First Discourse: In which the Design of this New Logic is set forth
THERE is nothing more desirable than good sense and justness of mind, in discriminating between truth and falsehood. All other qualities of mind are of limited use; but exactness of judgment, is of general utility in every part, and in all the employments of life. It is not alone in the sciences, that it is difficult to distinguish truth from error, but also in the greater part of those subjects which men discuss in their every-day affairs. There are, in relation to almost everything, different routes—the one true, the other false—and it is reason which must choose between them. Those who choose well, are those who have minds well-regulated; those who choose ill, are those who have minds ill-regulated; and this is the first and most important difference which we find between the qualities of men’s minds.
Thus, the main object of our attention should be, to form our judgment, and render it as exact as possible; and to this end, the greater part of our studies ought to tend. “We employ reason as an instrument for acquiring the sciences; whereas, on the contrary, we ought to avail ourselves of the sciences, as an instrument for perfecting our reason—justness of mind being infinitely more important than all the speculative knowledges which we can obtain, by means of sciences the most solid and well-established. This ought to lead wise men to engage in these only so far as they may contribute to that end, and to make them the exercise only, and not the occupation, of their mental powers.
If we have not this end in view, the study of the speculative sciences, such as geometry, astronomy, and physics, will be little else than a vain amusement, and scarcely better than the ignorance of these things, which has at least this advantage—that it is less laborious, and affords no room for that empty vanity which is often found connected with these barren and unprofitable knowledges. These sciences not only have nooks and hidden places of very little use, they are even totally useless, considered in themselves, and for themselves alone. Men are not born to employ their time in measuring lines, in examining the relations of angles, and considering the different movements of matter,—their minds are too great, their life too short, their time too precious, to be engrossed with such petty objects; but they ought to be just, equitable, prudent, in all their converse, in all their actions, and in all the business they transact; and to these things they ought specially to discipline and train themselves. This care and study are so very necessary, that it is strange that this exactness of judgment should be so rare a quality. We find, on every side, ill-regulated minds which have scarcely any discernment of the truth; men who receive all things with a wrong bias; who allow themselves to be carried away by the slightest appearances; who are always in excess and extremes; who have no bond to hold them firm to the truths which they know, since they are attached to them rather by chance than by any clear insight; or who, on the other hand, entrench themselves in their opinions with such obstinacy, that they will not listen to anything that might undeceive them; who determine rashly about that of which they are ignorant, which they do not understand, and which, perhaps, no one ever could understand; who make no difference between one speech and another, or judge of the truth of things by the tone of voice alone,—he who speaks fluently and impressively being in the right—he who has some difficulty in explaining himself, or displays some warmth, in the wrong: they know nothing beyond this.
Hence it is, that there are no absurdities too groundless to find supporters. Whoever determines to deceive the world, may be sure of finding people who are willing enough to be deceived; and the most absurd follies always find minds to which they are adapted. After seeing what a number are infatuated with the follies of judicial astrology, and that even grave persons treat this subject seriously, we need not be surprised at anything more. There is a constellation in the heavens which it has pleased certain persons to call the Balance, and which is as much like a balance as a windmill. The Balance is the symbol of justice; those, therefore, that are born under that constellation, will be just and equitable. There are three other signs in the zodiac, which are called, one the Ram, another the Bull, another the Goat, and which might as well have been called the Elephant, the Crocodile, and the Rhinoceros. The Ram, the Bull, and the Goat, are ruminant animals; those, therefore, who take medicines when the moon is under these constellations, are in danger of vomiting them again.
Such extravagant reasonings as these, have found persons to propagate them, and others who allow themselves to be persuaded by them,
This falseness of mind is the cause, not only of the errors we meet with in the sciences, but also of the majority of the offences which are committed in civil life,—of unjust quarrels,—unfounded law-suits,—rash counsel, and ill-arranged undertakings. There are few of these which have not their origin in some error, and in some fault of judgment, so that there is no defect which it more concerns us to correct. But this correction is as difficult of accomplishment as it is desirable, since it depends very much on the measure of intelligence with which we are endowed. Common-sense is not so common a quality as we imagine. There are a multitude of minds heavy and dull, which we cannot reform by giving them the understanding of the truth, but only by restricting them to those things which are suited to them, by withholding them from judging about those things which they are not capable of knowing. It is true, nevertheless, that a great part of the false judgment of men does not spring from this principle, but is caused solely by precipitation of mind and want of attention, which leads us to judge rashly about that which we know only obscurely and confusedly. The little love men have for truth, leads them to take no pains, for the most part, in distinguishing what is true from what is false. They allow all sorts of reasonings and maxims to enter their minds; they like better to suppose things true, than to examine them; if they do not comprehend them, they are willing to believe that others understand them well; and thus they fill the memory with a mass of things false, obscure, and unintelligible, and then reason on these principles, scarcely considering at all, either what they speak or what they think. Vanity and presumption contribute still more to this effect. We think it a disgrace to doubt, and to be ignorant; and we prefer rather to speak and determine at random, than to confess we are not sufficiently informed on the subject to give an opinion. We are all full of ignorance and errors; and yet it is the most difficult thing in the world to obtain from the lips of man this confession, so just, and so suited to his natural state,—I am in error, and I know nothing about the matter.
We find others, on the contrary, who, having light enough to know that there are a number of things obscure and uncertain, and wishing, from another kind of vanity, to show that they are not led away by the popular credulity, take a pride in maintaining that there is nothing certain. They thus free themselves from the labour of examination, and on this evil principle they bring into doubt the most firmly established truths, and even religion itself. This is the source of Pyrrhonism, another extravagance of the human mind, which, though apparently opposed to the rashness of those who believe and decide everything, springs nevertheless from the same source, which is, want of attention. For as the one will not give themselves the trouble of discerning errors, the others will not look upon truth with that care which is necessary for perceiving its evidence. The faintest glimmer suffices to persuade the one of things very false, and to make the other doubt of things the most certain; and in both cases it is the same want of application which produces effects so different.
True reason places all things in the rank which belongs to them; it questions those which are doubtful, rejects those which are false, and acknowledges, in good faith, those which are evident, without being embarrassed by the vain reasons of the Pyrrhonists, which never could, even in the minds of those who proposed them, destroy the reasonable assurance we have of many things. None ever seriously doubted the existence of the sun, the earth, the moon, or that the whole was greater than its parts. We may indeed easily say outwardly with the lips that we doubt of all these things, because it is possible for us to lie; but we cannot say this in our hearts. Thus Pyrrhonism is not a sect composed of men who are persuaded of what they say, but a sect of liars. Hence they often contradict themselves in uttering their opinion, since it is impossible for their hearts to agree with their language. We see this in Montaigne, who attempted to revive this sect in the last century; for, after having said that the Academics were different from the Pyrrhonists, inasmuch as the Academics maintained that some things were more probable than others, which the Pyrrhonists would not allow, he declares himself on the side of the Pyrrhonists in the following terms: " The opinion,” says he, “of the Pyrrhonists is bolder, and much more probable.” There are, therefore, some things which are more probable than others. Nor was it for the sake of effect that he spoke thus,—these are words which escaped him without thinking of them,—springing from the depths of nature, which no illusion of opinions can destroy. But the evil is, that in relation to those things which are more removed from sense, these persons, who take a pleasure in doubting everything, withhold their mind from any application, or apply it only imperfectly to that which might persuade them, and thus fall into a voluntary uncertainty in relation to the affairs of religion; for the state of darkness into which they have brought themselves is agreeable to them, and very favourable for allaying the remorse of their conscience, and for the unrestrained indulgence of their passions. Thus, these disorders of the mind, though apparently opposed (the one leading to the inconsiderate belief of what is obscure and uncertain, the other to the doubting of what is clear and certain), have nevertheless a common origin, which is, the neglect of that attention which is necessary in order to discover the truth.
It is clear, therefore, that they must also have a common remedy, and that the only way in which we can preserve ourselves from them, is by fixing minute attention on our judgments and thoughts. This is the only thing that is absolutely necessary to preserve us from deceptions. For that which the Academics were wont to say, that it was impossible to discover the truth unless we had its characters, as it would be impossible to identify a runaway slave we might be in search of, unless we had some signs by which, supposing we were to meet him, we could distinguish him from others, is only a vain subtlety. As no marks are necessary in order to distinguish light from darkness but the light which reveals itself so nothing else is necessary in order to recognise the truth but the very brightness which environs it, and which subdues and persuades the mind, notwithstanding all that may be said against it; so that all the reasonings of these philosophers are no more able to withhold the mind from yielding to the truth, when it is strongly imbued with it, than they are capable of preventing the eyes from seeing, when, being open, they are assailed by the light of the sun.
But since the mind often allows itself to be deceived by false appearances, in consequence of not giving due attention to them, and since there are many things which can not be known, save by long and difficult examination, it would certainly be useful to have some rules for its guidance, so that the search after truth might be more easy and certain. Nor is it impossible to secure such rules; for since men are sometimes deceived in their judgments, and at other times are not deceived, as they reason sometimes well and sometimes ill, and as, after they have reasoned ill, they are able to perceive their error, they may thus notice, by reflecting on their thoughts, what method they have followed when they have reasoned well, and what was the cause of their error when they were deceived; and thus on these reflections form rules by which they may avoid being deceived for the future.
This is what philosophers have specially undertaken to accomplish, and in relation to which they make such magnificent promises. If we may believe them, they will furnish us, in that part which is devoted to this purpose, and which they call logic, with a light capable of dispelling all the darkness of the mind; they correct all the errors of our thoughts; and they give us rules so sure that they conduct us infallibly to the truth,—so necessary, that without them it is impossible to know anything with complete certainty. These are the praises which they have themselves bestowed on their precepts. But if we consider what experience shows us of the use which these philosophers make of them, both in logic and in other parts of philosophy, we shall have good grounds to suspect the truth of their promises.
Since it is not, however, just to reject absolutely the good there is in logic because of the abuse which has been made of it, and as it is not possible that all the great minds which have applied themselves with so much care to the rules of reasoning, have discovered nothing at all solid; and finally, since custom has rendered it necessary to know (at least generally) what logic is, we believed that it would contribute something to public utility to select from the common logics whatever might best help towards forming the judgment. This is the end we specially propose to ourselves in this work, with the view of accomplishing which, there are many new reflections which have suggested themselves to our mind while writing it, and which form the greatest and perhaps the most important part of it, for it appears the common philosophers have attempted to do little more than to give the rules of good and bad reasoning. Now, although we cannot say these rules are useless, since they often help to discover the vice of certain intricate arguments, and to arrange our thoughts in a more convincing manner, still this utility must not be supposed to extend very far. The greater part of the errors of men arise, not from their allowing themselves to be deceived by wrong conclusions, but in their proceeding from false judgments, whence wrong conclusions are deduced. Those who have previously written on logic have little sought to rectify this, which is the main design of the new reflections which are to be found scattered through this book.
It must, however, be acknowledged, that these reflections, which we call new because they have not appeared in any of the common logics, do not all belong to the author of this work, and that some of them he has borrowed from the books of a celebrated philosopher of this age, who is distinguished as much for perspicuity as others are for confusion of mind. Some others have been obtained from a small unpublished work of the late M. Pascal, called by him " The Spirit of Geometry” What is said in the Ninth Chapter, touching the definition of names and things, is derived from this source, and also the five rules which are explained in the Fourth Part, which are, however, extended much farther than they were in that writing.
With respect to what has been taken from the common books of logic, the following is to be observed: In the first place, it is intended to comprise in this work all that was really useful in the others; such as the rules of figure, the divisions of terms and ideas, certain reflections on propositions. There are other things which we deem sufficiently profitless; such as the categories and the laws, but which, as they were short, easy, and common, we did not think it right to omit, forewarning the reader, however, what judgment to form of them, in order that he might not suppose them to be more useful than they are.
More of doubt arose in relation to certain matters difficult enough and but of little use; such as the conversion of propositions, and the demonstration of the rules of figure; but we have determined not to omit them, since their very difficulty is not altogether without its use, for although it is true that where a difficulty leads to the knowledge of no truth, we have reason to say, " stultum est difficiles habere nugas” yet we ought not to avoid it in the same way when it contains some truth, since it is beneficial to exercise oneself in the comprehension of difficult truths.
There are some stomachs which can only digest light and delicate food, and so there are some minds which can only apply themselves to understand truths which are easy, and garnished with the ornaments of eloquence. This is, in either case, a blameworthy fastidiousness,—or, rather, a real weakness. We ought to train our minds to discover the truth, however concealed or disguised it may be, and to respect it under whatever form it may appear. If we do not overcome this distaste and aversion, which is the easiest thing in the world, to contract at anything which appears a little subtle or scholastic, we shall insensibly contract our minds, and render them incapable of understanding those things which are only to be known through the connection of many propositions; and thus, when a truth depends on three or four principles, which it is necessary to look at all at once, we are perplexed and discouraged, and are deprived in this way of the knowledge of many useful things, which is a great defect.
The capacity of the mind is enlarged and extended by exercise; and to this the mathematics, and generally all difficult things, such as those we are speaking of, mainly contribute; for they give a certain expansion to the mind, and practise it to consider more attentively, and hold more firmly, that which it knows. These are the reasons which have induced us to retain these difficult matters, and even to treat them as subtilely as any other logic. Those who object to this may pass over these parts without reading them. To this end, we have taken care duly to forewarn them at the head of the chapters, that they may have no ground of complaint, and that, if they read them, they may do it voluntarily. Neither have we thought it needful to be perplexed by the distaste of some who have quite a horror of certain artificial terms, which have been invented for the purpose of retaining more easily the different ways of reasoning, as though they were words of magic; and who often make jests, insipid enough, on baroco and bara-lipton, as savouring strongly of pedantry, for we judged these jests to be more contemptible than the words themselves. True reason and good sense do not allow us to treat as ridiculous that which is not so. Now, there is nothing ridiculous in these terms, provided they be not made too mysterious; and that, as they were only made to assist the memory, we do not introduce them in common discourse, and say, for instance, that we are going to reason in bocardo, or in felapton, which would indeed be very ridiculous.
The reproach of pedantry is sometimes much abused, and often, in attributing it to others, we fall into it ourselves. Pedantry is a vice of the mind, and not of a profession; and there are pedants in all robes, and in every state and condition of life. To extol things trivial and mean,—to make a vain show of science,—to heap together Greek and Latin quotations without judgment,—to get in a passion about the order of the Attic months, the garments of the Macedonians, and such other useless disputes,—to pillage an author while abusing him,—to decry outrageously those who are not of our opinion as to the meaning of a passage in Suetonius, or as to the etymology of a word, as if religion and the state were endangered thereby,—to wish to excite all the world against a man who does not sufficiently appreciate Cicero, as against a disturber of the public peace, as Julius Scaliger attempted to do against Erasmus,—to interest oneself in the reputation of an ancient philosopher, as though he were one’s own parent,—this is what may be truly called pedantry. But there is none at all in understanding and explaining artificial terms, ingeniously enough devised for the sole purpose of assisting the memory, provided they be employed with the precautions which we have already indicated.
It only remains for us to explain why we have omitted a great number of questions which are found in the common logics;—such as those which are treated of in the prolegomonas, the universal a parte rei, the relations, and many others of a similar kind, of which it is almost enough to say that they belong rather to metaphysics than to logic. It is true, however, notwithstanding that this is not the main thing which we considered; for, if we judged that a subject would be useful in forming the judgment, we cared but little to what science it belonged. The arrangement of our different knowledges is free as that of the letters in a printing office,—each has the right of arranging them in different classes according to his need, so that, in doing this, the most natural manner be observed. If a matter be useful, we may avail ourselves of it, and regard it, not as foreign, but as pertinent to the subject. This explains how it is that a number of things will be found here from physics and from morals, and almost as much of metaphysics as it is necessary to know, though in this we do not profess to have borrowed anything from any one. All that is of service in logic belongs to it; and it is quite ridiculous to see the trouble that some authors have given themselves—as Ramus and the Ramists,—though otherwise very able men, who have taken as much pains to limit the jurisdiction of each science, and to prevent them from trespassing on each other, as might be taken in marking out the boundaries of kingdoms, and determining the prerogatives of parliament.
What led us to omit altogether those questions of the schools was, not simply that they are difficult, and of little use, since we have considered some of this nature,—but that, having these bad qualities, we believed we could more easily omit all mention of them, without offending any one, inasmuch as they are held in but little esteem. For there is a great difference to be observed among the useless questions, of which books of philosophy are full. There are some which are despised even by those who discuss them; and there are others, on the contrary, which are celebrated and accredited, and have obtained a place in the writings of men of great repute.
It seems to be a duty which we owe to these well-known and celebrated opinions, however false we may believe them to be, not to be ignorant of what is said concerning them. We owe this civility, or rather justice, not to their falseness, which merits none, but to the men who have favoured them,—not to reject what they have valued, without examination. It is reasonable thus to purchase, by means of the trouble taken in understanding them, the right to despise them.
But we have more liberty in relation to the former; and the logical ones which we have thought right to omit are of that kind. They have this advantage, that they are held in no esteem, not only in the world, where they are unknown, but by those even who teach them. No one, thank God, now takes any interest in the universal a parte rei, in beings of reason, or in second intentions. Thus there is no ground to apprehend that any one will be offended at our having said nothing about them; besides which, these matters are so ill adapted to the French language, that they would have tended rather to degrade the philosophy of the schools than to make it esteemed.
It is right, also, to mention that we have not always followed “the rules of a method perfectly exact, having placed many things in the Fourth Part which ought to have been referred to the Second and Third; but we did this advisedly, because we judged that it would be useful to consider in the same place all that was necessary in order to render a science perfect; and this is the main business of method which is treated of in the Fourth Part. For this reason, also, we reserved what was to be said of axioms and demonstrations for the same place.
These, in brief, are the views we have had in writing this logic. Perhaps, after all, there are few persons who will profit by it, or who will be conscious of the good they have obtained from it, because but little attention is commonly given to putting precepts in practice by express reflections on them. But we hope, nevertheless, that those who have read it with some care may receive an impression from it which will render them more exact and solid in their judgments, even without their being conscious of it, as there are some remedies which cure diseases by increasing the strength and fortifying the parts. Be this as it may, it cannot trouble any one long,—those who are a little advanced being able to read and understand it in seven or eight days; and it will be strange if, containing so great diversity of things, each does not find something to repay him for the trouble of reading it.