COLLECTEDPAPERSOF

CHARLESSANDERSPEIRCE
EDITED BY

CHARLES HARTSHORNE
AND

PAUL WEISS

VOLUME V

PRAGMATISMAND PRAGMATICISM

CHARLES SANDERS PI]IRCtr CAMBRIDGE

1839-1914 I
HARVARD UNIVERSITY
1934

V which is not clear. This is technicallanguage;by the contents
HOW TO trIAKE OI]R IDEAS CLEAR*
$1. CLEARNESS AND DISTINCTNESSE
388. Whoeverhaslookedinto a moderntreatiseon logic
of the commonsort,rwill doubtlessremember
the two distinc-
tions betweenclear and obscureconceptions,and betweend,is-
t'inctandconfusedconceptions.They have lain in the booksnow
for nigh two centuries,unimproved and unmodif,ed, and are
generally reckonedby logicians as among the gems of their
doctrine.
389. A clear idea is definedas one which is so apprehended
that it will be recognizedwhereverit is met with, and so that
no other will be mistakenfor it. If it fails of this clearness,
it
is said to be obscure.
This is rather a neat bit of philosophicalterminologyi yet,
sinceit is clearnessthat they weredefining,I wish the logicians
had made their definition a little more plain. Never to fail to
recognizean idea, and under no circumstancesto mistake
another for it, let it come in how recondite a form it may,
would indeed imply such prodigious force and clearnessof
intellect as is seldom met with in this world. On the other
hand, merely to have such an acquaintancewith the idea as
to have becomefamiliar with it, and to have lost all hesitancy
in recognizingit in ordinary cases,hardly seemsto deservethe
name of clearnessof apprehension,since after all it only
amounts to a subjective feeling of mastery which may be
entirely mistaken. I take it, however,that when the logicians
speak of t'clearness,"they mean nothing more than such a
familiarity with an idea, sincethey regard the quality as but
t Popular Science Monthly, vol. 12, pp. 286-302 (1878); the secondof the
papers on the " Illustrations of the Logic of Science"; with corrections and notes
from revised versions, one of which was intended as ch. 16 of the " Grand Logic "
of 1893 and as Essay IX of the " Search for a Method" of 1893.
1 One of the treatises upon logic dating from L'Art, d.e Penser of the Port
Royalists dorvn to very recent times.- 1893.
248
j
vi
n
{
HOW TO MAKE OUR IDEAS CLEAR t5.390
a small merit, which needs to be supplementedby another,
which they call disti,nctness.
390. A distinct ideais definedasonewhich containsnothing
of an idea logiciansunderstandwhatever is containedin its
definition. So that an idea is distinctly apprehended,according
to them, when we can give a precisedefinitionof it, in abstract
terms. Here the professionallogiciansleave the subject; and I
would not have troubled the readerwith what they have to say,
if it were not such a striking exampleof how they have been
slumberingthrough agesof intellectual activity, listlessly dis-
regardingthe engineryof modernthought, and never dreaming
of applying its lessonsto the improvement of logic. It is easy
to show that the doctrine that familiar use and abstract dis-
tinctness make the perfection of apprehensionhas its only
true place in philosophieswhich have long been extinct; and
it is now time to formulate the method of attaining to a more
perfect clearnessof thought, such as we seeand admire in the
thinkers of our own time.
391. When I)escartesset about the reconstructionof phi-
losophy, his first step was to (theoretically) permit scepticism
and to discard the practice of the schoolmenof looking to
'Ihat
authority as the ultimate source of truth. done, he
soughta more natural fountain of true principles,and thought
he found* it in the human mind; thus passing,in the directest
w&y, from the method of authority to that of apriority, as
describedin my first paper.t Self-consciousness was to furnish
us with our fundamental truths, and to decide what was
agreeableto reason. But since, evidently, not all ideas are
true, he was led to note, as the first conditionof infallibility,
that they must be clear. The distinction between an idea
seemingclear and really being So, never occurred to him.
Trusting to introspection, as he did, even for a knowledgeof
externalthings, why should-hequestionits testimony in respect
to the contentsof our own minds? But then, I suppose,sceing
men, who seemedto be quite clearand positive,holding oppo-
site opinions upon fundamental principles, he was further led
to say that clearnessof ideasis not sufficient,but that they
* he found" originally "professed to find."
"thought
t See 383.
219
5.3927 PRAGMATISM AI\D PRAGMATICISM
need also to be distinct, i.e., to have nothing unclear about
them. What he probably meant by this (for he did not explain
himselfwith precision)was, that they must sustainthe test of
dialectical examination;that they must not only seemclear at
the outset, but that discussionmust never be able to bring to
light points of obscurity connectedwith them.
392. Such was the distinction of Descartes,and one sees
that it was precit.ly on the level of his philosophy. It was
somewhat developed by Leibnitz. This great and singular
geniuswas as remarkablefor what he failed to seeas for what
he saw. That a piece of mechanismcould not do work per-
petually without being fed with power in some form, was a
thing perfectly apparent to him; yet he did not understand
that the machinery of the mind can only transform knowledge,
but neveroriginateit, unlessit be fed with factsof observation.
He thus missedthe most essentialpoint of the Cartesianphi-
losophy,which is, that to acceptpropositionswhich seemper-
fectly evident to us is a thing which, whether it be logical or
illogical, we cannot help doing. Instead of regardingthe mat-
ter in this way, he soughtto reducethe first principlesof science
to two* classes,those which cannot be denied without self-
contradiction, and those which result from the principle of
sufficient reason(of which more anon),* and was apparently
unawareof the great differencebetweenhis position and that
of Descartes.lSo he reverted to the old trivialitiest of logic;
and, above all, abstract definitions played a great part in his
philosophy. It was quite natural, therefore,that on observing
that the method of Descarteslaboredunder the difficulty that
we may seemto ourselvesto have clear apprehensions of ideas
which in truth are very hazy, no better remedy occurred to
him than to require an abstract deflnition of every important
term. Accordingly, in adopting the distinction of clear and
d.i,st'inctnotions, he describedthe latter quality as the clear
* whose ideas (like the words of their languagc) are fcw, but
"two. . . anon" originally"formulaswhich cannot be deniedwithout self-
contradiction."
1 IIe was, however, above all, one of the minds that grow; while at first he
was an extreme nominalist, like Hobbes, and dabbled in the nonsensical and
impotent Ars magna of Raymond Lully, he subsequently embraced the larv
of continuity and other doctrines opposed to nominalism. I speak here of his
earlier views.- 1903.
t Originally "formalities."
250
i
HOW TO MAKE OUR IDEAS CLEAR t5.393
apprehension of everything contained in the definition; and
the books have ever since copied his words.x There is no danger
that his chimerical scheme will ever again be over-valued.
Nothing new can ever be learned by analyzing definitions.
Nevertheless, our existing beliefs can be set in order by this
process, and order is an essential element of intellectual
economy, as of every other. It may be acknowleclged,there-
fore, that the books are right in making familiarity with a
notion the first step toward clearnessof apprchcnsion, ancl the
defining of it the second. But in omitting all mcntion of any
higher perspicuity of thought, they simply mirror a philosophy
which was exploded a hundred years ago. That much-a<lmired
"ornament of logicr' - 1[s doctrine of clearnessan<l clistinct-
ness- may be pretty enough, but it is high timc to rclcgate
to our cabinet of curiosities the antique bijou., and to wcar
about us something better adapted to modern uscs.
393.1 The very first lesson that we have a right to <lcmand
that logic shall teach us is, how to make our idcas clcar; and
a most important one it is, depreciated only by rninrls who
stand in need of it. To know what we think, to bc mastcrs of
our own meaning, will make a solid foundation for grcat and
weighty thought. It is most easily learned by those whose
ideas are meagre and restricted; and far happicr thcy than
such as wallow helplessly in a rich mud of conccptions. A
nation, it is true, ffiay, in the course of generations, ovcrcome
the disadvantage of an excessive wealth of languagc and its
natural concomitant, a vast, unfathomable deep of i<lcas. We
may see it in history, slowly perfecting its litcrary forms,
sloughing at length its metaphysics, and, by virtuc of the
untirable patience which is often a compensation, uttaining
great excellence in every branch of mental acquircmcnt. 'I'he
page of history is not yet unrolled thatt is to tcll us whcther
such a people will or will not in the long run 1>rcvailovcr one
which possessesa wonderful mastery over thosc which it has.
For an individual, however, there can be no question that a
few clear ideas are worth more than many confused ones. A
* Cf. his "Meditationes
de Cognitione," Die I'hilosophische Shriften ton
her. von C. I. Gerhardt, Bd. IV, S. 422-427; Nouaeaur Essais, II,29.
Le'i.bn'i,2,
I Delete this paragraph. - 1903.
t Originalty "which."
2bL
5.394] PRAGMATISM AND PRAGMATICISM
young man would hardly be persuaded to sacrifice the greater
part of his thoughts to save the rest; and the muddled head
is the least apt to see the necessity of such a sacrifice. Him we
can usually only commiserate, as a person with a congenital
defect. Time will help him, but intellectual maturity with
regard to clearness is apt to* come rather late. This seemst
an unfortunate arrangement of Nature, inasmuch as clearness
is of less use to a man settled in life, whose errors have in great
measure had their eflect, than it would be to one whose path
layf before him. It is terrible to seehow a single unclear idea,
a single forrnula without meaning, lurking in a young man's
head, will sometimes act like an obstruction of inert matter in
an artery, hindering the nutrition of the brain, and condemning
its victim to pine away in the fullness of his intellectual vigor
and in the midst of intellectual plenty. Many a man has
cherished for years as his hobby some vague shadow of an
idea, too meaningless to be positively false; he has, neverthe-
less, passionately loved it, has made it his companion by day
and by night, and has given to it his strength and his life,
leaving all other occupations for its sake, and in short has lived
with it and for it, until it has become, as it were, flesh of his
flesh and bone of his bone; and then he has waked up some
bright morning to find it gone, clean vanished away like the
beautiful Melusina of the fable, and the essence of his life
gone with it. I have myself known such a man; and who can
tell how many histories of circle-squarers, metaphysicians,
astrologers, and what not, may not be told in the old German
[French !] story?
$2. THtr PRAGMATIC MAXIME
394. The principles set forth in the first part of this essay$
lead, at once,to a method of reaching a clearnessof thought
ofT higher grade than the "distinctness" of the logicians.
It was there noticedll that the action of thought is excited by
the irritation of doubt, and ceaseswhen belief is attained; so
* we should act under such circumstances as thosc which occa-
"is apt to" not in the original.
f "This seems" not in the original, replacing a semicolon.
I Originally "lies."
$ "part . . . essay" originally "of these papers."
1l "a far," followed "of " in the original.
,.$
ll Originally "We have there found"
252
I
HOW TO MAKE OUR IDEAS CLEAR [5.395
that the production of belief is the sole function of thought.*
All these words, however, are too strong for my purpose. It is
as if I had described the phenomena as they appear under a
mental microscope. Doubt and Belief, as the words are com-
monly employed, relate to religious or other grave discussions.
But here I use them to designate the starting of any question,
no matter how small or how great, and the resolution of it. If,
for instance, in a horse-car, I pull out my purse and fnd a fi,ve-
cent nickel and five coppers, I decide, while my hand is going to
'Io
the purse, in which way I will pay my fare. call such a
question Doubt, and my decision Belief, is certainly to use
'I'o
words very disproportionate to the occasion. spcak of such
a doubt as causing an irritation which needs to be appeased,
suggests a temper which is uncomfortable to the verge of
insanity. Yet, looking at the matter minutely, it must be
admitted that, if there is the least hesitation as to whether I
shall pay the five coppers or the nickel (as there will be sure to
be, unless I act from some previously contracted habit in the
matter), though irritation is too strong a word, yet I am cxcited
to such small mental activity as may be necessary to decicling
how I shall act. Most frequently doubts arise from sornc inde-
cision, however momentary, in our action. Sometimes it is not
so. I have, for exainple, to wait in a railway-station, ancl to
pass the time I read the advertisements on the walls. I com-
pare the advantages of different trains and different routes
which I never expect to take, merely fancying myself to be in a
state of hesitancy, becauseI am bored with having nothing to
trouble me. Feigned hesitancy, whether feigned for mere
amusement or with a lofty purpose, plays a great part in the
production of scientific inquiry. However the doubt rnay orig-
inate, it stimulates the mind to an activity which miuy bc slight
or energetic, calm or turbulent. Images pass rapi<lly through
consciousness,one incessantly melting into anothcr, until at
last, when all is over --it may be in a fraction of a scconrl,in an
hour, or after long years - we find ourselves clcci<lcdas to how
sioned our hesitation. In other words, we have attained belief.
395. In this process we observe two sorts of elements of
consciousness,the distinction between which may best be made
* See 371fi.
253
5.396] PRAGMATISM AND PRAGMATICISN,I
clear by means of an illustration. In a piece of music there are
the separate notes, and there is the air. A single tone may be
prolonged for an hour or a day, and it exists as perfectly in each
second of that time as in the whole taken together; so that, as
long as it is sounding, it might be present to a sensefrom which
everything in the past was as completely absent as the future
itself. But it is different with the air, the perfonnance of which
occupies a certain time, during the portions of which only por-
tions of it are played. It consists in an orderliness in the suc-
cessionof sounds rvhich strike the ear at different times; and to
perceive it there must be some continuity of consciousness
which makes the events of a lapse of time present to us. We
certainly only perceive the air by hearing the separate notes;
yet we cannot be said to directly hear it, for we hear only what
is present at the instant, and an orderliness of successioncan-
not exist in an instant. These two sorts of objects, what we are
intmediately conscious of and what we are med'i,atelyconscious
of, are found in all consciousness. Some elements (the sensa-
tions) are completely present at every instant so long as they
last, while others (like thought) are actions having beginning,
middle, and end, and consist in a congruence in the succession
of sensations which flow through the mind. They cannot be
immediately present to us, but must cover some portion of the
past or future. Thought is a thread of melody running through
the successionof our sensations.
396. We may add that just as a piece of music may be
written in parts, each part having its own air, so various sys-
tems of relationship of successionsubsist together between the
same sensations. These dif{erent systems are distinguished by
having different motives, ideas, or functions. Thought is only
one such system, for its sole motive, idea, and function is to
produce belief, and whatever does not concern that purpose
belongs to some other system of relations. The action of think-
ing may incidentally have other results; it may serve to amuse
us, for example, and amon g d.ilettanti it is not rare to find those
who have so perverted thought to the purposes of pleasure that
it seems to vex them to think that the questions upon which
they delight to exercise it may ever get finally settled; and a
positive discovery which takes a favorite subject out of the
arena of literary debate is met with ill-concealed dislike. This
254
HOW TO MAKE OUR IDEAS CLEAR t5.397
disposition is the very debauchery of thought. But the soul
and meaning of thought, abstracted from the other elements
which accompany it, though it may be voluntarily thwarted,
can never be made to direct itself towarcl anything but the pro-
duction of belief. Thought in action has for its only possible
motive the attainment of thought at rest; anrl whatever does
not refer to belief is no part of the thought itsclf.
397. And what, then, is belief? It is thc <lcmi-cadence
which closesa musical phrase in the symphony of our intcllec-
tual life. We have seen that it has just three propcrtics: I"irst,
it is something that we are aware of ; second, it trppcascsthe
irritation of doubt; and, third, it involves the cstablishnrcnt in
our nature of a rule of action, or, say for short, a hubil. As it
appeasesthe irritation of doubt, which is the motivc for think-
ing, thought relaxes, and comes to rest for a momcnt when
belief is reached. But, since belief is a rule for action, the
application of which involves further doubt antl further
thought, at the same time that it is a stopping-placc, it is also a
new starting-place for thought. That is why I havc pcrnrittc<l
myself to call it thought at rest, although thought is csscntitlly
an action. The f,nal upshot of thinking is the excrcisc of voli-
tion, and of this thought no longer forms a part; but bclicf is
only a stadium of mental action, an effect upon our uaturc rlue
to thought, which will influence future thinking.
398. The essenceof belief is the establishment of a habit;
and difierent beliefs are distinguished by the diflerent motlcs of
action to which they give rise. If beliefs do not dilTcr in this
respect, if they appeasethe same doubt by producing thc sitme
rule of action, then no mere differencesin the manncr of con-
sciousnessof them can make them different belicfs, iurv morc
than playing a tune in different keys is playing diffcrcnt tuncs.
Imaginary distinctions are often drawn between llclicfs which
differ only in their mode of expression;- the wrangling which
ensues is real enough, however. To believe that any objects
are arranged among themselves* as in Fig. 1, and to bclicvc that
they are arranged [as] in Fig.2, are one and the sltmc bclief;
yet it is conceivable that a man should assert one proposition
and deny the other. Such false distinctions clo as much harm
as the confusion of beliefs really different, and are among the
*
"among themselves" not in the original.
255
5.399] PRAGMATISM AND PRAGMATICISM
pitfalls of which we ought constantly to beware, especially
when we are upon metaphysicalground. One singular decep-
tion of this sort, which often occurs,is to mistake the sensation
Fig. 1 Fig.2
producedby our own unclearnessof thought for a characterof
the object we are thinking. Instead of perceiving that the
obscurity is purely subjective,we fancy that we contemplatea
quality of the object which is essentiallymysterious;and if our
conceptionbe afterward presentedto us in a clear form we do
not recognizeit as the same,owing to the absenceof the feeling
of unintelligibility. so long as this deceptionlasts,it obviously
puts an impassablebarrier in the way of perspicuousthinking;
so that it equally intereststhe opponentsof rational thought to
perpetuate it, and its adherentsto guard against it.
399. Another suchdeceptionis to mistakea meredifference
in the grammatical constructionof two words for a distinction
betweenthe ideasthey express.In this pedantic age,when the
generalmob of writers attend so much more to words than to
things, this error is common enough. When I just said that
thought is an action,and that it consistsin a relation,although
a personperformsan action but not a relation, which can only
be the result of an action, yet there was no inconsistencyin
what I said, but only a grammatical vagueness.
400. From all thesesophismswe shall be perfectly safe so
Iong as we reflect that the whole function of thought is to pro-
duce habits of action; and that whatever there is connected
with a thought, but irrelevant to its pulpose,is an accretionto
256
HOW TO MAKE OUR IDEAS CLEAR t5.401
it, but no part of it. If there be a unity among our sensations
which has no reference to how we shall act on a given occasion,
as when we listen to a piece of music, why wc do not call that
thinking. To develop its meaning, we havc, thcrcforc, simply to
determine what habits it produces, for what a thing means is
simply what habits it involves. Now, the identity of a habit
depends on how it might lead us to act, not mcrcly under such
circumstances as are likely to arise, but undcr such as might
possibly occur, no matter how improbable thcy rnay be.*
What the habit is depends on when and how it causcstts to act.
As for the when, every stimulus to action is dcrivctl from per-
ception; as for the how, every purpose of action is to ltroduce
some sensibleresult. Thus, we come down to what is tangible
andt conceivablyt practical, as the root of every rcal <listinction
of thought, no matter how subtile it may be; and thcre is no
distinction of meaning so fine as to consist in anything but a
possible difference of practice.
401. To see what this principle leads to, consitlcr in the
'l'hc
light of it such a doctrine as that of transubstantiation.
Protestant churches generally hold that the clcmcrtts of tht:
sacrament are flesh and blood only in a tropical scttsc; thc.v
nourish our souls as meat and the juice of it woulrlour lrotlics.
But the Catholics maintain that they are literally just tncat attrl
blood{; although they possessall the sensiblequalitics of wrtfcr-
cakes and diluted wine. But we can have no concclltion of winc
except what may enter into a belief, either -
1. That this, that, or the other, is wine; or,
2. That wine possessescertain properties.
Such beliefs are nothing but self-notifications that wc should,
upon occasion, act in regard to such things as wc bclicvc to be
wine according to the qualities which we believe wittc to lxrsscss.
The occasionof such action would be some sensiblcpcrccption,
'l'hus
the motive of it to produce some sensible rcsult. our
action has exclusive reference to what affects thc sctrses,our
habit has the same bearing as our action, our bclicf thc same as
our habit, our conception the same as our belicf ; and wc can
consequently mean nothing by wine but what has certain
* No matter if contrary to all previous experience.- ttrargittlrl notc, 1893.
t Not in the original.
f "meat and blood" originally "that."
257
 PRAGMATISNI AND PRAGMATICISM HOW TO MAKE OUR IDEAS CLEAR 15.403
5.402]
of some-
effects,direct or indirect, upon our senses;and to talk $3. SOME APPLTCATIONS
characters of wine, yet being in
thing as having all the ,.rrtibl. OF THE PRAGMATIC MAXIME
jargon. Now, it is not my object to
r.alty blood, is senseless 403. Let us illustrate this rule by someexamples;and, to
the theologicalqrr"rtiorr; and having used it as a logical
ilrr* theologian's begin with the simplestone possible,Iet us ask rvhat we mean
i."-pf. I drop itlwithout caring to anticipate.the by calling a thing hard. Evidently that it will not be scratched
I only desireto point out how impossible it is that we
;;iy: by many other substances.The whole conceptionof this qual-
minds which relates to anything but
st o.,ta haveln idea in our
of things. our idea of anything as our
conceivedsensibleeffects and that it takes place by virtue of man's capacity for learning, lttrrl by cxperi-
and if we fancy that we have any
idea of its sensibleeffects; ence continually pouring upon him ideas he has not yet ac<1uirc<l.Wc may say
sensation
other we deceive ourselves,and mistake a mere that it is the process whereby man, with all his miserable littlcncsscs, bccomes
for a part of the thought itself. .It gradually more and more imbued with the Spirit of God, in which Nitturc and
accompanyingthe thought
has any meaning- unrelated to its History are rife. We are also told to believe in a world to comc; lrtrt thc idea
is absurd to say that thJught
to is itself too vague to contribute much to the perspicuity of or<linrtry i<lcas. It
only function. It is foolish for catholics and Protestants is a common observation that those who dwell continually ulxrn tltcir cxpccta-
in disagreement about the elements of the
iurriy themselves tions are apt to become oblivious to the requirements of their :tt'tttitl station.
effects,
*u.ru*.rrt, if they agreein regard to all their sensible The great principle of logic is self-surrender, which does not mcan that sclf is
to lay low for the sake of an ultimate triumph. It may turtr ottt sol but that
here and* hereafter.t
must not be the governing purpose.
402.Itappears,then,thattheruleforattainingthethird When we come to study the great principle of continuity lst:cvol. (i, ltk. I, Ii.l
what
gradeof cleaines,oi uppr.h."-r1o" is as follows: consider and seehow all is fluid and every point directly partalics Ihc lrcitrgof cvt'ry ot hcr"
bearings,we
;ff;;;r, that{ might conceivably have practical it will appear that individualism and falsity arc onc anrl tltr: srttrtt'. r\lcttrlirnc,.
Then, our con-
conceivethe object of our conceptionto have. we know that man is not whole as long as he is singlc, thrrt ltc is t'sst:tttiitllya
of the
ception of these effectsis the whole of our conception possible member of society. Especially, one man's c.xpcrit'trct'is rrothirrg, if it
s t a n d s a l o n e . I f h e s e e sl g h a t o t h e r s c a n n o t , w e c a l l i t h r t l l r t c i n l l i o n . l l i s n o t
object.r,2'3 " m y " e x p e r i e n c eb, u t
t t o u r t t e x p e r i e n c et h a t h a s t o b e t h o t t g h l o f ; : r r t r ll l t i s " t t s "
* Originally "or." has indefinite possibilities.
Neither must we understand the practical in any low antl sor<iirlst'nsc. Intli-
t cf.541.
vidual action is a means and not our end. Individual plcasurc is ttot ottr cn<l;
f OriginallY "which'"
rLongadditionrefutingwhatcomesnext'_1903.[Thisseemstoreferto we are all putting our shoulders to the wheel for an en<l tltat ltottc of us citn
thefollowing,whichwaswrittentenyearsearlieronadifierentsheet.] catch more than a glimpse at - that which the generations arc worliitrg out.
it
2 Before we undertake to apply this rule, let us reflect a little upon what But we can see that the development of embodied ideas is rvhlt it rvill <'onsist
to be a sceptical and materialistic principle' But it in.- 1893.
implies. It has been said
of logic-which was recommended by 3 Note that in these three lines one finds, ttconceivablyrtt"t'<)ni'civt'," "('on-
is only an application of the sole priniiple t'Conception." Now I find there arc lrlarly
,,ye may know them by their iruits," and it is very intimately allied ception," "ConceptiOn," lltloJllt:rvho
Jesus;
guard ourselves against under- of my unsigned screeds;and I doulrt not thrtt onc .rf the
with the ideas of the gospei. we must certainly detect the authorship
rule in fo lndividualistic a sense. To say that man accomplishes marks of my style by which they do so is my inordinatc rclu<'turt<'c l() rcl)oitt a
standing this
are directed would be a cruel condem- word. This employment five times over of derivates of concipcrr rnttst tht'n hlrvc
nothing but that to which his endeavors
great bulk of mankind, who never have leisure to labor for any- had a purpose. In point of fact it had two. One was to show that I rvassircaking
nation of the 'l'hc
themselves and their families' But' without of meaning in no other sense than that of intellectual purporl. othcr tvtts to
thing but the necessitiesof life for
io, it, far less comprehending it, they perform all that civiliza- avoid all danger of being understood as attempting to explain a t'<>nccptby per-
directly striving
generation to ad'vance history another cepts, images, schemata, or by anything but concepts. I <lirl not, thcrcfore,
tion requir.,, u,.d b,i.,g forth u,'oth.,
fruit is, th"erefore, collective; it is the achievement of the whole mean to say that acts, which are more strictly singular than anything, could con-
step. Their
the whole people is about,-what is this civiliza- stitute the purport, or adequate proper interpretation, of itny symllol. I com-
p.opr". what is ii,'th"n, that
is the outcome of history, but is never completed? We cannot expect pared action to the finale of the symphony of thought, bclicf being a demi-
tion that
can see that it is a gradual process' cadence. Nobody conceives that the few bars at the enrl of a musical movement
to attain a complete conception oi it; brrt we
involves a realization of ideas in man's consciousnessand in his works' are the purposc of the movement. They rnay be callcd its upshot. But the figure
that it
258 259
 HOW TO MAKE OUR IDEAS CLEAR t5.403
5.403] PRAGMATISM AND PRAGMATICISM
perfectly soft until they are touched, when their hardness in-
ity, as of every other, lies in its conceivedeffects. There is creaseswith the pressure until they are scratched. Reflection
absolutely,ro diff.r.nce betweena hard thing and a soft thing will show that the reply is this: there would be no f alsity in
so long as they are not brought to the test. suppose,then, such modes of speech. They would involve a modification of
that a.-ctia*o.tdcouldbe crystallizedin the midst of a cushionof our present usage of speechwith regard to the words hard and
soft cotton, and shouldremain there until it was finally burned soft, but not of their meanings. For they represent no fact to
up. Would it be falseto say that that diamond was soft? This be different from what it is; only they involve arrangements
,..-, a foolish question,and would be so, in fact, exceptin the of facts which would be exceedingly maladroit.*
'I'his
leads us
realm of logic. There such questionsare often of the greatest to remark that the question of what would occur under cir-
utility as sJrving to bring logical principles into sharper relief cumstances which do not actually arise is not a qucstion of
than real discuttiottt ever could. In studying logic we must not fact, but only of the most perspicuous arrangcmcnt of them.
put them aside with hasty answers'but must consider them For example, the question of free-will and fatc in its simplest
*itt attentive care, in oider to make out the principles in- form, stripped of verbiage, is something like this: I have done
volved. we may, in the presentcase,modify our question,and something of which I am ashamed; could I, by an clfort of the
ask what pr.r.rit us from saying that all hard bodiesremain will, have resisted the temptation, and done othcrwisc? The
obviously would not bear detailed application. I only
mention it to show that philosophical reply is, that this is not a question of fact, but
expressed (Baldwin's Dictionary Article, Pragmotism) only of the arrangement of facts.t Arranging thcm so as to
the susplcion I myself
B] oft". u too hasty iereading of the forgotten magazine paper' that it exhibit what is particularly pertinent to n)y rlucstion -
lsee
philistine
a stoic, that is, a nominalistic, materialistic, and utterly namely, that I ought to blame myself for having rlonc wrong -
"*p.".r"d
state of thought, was quite mistaken'
apply to action it is perfectly true to say that, if I had willc<l to <lo othcrwise
No doubt, Pragmaticism [see 414] makes thought ultimately
exclusively - to conceived,action. But between admitting
that and either saying than I did, I should have done otherr"/isc. On thc othcr hand,
to consist in acts,
that it *uk., thought, in the senseof the purport of symbols, arranging the facts so as to exhibit another imlrortant consicler-
there is much the
or saying that the true ultimate purpose of thinking is action, ation, it is equally true that, when a temlttation hrrs oltcc been
there is between saying that the artist-painter's living art is
same difference as allowed to work, it will, if it has a certain forcc, lrro<luceits
that art-life consists in
applied to dabbing paint upon canvas, and saying that
paint. Pragmaticism makes effect, let me struggle h<lw I may. There is no <lbjcr:tion to a
dabbing paint, or that its ultimate aim is dabbing
thinkinglo consist in the living inferential metaboly of symbols
whose purport contradiction in what would result from a falsc suplxrsition.
for the ultimate purpose of 'lhe
lies in londitional general resolutions to act. As reductio ad,absurdum consists in showing that contrarlic-
human compre-
thought, which must be the purpose of everything, it is beyond tory results would follow from a hypothesis which is conse-
thought has made
hension; but according to the ,1age of approach which my quently judged to be false. Many questions arc involvc<l in the
mention Royce (in
to it - with aid from many persons, anlong whom I may
oJ the Sphinr) as well, by the free-will discussion, and I am far from desiring to say that both
hisWorld and.Ind.ipid.roi;, Schitter (in his Rid.d,tes
way, as the famous poet [Frieclrich schiller] (in his AesthetischeBriefe), Henry sides are equally right. On the contrary, I am of opinion that
the elder (in his Substance and' Shod.owand in his conversations), together one side denies important facts, and that the othcr docs not.
lames
- it is by the indefinite replication of self-control But what I do say is, that the above singlc qucstion rvas the
with Swedenborg himself
upon self-control that the air is begotten, and by action, through thought' he origin of the whole doubt; that, had it not bccn for this ques-
but as
g.o*. an esthetic ideal, not for the behoof of his own poor noddle merely,
him to have in the rvork of creation. tion, the controversy would never have ariscn; anrl that this
the rhare which God permits
and so experi- question is perfectly solved in the manner which I have
This ideal, by modiiying the rules of self-control modifies action,
too - both the man's own and that of others, and this centrifugal move- indicated.
ence
on; and the whole is 'l'his
ment thus rebounds in a new centripetal movement, and so Let us next seek a clear idea of Weight. is another very
what has been going on, we may presume, for a time in comparison with
a bit of * But see453,457.
is as the surface of an electron in comparison
which the sum of the geological ages
that of a planet.- From "consequences of Pragmaticism," 1906. i cf.339.
with
261
260
5.404] PRAGMATISM AND PRAGMATICISM HOW TO MAKE OUR IDEAS CLEAR 15.401
easy case. To say that a body is heavy meanssimply that, in when its beginning coincideswith that of the other path, the
the absenceof opposingforce, it will fall. This (neglectingcer- ends also coincide. Paths are considered as geometrically
tain specificationsof how it will fall, etc., which exist in the added together,when one beginswhere the other ends; thus
mind of the physicist who usesthe word) is evidently the whole
conceptionof weight. It is a fair question whether somepar-
ticular facts may not accountfor gravity; but what we mean
by the force itself is completelyinvolved in its effects.
404. This leadsus to undertake an account of the idea of
Force in general. This is the great conceptionwhich, developed
in the early part of the seventeenthcentury from the rude idea Fig. 3 Ifig. 4
of a cause,and constantly improved upon since,has shownus
how to explain all the changesof motion which bodiesexperi-
the path A Eis conceived to be a sum of. A B, B C, C D, and
ence,and how to think about all physical phenomena;which
D E. In the parallelogram of Fig. 4 the diagonal .21Cl is the
has given birth to modern science,and changedthe face of the
sum of A B and B C;or, since A D is geometrically equivalent
globe; and which, asidefrom its more specialuses,has played
to B C, A C is the geometrical sum of. A B and A D.
a principal part in directing the courseof modern thought, and
All this is purely conventional. It simply amounts to this:
in furthering modern social development. It is, therefore,
that we choose to call paths having the relations I havc de-
worth somepains to comprehendit. According to our rule, we
scribed equal or added. But, though it is a convcntion, it is a
must begin by asking what is the immediate use of thinking
convention with a good reason. The rule for gcomctrical arlcli-
about force;and the answeris, that we thus accountfor changes
tion may be applied not only to paths, but to any othcr things
of motion. If bodieswere left to themselves,without the inter-
which can be represented by paths. Now, as a ptth is tlcter-
vention of forces, every motion would continue unchanged
mined by the varying direction and distance of thc point which
both in velocity and in direction. Furthermore, change of
moves over it from the starting-point, it follows that anything
rnotion never takes place abruptly; if its direction is changed,
which from its beginning to its end is determincd by ervarying
it is alwaysthrough a curve without angles;if its velocity alters,
direction and a varying magnitude is capable of bcing repre-
it is by degrees. The gradual changeswhich are constantly
sented by a line. Accordin gly, ael,ocitiesmay be rcprcsentctl by
taking place are conceivedby geometersto be compounded 'I'hc
lines, for they have only directions and rates. sanrc thing
together accordingto the ruIes of the parallelogramof forces. 'I'his
is true of.accelerations,or changes of velocities. is cvidcnt
If the readerdoesnot already know what this is, he will find it,
enough in the case of velocities; and it becomcs cvi<lctrt for
I hope, to his advantage to endeavorto follow the following
accelerations if we consider that precisely what vclocitics are
explanation;but if mathematicsare insupportableto him, pray
to positions - namely, states of change of thcm - that itccel-
let him skip three paragraphsrather than that we shouldpart
erations are to velocities.
companyhere.
The so-called "parallelogram of forces" is simply a rule
A path is a line whosebeginningand end are distinguished.
for compounding accelerations. The rule is, to rcprcsent the
Two paths are consideredto be equivalent, which, beginning
accelerations by paths, and then to geometrically add the
at the samepoint, Ieadto the samepoint. Thus the two paths,
paths. The geometers, however, not only use thc " parallelo-
A B C D E and .4 F G H E (Fig. 3), are equivalent. Paths
gram of forces" to compound different accelerations, but also
which do not begin at the same point are consideredto be
to resolve one acceleration into a sum of sevcral. Let A B
equivalent, provided that, on moving either of them without
(FiS. 5) be the path which represents a certain acceleration -
turning it, but keepingit alwaysparallel to its original position,
263
262
5.4A4 PRAGMATISM AND PRAGMATICISM
sa,y,such a changein the motion of a body that at the end of
one secondthe body will, under the influenceof that change,
be in a position different from what it would have had if its
motion had continued un-
changedsuch that a path
equivalent to A B would
B lead from the latter posi-
tion to the former. This
acceleration may be con-
sidered as the sum of the
accelerationsrepresented
Fig. 5
bvACandCB. Itmav
also be consideredas the sum of the very different accelera-
tions representedby A D and D B, where A D is almost the
oppositeof.A C. And it is clear that there is an immense
variety of ways in which A B might be resolvedinto the sum
of two accelerations.
After this tedious explanation,which I hope, in view of the
extraordinary interest of the conceptionof force,r&y not have
exhaustedthe reader's patience, we are prepared at last to
state the grand fact which this conception embodies. This
fact is that if the actual changesof motion which the different
particles of bodies experienceare each resolvedin its appro-
priate w&y, eachcomponentaccelerationis preciselysuch as is
prescribed by a certain law of Nature, according to which
bodies, in the relative positionswhich the bodies in question
actually have at the moment,l always receivecertain accelera-
tions, which, being compoundedby geometricaladdition, give
the accelerationwhich the body actually experiences.
This is the only fact which the idea of force represents,and
whoever will take the trouble clearly to apprehendwhat this
fact is, perfectly comprehendswhat forceis. Whether we ought
to say that a force asan acceleration,or that it causesan accel-
eration, is a mere questionof propriety of language,which has
no moreto dowith our real meaningthan the differencebetween
the French idiom "Il Taitflroid" and its trnglish equivalent " It
is cold." Yet it is surprising to seehow this simple affair has
muddledmen's minds. In how many profound treatisesis not
force spokenof as a "mysterious entity," which seemsto be
I Possibly the velocities also have to be taken into account.
264
HOW TO MAKE OUR IDEAS CLEAR t5.405
only a way of confessingthat the author despairs of ever get-
ting a clear notion of what the word means ! In a recent ad-
mired work on Analytic Mechanics* it is stated that we under-
stand precisely the effect of force, but what force itself is we do
not understand ! This is simply a self-contradiction. The idea
which the word force excites in our minds has no other function
than to affect our actions, and these actions can have no refer-
ence to force otherwise than through its effects. Consequently,
if we know what the effectsof force are, we are acquainted with
every fact which is implied in saying that a force cxists, and
there is nothing more to know. The truth is, thcrc is some
vague notion afloat that a question may mean something
which the mind cannot conceive; and when some hair-splitting
philosophers have been confronted with the absurdity of such
a view, they have invented an empty distinction betwcen posi-
tive and negative conceptions, in the attempt to give their
non-idea a form not obviously nonsensical. Thc nullity of it is
sufficiently plain from the considerations given a fcw p&ges
back; and, apart from those considerations, the quibbling char-
acter of the distinction must have struck cvcrv mincl accus-
tomed to real thinking.
$4. REALITYE
405. Let us now approach the subject of logic, anrl con-
sider a conception which particularly concerns it, that of rcol-
ity. Taking clearnessin the senseof familiarity, no irlea could
be clearer than this. Every child usesit with perfect conliclcnce,
never dreaming that he does not understand it. As for clcar-
ness in its second grade, however, it would probably puzzle
most men, even among those of a reflective turn of minrl, to
give an abstract definition of the real. Yet such a <lclinition
may perhaps be reached by considering the points of cliffcrence
between reality and its opposite, fiction. A figment is a product
of somebody's imagination; it has such characters as his
thought impresses upon it. That those characters are inde-
pendent of how you or I think is an external reality. 'I'here
are, however, phenomena within our own minds, dependent
upon our thought, which are at the same time real in the sense
that we really think them. But though their characters de-
pend on how we think, they do not depend on what we think
*Kirchhofi's
Vorlesungeniiber math. Physik,Bd. f, Vorrede.
265
5.406] PRAGMATISM AND PRAGN{ATICISM
those charactersto be. Thus, a dream has a real existenceas a
mental phenomenon,if somebodyhas really dreamt it; that he
dreamt so and so, does not depend on what anybody thinks
was dreamt, but is completelyindependentof all opinion on the
subject. On the other hand,considering,not the fact of dream-
ing, but the thing dreamt,it retainsits peculiaritiesby virtue of
no other fact than that it was dreamt to possessthem. Thus
we may definethe real as that whosecharactersare independ-
ent of what anybody may think them to be.
406. But, however satisfactory such a definition may be
found, it would be a great mistake to supposethat it makesthe
idea of reality perfectly clear. Here, then, let us apply our
rules. According to them, reality, like every other quality,
consistsin the peculiar sensibleefiectswhich things partaking
of it produce. The only eflect which real things have is to
causebelief,for all the sensationswhich they exciteemergeinto
consciousness in the form of beliefs. The question therefore
is, how is true belief (or belief in the real) distinguishedfrom
false belief (or belief in fiction). Now, as we have seenin the
former paper,* the ideas of truth and falsehood,in their full
development,appertainexclusivelyto the experientialtmethod
of settling opinion. A personwho arbitrarily choosesthe prop-
ositions which he will adopt can use the word truth only to
emphasizethe expressionof his determination to hold on to
his choice. Of course,the method of tenacityf never prevailed
exclusively;reasonis too natural to men for that. But in the
literature of the dark ageswe find some fine examplesof it.
When ScotusErigena is commentingupon a poetical passage
in which helleboreis spokenof as having causedthe death of
Socrates,he does not hesitate to inform the inquiring reader
that Helleborus and Socrateswere two eminent Greek phi-
losophers,and that the latter, having beenovercomein argu-
ment by the former, took the matter to heart and died of it!
What sort of an idea of truth could a man have who could
adopt and teach, without the qualification of a perhaps, an
opinion taken so entirely at random? The real spirit of Soc-
rates, who I hope would have been delighted to have been
* In 385.
f Originaily "scientific.'f
I See377f.
266
HO\,V TO IVIAKE OUR IDEAS CLEAR i5.406
"overcome in argument," because he would have learned
something by it, is in curious contrast with the naive idea of the
glossist, for whom (as for "the born missionary" of today)*
discussion would seem to have been simply a struggle. When
philosophy began to awake from its long slumber, and before
theology compietely dominated it, the practice seems to have
been for each professor to seize upon any philosophical posi-
tion he found unoccupied and which seemed a strong one, to
intrench himself in it, and to sally forth from time to time to
give battle to the others. Thus, even the scanty rccords we
possessof those disputes enable us to make out a <lozcnor more
opinions held by different teachers at one time concerning the
question of nominalism and realism. Read the opcning part of
the Hi,storia Calam'i,tatum of Abelard,t who was ccrtainly as
philosophical as any of his contemporaries, and scc the spirit of
combat which it breathes. For him, the truth is simply his
particular stronghold. When the method of authorityl p."-
vailed, the truth meant little more than thc Catholic faith.
All the efforts of the scholastic doctors are dircctcrl toward
harmonizing their faith in Aristotle and thcir faith in the
Church, and one may search their ponderous folios through
without finding an argument which goes any furthcr. It is
noticeable that where different faiths flourish sirlc by side,
renegades are looked upon with contempt cvcn by the party
rvhose belief they adopt; so completely has the iclea of loyalty
replaced that of truth-seeking. Since the timc of Descartes,
the defect in the conception of truth has becn lcss apparent.
Still, it will sometimes strike a scientific man that the philoso-
phers have been less intent on finding out what thc facts are,
than on inquiring what belief is most in herrmony with their
system. It is hard to convince a follower of thc u priori method
by adducing facts; but show him that an opinion hc is defend-
ing is inconsistent with what he has laid clown clsewhere, and
he will be very apt to retract it. These mincls rkr not seem to
believe that disputation is ever to cease; thcy scern to think
that the opinion which is natural for one miul is not so for
another, and that belief will, consequently, never be settled.
* The parenthetized phrase was not in the original.
I Patrologi.caLotina, vol. 178, p. 114 et seq., (1885).
* See 379f.
267
5.407) PRAGMATISM AND PRAGMATICISM
fn contenting themselveswith fixing their own opinions by a
method which would lead another man to a different result,
they betray their feeblehold of the conceptionof what truth is.
407. On the other hand, all the followers of scienceare
animatedby u cheerfulhope* that the processes of investiga-
tion, if only pushedfar enough,will give onecertainsolutionto
eacht questionto which they apply itf . One man may investi-
gate the velocity of light by studying the transits of Venus and
the aberrationof the stars;anotherby the oppositionsof Mars
and the eclipsesof Jupiter's satellites;a third by the method of
Fizeau;a fourth by that of Foucault; a flfth by the motionsof
the curvesof Lissajoux; a sixth, a seventh,an eighth, and a
ninth, may follow the different methods of comparing the
measuresof statical and dynamical electricity. They may at
first obtain different results,but, as eachperfectshis method
and his processes,the results are found to move$ steadily
together toward a destinedcentre. So with all scientificre-
search.Different mindsmay setout with the most antagonistic
views,but the progressof investigationcarriesthem by a force
outside of themselvesto one and the same conclusion. This
activity of thought by which we are carried,not wherewe wish,
but to a fore-ordainedgoal,is like the operationof destiny. No
modificationof the point of view taken, no selectionof other
factsfor study, no natural bent of mind even,can enablea man
to escapethe predestinateopinion. This great hopeJfis em-
bodied in the conceptionof truth and reality. The opinion
which is fatedl to be ultimately agreedto by all who investigate,
is what we mean by the truth, and the object representedin
this opinionis the real. That is the way I would explainreality.
408. But it may be said that this view is directly opposed
to the abstract definition which we have given of reality, inas-
much as it makes the charactersof the real dependon what is
*
"are. . . hope" originally "are fully persuaded."
t Originally "every."
* "apply it" originally "can be applied." . that, though in no possible state of knowledge can any number
$ "are . . . move" originally "will move."
t[ Originally "law."
r Fate means merely that which is sure to come true, and can nohow be
avoided. It is a superstition to suppose that a certain sort of events are ever
fated, and it is another to suppose that the word fate can never be freed from its
superstitious taint. We are all fated to die.
268
HOW TO MAKE OUR IDEAS CLEAR t5.409
ultimately thought about them. But the answer to this is
that, on the one hand, reality is independent, not necessarily
of thought in general, but only of what you or I or any finite
number of men may think about it; and that, on the other
hand, though the object of the final opinion depends on what
that opinion is, yet what that opinion is does not depend on
what you or I or any man thinks. Our perversity and that of
others may indeflnitely postpone the settlement of opinion; it
might even conceivably cause an arbitrary proposition to be
universally accepted as long as the human race should last.
Yet even that would not change the nature of the belicf, which
alone could be the result of investigation carriecl sulliciently
far; and if, after fhe extinction of our race, anothcr should arise
with faculties and disposition for investigation, that true
opinion must be the one which they would ultimatcly come to.
"Truth crushed to earth shall rise again," an{l the opinion
which would finally result from investigation does not depend
on how anybody may actually think. But the reality of that
which is real does depend on the real fact that investigation is
destined to lead, at last, if continued long enough, to a l-rclief
in it.
409. But I may be asked what I havc to say to all the
minute facts of history, forgotten never to bc rccovcrc(I, to the
Iost books of the ancients, to the buried secrcts.
"Full many a gem of purest ray serene
The dark, unfathomed caves of ocean bcar;
Full many a flower is born to blush unscen,
And waste its sweetnesson the desert air."
Do these things not really exist because thcy are hopclcssly
beyond the reach of our knowledge? And then, aftcr thc uni-
verse is dead (according to the prediction of somc scicntists),
and all life has ceasedforever, will not the shock of atoms con-
'Ib
tinue though there will be no mind to know it? this I rcpll'
be great enough to expressthe relation betwcctt thc amount of
what rests unknown to the amount of the known, yet it is
unphilosophical to suppose that, with regard to any given ques-
tion (which has any clear meaning), investigation would not
bring forth a solution of it, if it were carried far enough. Who
269
5.410] PRAGMATISM AND PRAGMATICIS},I HOW TO }fAI(E OUR IDEAS CLEAR t5.410
would have said, a few years ago, that we could ever know of know that in the matter of ideasthe public prefer the cheap
what substances stars are made whose light may have been and nasty; and in my next paper* I am going to return to the
longer in reaching us than the human race has existed? Who easily intelligible, and not wander from it again. The reader
can be sure of rvhat we shall not know in a few hundred years? who has beenat the pains of wading through this paper, shall
Who can guess what would be the result of continuing the pur- be rewarded in the next one by seeinghow beautifully what
suit of sciencefor ten thousand years, with the activity of the has been developedin this tedious way can be applied to the
last hundred? And if it were to go on for a million, or a billion, ascertainmentof the rules of scientificreasoning.
or any number of years you please, how is it possible to say We have, hitherto, not crossedthe threshold of scientific
that there is any question which might not ultimately be logic. rt is certainly important to know how to make our ideas
solved? clear,but they may be ever so clearwithout being true. How
But it mav be objected, "Why make so much of these remote to make them so, we have next to study. How to give birth to
considerations, especially when it is your principle that only those vital and procreative ideas which multiply into a thou-
practical distinctions have a meaning?" Well, I must confess sand forms and diffuse themselves everywhere,advancing
that it makes very little difference whether we say that a stone civilization and making the dignity of man, is an art not yet
on the bottom of the ocean, in complete darkness, is brilliant reducedto rules,but of the secretof which the historvof science
or not - that is to say, that it probably makes no difference, affords somehints.
remembering always that that ston e rnorybe flshed up tomor-
row. But that there are gems at the bottom of the sea, florvers
in the untraveled desert, etc., are propositions which, like that
about a diamond being hard when it is not pressed, concern
much more the arrangement of our language than they do the
meaning of our ideas.
410. It seemsto me, however, that we have, by the appli-
cation of our rule, reached so clear an apprehension of what we
mean by reality, and of the fact which the idea rests on, that
we should not, perhaps, be making a pretension so presumptu-
ous as it would be singular, if we were to offer a metaphysical
theory of existence for universal acceptance among those who
employ the scientific method of fixing belief. However, as
metaphysics is a subject much more curious than useful, the
knowledge of which, like that of a sunken reef, serves chiefly
to enable us to keep clear of it, I will not trouble the reader with
any more Ontology at this moment. I have already been led
much further into that path than I should have desired; and I
have given the reader such a dose of mathematics, psychology,
and all that is most abstruse, that I fear he may already have
left me, and that what I am now writing is for the compositor
and proof-reader exclusively. I trusted to the importance of
the subject. There is no royal road to logic, and really valuable
* Seevol.2, bk. III, ch.6.
ideas can onlv be had at the price of close attention. But I
270 271