PART FOUR

ERRORS
TO WHICH HUMAN KNOWLEDGE
IS SUBJECT

CHAPTER 2

The nature of human errors

1247. A discussion about the cause of errors can easily be substituted for a discussion about their nature. In fact, when we have described the nature of error, how it comes about, and in what it consists, we seem to have found its cause as well. This happens because, in order to describe the nature of error and how it comes about, we must also describe the act by which our understanding falls into error. It is this act, we are told, that is precisely the cause of error.

All this is indeed true, but the act is the proximate, not the final cause moving our understanding to perform the operation with which it produces error for itself. Error consists in a mistaken act of the understanding. The nature of error, the way it comes about, and even its proximate cause, are in the act of the understanding. But what moves the understanding to this act? This question differs from the first; we want to know the first cause which inclines and stimulates human beings to error. Because both causes, the proximate and the remote, are intimately bound together, we will first say a word about the proximate cause, in which the nature of error consists, and then investigate the less proximate or remote cause, which is the true, efficient cause of our errors.

1248. To say that the senses deceive, and to attribute errors to the imagination is inexact and false, as we said.
In order to be true, such expressions have to mean that the senses and imagination simply furnish the matter and occasion of error. A square tower seen from a distance appears to be round, but our eye does not tell us the tower is round; it only tells us that the term of our sensation is a round, felt experience (or rather it has a round, felt experience - it does not tell us this). The understanding adds its judgment and concludes from the round, felt experience that it sees a round tower. It is the understanding that deceives itself; the intellect judges as probable or certain the rich reward vividly presented by the imagination. The vividness of the image is real, but the understanding errs in deducing probability or certainty from it.
Everyone knows this truth, but writers have never been willing to abandon equivocal expressions about errors of the senses, the imagination, etc., in order to state that only the occasion of the deceptions is in the senses and imagination.(159)

1249. Only the understanding is subject to error (cf. vol. 1, 124). If we wish to know which particular function of the understanding is subject to error, we quickly see that it is the judgment. Error is a deficiency(160) in our judgments by which we assert what is false rather than what is true.

But the first judgments, that is, our perceptions, together with the ideas we draw from them (which the ancient writers called simple apprehensions) are immune from error. These first actions are carried out by our intelligent nature, which does not err (cf. 1213 ss.).
The seat of error therefore lies in the judgments made by our reason after our perceptions of things; and in these judgments two objects are always united.(161)

1250. The union of two objects can be called a synthesis. Hence we could reduce the general formula for errors to the following: 'Error always consists in a badly made synthesis of objects.'

1251. One of the two objects is subject of the judgment, the other predicate. Thus every error consists in the wrong union of a predicate and subject. We err either by 1. matching a predicate to a subject to which the predicate does not belong, or 2. denying a predicate to a subject to which the predicate does belong. Matching a predicate to a subject is a kind of union; denying a predicate, a kind of mental division. Hence, ancient writers said that the understanding is subject to error only when it unites or divides.(162)

1252. We can give a general meaning to a word,(163) or a meaning different from that given it by common use. But unless we first define its meaning and say that we are using it not as an accepted, current sign, but as an arbitrary sign of some idea of our own, we infallibly lead ourselves and others into error. We then have to take great care throughout our discourse to keep to the given definition of the word. We must not revert to the normal use, to which we are drawn continually by the practice and example of others.

1253. Sometimes, however, we do not change the meaning of words advertently and intentionally. We unconsciously use them in a more or less general sense, or differently from the meaning they have, so that error enters unnoticed into our discourses.

In fact we cannot always keep to the new meaning we improperly gave the word at the beginning. From time to time, as our discourse advances, we slip back into the common meaning of the word and come close to normal speech. Even if we were able to keep to the false meaning which we have given inadvertently or as a result of some bias (something totally impossible), other people would certainly not understand us. We would intend the meaning that we had assigned the word, while they would understand the meaning given by common use. This kind of misunderstanding is the source of infinite controversies among educated people.

1254. Analysing the error we have described, we find it consists in making two objects out of one. Any misused word signifies two things: 1. the meaning fixed for it by use (which has not been withdrawn by some particular declaration, nor can be withdrawn without such a declaration); and 2. the meaning given by the speaker, who applies his own words to the object thought by him as expressed in the word. At this point, there are good grounds for confusing two essences, two objects, by attributing to one object what belongs to the other. This at least is how the listener certainly understands it.

1255. Two classes of error can be found in the fact we have described. The speaker, if he intends to speak about one object but expresses another through the word he uses, errs by attributing the definition of one thing to another.
If, on the other hand, he mistakenly takes the word first in one sense and then in another, he makes one object out of two, grotesquely uniting in one single ens parts of both objects. Thus, for example, reason may first be predicated of an object. Later some quality attributable only to brute animals (such as the necessity of following instinct alone) may be predicated of the same object. Rousseau did this when he made the phrase 'state of nature' (that is, human nature) mean 'state natural to animals' (perhaps as a satire on his time, or to express his own profound sadness), and concluded that a wild, bestial life was more fitting for human nature.

1256. Antiquity had said that the understanding, when coming to know the being of things, is subject per accidens to error. As a result of careful analysis, we can see that these errors originate from a wrong use of language. When language is used incorrectly, it multiplies and mixes entia, producing a genuine, intellectual synthesis.(164)

1257. Error comes about in an act of the spirit posterior to perceptions and first ideas. Perceptions, like all actions in which the understanding does not err (cf. 1246), necessarily happen in us. This is a fact of intelligent nature, and intelligent nature does not err.(165) We therefore either have or do not have perceptions, but when we have them, we are never mistaken. This is also true of the ideas of things contained in perceptions.

1258. I must however explain more carefully the two kinds of knowledge, direct and reflective, already mentioned many times. I do this because our purpose is to know the intellectual acts in which error consists.
We saw that when we come into this world, void of all ideas of things, we are affected by sensations, which leave some phenomena in our phantasy (images). Our understanding has perceptions from these sensations, and by means of the images has ideas, as I have explained.(166)

The understanding forms perceptions and the ideas posterior to perceptions in a natural, instinctive way. Hence, because nature does not err, the understanding is not subject to error (cf. 1257).
These first, unwilled acts of knowledge however must be distinguished from subsequent, willed acts. The former make up direct knowledge, the second, reflective knowledge.

1259. The greatest philosophers were always aware of the distinction between these two kinds of human acts of knowledge. Only sensist philosophy lost sight of such an important distinction in the tradition of knowledge.
Direct knowledge is purely synthetical, whereas reflective knowledge is also analytical. By reflection we turn back upon what we have first directly perceived; we analyse it and break it down, considering each part. When we have broken it down, we recompose it as we want. In perception, on the contrary, we fully grasp the whole thing with a simple act, as if it were a simple object. In this first intellectual apprehension we do not distinguish anything in particular about the thing.

The nature of our intelligence is limited by the law that 'it needs multiple acts to distinguish multiple things, nor can it distinguish one thing from another without negation which follows affirmation'. We first perceive the whole thing, and then analyse it by means of subsequent reflection. Considering things in their parts gives us new insights; on the other hand, the first, all-encompassing perception appears confused and im-perfect.(167) This explains why the first perception escapes the observation of those who do not attentively consider how the fact of thought originates in their consciousness.

1260. Aristotle clearly noted the nature of this part of direct knowledge relative to the ideas or intuitions of essences. According to him, the intellective act which he calls intelligence consists of this knowledge. Moreover, he knew that the object intuited by this act is presented in its totality, without division between one part and another, so that in this first apprehension the object is simple and indivisible. He also noted that this first apprehension comes about by a spontaneous movement of nature, and is immune from error.(168)

St. Thomas, following the same path, distinguishes two kinds of knowledge. The first is that of indivisibles where there is no error (this is the direct knowledge of essences under discussion). The second is that of things divided or composed by the understanding (this is reflective knowledge). In this knowledge, the understanding reflects on its first perceptions or ideas, analysing and breaking them down. It is precisely in these operations that error arises.

According to St. Thomas, the first thing apprehended by the understanding is the essences of things.(169) These essences correspond to the first ideas, that is, to the ideas contained in the intellective perceptions. Reflection follows and, as it analyses these ideas of things, notes and distinguishes in each part its different properties. This operation adds nothing to first, direct knowledge except greater light, making us note what was first contained in direct knowledge. It has been said rightly therefore that the essence of things (ideas) is the proper object of the intellect; pure reflection produces no new object but only examines and acknowledges the object already apprehended.

1261. For this reason, reflective knowledge is more an acknowledgement than an act of knowledge. As Tertullian most fittingly said: Nos definimus Deum primum natura COGNOSCENDUM* , deinde doctrina RECOGNOSCENDUM [We define that God is first naturally KNOWN and then doctrinally ACKNOWLEDGED]'.(170) Here we see how well this ancient writer of the Church had noticed that human beings, after knowing things by a first, natural intellection, turn in upon themselves and by reflection acknowledge and analyse the same things, giving them distinction and clarity - the form taken by teaching and every branch of knowledge. Averroes was of the same opinion: he distinguished two kinds of acts of knowledge, one 'according to the way of information', the other 'according to the way of verification'.

1262. We have seen that according to St. Thomas the essences or ideas of things belong to direct knowledge, and that these essences or ideas are the principles of the branches of knowledge dealing with the same things. Direct knowledge therefore is the germ, rule and criterion of reflective knowledge. Reflection refers to perception or direct apprehension as the norm and exemplar, to which it must adapt itself if it is to be true. In this respect, Epicurus himself distinguished direct from reflective knowledge.

His preconceptions (prol-yeiv) are well known. They are simply Aristotle's indivisibles, St. Thomas' essences, Tertullian's act of knowledge, and Averroes' formation-knowledge. In a word all these expressions are names given to first, direct knowledge according to the various aspects under which it was considered by different thinkers at different times. Epicurus placed the principles of reasoning in preconceptions; without these we could not investigate, doubt, decide or name anything, nor make an act of reflection. Reflection always turns back on that which is first found in the mind. It does not add to, but analyses, acknowledges and verifies. Thus, by virtue of nature, it is necessary that we receive intellective perceptions without our knowledge or will so that by an act of will we can move our understanding to think about perceptions and ideas. This second operation is more commonly noticed; the spontaneous, first operation eludes our observation. This explains why in common speech the word 'reflect' is used to express any operation whatsoever of the mind. We reduce every use of the intellective faculty to reflection.

1263. I have mentioned these authorities so that the distinction between direct and reflective knowledge may be firmly understood and considered under its different aspects. Such a distinction, which so many illustrious men have noted and considered as the necessary foundation of human cognitions, cannot be thought meaningless. It is truly necessary for knowing the nature and cause of error. Because error is found only in reflective knowledge, we need to know what reflective knowledge is, and not confuse it with the first kind of knowledge. Only in this way can we penetrate the nature, seat and origin of error. And in order to do this, it will be helpful if I say a few words about the distinction between popular and philosophical knowledge, which must not be confused with the distinction between direct and reflective knowledge

1264. Direct knowledge consists in intellective perceptions and in ideas separated from perceptions. Reflection, stimulated by language, is then immediately activated, and in its first stages notes the immediate and quasi-immediate relationships of things perceived and apprehended. This first operation of reflection does not analyse the individual ideas and perceptions of things.(171) It leaves them complete, as they are when first acquired, and contemplates them together. This is a synthetical operation, of which every human being is capable. Hence it constitutes principally, if not totally, common, popular knowledge.

1265. Philosophical knowledge begins with the analysis of individual objects. When we submit the things we have perceived to analysis, we acquire a marvellous light, which makes the teaching of great thinkers so wonderful. Analysis can be considered as the point of departure of philosophy. Using it as our starting point we can confirm the important relationships between beings observed as it were intuitively by the great mass of human beings.

1266. Thus, popular knowledge lies between purely direct knowledge and philosophical knowledge. It starts from a first reflection, whereas philosophical knowledge comes about by means of a second reflection.(172) Although the strong first reflection of popular knowledge discovers new, immediate relationships, it does not add any new matter to knowledge. Further reflections make known the relationships between preceding acts of knowledge.

1267. Direct knowledge is free from error. This is not wholly true of popular knowledge, because it is partly produced by reflection (we ignore the role of imagination). Philosophical knowledge, however, is even more subject to error than other kinds, because it originates from more remote reflection.

1268. Those who confuse direct with popular knowledge bestow infallibility on people, because they attribute to popular knowledge what can only be predicated of direct knowledge. Entire nations, the whole of humanity in fact, is alas subject to error. We read: 'Every man is a liar';(173) and: 'They are all gone aside, they are become unprofitable together; there is none that doth good, no, not one.'(174) Thus, while the masses, from whom errors originated, were absolved, the philosophers, to whom all errors were attributed, considered themselves unjustly treated and accused their adversaries of popular prejudices.

1269. The passage of Tertullian quoted above rightly indicates that reflection is an operation different from simple knowledge. I used the passage for this reason. An examination of the kind of reflection he is discussing shows that he is not opposing philosophical, learned reflection to purely direct knowledge, but to popular knowledge. On earth our knowledge of God is not direct knowledge, because God is perceived reflectively, not directly; we perceive him with that first reflection which generates the popular knowledge that consists in noting the relationships of things perceived. But, as I have said, our idea of God is of an ens who is principle and cause of the universe.

Elsewhere Tertullian distinguishes popular from philosophical knowledge. In fact the whole of his book, Testimony of the Soul, is an attempt to establish this distinction. He tries to show how the soul with its first reflections rises naturally to the sound teachings of the Christian faith. He notes how invocations such as 'God help me!', 'Immortal God', 'God knows and sees', etc., are often heard on the lips of all human beings. And after mentioning these forms of expression, he adds:

Everybody considers such movements of the soul to be the teaching of nature and a silent hymn of our connatural or innate consciousness. Our soul certainly existed before literature, speech before books, feeling before style, and the human being before the philosopher and poet. Do we really think that human beings were mute, and never uttered a syllable before the spread of writing? The soul certainly did not learn from philosophy or literature, or from books or study. Despite its simplicity and lack of polish, despite its ignorance of higher education and learning, the soul knew these basic things without being taught except by nature.
Few other passages could be found in antiquity that express so well the distinction between popular and philosophical knowledge.

1270. The very ancient distinction between direct and reflective knowledge has appeared again in modern times, but, as so easily happens, direct knowledge has been confused with popular knowledge which springs from initial reflection on things directly perceived. This first reflection sees things as a whole, and encompasses them all with their relationships in one great unity. It was very easy therefore for such first reflection to be confused with the direct act of intelligence. The direct act is undemonstrative and unobserved; the first reflection is resplendent and, like a crowd, vociferous. Let me quote a passage from an eloquent philosopher in which he expertly leads his readers to observe direct knowledge (which per se is so elusive) and to separate it from reflective knowledge:

You want to think, and you think. But don't you sometimes find yourself thinking without having wished to think? Return directly to the first fact of your intelligence, because your intelligence must have had its first fact, a phenomenon in which it revealed itself for the first time. Before this first fact you did not exist for yourselves, or if you did exist for yourselves, you did not know that you were an existence which could develop; your intelligence was not yet developed. Intelligence reveals itself only through its acts, or at least one act, and prior to this act you were not capable of suspecting its presence; you were absolutely ignorant of it. Clearly then, when your intelligence revealed itself for the first time, it did not do so by force of your will. But it did manifest itself, and in some way you were vividly aware of this manifestation.
Try to surprise yourselves thinking, without having wanted to think. You will find yourselves where your intelligence started, and you will be able to see even now with some degree of precision what happened or had to happen in that first fact of your intelligence, although it no longer exists or can return. To think is to affirm.(175) The first affirmation, in which the will, and consequently reflection, has played no part, cannot be an affirmation mixed with negation, because we never start with a negation. Our starting point is an affirmation without negation, an instinctive perception of truth,(176) a wholly instinctive development(177) of thought. Your thought develops, whether you intervene or not, because the power proper to thought is to think.(178) The power is an affirmation, therefore, a pure affirmation and apperception, unmixed with negation.
In this first intuition we find everything that will later be present in reflection, but at the moment is present under other conditions. We do not begin by looking for ourselves, because that would presuppose that we know our own existence.

But on a certain day, at a certain hour and moment - a solemn moment in our existence - we discover ourselves without any searching. Thought, in its instinctive development, discovers that we are. We affirm ourselves with a profound certainty unmixed with any negation whatsoever. We perceive ourselves, but do not discern with total clarity of reflection our proper characteristic of being limited. We do not distinguish ourselves with total precision from the world, and we do not distinctly identify the characteristics of the world: we find ourselves and we find the world. We also perceive 'something other', to which naturally and instinctively we relate ourselves and the world. We distinguish all this, but without any strict separation. Thus, our intelligence, in its development, perceives everything but not at first in a reflective, distinct, negative way. If our intelligence perceives everything with a perfect certainty, it does so in a confused way.(179)

1271. Throughout this extract the author seems intent on distinguishing direct first knowledge from reflective knowledge. Only a few sentences show a confusion between direct knowledge and popular, first-reflection knowledge;(180) the confusion is more evident in what follows the extract. Because the distinction and clear indication of the limits of direct knowledge, which alone is free from error, is of the highest importance, I consider it helpful to indicate the particular characteristic which enables us to distinguish securely between direct and popular knowledge.

First, the objects of direct knowledge are more particular than those of popular knowledge, which is a first reflection on what we have perceived. The act of reflection has of its nature a wider field than that of perception or of acts submitted to reflection in general. In fact, we perceive things either one at a time(181) or several together - when, for instance, we perceive simultaneously with eyes trained for the purpose on a whole panorama of things at a suitable distance. But even though we see all this at once, we still change the scene when we move; we can continually see and perceive new things. However, no matter how complex and multiple our actual perception may be, it cannot be extended to perceive past or future things, that is, things that are not actually present. Our perceptions succeed one another, and in doing so continually fade away.

But if the actual perception fades, its memory remains; all that we have perceived at any time is preserved in the deposit of memory. When we reflect, our gaze turns back over the entire treasure of information stored in our memory and even on consciousness itself. Times past, together with times present, are lined up before reflection, which embraces and comprehends them all. Other reflections and partial visions replace this universal gaze, and we have the real beginning of that analysis by which popular knowledge imperceptibly becomes philosophical knowledge.

1272. These characteristics of particularity in direct knowledge and of generality in popular knowledge mean that popular knowledge is better suited than direct knowledge to produce a sublime feeling in us.

A sublime feeling is always produced by a lively presentation of things whether it is dependent on their number or outstanding quality. The presentation increases in vivacity in proportion to its novelty and to the extent that human beings are endowed with a powerful, pristine imagination, which are factors present and united in the first infancy of mankind. This fact explains the noble characteristics of the ancient poets: their basic, popular knowledge and their language, which delights us by its universality, grandeur, confidence, simplicity and enthusiasm.(182)

The first reflection of human beings 1. is lively precisely because phantasy is still fresh and vivacious, as it is in the youth of individuals, of nations and of humankind; 2. is new precisely because it is first reflection, discovering the relationships of things with a kind of creative inventiveness; 3. is sublime because it is necessarily concerned with relationships between the most important and necessary things, and indicates(183) invisible entia such as a cause, a God; 4. is vast because it has not yet learnt to halt before particular things and their minute parts where there is nothing to hold its attention, but gazes around once more, ranging eagerly over everything to which, still unsatisfied, it adds the infinite.

1273. Our author attributes enthusiasm to spontaneous, not reflective knowledge. He does so because he has failed to observe that enthusiasm cannot come from direct knowledge, no matter how spontaneous, but only from first and from final reflection. It arises from first reflection for the reasons I have given; one example is the excitement of deaf-mutes when they come to know the existence of God for the first time.(184) It arises from final reflection because when we have analysed, separated and detailed everything, and turned from our necessarily paltry, frigid considerations, we gradually put everything together again to find ourselves, after our long, exhausting journey, back where we had started. Once more we are at home with what is great, sublime and 'all' - but an 'all' now enriched with infinite clarity and light [App., no. 14].

1274. First human knowledge is direct, and cannot be otherwise. It is stimulated by an instinct to satisfy our needs, and occasioned by sensations and images of external things.
Second knowledge is reflective, and pertains to first reflection. I have called it popular knowledge because it is common to all human beings. The only means for carrying out this first reflection is language received from society (cf. vol. 2, 514 ss.).

So far we have produced no analysis, or virtually no analysis; knowledge is eminently compact. Analysis initiates philosophical knowledge with a second or at least higher reflection. When we have somewhat confusedly embraced the whole, we want to recognise and elucidate what we know so that we can have clearer and more distinct knowledge. Hence we begin by analysing the parts and in so doing take the first steps towards philosophical knowledge.

1275. The philosopher therefore comes from the general mass of people, but at first necessarily retains something of the general mass. Analysis is an art, and like all arts, it is not known perfectly from the beginning. Hence philosophy begins with an imperfect analysis. But analysis perfects itself, and philosophy becomes more canny as it passes through a series of innumerable errors which sometimes humiliate, and at other times completely discourage and debase the human being.

Philosophy therefore starts from the masses. Later, when it realises that excessive confidence and facile explanation of the facts of nature lead it into gross errors, it seeks more subtle explanations and ingenious hypotheses, disdaining and distancing itself from the masses, and assuming a more serious and singular attitude. It declares itself content with few judgments, and from being popular becomes erudite, with erudite errors, because it never masters any particular truth without first giving countless demonstrations of human fallaciousness (cf. vol. 2, 29-34).
As soon as philosophy has enriched itself with particular truths recognised by means of reflection and elucidated by analysis, it begins to recompose these truths into a whole, and, as we have said, returns to a synthesis which simply confirms the first, popular synthesis with the additional great light of its witness.

1276. Which, among all these kinds of knowledge, is the seat of error?
Direct knowledge is immune from error because it is a function of nature.
Popular knowledge starts as a function of the will, and it is here that error begins.

However, because popular knowledge is limited, it is less subject to error than philosophical knowledge. Popular knowledge, consisting of a first reflection with which the important relationships of things are observed and grasped, embraces the totality of things, not their individual parts. 'The greatest danger of error arises from the ease with which the part is taken for the whole'; nearly every kind of error can be reduced to this simple formula. In addition, philosophical knowledge in its first stages reflects on popular knowledge and itself becomes susceptive of the errors of popular knowledge.

1277. But we must also note that popular knowledge in its initial stage is the effect of a natural, instinctive will, not of a deliberate will. As we have seen, we acquire mastery of our understanding solely by means of language (cf. vol. 2, 525 ss.). Language moves our understanding to the first reflection in a way similar to that by which the senses occasionally move it to intellective perception. The subject (myself), with its instinct for using all its forces to satisfy its needs, prompts the understanding to attend to the meanings of words. In this first operation the understanding apprehends necessary relationships, by which we learn to use our understanding as we will. Error cannot occur in this apprehension of the important, necessary relationships of things because our will has not yet taken part in the action; the understanding has necessarily apprehended and judged. Hence this part of popular knowledge is itself a function of nature, a perception of indivisible things, and hence free from all error. This first, involuntary and somewhat confused apprehension of the important relationships of things could very reasonably be called common sense, provided we mean that all philosophical speculation must be referred to common sense as to its exemplar.(185)

1278. After the first apprehension of the important relationships of things, we are free to give or deny assent to them. This second operation is not an acquisition of new knowledge; we still have no philosophical knowledge. Although the judgment may require some new reflection, our reflection is not of such a nature as to produce new knowledge or knowledge in a new form. It is simply a recognition of what has been apprehended, but leaves it in the same form under which it was apprehended. The effective sphere of error begins here; this is the gap allowing error to enter popular knowledge. Error always begins with the use of our will.

(159) 'For the same reason,' Bossuet says, 'only the understanding can err. Properly speaking, error is not in feeling, which always does what it must do; it is designed to act according to the dispositions of both objects and organs. The understanding must judge of the organs themselves and draw the necessary consequences from sensations. If it allows itself to be taken by surprise, it alone is deceiving itself' (De la connaissance de Dieu et de soi-même, c. 1, 7). Earlier, St. Thomas had taught that feeling perceives neither truth nor falsity, which concern the intellect alone. Thus, the expression 'sense errors' should be understood to mean either that sense furnishes the occasion of self-deception to the intellect, or that the expression is true or false in the way non-sensible things are true or false relative to the intellect which apprehends things as they are: Falsitas non (est) in sensu, sicut in cognoscente verum et falsum. - Falsitas non est quaerenda in sensu nisi sicuti ibi est veritas. Veritas autem non sic est in sensu, ut sensus cognoscat veritatem sed in quantum veram apprehensionem habet de sensibilibus [Falsehood (is) not in feeling in the way that true and false are in the one who knows... Falsehood is to be sought in feeling only to the extent that truth is there. But truth is not in feeling in order that feeling may know truth: it is there in so far as feeling has a true apprehension of sensible things] (S.T., I, q. 17, art. 2).

(160) Error, like any evil, is a negative not a positive thing, according to the well-known observation of that great Father of the Church, St. Augustine: Si verum est id quod est, falsum non esse uspiam concludetur quovis repugnante [If that which is true is that which is, we must conclude that what is false is not, whatever the objections' (Solil, 2, 8).

(161) This is the characteristic of such judgments, which distinguishes them from judgments that are also perceptions. The latter are not composed of two objects but of an object and a something sensed, as we have shown (cf. vol. 1, 119, 120 and fn.).

(162) We can say that the understanding is subject to error in composition and division for the reason given. But these two operations can be reduced to one, that is, composition. Division can take the form of composition because the composition of a negative predicate with a subject is true division under the form of composition, as in the case of algebraic addition when the quantities of opposite signs are united. Hence St. Thomas sometimes simply says: 'Falsehood proper to the intellect concerns per se only composition', without more ado (S.T., I, q. 17, art. 3). Aristotle says the same (cf. bk. 3, De Anima, test. 21, 22). At other times St. Thomas says that falsity is found where the intellect either composes or divides: 'We are not deceived about the essence of things... But we can be deceived when composing or dividing, if we attribute to the thing whose essence we understand anything which does not necessarily belong to that essence, or is contrary to it': circa quod quid est intellectus non decipitur. - In componendo vero vel dividendo potest decipi, dum attribuit rei, cuius quidditatem intelligit, aliquid quod eam non consequitur, vel quo ei opponitur (S.T., I, q. 17, art. 3).

(163) It is generally thought that a determinate sense is not given to words in common use. This is false if it were true, an author's first qualification, which is to use words properly, would cease. We are led to think that common sense (which is principally responsible for determining the meaning of words) does not give us a determinate sense for these two apparent reasons: 1. we notice that individuals often misuse language in their arguments; and 2. the majority of people are incapable of defining any word when we ask them. The first reason demonstrates the opposite of what it is intended to prove; we would be unable to know any particular misuse of language unless we knew the proper, determinate sense of a word. The second reason demonstrates nothing provided we note the existence of popular and scientific knowledge. Both of these are true, but only scientific knowledge (characterised by St. Thomas as fit per studiosam inquisitionem [acquired by studious research] (S.T., I, a. 87, art. 2)) provides definitions, whose composition requires analysis, comparisons, a separation between what is common and the difference. Cf. vol. 2, App., no. 8.

(164) Cf. S.T., I, q. 17, art. 3 where St. Thomas begins: Quia vero falsitas intellectus per se, solum circa compositionem intellectus est, per accidens etiam in operatione intellectus, qua cognoscit quod quid est, potest esse falsitas, IN QUANTUM IBI COMPOSITIO INTELLECTUS ADMISCETUR [Although falsehood proper to the intellect per se concerns solely composition by the intellect, falsehood can be present per accidens in the intellect's activity by which it knows that something is, IN SO FAR AS COMPOSITION BY THE INTELLECT IS MIXED WITH THE INTELLECT'S ACTIVITY]. He goes on to explain the two classes of errors we have considered. Strictly speaking, however, even these errors arise solely by means of some composition by the intellect, occasioned by language. It seems clearer, therefore, and less subject to equivocation if, instead of saying that here also the understanding errs only per accidens in its apprehension, we say that it errs in its composition and not in its apprehension, as I have observed elsewhere.

(165) St. Thomas also gives this reason. He says: Res naturalis non deficit ab esse, quod sibi competit secundum suam formam [A natural thing is not defective in being which belongs to it according to its form] (S.T., I, q. 17, art. 3).

(166) Cf. vol. 2, 528 ss. for an explanation of how the understanding has perception of feelable things, and vol. 2, 519, 520 for how it separates ideas from perception. [App., no. 13].

(167) St. Thomas says: Tanto enim perfectius congnoscimus, quanto differentias eius (rei cognitae) ad alia plenius intuemur [The more perfectly we know, the more fully we intuit the differences (in the thing known) from other things]. The reason he offers is very significant: Habet enim res unaquaeque in seipsa esse proprium ab omnibus aliis distinctum [Every thing whatsoever has within itself its own being distinct from all others] (C.G., I, q. 58). The first perception of things is confused because it grasps as a single thing many things at once. When Laromiguière defined an idea as 'a distinct feeling developed from other feelings', he saw the truth we are discussing but did not observe that an idea and perception exists in a confused state before it exists in a distinct state, and that even in its first state it differs essentially from feelings (cf. vol. 2, 966 ss.).

(168) Intelligentia est indivisibilium in quibus non est falsum [Intelligence is concerned with what is indivisible, in which there is no falsehood] (De An., 3).

(169) Intellectus humanus non statim in prima apprehensione capit perfectam rei cognitionem: sed primo apprehendit aliquid de ipsa, puta QUIDDITATEM ipsius rei, quae est primum et proprium obiectum intellectus, et deinde intelligit proprietates et accidentia et habitudines circumstantes rei essentiam [The human intellect, in the first apprehension of a thing, does not immediately attain perfect knowledge of the thing. It first apprehends something of the thing, that is, its QUIDDITY, which is the first and proper object of the intellect. It then understands the properties, accidents and dispositions enveloping the essence of the thing] (S.T., I, q. 85, art. 5).

(170) Contr. Marc., bk. 1.

(171) Analysis must take place to some extent before the immediate relationships of things are observed, because a relationship presupposes a distinct vision of particular things. This first analysis of real things is made on things as a whole, not on each individually. In the first perception, real things are fused into a whole; for example, the visual universe is a single perception. Analysis follows and distinguishes one ens from another. It is at this point that the synthesis we are discussing takes place. Hence analysis and synthesis are closely related operations. Reflection certainly begins with analysis, but this analysis does not produce knowledge worthy of the name; popular knowledge is completed by the addition of the first synthesis. Thus, properly speaking, what I call first reflection and the cause of popular knowledge is composed of two operations: 1. analysis that distinguishes real entia which are at first confused in the perception; 2. synthesis that understands and, as it were, directly perceives the important relationships. We can say the same about philosophical knowledge: it begins with analysis, but is called philosophical knowledge only when synthesis follows to complete it and give it a distinct and important characteristic.

(172) What I call 'first' and 'second' reflection is calculated from the proper objects of the first and second reflection, not from the first and second acts of reflection. The objects specify the two reflections I am discussing.

(173) Ps 115: 11 [Douai].

(174) Ps 13: 3 [Douai].

(175) To affirm is to judge, and therefore to think is to judge. This truth is the foundation of this New Essay.

(176) I have already said that the ideas of things are their truth. - I agree that the first act of thought, which is undoubtedly perception, is an affirmation without negation, but not, I add, without limits. These limits are present in the object of our judgment without our observing them separately, and thus without their requiring any negation from us. Negation cannot be in our judgment, unless we have first noted the limits in the object affirmed.

(177) This instinct however is not entirely hidden; it is not a fact totally isolated and unconnected with any other fact. Cf. my explanation in 1258 [App., no. 13].

(178) But not without the subject, because it is the subject who thinks. The fact of thought does not mean that it is a power independent of the subject. However, it is true that thought develops without the deliberate will of the subject. The individuality of the subject is essential to the generality of thought. We do not need to look further than these facts. They are indeed facts, and we have to reconcile them with theory, which I think will be a little difficult for our author.

(179) This confusion arises to some extent from the multiplicity of parts which compose the objects. Such multiplicity subdues the first act of our intellective energy. We have seen how multiplicity causes confusion in perception (cf. vol. 2, 902 ss.).

(180) This confusion is seen in the author's supposition that we perceive contemporaneously ourselves, the world and something (the infinite) outside the world. On the contrary: 1. We have the idea of being in all its universality as a first, necessary and spontaneous intuition. This is the infinite which excludes every negation and every affirmation, and as a first act forms the intellective potency. 2. We perceive the external world with a first synthesis (intellectual perception); at this point, although there are limits in the object thus unfolded, affirmation alone, not negation, is present. 3. If we abstract from this perception our judgment on the subsistence of things, we are left with pure apprehension (idea). Other limits now appear, but explicit negation is still not present, at least not necessarily. In our state as intellective beings, we have that feeling later expressed by the personal pronoun 'I', of which we soon acquire the intellective perception. Direct knowledge is followed by first reflection, that is, by popular knowledge. With this reflection we think 1. of a cause of everything (God); 2. of other important relationships of things proffered by direct knowledge. Our author, however, produces only one kind of knowledge out of all these things; he calls it spontaneous and contrasts it with reflective knowledge. But so-called spontaneous knowledge, we must note, has two parts: direct and popular, which cannot be confused.

(181) Here I presuppose that the first perception, obtained by means of the first, natural analysis already discussed, is in some way rendered distinct. In other words, the entia which are distinct in reality have also been distinguished in our perception.

(182) See the observations on the state of early aesthetics in Saggio sull'Idillio e sulla nuova Letteratura italiana (Opusc. Fil., 5, 1, pp. 304 ss.).

(183) The mind does not cease to perform this operation after receiving revelation. The natural bent of the mind strengthens belief in what revelation has revealed, making belief easier and deeper.

(184) Abbé‚ Sichard describes the kind of ecstasy that seized the deaf-mute Massieu when he understood that God existed. See also the biography of the deaf-mute Teresa Ferrari in Memorie di Modena, Continuation, vol. 2, by Ces. Galvani.

(185) Granting this to the modern supporters of common sense, I observe that in this case 'common sense' cannot be called the 'criterion of certainty' in the way that this phrase is understood in the philosophical question: 'What is the criterion of certainty?' The criterion of certainty sought here is a unique, supreme principle which serves as a rule for knowing whether a proposition is true or false. In order to understand the difference between the criterion of certainty sought by the philosopher and a criterion of certainty such as the deposit of truths preserved in common sense, let us suppose that an inspired book exists which contains the solutions to all the questions possible in a particular branch of knowledge. This book would certainly not be the desired criterion of the branch of knowledge but the branch of knowledge in all its perfection. Let us suppose that I am looking for a rule for measuring the height of a house. Someone gives me a measuring rod, and this becomes the rule with which I measure the height. But if I am given a length of string equal to the height of the house, the string is not a rule but the height itself. Similarly the teachings of common sense can never be the rule or supreme criterion sought by the logicians, although as true and even infallible teachings they can be used to refute philosophical opinions.