presented under the title: "Third Analogy of Experience." Here Kant goes so far as to say that "the co-existence of phenomena, which exercise no reciprocal action on one another, but are separated by a perfectly empty space, could never become an object of possible perception"[104] (which, by the way, would be a proof _à priori_ that there is no empty space between the fixed stars), and that "the light which _plays between_ our eyes and celestial bodies"--an expression conveying surreptitiously the thought, that this starlight not only acts upon our eyes, but is acted upon by them also--"produces an intercommunity between us and them, and proves the co-existence of the latter." Now, even empirically, this last assertion is false; since the sight of a fixed star by no means proves its coexistence simultaneously with its spectator, but, at most, its existence some years, nay even some centuries before. Besides, this second Kantian theory stands and falls with the first, only it is far more easily detected; and the nullity of the whole conception of reciprocity has been shown in § 20.
[104] Kant, "Krit. d. r. Vern." pp. 212 and 213 of the 1st edition.
(English translation, pp. 185 and 186.)
The arguments I have brought forward against Kant's proof may be compared with two previous attacks made on it by Feder,[105] and by G.
E. Schulze.[106] [105] Feder, "Ueber Raum und Causalität." sect. 29.
[106] G. E. Schulze, "Kritik der theoretischen Philosophie," vol.
ii. p. 422 _sqq._ Not without considerable hesitation did I thus venture (in 1813) to attack a theory which had been universally received as a demonstrated truth, is repeated even now in the latest publications,[107] and forms a chief point in the doctrine of one for whose profound wisdom I have the greatest reverence and admiration; one to whom, indeed, I owe so much, that his spirit might truly say to me, in the words of Homer: Ἀχλὺν δ' αὖ τοι ἀπ' ὀφθαλμῶν ἕλον, ἣ πρὶν ἐπῆεν.[108] [107] For instance, in Fries' "Kritik der Vernunft," vol. ii. p. 85.
[108] I lifted from thine eyes the darkness which covered them before. (Tr.'s Ad.)
§ 24. _Of the Misapplication of the Law of Causality._ From the foregoing exposition it follows, that the application of the causal law to anything but _changes_ in the material, empirically given world, is an abuse of it. For instance, it is a misapplication to make use of it with reference to physical forces, without which no changes could take place; or to Matter, _on_ which they take place; or to the world, to which we must in that case attribute an absolutely objective existence independently of our intellect; indeed in many other cases besides. I refer the reader to what I have said on this subject in my chief work.[109] Such misapplications always arise, partly, through our taking the conception of cause, like many other metaphysical and ethical conceptions, in far _too wide_ a sense; partly, through our forgetting that the causal law is certainly a presupposition which we bring with us into the world, by which the perception of things outside us becomes possible; but that, just on that account, we are not authorized in extending beyond the range and independently of our cognitive faculty a principle, which has its origin in the equipment of that faculty, nor in assuming it to hold good as the everlasting order of the universe and of all that exists.
§ 25. _The Time in which a Change takes place._ As the Principle of Sufficient Reason of Becoming is exclusively applicable to _changes_, we must not omit to mention here, that the ancient philosophers had already raised the question as to the time in which a change takes place, there being no possibility of it taking place during the existence of the preceding state nor after the new one has supervened. Yet, if we assign a special time to it between both states, a body would, during this time, be neither in the first nor in the second state: a dying man, for instance, would be neither alive nor dead; a body neither at rest nor in movement: which would be absurd.
The scruples and sophistic subtleties which this question has evoked, may be found collected together in Sextus Empiricus "Adv. Mathem."
lib. ix. 267-271, and "Hypat." iii. c. 14; the subject is likewise dealt with by Gellius, l. vi. c. 13--Plato[110] had disposed somewhat cavalierly of this knotty point, by maintaining that changes take place _suddenly_ and occupy _no time at all_; they occur, he says, in the ἐξαίφνης (_in repentino_), which he calls an ἄτοπος φύσις, ἐν χρόνῳ οὐδὲν οὖσα; a strange, timeless existence (which nevertheless comes within Time).
[110] Plato, "Parmenides," p. 138, ed. Bip.
It was accordingly reserved for the perspicacity of Aristotle to clear up this difficult point, which he has done profoundly and exhaustively in the sixth Book of Physics, chap. i.-viii. His proof that no change takes place suddenly (in Plato's ἐξαίφνης), but that each occurs only gradually and therefore occupies a certain time, is based entirely upon the pure, _à priori_ intuition of Time and of Space; but it is also very subtle. The pith of this very lengthy demonstration may, however, be reduced to the following propositions. When we say of objects that they limit each other, we mean, that both have their extreme ends in common; therefore only two extended things can be conterminous, never two indivisible ones, for then they would be _one_--_i.e._ only lines, but not mere points, can be conterminous. He then transfers this from Space to Time. As there always remains a line between two points, so there always remains a time between two _nows_; this is the time in which a change takes place--_i.e._ when _one_ state is in the first, and _another_ in the second, _now_. This time, like every other, is divisible to infinity; consequently, whatever is changing passes through an infinite number of degrees within that time, through which the second state gradually grows out of that _first_ one.--The process may perhaps be made more intelligible by the following explanation.
Between two consecutive states the difference of which is perceptible to our senses, there are always several intermediate states, the difference between which is not perceptible to us; because, in order to be sensuously perceptible, the newly arising state must have reached a certain degree of intensity or of magnitude: it is therefore preceded by degrees of lesser intensity or extension, in passing through which it gradually arises. Taken collectively, these are comprised under the name of _change_, and the time occupied by them is called _the time of change_. Now, if we apply this to a body being propelled, the first effect is a certain vibration of its inner parts, which, after communicating the impulse to other parts, breaks out into external motion.--Aristotle infers quite rightly from the infinite divisibility of Time, that everything which fills it, therefore every change, _i.e._ every passage from one state to another, must likewise be susceptible of endless subdivision, so that all that arises, does so in fact by the concourse of an infinite multitude of parts; accordingly its genesis is always gradual, never sudden. From these principles and the consequent gradual arising of each movement, he draws the weighty inference in the last chapter of this Book, that nothing indivisible, no mere _point_ can move. And with this conclusion Kant's definition of Matter, as "that which moves in Space," completely harmonizes.
This law of the continuity and gradual taking place of all changes which Aristotle was thus the first to lay down and prove, we find stated three times by Kant: in his "Dissertatio de mundi sensibilis et intelligibilis forma," § 14, in the "Critique of Pure Reason,"[111] and finally in his "Metaphysical First Principles of Natural Science."[112] In all three places his exposition is brief, but also less thorough than that of Aristotle; still, in the main, both entirely agree. We can therefore hardly doubt that, directly or indirectly, Kant must have derived these ideas from Aristotle, though he does not mention him.
Aristotle's proposition--οὐκ ἔστι ἀλλήλων ἐχόμενα τὰ νῦν ("the moments of the present are not continuous")--we here find expressed as follows: "between two moments there is always a time," to which may be objected that "even between two centuries there is none; because in Time as in Space, there must always be a pure limit."--Thus Kant, instead of mentioning Aristotle, endeavours in the first and earliest of his three statements to identify the theory he is advancing with Leibnitz' _lex continuitatis_. If they really were the same, Leibnitz must have derived his from Aristotle. Now Leibnitz[113] first stated this _Loi de la continuité_ in a letter to Bayle.[114] There, however, he calls it _Principe de l'ordre général_, and gives under this name a very general, vague, chiefly geometrical argumentation, having no direct bearing on the time of change, which he does not even mention.
[112] Kant, "Metaphysische Anfangsgründe der Naturwissenschaft."
End of the "Allgemeine Anmerkung zur Mechanik."
[113] According to his own assertion, p. 189 of the "Opera philos."
ed. Erdmann.
CHAPTER V.
ON THE SECOND CLASS OF OBJECTS FOR THE SUBJECT AND THE FORM OF THE PRINCIPLE OF SUFFICIENT REASON WHICH PREDOMINATES IN IT.
§ 26. _Explanation of this Class of Objects._ The only essential distinction between the human race and animals, which from time immemorial has been attributed to a special cognitive faculty peculiar to mankind, called _Reason_, is based upon the fact that man owns a class of representations which is not shared by any animal. These are _conceptions_, therefore _abstract_, as opposed to _intuitive_, representations, from which they are nevertheless derived.
The immediate consequence of this is, that animals can neither speak nor laugh; but indirectly all those various, important characteristics which distinguish human from animal life are its consequence. For, through the supervention of abstract representation, motivation has now changed its character. Although human actions result with a necessity no less rigorous than that which rules the actions of animals, yet through this new kind of motivation--so far as here it consists in _thoughts_ which render elective decision (_i.e._ a conscious conflict of motives) possible--action with a purpose, with reflection, according to plans and principles, in concert with others, &c. &c., now takes the place of mere impulse given by present, perceptible objects; but by this it gives rise to all that renders human life so rich, so artificial, and so terrible, that man, in this Western Hemisphere, where his skin has become bleached, and where the primitive, true, profound religions of his first home could not follow him, now no longer recognises animals as his brethren, and falsely believes them to differ fundamentally from him, seeking to confirm this illusion by calling them brutes, giving degrading names to the vital functions which they have in common with him, and proclaiming them outlaws; and thus he hardens his heart against that identity of being between them and himself, which is nevertheless constantly obtruding itself upon him.
Still, as we have said, the whole difference lies in this--that, besides the intuitive representations examined in the last chapter, which are shared by animals, other, abstract representations derived from these intuitive ones, are lodged in the human brain, which is chiefly on this account so much larger than that of animals.
Representations of this sort have been called _conceptions_,[115] because each comprehends innumerable individual things in, or rather under, itself, and thus forms a complex.[116] We may also define them as _representations drawn from representations_. For, in forming them, the faculty of abstraction decomposes the complete, intuitive representations described in our last chapter into their component parts, in order to think each of these parts separately as the different qualities of, or relations between, things. By this process, however, the representations necessarily forfeit their perceptibility; just as water, when decomposed, ceases to be fluid and visible. For although each quality thus isolated (abstracted) can quite well be _thought_ by itself, it does not at all follow that it can be _perceived_ by itself. We form conceptions by dropping a good deal of what is given us in perception, in order to be able to think the rest by itself. To conceive therefore, is to think less than we perceive.
If, after considering divers objects of perception, we drop something different belonging to each, yet retain what is the same in all, the result will be the _genus_ of that species. The generic conception is accordingly always the conception of every species comprised under it, after deducting all that does not belong to _every_ species. Now, as every possible conception may be thought as a _genus_, a conception is always something general, and as such, not perceptible. Every conception has on this account also its _sphere_, as the sum-total[117] of what may be thought under it. The higher we ascend in abstract thought, the more we deduct, the less therefore remains to be thought.
The highest, _i.e._ the most general conceptions, are the emptiest and poorest, and at last become mere husks, such as, for instance, being, essence, thing, becoming, &c. &c.--Of what avail, by the way, can philosophical systems be, which are only spun out of conceptions of this sort and have for their substance mere flimsy husks of thoughts like these? They must of necessity be exceedingly empty, poor, and therefore also dreadfully tiresome.
to comprehend. [Tr.]
[116] _Inbegriff_, comprehensive totality. [Tr.]
[117] _Inbegriff._ Now as representations, thus sublimated and analysed to form abstract conceptions, have, as we have said, forfeited all perceptibility, they would entirely escape our consciousness, and be of no avail to it for the thinking processes to which they are destined, were they not fixed and retained in our senses by arbitrary signs. These signs are words.
In as far as they constitute the contents of dictionaries and therefore of language, words always designate _general_ representations, conceptions, never perceptible objects; whereas a lexicon which enumerates individual things, only contains proper names, not words, and is either a geographical or historical dictionary: that is to say, it enumerates what is separated either by Time or by Space; for, as _my_ readers know, Time and Space are the _principium individuationis_.
It is only because animals are limited to intuitive representations and incapable of any abstraction--incapable therefore of forming conceptions--that they are without language, even when they are able to articulate words; whereas they understand proper names. That it is this same defect which excludes them from laughter, I have shown in my theory of the ridiculous.[118] [118] See "Die Welt a. W. u. V." vol. i. sect. 13, and vol. ii. ch.
8.
On analyzing a long, continuous speech made by a man of no education, we find in it an abundance of logical forms, clauses, turns of phrase, distinctions, and subtleties of all sorts, correctly expressed by means of grammatical forms with their inflections and constructions, and even with a frequent use of the _sermo obliquus_, of the different moods, &c. &c., all in conformity with rule, which astonishes us, and in which we are forced to recognise an extensive and perfectly coherent knowledge. Still this knowledge has been acquired on the basis of the perceptible world, the reduction of whose whole essence to abstract conceptions is the fundamental business of the Reason, and can only take place by means of language. In learning the use of language therefore, the whole mechanism of Reason--that is, all that is essential in Logic--is brought to our consciousness. Now this can evidently not take place without considerable mental effort and fixed attention, for which the desire to learn gives children the requisite strength. So long as that desire has before it what is really available and necessary, it is vigorous, and it only appears weak when we try to force upon children that which is not suited to their comprehension.
Thus even a coarsely educated child, in learning all the turns and subtleties of language, as well through its own conversation as that of others, accomplishes the development of its Reason, and acquires that really concrete Logic, which consists less in logical rules than in the proper application of them; just as the rules of harmony are learnt by persons of musical talent simply by playing the piano, without reading music or studying thorough-bass.--The deaf and dumb alone are excluded from the above-mentioned logical training through the acquirement of speech; therefore they are almost as unreasonable as animals, when they have not been taught to read by the very artificial means specially adapted for their requirements, which takes the place of the natural schooling of Reason.
The fundamental essence of our Reason or thinking faculty is, as we have seen, the power of abstraction, or the faculty of forming _conceptions_: it is therefore the presence of these in our consciousness which produces such amazing results. That it should be able to do this, rests mainly on the following grounds.
It is just because they contain less than the representations from which they are drawn, that conceptions are easier to deal with than representations; they are, in fact, to these almost as the formula of higher arithmetic to the mental operations which give rise to them and which they represent, or as a logarithm to its number. They only contain just the part required of the many representations from which they are drawn; if instead we were to try to recall those representations themselves by means of the imagination, we should, as it were, have to lug about a load of unessential lumber, which would only embarrass us; whereas, by the help of conceptions, we are enabled to think only those parts and relations of all these representations which are wanted for each individual purpose: so that their employment may be compared to doing away with superfluous luggage, or to working with extracts instead of plants themselves--with quinine, instead of bark. What is properly called _thinking_, in its narrowest sense, is the occupation of the intellect with conceptions: that is, the presence in our consciousness of the class of representations we now have before us. This is also what we call _reflection_: a word which, by a figure of speech borrowed from Optics, expresses at once the derivative and the secondary character of this kind of knowledge. Now it is this thinking, this reflection, which gives man that _deliberation_, which is wanting in animals. For, by enabling him to think many things under one conception, but always only the essential part in each of them, it allows him to drop at his pleasure every kind of distinction, consequently even those of Time and of Space, and thus he acquires the power of embracing in thought, not only the past and the future, but also what is absent; while animals are in every respect strictly bound to the present. This deliberative faculty again is really the root of all those theoretical and practical achievements which give man so great a superiority over animals; first and foremost, of his care for the future while taking the past into consideration; then of his premeditated, systematic, methodical procedure in all undertakings, and therefore of the co-operation of many persons towards a common end, and, by this, of law, order, the State, &c. &c.--But it is especially in Science that the use of conceptions is important; for they are, properly speaking, its materials. The aims of all the sciences may, indeed, in the last resort, be reduced to knowledge of the particular through the general; now this is only possible by means of the _dictum de omni et nullo_, and this, again, is only possible through the existence of conceptions. Aristotle therefore says: ἄνευ μὲν γὰρ τῶν καθόλου οὐκ ἔστιν ἐπιστήμην λαβεῖν[119] (_absque universalibus enim non datur scientia_). Conceptions are precisely those _universalia_, whose mode of existence formed the argument of the long controversy between the Realists and Nominalists in the Middle Ages.
[119] Aristot. "Metaph." xii. c. 9, "For without universals it is impossible to have knowledge." (Tr.'s Add.)
§ 28. _Representatives of Conceptions. The Faculty of Judgment._ Conceptions must not be confounded with pictures of the imagination, these being intuitive and complete, therefore individual representations, although they are not called forth by sensuous impressions and do not therefore belong to the complex of experience.
Even when used to _represent a conception_, a picture of the imagination (phantasm) ought to be distinguished from a conception.
We use phantasms as _representatives of conceptions_ when we try to grasp the intuitive representation itself that has given rise to the conception and to make it tally with that conception, which is in all cases impossible; for there is no representation, for instance, of dog in general, colour in general, triangle in general, number in general, nor is there any picture of the imagination which corresponds to these conceptions. Then we evoke the phantasm of some dog or other, which, as a representation, must in all cases be determined: that is, it must have a certain size, shape, colour, &c. &c.; even though the conception represented by it has no such determinations. When we use such _representatives of conceptions_ however, we are always conscious that they are not adequate to the conceptions they represent, and that they are full of arbitrary determinations. Towards the end of the first part of his Twelfth Essay on Human Understanding, Hume expresses himself in agreement with this view, as also Rousseau in his "Discours sur l'Origine de l'Inégalité."[120] Kant's doctrine, on the contrary, is a totally different one. The matter is one which introspection and clear reflection can alone decide. Each of us must therefore examine himself as to whether he is conscious in his own conceptions of a "Monogram of Pure Imagination _à priori_;" whether, for instance, when he thinks dog, he is conscious of something _entre chien et loup_; or whether, as I have here explained it, he is either thinking an abstract conception through his Reason, or representing some representative of that conception as a complete picture through his imagination.
[120] Part the First, in the middle.
All thinking, in a wider sense: that is, all inner activity of the mind in general, necessitates either words or pictures of the imagination: without one or other of these it has nothing to hold by.
They are not, however, both necessary at the same time, although they may co-operate to their mutual support. Now, thinking in a narrower sense--that is, abstract reflection by means of words--is either purely logical reasoning, in which case it keeps strictly to its own sphere; or it touches upon the limits of perceptible representations in order to come to an understanding with them, so as to bring that which is given by experience and grasped by perception into connection with abstract conceptions resulting from clear reflection, and thus to gain complete possession of it. In thinking therefore, we seek either for the conception or rule to which a given perception belongs, or for the particular case which proves a given conception or rule. In this quality, thinking is an activity of the _faculty of judgment_, and indeed in the first case a reflective, in the second, a subsuming activity. The faculty of judgment is accordingly the mediator between intuitive and abstract knowledge, or between the Understanding and the Reason. In most men it has merely rudimentary, often even merely nominal existence;[121] they are destined to follow the lead of others, and it is as well not to converse with them more than is necessary.
[121] Let any one to whom this assertion may appear hyperbolical, consider the fate of Göthe's "Theory of Colours" (_Farbenlehre_), and should he wonder at my finding a corroboration for it in that fate, he will himself have corroborated it a second time.
The true kernel of all knowledge is that reflection which works with the help of intuitive representations; for it goes back to the fountain-head, to the basis of all conceptions. Therefore it generates all really original thoughts, all primary and fundamental views and all inventions, so far as chance had not the largest share in them. _The Understanding_ prevails in this sort of thinking, whilst _the Reason_ is the chief factor in purely abstract reflection. Certain thoughts which wander about for a long time in our heads, belong to this sort of reflection: thoughts which come and go, now clothed in one kind of intuition, now in another, until they at last become clear, fix themselves in conceptions and find words to express them. Some, indeed, never find words to express them, and these are, unfortunately, the best of all: _quæ voce meliora sunt_, as Apuleius says.
Aristotle, however, went too far in thinking that no reflection is possible without pictures of the imagination. Nevertheless, what he says on this point,[122] οὐδέποτε νοεῖ ἄνευ φαντάσματος ἡ ψυχή (_anima sine phantasmate nunquam intelligit_),[123] and ὅταν θεωρῇ, ἀνάγκη ἅμα φάντασμά τι θεωρεῖν (_qui contemplatur, necesse est, una cum phantasmate contempletur_),[124] and again, νοεῖν οὐκ ἔστι ἄνευ φαντάσματος (_fieri non potest, ut sine phantasmate quidquam intelligatur_),[125]--made a strong impression upon the thinkers of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, who therefore frequently and emphatically repeat what he says. Pico della Mirandola,[126] for instance, says: _Necesse est, eum, qui ratiocinatur et intelligit, phantasmata speculari_;--Melanchthon[127] says: _Oportet intelligentem phantasmata speculari_;--and Jord. Brunus[128] says, _dicit Aristoteles: oportet scire volentem, phantasmata speculari_.
Pomponatius[129] expresses himself in the same sense.--On the whole, all that can be affirmed is, that every true and primary notion, every genuine philosophic theorem even, must have some sort of intuitive view for its innermost kernel or root. This, though something momentary[130] and single, subsequently imparts life and spirit to the whole analysis, however exhaustive it may be,--just as one drop of the right reagent suffices to tinge a whole solution with the colour of the precipitate which it causes. When an analysis has a kernel of this sort, it is like a bank note issued by a firm which has ready money wherewith to back it; whereas every other analysis proceeding from mere combinations of abstract conceptions, resembles a bank note which is issued by a firm which has nothing but other paper obligations to back it with. All mere rational talk thus renders the result of given conceptions clearer, but does not, strictly speaking, bring anything new to light. It might therefore be left to each individual to do himself, instead of filling whole volumes every day.
[123] "The mind never thinks without (the aid of) an image." [Tr.]
[124] "He who observes anything must observe some image along with it." [Tr.]
[125] "De Memoria," c. 1: "It is impossible to think without (the aid of) an image."
[128] "De compositione imaginum," p. 10.
[129] "De immortalitate," pp. 54 et 70.
§ 29. _Principle of Sufficient Reason of Knowing._ But, even in a narrower sense, thinking does not consist in the bare presence of abstract conceptions in our consciousness, but rather in connecting or separating two or more of these conceptions under sundry restrictions and modifications which Logic indicates in the Theory of Judgments. A relation of this sort between conceptions distinctly thought and expressed we call a _judgment_. Now, with reference to these judgments, the Principle of Sufficient Reason here once more holds good, yet in a widely different form from that which has been explained in the preceding chapter; for here it appears as the Principle of Sufficient Reason of Knowing, _principium rationis sufficientis cognoscendi_. As such, it asserts that if a _judgment_ is to express _knowledge_ of any kind, it must have a sufficient reason: in virtue of which quality it then receives the predicate _true_.
Thus _truth_ is the reference of a judgment to something different from itself, called its reason or ground, which reason, as we shall presently see, itself admits of a considerable variety of kinds. As, however, this reason is invariably a something upon which the judgment rests, the German term for it, viz., _Grund_, is not ill chosen. In Latin, and in all languages of Latin origin, the word by which a reason of knowledge is designated, is the same as that used for the faculty of Reason (_ratiocinatio_): both are called _ratio_, _la ragione_, _la razon_, _la raison_, _the reason_. From this it is evident, that attaining knowledge of the reasons of judgments had been recognised as Reason's highest function, its business κατ' ἐξοχήν. Now, these grounds upon which a judgment may rest, may be divided into _four_ different kinds, and the truth obtained by that judgment will correspondingly differ. They are stated in the following paragraph.
A judgment may have for its reason another judgment; in this case it has _logical_ or _formal_ truth. Whether it has material truth also, remains an open question and depends on whether the judgment on which it rests has material truth, or whether the series of judgments on which it is founded leads to a judgment which has material truth, or not. This founding of a judgment upon another judgment always originates in a comparison between them which takes place either directly, by mere conversion or contraposition, or by adding a third judgment, and then the truth of the judgment we are founding becomes evident through their mutual relation. This operation is the complete _syllogism_. It is brought about either by the opposition or by the subsumption of conceptions. As the syllogism, which is the founding of one judgment upon another by means of a third, never has to do with anything but judgments; and as judgments are only combinations of conceptions, and conceptions again are the exclusive object of our Reason: syllogizing has been rightly called Reason's special function.
The whole syllogistic science, in fact, is nothing but the sum-total of the rules for applying the principle of sufficient reason to the mutual relations of judgments; consequently it is the canon of _logical truth_.
Judgments, whose truth becomes evident through the four well-known laws of thinking, must likewise be regarded as based upon other judgments; for these four laws are themselves precisely judgments, from which follows the truth of those other judgments. For instance, the judgment: "A triangle is a space enclosed within three lines," has for its last reason the Principle of Identity, that is to say, the thought expressed by that principle. The judgment, "No body is without extension," has for its last reason the Principle of Contradiction. This again, "Every judgment is either true or untrue," has for its last reason the Principle of the Excluded Middle; and finally, "No one can admit anything to be true without knowing why," has for its last reason the Principle of Sufficient Reason of Knowing. In the general employment of our Reason, we do not, it is true, before admitting them to be true, reduce judgments which follow from the four laws of thinking to their last reasons, as premisses; for most men are even ignorant of the very existence of these abstract laws. The dependence of such judgments upon them, as their premisses, is however no more diminished by this, than the dependence of the first judgment upon the second, as its premiss, is diminished by the fact, that it is not at all necessary for the principle, "all bodies incline towards the centre of the earth," to be present in the consciousness of any one who says, "this body will fall if its support is removed." That in Logic, therefore, _intrinsic truth_ should hitherto have been attributed to all judgments founded exclusively on the four laws of thinking: that is to say, that these judgments should have been pronounced _directly true_, and that this _intrinsic logical truth_ should have been distinguished from _extrinsic logical truth_, as attributed to all judgments which have another judgment for their reason, I cannot approve. Every truth is the reference of a judgment to something _outside_ of it, and the term A judgment may be founded upon a representation of the first class, _i.e._ a perception by means of the senses, consequently on experience.
In this case it has _material truth_, and moreover, if the judgment is founded _immediately_ on experience, this truth is _empirical truth_.
When we say, "A judgment has _material truth_," we mean on the whole, that its conceptions are connected, separated, limited, according to the requirements of the intuitive representations through which it is inferred. To attain knowledge of this, is the direct function of the _faculty of judgment_, as the mediator between the intuitive and the abstract or discursive faculty of knowing--in other words, between the Understanding and the Reason.
The _forms_ of intuitive, empirical knowledge which lie within the Understanding and pure Sensibility may, as conditions of all possible experience, be the grounds of a judgment, which is in that case synthetical _à priori_. As nevertheless this kind of judgment has material truth, its truth is _transcendental_; because the judgment is based not only on experience, but on the conditions of all possible experience lying within us. For it is determined precisely by that which determines experience itself: namely, either by the forms of Space and of Time perceived by us _à priori_, or by the causal law, known to us _à priori_. Propositions such as: two straight lines do not include a space; nothing happens without a cause; matter can neither come into being nor perish; 3 × 7 = 21, are examples of this kind of judgment. The whole of pure Mathematics, and no less my tables of the