§ 13. But we must leave these intricacies. We must be satisfied with knowing that the real, which (we say) appears in perception, does not appear in one single moment. And if we will pause and reflect for a little, we shall see how hardened we are in superstitions. When we ask for reality, we at once encounter it in space and time. We find opposed to us a continuous element of perpetual change. We begin to observe and to make distinctions, and this element becomes a series of events. And here we are tempted to deceive our selves grossly. We allow ourselves to talk as if there existed an actual chain of real events, and as if this chain were some how moved past us, or we moved along it, and as if, whenever we came to a link, the machinery stopped and we welcomed each new link with our " here " and our " now." Still we do not believe that the rest of the links, which are not here and now, do all equally exist, and, if so, we can hardly be quite sure of our chain. And the link, if we must call it so, which is now and here, is no solid substance. If we would but observe it, we should see it itself to be a fluid sequence whose parts offer no resistance to division, and which is both now, and itself without end made up of nows.
Or we seem to think that we sit in a boat, and are carried down the stream of time, and that on the banks there is a row of houses with numbers on the doors. And we get out of the boat, and knock at the door of number 19, and, re- entering the boat, then suddenly find ourselves opposite 20, and, having there done the same, we go on to 21. And, all this while, the firm fixed row of the past and future stretches in a block behind us and before us.
If it really is necessary to have some image, perhaps the following may save us from worse. Let us fancy ourselves in total darkness hung over a stream and looking down on it. The stream has no banks, and its current is covered and filled continuously with floating things. Right under our faces is a bright illuminated spot on the water, which ceaselessly widens and narrows its area, and shows us what passes away on the current. And this spot that is light is our now, our present.
We may go still further and anticipate a little. We have CHAP. II FORMS OF JUDGMENT 55 not only an illuminated place, and the rest of the stream in total darkness. There is a paler light which, both up and down stream, is shed on what comes before and after our now. And this paler light is the offspring of the present. Behind our heads there is something perhaps which reflects the rays from the lit-up now, and throws them more dimly upon past and future. Outside this reflection is utter darkness; within it is gradual increase of brightness, until we reach the illumination immediately below us.
In this image we shall mark two things, if we are wise. It is possible, in the first place, that the light of the present may come from behind us, and what reflects the light may also bestow it. We can not tell that, but what we know is, that our now is the source of the light that falls on the past and future. Through it alone do we know there exists a stream of floating things, and without its reflection past and future would vanish. And there is another point we must not lose sight of. There is a difference between the brightness of the now, and the paler revelation of past and future. But, despite this difference, we see the stream and what floats in it as one. We overcome the difference. And we do so by see ing the continuity of the element in past, present and future. It is because, through the different illuminations, there are points of connection offered by what floats, in other words, a sameness of content, that the stream and its freightage be come all one thing to us, and we even forget that most of what we see is not self-subsistent but borrowed and adjecti val. We shall perceive hereafter that time and space beyond here and now are not strictly existent in the sense in which the present is. They are not given directly but are inferred from the present. And they are so inferred because the now and here, on which the light falls, are the appearance of a reality which for ever transcends them, and upon which resting we go beyond them.
§ 14. But this is to anticipate. The result, which at pres ent we have wished to make clear, is that the now and here, in which the real appears, are not confined within simply discrete and resting moments. They are any portion of that continuous content with which we come into direct relation. Examination shows that not only at their edges they dissolve 56 THE PRINCIPLES OF LOGIC BOOK I themselves over into there and then, but that, even within their limits as first given, they know no repose. Within the here is both here and there; and in the ceaseless process of change in time you may narrow your scrutiny to the smallest focus, but you will find no rest. The appearance is always a process of disappearing, and the duration of the process which we call our present has no fixed length.
It will be seen hereafter that in the above reflections we have not been wandering. Nor will it be long before we return to them, but we must now rediscuss from a better point of view those forms of judgment we before laid down (§7).
§ 15. Judgment is not the synthesis of ideas, but the refer ence of ideal content to reality. From this basis we must now endeavour to interpret the various kinds of judgment we have met with. And, beginning with the singular judgments of § 7, let us take the first division of these, which were called Analytic judgments of sense.
I. The essence of these is to hold only of the now, and not to transcend the given presentation. They may have neither grammatical subject nor copula, or again, on the other hand, may possess one or both.
A. In the judgments that have neither copula nor subject, an idea is referred (a) to the whole sensible reality, or (/?) to some part of it.11 (a) When we hear the cry of "Wolf," or "Fire," or " Rain," it is impossible to say that we hear no assertion. He who raises the cry is always taken to affirm, to have uttered a sign and to have used it of the real. The practical man would laugh at your distinction that, in exclaiming " Wolf," I can not be a liar, because I use no subject or copula, but that, if I go so far as " This is a wolf," I am thereby committed. Such a plea, we must allow, would be instantly dismissed. In the " Wolf " or " Rain " the subject is the unspecified present environment, and that is qualified by the attribution of the ideal content " Wolf " or " Rain." It is the external present that is here the subject. But in some moment of both outward squalor and inward wretchedness, where we turn to one an other with the one word " miserable," the subject is here the whole given reality.
CHAP. II FORMS OF JUDGMENT 57 Such single words, it may perhaps be said, are really interjections and never predicates. If they were really inter jections, we must stubbornly maintain, they could not be the vehicle of truth and falsehood. And a real interjection that is nothing besides, is not so common as some persons suppose. An habitual interjection soon gets a meaning, and becomes the sign of a received idea, which, in reference to the content, may be an assertion of truth or falsehood.
But the fact is really beyond all question. You may utter a word which conveys to you, and which you know conveys to others also, a statement about fact. Unless then you are deceiving, you must be judging. And you certainly are judg ing without any other subject than the whole sensible present.
(/?) But this is an extreme case; in nearly all instances but one piece of the present is the real subject. We qualify by our idea some one given aspect. But no subject or copula appears even here. A common understanding, or the pointing of a finger, is all that serves to limit the reference. Of a visible wolf I may predicate the words " asleep " or " running," or in watching a sunset, it is enough for me to say the word " down " or " gone," and every one knows I am judging and affirming. It might be said, no doubt, that the subject is elided, but this would be a mere linguistic prejudice. The genuine subject is not an idea, elided or expressed, but it is the immediate sensible presentation.* And again it might be said that what we call the predicate is really the subject of an unexpressed existential judgment. But this cardinal mistake will be soon disposed of, when here after we deal with that class of judgments (§42).
§ 15. B. We pass next to those analytic judgments where a subject is expressed. The ideal content of the predicate is here referred to another idea, which stands as a subject. But in this case, as above, the ultimate subject is no idea, but is the real in presentation. It is this to which the content of both ideas, with their relation, is attributed. The synthesis of the ideal elements is predicated either (a) of the whole, or (yj) of a part, of that which appears.
(a) In such judgments as " Now is the time," " It's all so dreary," or " The present is dark," an idea takes the place of *For a further explanation, vid. Chap. III. §2.
58 THE PRINCIPLES OF LOGIC BOOK I the unspoken reference of the preceding section. But the subject remains in both cases the same. An idea, it is true, intervenes between the reality and the predicate, and holds the place of immediate subject. But a moment's consideration will assure us that the subject of our assertion is still the presented. The immediate subject is the sign of a reference, either simple or embodying implications, to the whole given reality.
(/?) We have a further advance when the presented fact is not the whole sensible environment, but only a part of it. In " There is a wolf," " This is a bird," or " Here is a fire," " there " " this " and " here " are certainly ideas, and stand no doubt for the subject of the judgment: * but, the moment we examine them, we find once more a reference to the reality, not now indefinite and embracing the whole, but still no more than a sign of distinction and indication. If these ideas are the true subject of a judgment, then so is a silent pointing with the finger.
§ 1 6. There is really no change when we go a step further, and take such judgments as " This bird is yellow," " That stone is falling," " This leaf is dead." The idea, which stands as the grammatical subject, is certainly more than an indefinite refer ence, more even than a sign of indication. It not only distin guishes a part from the environment, but it also characterizes and qualifies it. But if, before, the subject we meant was not an idea, but was presented fact, so also now does this remain the truth. It is not the bare idea, symbolized by " this bird," of which we go on to affirm the predicate. It is the fact dis tinguished and qualified by " this bird," to which the adjective " yellow " is really attributed. The genuine subject is the thing as perceived, the content of which our analysis has divided into " this bird " and " yellow," and of which we predi cate indirectly those ideal elements in their union.
The same account holds throughout all the variety of these analytic judgments. Let us complicate our assertion. " The cow, which is now being milked by the milk-maid, is standing *It sounds, perhaps, rather shocking to call "there" or "here" subjects, but, if the text is understood, I need make no defence. On the nature of the ideas of "this," "now," and "here," we shall find later on a good deal to say.
CHAP. II FORMS OF JUDGMENT 59 to the right of the hawthorn tree yonder." In this judgment we have not one thing but several, and more than one state ment about their relations. But it is still a part of the pre sented environment which is actually the subject and the real substantive of which this whole complex is indirectly asserted. If you deny this, then show me where you draw your line, and what point it is in the scale of judgments at which the idea takes the place of the sensible fact, and becomes the true subject. And confine the assertion to mere ideas. Take the ideal elements of a cow and a hawthorn tree and a milk-maid, and combine them ideally in any way you please. Then after they are combined, stand in presence of the fact, and ask yourself if that does not enter into your judgment. If, with the fact before you, you begin to reflect, you will find that, if you keep to mere ideas, you remove from the assertion just the thing you mean. In § 20 we shall return to this point, but at present we may deal with a popular error.
§ 17. There is a curious illusion, now widely spread, on the subject of proper names.12 We find it laid down that a proper name has not got connotation, or, to use the more common technical term, it has no intension. In ordinary lan guage, it stands for something but does not mean anything.
If this were true, it would be hard to understand what is signified by such judgments as "John is asleep." There are thinkers indeed, who fear no consequence, and who will tell us that here the name John is the subject of the proposition. And against these adversaries I confess I have no heart to enter the lists. They may say what they please without hindrance from me. But, if we are inclined to accept a less heroic solution, and to suppose the man John to be the subject of the judgment, then I do not quite see the purpose of the name, if we are not to mean by it anything at all. Why not simply omit it, and, pointing to the man, say the word " asleep "?
" But it stands for the man," I shall hear the reply, " and, even when he is present, it is a mark which serves to dis tinguish him much more clearly than pointing." But that is just what puzzles me. If there is an idea conveyed by the name, whenever it is used, then it surely means something, or, in the language which pleases you, it must be " connotative." But if, on the other hand, it conveys no idea, it would appear 60 THE PRINCIPLES OF LOGIC BOOK I to be some kind of interjection. If you say that, like " this " and " here," it is merely the ideal equivalent of pointing, then at once it assuredly has a meaning, but unfortunately that meaning is a vague universal. For anything and everything is " this " and " here." But if you asseverate that it is the ideal counterpart of pointing in particular to John, then you must allow me to doubt if you comprehend what you are saying.
The word " mark " has two senses which perhaps we may confuse. It is something which may be made a means of distinction, or something which has been made such a means. I suppose, for I can do no more than suppose, that mark is not taken in the former sense, and that our man was not seen to be distinct from other men, because he was found to have the marking John. But, if it is the latter of these senses we adopt, then a name is a mark because it is a sign, and mark and sign are here identical.
Now a sign can not possibly be destitute of meaning. Originally imposed as an arbitrary mark, that very process, which makes it a sign and associates it firmly with the thing it signifies, must associate with it also some qualities and characters of that which it stands for. If it did not to some extent get to mean the thing, it never could get to stand for it at all. And can any one say that a proper name, if you are aware of its designation, brings no ideas with it, or that these ideas are mere chance conjunction? What connection, I would ask, would be left between the bare name and the thing it stands for, if every one of these ideas were removed? All would vanish together.
The matter is so plain I do not know how to explain it. The meaning of a sign need of course not be fixed. But is the thing it stands for quite invariable? If the " connotation " is unsteady, does the " denotation " never change? But where the latter is fixed there the former on its side (within limits) is stationary. You may have no idea what " William " con notes, but if so you can hardly know what it stands for. The whole question arises from a simple mistake and misunder standing.
§ 18. " But after all the name is the sign of an individual, and meanings are generic and universal. Therefore the name can not have any content of which it is the sign." I have CHAP. II FORMS OF JUDGMENT 6l purposely put an objection in that form which suggests the conclusion I wish to arrive at. The name of a man is the name of an individual, which remains amid changing par ticulars, and therefore no judgment about such an individual is wholly analytic. It transcends the given, it becomes syn thetic, and with it we pass into the second great division of singular judgments.
Proper names have a meaning which always goes beyond the presentation of the moment. It is not indeed true that such names must stand for objects, which endure through a train of altering perceptions. The unique thing they designate may appear but once, as an event shut up within one presen tation. But that object would not be unique, nor proper to its own especial self, if it did not involve a reference to a series from which it was excluded. And mere analysis of sense could never suggest that limiting relation which gives it uniqueness.
And, when we take the proper names of objects which last and which reappear, then the given is transcended in a still higher sense. The meaning of such a name is universal, and its use implies a real universality, an identity which transcends particular moments. For, unless the person were recognized as distinct, he would hardly get a name of his own, and his recognition depends on his remaining the same throughout change of context. We could not recognize anything unless it possessed an attribute, or attributes, which from time to time we are able to identify. The individual remains the same amid that change of appearance which we predicate as its quality. And this implies that it has real identity. Its proper name is the sign of a universal, of an ideal content which actually is in the real world.
This assumption, and the practice of giving proper names, may no doubt be indefensible. What concerns us here is that the practice transcends presented reality. In "John is asleep," the ultimate subject can not be the real as it is now given; for " John " implies a continuous existence, not got by mere analysis. We have reached the class of synthetic judg ments.
§ 19. II. In this second class of singular judgments (§7)» we make generally some assertion about that which appears 62 THE PRINCIPLES OF LOGIC BOOK I in a space or time that we do not perceive, and we predicate of a presentation something not got by analysis of its content. If I say " There is a garden on the other side of that wall," the judgment is synthetic, for it goes beyond perception. And in "Yesterday was Sunday," "William conquered England," " Next month is June," I certainly do not analyze what is merely given. In synthetic judgments there is always an inference,13 for an ideal content is connected with the sensible qualities that are given us. In other words we have always a construction, which depends on ideas, and which only indi rectly is based on perception (vid. Book II.).
And, this being so, it seems as if now we were unable to proceed. If the subject is the real that appears in perception, how can events in the past and future, or a world in space out side the presentation, and how even can qualities not given to sense be referred to the object and considered as its adjectives? We have already glanced at the solution of this problem, and what we now wish to show is the following. In synthetic judgments the ultimate subject is still the reality. That is not the same as the momentary appearance, and yet synthetic judgments are possible only by being connected with what is given at this very instant. The ideas of past and future events are projected from the base of present perception. It is only in that point that they encounter the reality of which they wish to be true.
" But past and future," the reader may object, " are surely realities." Perhaps they are, but our question is, Given a synthesis of ideas within my mind, how and where am I able to get at a reality to which to attribute them? 14 How am I to judge unless I go to presentation? Let the past and future be as real as you please, but by what device shall I come in contact with them, and refer to them my ideas, unless I advance directly to the given, and to them indirectly? It is possible, I am aware, to assert that past realities are directly presented, and possible also (for all I know) to say the same of the future, and of all the space I am not in contact with, and of all the qualities that I do not perceive. In this way, no doubt, we dispose of the difficulty, and indeed may make a very simple matter of any kind of problem, if indeed any problems any longer will exist.
CHAP. II FORMS OF JUDGMENT 63 § 20. But the persons I write for, and who are not so blessed with easy intuitions, will feel this difficulty, and there may come a temptation to fall back once more on the aban doned heresy and to say, In these synthetic judgments the subject can not possibly be the reality. It must be an idea, and in the junction of ideas must lie the truth. And I think, perhaps, at the cost of repetition, we had better see where this temptation leads us.
When we say " It rained last Tuesday," we mean this last Tuesday, and not any other; but, if we keep to ideas, we do not utter our meaning. Nothing in the world that you can do to ideas, no possible torture will get out of them an asser tion that is not universal. We can not escape by employing ideas of events in time, particulars as we call them. The event you describe is a single occurrence, but what you say of it will do just as well for any number of events, imaginary or real. If you keep to ideas it is useless to make a reference to the present, and say, " The Tuesday that came before this day." For we have seen before (§8), that in analytic judg ments we are equally helpless. The real is inaccessible by way of ideas. In attempting to become concrete and special, you only succeed in becoming more abstract and wholly in definite. " This " " now " and " mine " are all universals. And your helpless iteration, " not this but this," will not get your expression any nearer to your meaning. If judgment is only the union of ideas, no judgment is ever about the indi vidual.
§ 21. We must get rid of the erroneous notion (if we have it) that space and time are " principles of individuation," in the sense that a temporal or spatial exclusion will confer uniqueness upon any content. It is an illusion to suppose that, by speaking of " events," we get down to real and solid par ticulars, and leave the airy region of universal adjectives. For the question arises, What space and time do we really mean, and how can we express it so as not to express what is as much something else? It is true that, in the idea of a series of time or complex of space, uniqueness is in one sense involved; for the parts exclude one another reciprocally. But they do not exclude, unless the series is taken as one continuous whole, and the relations between its members are thus fixed by the 64 THE PRINCIPLES OF LOGIC BOOK I unity of the series. Apart from this unity, a point on its recur rence could not be distinguished from the point as first given. And elsewhere we might ask, how far such an unity is itself the negation of mere exclusivity.
But, to pass by this question, it is clear that exclusion within a given series does not carry with it an absolute unique ness. There is nothing whatever in the idea of a series to hint that there may not be any number of series, internally all indistinguishable from the first. How can you, so long as you are not willing to transcend ideas, determine or in any way characterize your series, so as to get its difference from every possible series within your description? It is idle to say " this," for " this " does not exclude except in this sphere, and it is idle to say " my," for it is only in my element that yours and mine collide. Outside it they are indifferent, and the ex pression " my " will not distinguish one world from the other. If we simply attend to the series itself,15 and, declining to look outside, confine ourselves to the consideration of its character, then all that it contains might be the common property of innu merable subjects, existing and enjoyed in the world of each, a general possession appropriated by none. The mere quality of appearance in space or time can not give singularity.
§ 22. The seeking for judgment in the synthesis of ideas once more has led us where there is no exit. With however little hope we must return to the doctrine, that judgment is the reference of an ideal content to the real which appears in time and space, which is to be encountered directly in presen tation, but which can not be limited to a momentary instance. It is not by its quality as a temporal event or phenomenon of space, that the given is unique. It is unique, not because it has a certain character, but because it is given. It is by the reference of our series to the real, as it appears directly within this point of contact, or indirectly in the element continuous with this point, that these series become exclusive. We per haps may be allowed to express this otherwise by saying, it is only the " this " which is real, and ideas will suffice so far as " thisness," but can never give " this." It is perhaps a hard saying, and announces difficulties we shall need both courage and patience to contend with.
§ 23. Everything that is given us, all psychical events, be CHAP. II FORMS OF JUDGMENT 65 they sensations, or images, or reflections, or feelings, or ideas, or emotions — every possible phenomenon that can be present — both is " this " and has " thisness." But its stamp of unique ness and singularity comes to it from the former and not from the latter. If we distinguish the aspects of existence and content 16 (Chap. I. § 4), and put on the one side that anything is, and on the other side what it is, then the thisness falls within the content, but the this does not fall there. It is the mere sign of my immediate relation, my direct encounter in sensible presentation with the real world. I will not here ask how " this " is related to existence, how far it holds of the actual fact, and how far only of the mere appearance; whether it is or is only for me. Apart from that, at least so much is certain, that we find uniqueness in our contact with the real, and that we do not find it anywhere else. The singularity which comes with presentation and is what we call " this," is not a quality of that which is given.