The Origin of the Knowledge of Right and Wrong

by Franz Brentano

Such an influence, however, the treatise has not exercised. The earlier views still hold unbroken sway even to-day, and although the appearance of the monograph in a new edition bears testimony to a certain interest in wider circles, this is manifestly not due to the circumstance that the work was believed to have thrown light upon old doubts and errors. Darwin’s epoch-making work, quite apart from the truth of its hypothesis, had, even for its opponents, an indisputable worth; the wealth of important observations and ingenious combinations every one had to acknowledge with admiration. So also in the case of Miklosich, who has compressed into a few pages a rich store of learning and interspersed the most subtle observations. Many who have withheld their assent to his principal thesis may still feel indebted to him for many points of detail.

Here, however, we wish chiefly to consider the main problem and, very briefly, to make ourselves clear respecting that with which it really deals.

It is an old assertion of logic that the judgment consists essentially in a binding or separating, in a relation of ideas to one another. This view, almost unanimously maintained for two thousand years, has exercised an influence upon other disciplines. And so we find grammarians from very early times teaching that no more simple form of expression in the case of the judgment exists, or can exist, than the categorical, which combines a subject with a predicate.

That the carrying out of this doctrine brings with it difficulties could not, of course, be permanently concealed. Propositions like: it rains, it lightens, appear as though they had no wish to conform to this view. Yet none the less the majority of inquirers were so firmly convinced, that in such cases they felt compelled, not so much to doubt the universal validity of their theory as rather to search for the subjects, which in their view were only apparently missing. Many really believed themselves to be in possession of the same. Now, however, in marked contrast to the unity which had hitherto prevailed, they branched off in the most varied directions. And if we examine somewhat closely and in detail the various attempts at an explanation, we shall easily be able to understand, why none of these were able to give permanent satisfaction, or even for a time to bring about unanimity.

Science explains by reason of its comprehending a multiplicity as a unity. Here also, of course, every effort has been made to accomplish this, but every attempt has proved futile. When we say: it rains, many have supposed that the unnamed subject denoted by the indefinite “it” is “Zeus”: Zeus rains. But when we say: “es rauscht,” it is obvious that Zeus cannot be the subject. Others again have thought that the subject is here “das Rauschen”; consequently the meaning of the proposition would be: “das Rauschen rauscht.” The previous example they also completed in the same manner: “Raining, (or the rain) rains.”

When, however, we now say: “es fehlt an Geld,” the meaning must therefore be: “das Fehlen an Geld fehlt an Geld.” But this is absurd. It was therefore explained that the subject here is “Geld,” and the meaning of the proposition is: “Geld fehlt an Geld.” Closely examined, this would seem to strike a blow at the wished-for unity of explanation. If, however, by closing one eye, the failure here may be partially ignored, even this is useless when we stumble upon propositions like: “es giebt einen Gott,” respecting which we arrive at no satisfactory meaning either in the proposition: “das einen Gott geben giebt einen Gott; das Geben giebt einen Gott,” or in the proposition, “Gott giebt einen Gott.”

It was therefore necessary to look for an explanation of an entirely different character. But where was such an explanation to be found? And even if ingenuity were here able to hit upon some expedient, what availed such leaping from case to case, which could only be called the caricature of a truly scientific explanation? Not a single designation of the subject which has been so far suggested, can be termed suitable, unless indeed it be a saying of Schleiermacher’s. For if this philosopher (cf. p. 16) has really asserted that the subject in such cases is chaos, this utterance must be regarded, not so much as an attempt at explanation as rather a satire upon the hypotheses hitherto set up by philologists.

Many inquirers are therefore of opinion that the real subjects of such propositions as: it rains, it lightens, have, up to the present time, not been discovered, and that even at the present time it is the business of science to find them. But, would it not be strange if the tracing of a subject, which is thought of by everyone, and which, though unexpressed, forms the basis of the judgment, should yet offer such extraordinary difficulties?

Steinthal seeks to explain this by saying that by the grammatical subject something is suggested, which is yet unthinkable. But many will reply with Miklosich (p. 23): “We would not, I think, be going too far in asserting that grammar is not concerned with the unthinkable.”

The totality of the phenomena and the absolutely grotesque failure of every attempt to determine the nature of the subject, however often and however ingeniously this has been attempted, are the chief grounds on which Miklosich bases his assertion that, generally speaking, the supposed subject in the case of such propositions is a delusion, that the proposition is no combination of subject and predicate, that, as Miklosich expresses it, the proposition is subjectless.