- tic index (or indicatory sense, if you prefer this phrase.) Letters of the alphabet commonly fulfill this office. How characteristic these indices are of the diagram is shown by the fact that though in one form or another, they are indispensible in using the diagram, yet they are seldom wanted for the general enunciation of the proposition which the diagram is used for demonstrating. That which is most of all requisitionable from a definition of an artificial contrivance such as

a diagram is, is that it should state what the definition does and what it is for; so

that these points must now be touched upon even at the risk that this definition of a diagram might be threatened with danger to its absolute preminence over all others, of what sort soever; that ever have been or ever shall be given, in respect to the chief grace of definitions, that of brevity. That which every sign does is determine its interpretant. The responsive interpretant, or signification, of one kind of signs is a vague presentation, of another kind is an action, while of a

third is involved in a habit and is general in its nature. It is to this third class that

a diagram belongs. It has to be interpreted according to conventions embodied

in habits. One contemplates the diagram, and one at once prescinds from the accidental characters that have no significance. They disappear altogether from

one’s understanding of the diagram; and although they be of a sort which no vis- ible thing be without (I am supposing the diagram to be of the visual kind) yet their disappearance 77 is only an understood disappearance and does not present the features of the diagram, now become a schema, from being subjected to the scrutiny of observation. By what psychical apparatus this may get affected the lo- gician does not inquire. It suffices for him, that one can contemplate the diagram and perceive that it has certain features which would always belong to it however its insignificant features might be changed. What is true of the geometrical dia- gram drawn on paper would be equally true of the same diagram when put on the blackboard. The assurance is the same as that of any description of what we see before our eyes. But the action of the diagram does not stop here. It has the same percussive action on the interpreter that any other experience has. It does not stimulate any immediate counter-action, nor does it, in its function as a dia- gram contribute particularly to any expectations. As diagram, it excites curiosity as to the effect of a transformation of it. 78

77 [Editorial correction].

78 [Editor: The Manuscript involves several additional sheets 67–114, most of them omitted versions of reedited pages.]

Logic 79 Book I. Analysis of Thought

Chapter I. Common Ground.

§1. Those enormous numbers which some popular writers on science are wont to parade never particularly struck me, partly because a million is a multitude which, though I understood, I cannot imagine; and I disbelieve those writers doing so. The stars visible in the sky make, I guess, about as large a multitude as anybody can directly imagine. Now the number of stars that can be seen with the naked eye at once, without such close scrutiny as one can bestow only upon a very small part of heavens at a time, is the average number of stars above the fifth magnitude that are over 15° from the true horizon; and that number is a trifle less than 500. At different sidereal hours the numbers will be more or less. Imagine as many small objects, then, as one can see of stars in the sky, and the number of single objects in this second collection will be (500)² = 250 000. Next, imagine as many of these collections as there are stars in the sky, and the number of single objects in this third collection will be (500)³ = 125 million. Continue this proceeding, and when you reach the fifteenth collection, the number of suits in it will be about one tenth of the number of times that the radius of an election will go into the distance of an average twentieth magnitude star. The third collection is about six times as great as the number of electron-radii in a wavelength of light in the mid- dle of the pure green of the spectrum, at the line E. Now when I consider that we can reason alike about electron and about the whole stellar system, so as to make predictions that the facts of observation will bear out; so that, if we use the word Mind to denote that agency which causes the behavior of any object to conform to general principles, we must recognize one Mind animating alike the electron and the entire stellar system as a whole, I am overwhelmed with deepest awe. The mere fact that waves of light set out from the twentieth magnitude star and reach us without getting all confused nor broken up is a great marvel; but it does not compare in majesty to the other fact about reasoning. But then, when I consider that the individual human soul, you or I, can interpret the ways of that creative Mind; and to that extent is made in the image of its maker; I am led to pronounce the theory of reasoning to be one of divider of the sciences. There is food for deep reflexions as we are approaching the parties of this temple called logic.

79 [Editor: MS 615, dated 1908.]

§2. I do not mean to define logic as the theory of reasoning. For in the first place, a definition must not involve any ambiguity, the word “theory” in the phrase “the- ory of reasoning” is very seriously equivocal. In my opinion almost all the schools of German Logic and more than one of the American schools, however interest- ing their studies may be, are quite mistaken in supposing that those studies have any essential bearing upon what all the world calls logic, or upon any subject nearly so fundamental; and this I must endeavor to lead you to see before I can take up the proper subject of this chapter. But the pathway to the point of view from which this will clearly appear will be somewhat longer. In the second place, the science of logic should deal, as it always has, with some topics that are without the borders of a theory of reasoning. My general intention in this chapter is to take my stand upon common sense and to use words in their ordinary senses, without attempting to give them any unusually precise meanings. However, since this intention applies particularly to logical terms, and the word ‘science’ is not a term of logic, the opportunity of illustrat- ing upon this outlying word, the method I intend to pursue in selecting single precise meanings to be each exclusively attached to a single term of logic, and of showing you the kind of considerations which will govern me in these selec- tions of meanings. I need hardly remark, however, that I should not indulge in these excuses if it were not going carry you along that pathway of which I have just now spoken. Under the word scientia. The latin lexicon (and let it be understood, once for all, that whatever I may say of the history of non-logical words will usually have been borrowed from dictionaries, histories of science, and the like; for it is only within the faith of logic that I have made much thorough research of my own into such matters) the lexicon, I say, furnishes no examples of this word earlier than Cicero, who sometimes uses it in ways which remind me of how in my boyhood the great American people, and the great West, I suppose, in more recent days used to speak of ‘scientific’ hair-cutting, and ‘scientific’ gambling; and the Greek equivalent ἐπιστήμη was applied by Siphocles to archery. But long before Latin literature began, the Greek word had been restricted so as to be a term of science, and soon the Latin word exactly translated the Greek except that it was also used of jurisprudence and by quintillion of rhetoric. As terms of science both words were used in an abstract sense, and were also applied in the concrete to such bod- ies of doctrine as possessed the character denoted by the same words when used as abstract. The abstract meaning was substantially what we call ‘comprehension’, that is, not merely knowing a thing to be a fact, but also knowing according to what general principle it was a fact. Thus, Cicero speaks of habere scientium magnarum.

The Aristotelians defined it as knowing anything in its causes, i.e. in its matter, its form or essence, its efficient cause, and its purpose or function. This contin- ued to be the meaning of the word until well into the days of modern science. The second definition that the word ‘science’received, I have been able (in lack of books) to trace back further than Coleridge’s Introduction to the Encyclopaedia Metropolitana, which appeared in 1810 (?). The definition to which I refer and which is still frequently given makes science to consist in systematized knowl-

edge, although Coleridge’s phrase, if I rightly recollect, is “organized knowledge”, which is several degrees less bad. According to the former phrase, a person who should learn a handbook of chemistry by heart, without having performed or even seen a single experiment, and without the faintest idea of the method of chemical discovery, would possess the Science of chemistry. The definition, if not by Coleridge, evidently originated with some equally unscientific person.

I can testify that men of science, in conversation with one another, uniformly

use the word in a definite but, totally different sense, and in entire disregard of its etymology, a circumstance which shows how much need they had of a word to express their meaning. That meaning agrees, accepting in two respects, with that which is generally assumed to have been the original meaning of Philosophia

φιλοσοφία, love of knowledge. The first of the exceptions is that not the mere love of knowledge, but the more than diligent, the devoted pursuit of it is understood when scientific men talk of science and beside that, it is understood that this pursuit is conducted according to well approved methods. The second exception

is that nothing is considered as belonging to science until it is so published as to

be open to the criticism, kind, but searching and inflexible, of the members of

that social group that comprises all those who are qualified by their life’s devotion to inquiries nearly in the same line to make such criticisms. If the work sustains such criticism, its result is admitted with unanimity by the group, and is said to be ‘established.’ I shall make great use of the word science in this writing. It will be one of my most indispensable tools, and I must be permitted to whittle at its meaning a lit- tle to fit it to my hand. That it may become a practical tool, I wish it to imply an actual state of things, a living fact widely répandu, no monument to dead discov- eries, nor yet involving any vain pretension to know what future knowledge is to be like, but a human affair of today. I wish you to know that when I use this word,

I am not thinking of a self-important professor, sitting in his armchair

With purpose to be drest in an opinion Of wisedome, gravity, profound conceit, As who should say, I am, sir, an oracle, And when I ope my lips, let no dogge barke.

For that it bears no resemblance to the man of science. But I am thinking of groups of men who have been drawn together because each knows of every other that he is one of the very few who, like himself, is deeply interested in getting to the bottom of a certain line of problems. They do not expect, themselves, to learn the solutions of the majority of those problems, but they expect that they and some generations of students after them by diligently working at them will enable a still later generation to find the solutions. There is not a bit of sentimen- tality about them. At Pope’s saying

The undevout astronomer is mad,

they give a little laugh, well-knowing that the astronomer is the only man who has no opportunity to note the sublimity of the heavens, since whenever there “is any seeing,” he must be completely absorbed in making his measures. The spirit in which they work that posterity may know what they never can, is rather like that of disciplined troops who advance upon the walls of a fort, with the idea that when the dead are piled high enough those behind will be able to reach the ram- parts. They knew when they took up the Scientific life that it meant poverty and hardship; but they felt that somebody ought to do the work, and that they were able to do it better than others. Naturally, they are drawn to one another, each one particularly to those who are studying problems which he himself knows pretty well how to attack, but also to every man of science, because he knows that such a man has the same code of honor as himself, which other men do not comprehend. Therefore, in any foreign city he sends in his card to a scientific man with no sort of introduction, and knows that he will be received as a brother. He is not a poet, but an intellectual man, a reasoned and above all an observer. He may not entirely understand himself, but he has a sort of deep, unemotional worship for whatever it may be that has made the universe; but he looks facts straight in the face, and he does not believe in there being any facts that are inherently inexplicable; though for himself he does not speculate upon the explanations of very broad principles, such as the laws of motion, as the metaphysician does. He does not, because he does not see how to attack such problems. So he leaves them alone. Now I propose to employ the word Science to mean the collective and coop- erative activity both of all and or of any group of such men. In the former accep- tion, I shall use it rather loosely. Yet there is one distinction that I shall insist upon in both acceptions, and which you will at first think rather piddling, though I trust you will come to see the importance of it. For I insist that Logic does not repose in any degree of or any special science nor upon metaphysics. Nevertheless, I shall admit that it supposes a number of truths which are ordinarily reckoned as parts of special sciences, especially of psychology. I do not admit that the fact that the

moon goes through its changes in 29 or 30 days was taught us by astronomy or can be attributed to the science of astronomy. I grant that the science of astronomy has established the fact that the average lengths of a lunation is 29 days 12 hours 43 minutes and 27 seconds; but that the moon goes through its familiar changes in a day or two more than four weeks, far from being due to astronomy, was one of the facts curiosity about which just simulated some men to become astrono- mers and thus gave birth to that science. Truths that ordinary observation teaches every intelligent person or that have been handed down from generation to gen- eration from prescientific ages as common sense do not belong to any science nor to science generally, though science may be in part founded on them. It would not be basing logic on psychology, or on any science, in any degree, though I should admit that it were based on such truths as that one sees things in special relations, that one can recall past experiences, that one can imagine things one never expe- rienced, that recollections and fancies are not accompanied with that insistence called “vividness” in anything like the degree that experiences are, even when they had been expected, far less when they are unexpected, that repetitions of the same kind of action produce facility in like actions afterward, and that repeatedly acting in any determinate general ways upon occasions of experiencing certain kinds of objects or even upon imagining such occasions give rise to “habits”, or tendencies so to act upon, future such occasions; that a certain kind of effort called “making a resolution” will tend to cause determinations of our dispositions so that we shall be apt to behave in accordance with our resolutions, etc., etc. For every person not on the borders of idiocy knows these things, science or no science. But when I speak of a science how much shall I include? Shall I, for example, make organic and inorganic chemistry, the new physical chemistry, radioactive chemistry, the determination of atomic weight and crystallography one science or six or how many? My answer is that it must depend on the states of mind of the chemists. An organic chemist feels himself more at home in the company of organic chemists than with inorganic chemists, yet more at home with these than with the students of radioactivity, with these again rather than with chrystallographers, and with these rather than with students of the distribution of gravity or with those who devote themselves to the lunar theory. In short the difficulties of scientific are some more, some less; and this more and less is not that of a smooth slope, but is broken into unequal steps with landings, flights, and so on, in consequence of which I think of science as having its species, genera, families and so on. It is not necessary that I should give the whole scheme. Suffice it to say that I recognize three great branches of science; first theoretical science, secondly science of re- view, such as Auguste Comte and Herbert Spencer and Alexander von Humboldt studied together with the whole activity of those who classify the sciences and

those who compile handbooks and other digests; and thirdly, the practical sci- ences, whose cultivators are aided by the digests of the second branch, while those who further depend upon the published works of theoretical science. In this last branch, I recognize two great clefts dividing the men of theoretical science, by their usual inability really to know the ways of working, except each those of the class to which he himself belongs. The first class is mathematics, whose devotees merely deduce the consequences of imaginary states of things, which they term their hypothesis, without observing anything but their diagrams, mostly mental, some of them arrays of letters, others composed of lines, all of them embodying or instancing their hypotheses. The second class of theoretical science is philosophy, more exactly called, after Bentham, Cenoscopy κοινοσκέψις, whose cultivator’s in- quire into categorical truth, but who make no special observations, but derive such results as they can from ordinary unscientific observations made by all men. The third class of theoretical science is the activity of those whose principal oc- cupation is to observe hitherto unknown facts. This class is divided into two wings. The one consists in observing inanimate things and phenomena of matter, Hyloscepsy (pronounce hailoskep’sῐ). The other observes the things that men and other intelligences do and make. I will call it Noescepsy. It embraces psychology, anthropology, ethnology, linguistics, economics, archeology, history, biography (especially comparative biography), physical research, etc. These two wings are divided each into three orders of science which are perfectly parallel with those of the other wing. Hyloscepsy began by studying single things and seeking to explain their origins. Astronomy and Geognosy were the first sciences. The latter is now divided into geodesy (in the sense of the study of the form, and size, of the entire level surface of which the sea level is a part, together with the explanation of its having that form), physical geography, hydrography and oceanography, the sci- ence of the tides, geology, etc. Such studies, which form the third and lowest order, are called descriptive sciences; but a better designation would be explanatory sci- ences; for more description without explanation is the goal of an art rather than of a science. We must, however within this third order of sciences distinguish a de- scriptive family of science and an explanatory family. As an explanatory science progresses, it becomes acquainted with great numbers of more or less similar ob- jects, and thus tends to pass into the second order, that of the classificatory sci- ences. Each such science seeks, in the first place, to form a scheme of classification which shall truly represent the degrees, kinds, and ranks of importance of all the resemblances that it finds among the single objects of the general type that it stud- ies. It also gives a common name to the single object of each of the groups that it recognizes. So far, its work is almost exactly like the first part of the work of the sciences of the third order. The chief difference is that a character may belong to a

different proportion of a classificatory group in different degrees. Having carried out this descriptive work more or less thoroughly, making a strictly classificatory family of science, corresponding to descriptive family of the third order, students of the second order become interested more and more in two new kinds of ques- tions, giving rise to two new families of classificatory science. The first of these kinds of questions relates to how the objects of their study become separated into distinct classes with comparatively sparse or perhaps no intermediate forms. This makes the evolutionary family of classificatory science. In the second kind of questions, just as the third order of hyloscepcy tends to pass from studying indi- vidual things to noticing more and more classes of like things, so now the second order tends to pass from studying groups of things to noticing with more and more attention the single characters and kinds of phenomena, complexes of which distinguish those groups. They begin to ask why these phenomena should be con- nected as they are found to be. Thus arises the physiological family of classifica- tory science which tends to pass into the first, or nomological order of hyloscepsy. The first order of either wing of idioscopy (Bentham’s term for special science,) is nomological; that is to say, in its first family it discovers new (i.e. previously unknown) phenomena or new conditions under which old phenomena appear and describes them in their varieties. This is the descriptive family. The second family makes out the general laws connecting phenomena with their conditions or with other phenomena. This is the nomic family of the nomological order of idioscopy. The third and last family measures the quantities involved in the law, in difficult cases. This is the metrical family. The classes of idioscopy so far examined are distinguished by the different sorts of questions that they investigate. Meantime, there is a cross-classification, of subsidiary importance, it is true, to the families so far noticed, but perhaps more important than any subdivisions of those families. This cross-classification depends upon the different natures of the single objects observed. Here we can- not expect to find a much analogy between the classes of hyloscepsy and those of neoscepsy. In hyloscepsy there are recognized by physicist two enduring sorts of things, matter and vortices; but the latter are, for the present of no importance. Matter, so far as the physicists recognize it, is of two main kinds only, ordinary matter in atoms, and electrons, which are also contained in the atoms, and as some imagine compose the whole atom. The atoms are probably of about 600 kinds; but only 82 kinds, including coronium, are believed to be known. Coro- nium is apparently not capable of being held down by the earth’s gravity; and there are likely to be 500 other species of which this is true. A number of other kinds of atoms have been announced by reputable chemists, but their distinct existence not established.

The things that are composed of ordinary matter have three kinds of composi- tion; to wit: 1 st , things composed of essential parts and having essential shapes; 2 nd , things not composed of essential parts, but which nevertheless take proper shapes; and 3 rd , mere aggregations of matter of no proper shape. Of the first of these three genera, there seem to be three species, to wit: 1 st , things made under the control of mind such as bird’s nests which are, accordingly, objects Noes- cepsy; not of hyloscepsy; 2 nd , single molecules and such more complex wholes as may exist in protoplasms; but neither name of the species can as yet be examined singly; 3 rd , wholes formed largely of protoplasms and capable of growth. These last are called Organisms. Of the second genus, there are various species all of lit- tle importance excepting crystals, of which there are 32 classes. The third genus, consisting of mere accidental aggregations of matter, needs no further several genera of scientific groups exist not because there seems to be much reason for them in the nature of things, but because of the habits of the men they actu- ally exist; that is to say, as a matter of fact certain classes of scientists are little acquainted with the work that is going on in the fields which seem to be much related to their own. For example, the proportion of accomplished chemists who could enumerate off-hand the 32 classes of crystals, to say nothing of being able to discriminate between them, is probably small; although it is not easy to see why crystallography ought not to be a branch of chemistry. Another difficulty is that of two groups; call them the A-ists and B-ists,—almost every A-ist is well prepared to pass judgment on almost every research by a B-ist, while very few B-ists know anything about important parts of the activity of the A-ist. The rea- son may, for example, be that it is so notorious that the branch cultivated by the A-ists absolutely requires a prodigious memory that nobody who is not more than usually gifted in that way will take up the study of it, and still less will he think of keeping himself informed of the general progress of that science from year to year, especially if the number of workers in it is very great. I suppose that every chemist of eminence could pass a good examination in all the undisputed parts of physics, and even in regard to them would know in what the doubt con- sists, and could moreover mention the two or three most important contribu- tions to physics of the past twelve months; while I fancy that if a dozen physicists taken at random from a list of the most eminent were to attempt without special preparation to pass an examination in chemistry and were to find the first ques- tion were so old a story as “explain Perkins’s reaction,” there would hardly be two of the dozen who would answer with much honors. But there will be few such cases. A scheme of classification is of its essence too simple in form to exhibit all the intricate relations between the sciences. But its simplicity is a great virtue or rather is a requirement that cannot be dispensed with.

Chapter I: Common Ground 80

There are some points concerning which you and I are thoroughly agreed, at the

very outset. For instance, that you know the English language—at least, tolerably.

I am positively sure that you cannot deny that,—at any rate, not in English. There

is much more that it will not be unreasonable to assure that you will assent to; such as that, you know the rudiments of grammar,—meaning, of course, Aryan grammar, which is often called “universal grammar”;—that you have most of the leading attributes of the genus homo, as set down in the looks of physiology and of psychology. Nay, far more than that, you have had, I will wager, an experience of life quite similar in a general way, as regards the smaller and more elementary items of experience to mine. Among these I can instance this, that you, like me, have acquired considerable control not only of the movements of your limbs but also over your thoughts. If we were to meet in the flesh, we should both take it for granted. I should know that it was so, and know that you knew it, and know that I knew that you knew it; and so on ad infinitum and vice versa. Surely, all these commonly acknowledged information ought to afford us an amply suf- ficient ποῦσεῶ, in acting each upon all ordinary topics, or, at least, upon ques- tions concerning our meaning in using familiar words such as knowledge, truth, and reality. Yet, strange to say, those very three questions, what do we mean by “Knowledge”? What by “Truth”? What by “Reality”? are much vexed. Is there really any need of their being so? I do not believe we can settle them unless we settle some other points first.

I mentioned the phenomena of self-control as among the most familiar items of

common knowledge. When a boy reaches the age of which the need of his ex- ercising a far more vigorous, better schemed, and better organized government over himself strikes every intelligent boy as urgent, he will reflect, if he has any capacity for reflexion, that, considering how often he has already found himself mistaken, in spite of his never having seriously made business of finding out all his errors, it must almost inevitably be that many opinions that he still holds are erroneous, though he does not know which opinions those are; and it would be absurd to suppose he should. There they must be, however, and he will be satis- fied, if he has as much of the philosopher in him as native good sense would im- plant, that he will not succeed in achieving his purposes,—nay, that he will not be able so much as to form purposes that would be permanently, satisfactory to him

80 [Editor: MS 612, dated 1908.]

in case he should achieve them, unless, having instituted, the sooner the better, and then energetically carried out a systematic re-examination of his opinions, he thereafter industriously keeps them weeded out by the best methods he can. Thinking so, and carrying out the idea may be not far removed in an ardent

lad. But when by his own activity or by the adroit suggestions of a wise and tact- ful governor he has been led to undertake such a reform, he can hardly begin better than by asking himself, ‘what are the different sorts of objects of which

I am directly aware; that is to say of which I am aware not as being involved in

or indicated by something else, even though, as a matter of fact, they be so in- volved or indicated, but as being themselves present?’ His reason for drawing up

such a list, whether it is clear to him or not, will be that it must be from among objects of such sorts that he must, whether with or without design, draw the raw materials of which any new opinions are to be constructed; and the form of any constructed thing as well as the method of constructing it ought to be, and indeed must be, dependent in some measure upon the properties of the available materials. His catalogue of the kinds of object of which he is directly aware will run somewhat as in the following list, in which I shall number the items, so that

I may be able to insert remarks on the different items without confusing you.

Although I shall not write out the list in inconsiderate haste; yet I am conscious that it could not be nearly freed from errors and other faults without vastly more labour than I care to bestow upon it; since I do not propose to put it to any use

for which it would be better adapted if it were faultless, so long as it fairly shows the general kinds of variety that there are in a mode of immediate awareness.

I think it will conduce to perspicuity to invent the noun ‘phaneron’ (φανερόν

being the commonest Greek adjective that means apparent, containing the same root as phenomenon, phantom, fancy, face, bare, bold, etc. it was the same as that of Latin fari, Greek φἠυαι, to say, the idea of clearness was conveyed by it from the very first,) to denote an object of any kind of which a person is aware not merely in being first aware in something else, but directly. This word ‘directly’ is not expressive, and needs to be illustrated. Yet there will be a serious difficulty in attempting to elucidate my meaning in that way. It is that you may think that objects which I adduce as examples of objects of which our awareness is not di- rect, in truth so manifestly have the character which I have in mind when I say of objects that one is directly aware of them that it will seem to you inconceivable that I should use the term in that sense when I deny of my instances their being directly apprehended. The reverse misunderstanding may equally occur. I must therefore explain why I consider such object instanced to be one of which we are directly aware, or else indirectly; and thus giving a reason for my putting the object into one

pigeonhole or the other, I must appeal to a definition, or logical analysis of the idea of direct apprehension. But such an abstract explanation is particularly open to misunderstanding. The two methods should be mixed. By direct awareness

I mean awareness not altogether through awareness of a sign of the object, but in

part at least independently of any such sign. By a sign, I mean anything that is, on the one hand, in some way determined by an object and, on the other hand, which determined some awareness, and this in such a manner that the awareness is thus determined by that object. Take, for example, one’s awareness of a single object that has a proper name. The first time I hear or read that name there will probably be some circumstance in the context that is a sign to me of its being a proper name; and more likely than not something in the sign or its context will show whether it is the name of a person, a geographical feature, a star, an abstract quality or form, a general kind might be called by a proper name. In addition, there will be something in the mention of it that furnishes me with more specific knowledge about the object, until I am quite familiar with it. Subsequently, per- haps, the object of the name may itself be presented to my vision; and this will considerably increase my acquaintance with it. I vividly remember, for example,

how, thirty years ago, I first saw Etna, of which I had read so much in the classics and in modern books, above the line of the horizon, an obtuse isosceles triangle.

I then was first directly aware of it, I was on shipboard, and it stood up very im-

pressing. I should not wonder if you were disposed to dispute this last statement;

and if I were sure that a beginner in this line of thought were really so disposed,

I should be much encouraged, and should say, it is you who so dispute me whom

I am addressing in the second person; for I cannot communicate what I have to

communicate to any but a critical reader;—a critical reader who will gladly yield when his objections shall be fairly met, but not before. Let us all hear, what you have to say. Let me insert little dialogues when objections occur to me.

You. I should be inclined to say that what you were directly aware of was rather the appearance of an obtuse isosceles triangle than Etna itself; although I do not promise to grant without argument that you were directly aware of the isosceles triangle.

I. Why, you are quite right as to my being aware that what I saw that Etna of

which I had heard so much. For it was only by such signs as our having been steaming due east or a little north of that since we had pass[ed] Taenarium that

I knew we must by that time have got about to where Etna would be visible in

the west, and so that that obtuse isosceles triangle I saw must be Etna, which without such signs I should not have known. Nevertheless, it remains true that

I

was directly aware of some object, and equally so that that object of which

I was directly aware was Etna; and that would have been true if I had been quite

ignorant of geography. In that sense, I was directly aware of Etna, that is, of what really was Etna.

You. It is not a very correct form of expression.

I. Your criticism is very hard steel tempered to straw-color and chilled in liq- uid helium. But it is all right: that is just the stuff for us anatomist of thought to make our scalpels of; which, though they are not the only dissecting instruments we have, for they will not answer for making microscopic sections, are the most serviceable of our tools for our ordinary cuttings,—I mean words, brought to the finest and smoothest edge that definition can effect. So, the chillier the head of any disciple of mine, the more my heart will warm to him. “Give me the man

that is not passion’s slave.” As for my phrase “to be directly aware of an object,” if

it lacks the elegance my Longinus would wish for, I shall at least impart scientific

perspicuity to it, by explaining that, as I use it, it is equivalent to a transitive verb whose direct object does not denote an assertion nor the possession of any char- acter but is equivalent to a noun that may be the subject of assertions, and that it is as such subject, denoting a thing in the widest sense of that word, an ens of no matter what kind be it an existent, or a possibility (or more accurately a possible), or a real tendency, a disposition. I was directly aware of a thing, and the thing I was directly aware of was Etna, although I was not directly aware of the fact that

it was Etna. Your objection was pertinent and a real help as well considered objec-

tions always are. You see, however, that I have obviated it. Yet I seem to discern a look of dissatisfaction still on your countenance. What is the matter? You have no further objection to make to what I say, have you?

You. Yes, I have; and to be frank, it appears to me conclusive. It is this. All our knowledge, all our ‘awareness’, as you call it, comes to us through experience, and this experience takes the form of sensations arising, as it appears to us, from excitations of our different afferent nerves. I do not care whether this be a decep- tive appearance or not. It seems to me that, in any case, every such sensation is merely the access to that kind of awareness that we call a feeling. Now my objec- tion is that every feeling is, in itself entirely simple. I will present one argument at a time in support of this assertion. If you succeed in refuting it, I will offer another; and if you refute that I shall have still another; and we shall see whether my arguments or your refutations become exhausted first. You certainly cannot admit what everyone of these arguments seems to prove without renouncing what you have just said, to wit, that you were ever ‘directly aware’ of Etna, since

Etna is large, and therefore has parts; so that the awareness of it cannot be a feel- ing, but is, on the contrary, derived from a synthesis of many feelings, which are the ‘signs’, as you call them, of Etna; and so, as I said, you are not ‘directly aware of ’ Etna, and never were.

I. Upon my word, what you say seems quite true. It is true and I am dumbfound- ed. Give me a few moments to think how I shall wriggle out of my dilemma.

You. Mr Peirce, lend me your ear: I am entitled to it, and you shall listen to what I have to say. I came to you because I am suffering from the most dreadful of human maladies, ignorance, and that in the most hideous of all its varieties, ignorance of reason, and because you profess to exercise a medicine mentis of exceptional power. It never occurred to me that my physician would jeer at my complaint. Yes, you do: that is just what you are doing, when you talk as if my objection had taken you by surprise. Haven’t you written this book, and was it not you that put the objection into my mouth, and then made believe to be sur- prised at its force, merely in order to render your triumph over it more striking. What am I, at all, but a puppet of your fabrication,—a puppet cat with whose paw you delight to pull your hot chestnuts out much less for the poor nutriment they afford than for the cruel sport of forcing me to take them. But let me tell you that when you created me, you overreached yourself in one particular. For when you manufactured me, in order to make my motions ape life more perfectly, you clev- erly introduced a principle into my make up whereby every one of them without exception, is subject to an automatic motion of regulation, giving that critical effect you speak of, and of course each such motion of the automatic regulator is, by the same principle itself controlled in the same manner by another motion. It was the circumstance that my being is merely the being of an idea,—some- thing consisting in a capability of being represented independently of whether or not has a capacity for representing it, that made it possible, and easy too, for my creator to introduce that principle into my constitution. By this endowment, although I am absolutely subject to all your freaks, yet my consistent appeals to your reason may turn out as important in the end. The endowment constitutes what obese unwieldy intelligences call “free-will”, what Prince Siddhártha came to know as nirvana and emancipation from existence, and what you call my icy, hard, and passionless temper of criticism. 81 I criticize your creation of me, and

81 [Editor: Prince Siddhártha is known as the founder of Buddhism. Further reading on the topic Peirce and Buddhism see: Charles Hartshorne, “The Relevance of Charles Peirce”, The Monist. Vol. 63, No. 3, 1980, pp. 277–289.]

the whole method of throwing philosophical discussion into the form of dia- logue. For a philosopher ought above all things to be sincere and to say just what he means. Now a philosophical dialogue is always a make-believe lower than playacting. It is just a puppet-show, in which Punch knocks Judy and the police- man and all the rest of the wooden things over the head, and then makes fun of all his lawless doings and of all his victims.

I. Well, well, there was plenty of latent heat in the cold steel. You shall be convinced that I was not making fun of you, by any means, al- though I will not promise not to make fun of your declaration (which you didn’t believe) that you are only a figment of my creation and at the same time that you are an idea, both of which are decidedly funny. On the contrary, you are a living man, capable of being convinced (as an idea would not be,) as you know quite as well as I do; and furthermore you are a man that is not passion’s slave; and how thoroughly true it is that I hold you in my heart’s core you shall discover. Your

specific objection shall be obviated too; but you have said much else, and I prefer to begin by considering your most general remark, and to descend from that consideration to particulars. In the first place, then, the plan of setting forth philosophical doctrines in the form of a dialogue involves no such insincerity as you, seem to think it does.

I divide such expositions, very unequally, into two great classes, according to the

way in which the plan is carried out. The first class, which embraces all the great philosophical dialogues, those of Plato, the Italian works of the XVIth century, beginning with those of Pietro Aretino, the most perfect of all but Plato’s from the literary point of view, followed by those of Giordano Bruno, Gallileo, and many others, then those of Berkeley and Shaftesbury’s Moralists, either narrate actual dialogues, or compress into one a number of such actual conversations. The dif- ferent speakers were intended to represent as many different ways of thinking that were current in the writer’s time; but in fact the dialogues were no doubt reminiscences of conversations in which the writer had taken part, filled out, where they must be, by his understanding of what different types of minds would have replied to certain questions. They are, therefore, historical records intended

to be veracious. The other way of carrying out the general plan is the one that I in- tend to pursue in such scraps of talk between you and me as I may have occasion to introduce. It depends upon two principles, each consisting of several clauses, or points. The first point of the first principle is that, when a man meditates, he does not, as my master Kant (my attitude toward whom is substantially such as

I would have my disciple take toward me, namely, a critical attitude,) says he

does, incessantly repeating “I think”, although it is true that, when he reaches a

decided belief, he may perform an exertion of the kind called a Resolution of will, with a view to producing in his constitution and determination, i.e. a tendency to conduct himself in harmony with that belief. Otherwise, he only thinks of himself as being ignorant, or as having fallen into error, or as having comported himself ill. When he gathers his attention upon an idea it is not of himself that he thinks:

it is rather to the idea that he addresses a command, “Come on, now; play your part in the situation.” The second point of the principle is that although the object of which he is thinking is not himself, nevertheless what he thinks is addressed to himself. By that I mean he is, all along, appealing to his subsequent self, the self who shall have thought the matter out and come to a definitive conversation, each is aware of what is passing in the other’s mind by substantially the same means by which he is aware of what is passing in his own, though I do not say he is as completely cognizant of the one as of the other. He no more thinks about the other’s mind than he does his own. What these means are we shall minutely consider later; but even now we must consider them a little. In doing so, I must use, in a more general sense, a word which I have just now used in a special sense, and must carefully explain this more general sense, inasmuch as it is one of the most important terms in every branch of science: it is the word determination. Before a man has determined what his conduct shall be, it may on one occasion be of one sort and on another be of another sort. It may at one time, for example, be just, so far as he can discern what justice would dictate, while another time it may be such that the man shall say to himself, “what I am going to do will not be just; but I don’t care for that; it will be a satisfaction to me to do it, and I will do it.” But if that man ever becomes determined to do what is just, so far as he can make out what would be the just cause, so long as that determination lasts he will never wittingly do what is unjust. We may state the matter thus: let there be two charac- ters, or suchnesses, (in this case, the being such as justice permits and the being such as justice forbids,) which are incompossible, i.e. are such that they can both be possessed only by something whose being consists in a mere possibility and cannot actually be carried out without some restriction, while that which actually occurs, single, as well as, and that is general, i.e. which allows some latitude in its actualization can at most possess but one of those characters. The two characters to be instanced are further to be together exhaustive, i.e. only that which whose being consists in something general, can fail to possess one or other of them, and that which is either Actual or merely Possible must possess one. In short the two characters are to be in the relation of contradictories, each of the other; i.e. they are to be at once incompossible and exhaustive. That being the case, any general subject, a subject being anything concerning which an assertion may be made or proposed, if it possesses neither of these characters is said to be indeterminate in