Burge-Foundations of Mind

LEIBNIZ.
LANGUAGE, SIGNS AND THOUGHT

FOUNDATIONS OF SEMIOTICS
General Editor
ACHIM ESCHBACH
(University of Essen)
Advisory Editorial Board
Herbert E. Brekle (Regensburg); Geoffrey L. Bursill-Hall (Burnaby, B.C.)

Eugenio Coseriu (Tübingen); Marcelo Dascal (Tel-Aviv)
Lambertus M. de Rijk (Leiden); Max H. Fisch (Indianapolis)
Rudolf Haller (Graz); Robert E. Innis (Lowell, Mass.)
Norman Kretzmann (Ithaca, N.Y.); W. Keith Percival (Lawrence, Kansas)
Jan Sulowski (Warszawa); Jürgen Trabant (Berlin)
Volume 10
Marcelo Dascal
Leibniz. Language, Signs and Thought

LEIBNIZ
LANGUAGE, SIGNS AND THOUGHT
A COLLECTION OF ESSAYS
by
MARCELO DASCAL
Tel Aviv University
JOHN BENJAMINS PUBLISHING COMPANY

AMSTERDAM/PHILADELPHIA
1987
Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication Data
Dascal, Marcelo
Leibniz. Language, signs, and thought.
(Foundations of semiotics, ISSN 0168-2555; v. 10)
Bibliography: p.
Includes index.
1. Leibniz, Gottfried Wilhelm, Freiherr von, 1646-1716 - Contributions in linguistics. 2.
Leibniz, Gottfried Wilhelm, Freiherr von, 1646-1716 - Contributions in semiotics. 3. Lin
guistics. 4. Semiotics. 5. Thought and thinking. I. Title. II. Series.
P85.L4D36 1987 410'.92'4 86-15017
ISBN 90 272 3280 6 (alk. paper)
© Copyright 1987 - John Benjamins B.V.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form, by print, photoprint, microfilm, or
any other means, without written permission from the publisher.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
A manuscript of Leibniz on the use of characters vii

Foreword ix
1. Language and money: a simile and its meaning in 17th century
philosophy of language 1
2. Leibniz, Hobbes, Locke and Descartes on signs, memory and
reasoning 31
3. Signs and thought in Leibniz's Paris Notes Al
4. Leibniz's early views on definitions 61
5. On knowing truths of reason 81
6. Reason and the mysteries of faith: Leibniz on the meaning of religi
ous discourse 93
7. About the idea of a generative grammar in Leibniz 125
Appendix: Leibniz's texts on language, signs and thought 145

1. On the demonstration of primary propositions (1671/2) 147
2. The analysis of languages (1678) 161
3. A geometric characteristic (1679) 167
4. Verbal characteristic (1680, approximately) 175
5. Thought, signs, and the foundations of logic (after 1684) 181
6. On the connection between words and things (undated) 189
Bibliography 191
Index 197
La plus part de nos raisonnemens, sur tout ceux qui s'entremelent dans les
principales veues, se font par un jeu de caracteres, comme on joue du claves-
sin par coustume en partie, sans que l'ame en cela s'en apperçoive assez, et
forge les raisons avec reflexion. Autrement on parleroit trop lentement. Cela
sert a mieux entendre comment [l'ame] le corps exprime par ses propres loix
tout ce qui passe dans l'ame. Car ce jeu de caracteres peut aller loin et va loin
en effect, jusqu'à un point qu'on ne pourroit penser des choses abstraites sans
aide de caracteres arbitraires.
Leibniz Handschriften, IV, VII, , 3,16r.
[Leibniz Archiv, Niedersächsischen
Landesbibliothek, Hannover]
[Most of our reasonings, mainly those involved in major issues, are performed
by playing with characters, as we play the piano partly by habit, without the
mind (soul) being quite conscious of it, and reflectively forming its reasons.
Otherwise, we would speak too slowly. This helps one to understand how the
body expresses by its own laws all that happens in the soul. For the play of
characters can go far, and indeed goes far, up to the point that we could not
think abstract things without the help of arbitrary characters.]
FOREWORD
Leibniz's lifelong concern with language and signs in general is well-

known: his contributions to mathematical notation, his endeavor to create a
universal 'characteristic' or a 'philosophical' language, his attempts to
develop a symbolism for logic, his studies in comparative, historical, and 'ra
tional' grammar — all are often mentioned as forerunners of contemporary
efforts in their respective fields. Perhaps a little more esoteric for present-day
readers, and hence less known today, are Leibniz's interest and contributions
in such areas as cryptography, cartography, heraldics, numismatics, ancient
writing systems, Chinese characters, documentation techniques for libraries
and other purposes, the alphabet of the deaf, juridical language, the improve
ment of the German language, and many other manifestations of the use of
signs in human life.
Why was Leibniz so deeply interested in signs and language? What role
does this interest play in his philosophical system?
The essays here collected are an attempt to tackle these questions from
different angles. They bring to light aspects of Leibniz's work on these and
related issues which have been so far neglected. As a rule, they take as their
starting point Leibniz's early writings (some of which are unpublished or
available only in Latin) on characters and cognition, on definition, on truth,
on memory, on grammar, on the specific problems of religious discourse, and
so on. But an effort has been made to relate the views expressed in these writ
ings both to Leibniz's more mature views, and to the conceptions prevailing
in his time, as well as in the preceding and following periods.
In spite of the apparent diversity of topics, there is a common thread run
ning through all the essays. All of them try to investigate to what extent lan
guage and signs, in their most varied forms, are related to cognitive proces
ses, according to Leibniz and some of his contemporaries. In the Noveaux
Essais, Leibniz claimed that "languages are the best mirror of the human
mind". I think this is one key to an answer to the two questions raised above:
Leibniz was interested in signs because he was interested, as most of his con
temporaries were, in understanding the human mind, especially its cognitive
powers; and it is via his epistemology, therefore, that perhaps the most sig-
X FOREWORD
nificant connections can be established between Leibniz's studies on signs

and language and the rest of his philosophical system.
The word 'mirror', however, may suggest that such a connection is
merely external and circumstantial. For it may suggest that signs and lan
guage are relevant to the investigation of the mind's cognitive powers only in
so far as they provide the basis for an indirect method — perhaps the only
available one — to get to know something about such powers. After all, the
fact that a physical object is reflected in a mirror, even if this is the only way
of learning something about the object, does not imply that the mirror itself
plays any role in the functioning or structure of the object it reflects. I believe
Leibniz went much beyond such an 'external' conception of the relationship
between signs and thought. Recall that the 'mirroring' relation, which he
sometimes gives as an example of his broader notion of 'expression', is the
heart of his metaphysics, and far from being 'external', it is the crucial notion
in his account of the nature of individual substances. Apart from these
metaphysical overtones, Leibniz not only conceived language and signs of all
sorts as the instruments through which human thought can reach achieve
ments unthinkable of without the help of signs, but also ventured the much
more far-reaching idea that language or signs of some sort are constitutive of
thought in its higher forms and, therefore, essential to it. McRae (1978, 130)
has recently argued that this is not the case: "Despite the immense poten
tialities which Leibniz, more perhaps that anyone else, attributed to the use
of characters for bringing the human mind to its highest perfection" — he says
— "he did not take the view that they were essential to thought". This claim
could be compared, however, with the one put forward by Leibniz in the
unpublished fragment reproduced in the frontispice of this book, as well as
with the many passages quoted in the essays that follow. I hope these essays,
as well as the Leibnizian texts here included as an appendix, will give the
reader the opportunity to make his own assessment on the issue. To be sure,
Leibniz's views on the matter changed throughout his career, and sometimes
oscillated between the position assigned to him by McRae (and others) and
the constitutive thesis I believe to have shown he also espoused. But I am per
suaded that the material here presented shows that the inner and deeper ten
dency of his thought was towards the latter rather than the former thesis.
No doubt Hobbes, before Leibniz, formulated the constitutive thesis, in
the form of his famous equation between reasoning and 'reckoning'. Yet, as
some of the chapters that follow demonstrate in detail, he refrained from
accepting the consequences of such a thesis, in logic, mathematics, epistemol-
FOREWORD xi
ogy and linguistics, for they certainly appeared to him to be too far-reaching.
Leibniz, on the contrary, was fully aware of such consequences, and consid
ered them to be a further justification for the thesis. Hence, he certainly is, if
not the father of the idea, the one who is to be credited with leading it into
maturity and letting it bear its fruits. As he himself puts it, "this play of
characters can go far, and indeed goes far.
The question of the relationship between signs and thought as conceived

by seventeenth and eighteenth century thinkers has been brought back to the
forefront of the present-day debate by such works as Chomsky's (1966,1968)
and Hacking's (1975). Yet, in spite of his important contributions to the
topic, Leibniz's share in the renewed debate has been fairly marginal. Cer
tainly, the reason for this is the lack of sufficient published and translated
texts of Leibniz's on these issues. I hope that the following essays, with the
accompanying appendix, will help the English reader to do justice to Leib
niz's legacy.
Most of the essays were originally published in languages other than
English, or appeared in rather inaccessible publications. Their references are
given in the bibliography: essay 1 is Dascal 1976; 2, 1975b; 3, 1977; 4, 1980;
6, 1975a; and 7, 1971b. Essay 5 will appear in the proceedings of the col
loquium "Leibniz: questions de logique", held in Belgium in 1985. Some of
the material here contained was used in my book La Sémiologie de Leibniz
(1978). I wish here to thank F. Steiner Verlag, Les Etudes Philosophiques,
Studia Leibnitiana, Revista Latino americana de Filosofía and Editions
Aubier-Montaigne for granting me permission to use material previously
published by them. I am especially grateful for all the help received from the
Leibniz Gesellschaft during all these years of research on Leibniz, and par
ticularly to Dr. Albert Heinekamp, from the Leibniz Archiv in Hannover,
who has been so kind in providing manuscripts, advice and friendship.
1
LANGUAGE AND MONEY
A Simile and its Meaning in 17th Century

Philosophy of Language
The comparison between language and money, between the value of

words and the value of currency has been often used in Western reflection
about language. In the seventeenth century, a century deeply concerned with
language and its philosophical and scientific implications, that comparison
was used, among many other writers, by Bacon, Hobbes, and Leibniz, at the
beginning, middle, and end of the century, respectively. Although their uses
of the comparison are superficially similar, and may even have been the result
of direct borrowing, on close inspection it turns out that for each of them the
comparison was intended to illustrate a quite different point about the nature
and function of language. In this paper, I try to show how their different uses
of the simile in question correlate with and can be partially explained by their
radically different, and sometimes opposed, views on language's nature and
function. I also formulate some conjectures about the eventual correlation
between such a shift in the 'illustrative power' of this metaphor within a period
of less than a hundred years and changes that allegedly took place, at the
same time, in the underlying structure of Western modes of knowledge, i.e.,
in what Foucault (1966) calls 'épistémé'.
1. Bacon
Bacon compares language to currency in both Of the Proficiency and
Advancement of Learning (1605) and the Latin (enlarged) version of the
former work, De Dignitate et Augmentis Scientiarum (1623)1;
"Yet, because this part concernetti as it were the mint of knowledge (for
words are the tokens current and accepted for conceits, as moneys are for
values, and that it is fit men be not ignorant that moneys may be of another
kind than gold and silver), I thought good to propound it to better enquiry"
(Sp, III, 400).
"Tractamus enim hic veluti numismata rerum intellectualium; nec abs
2 LEIBNIZ. LANGUAGE, SIGNS AND THOUGHT
re fuerit nosse, quod sicut nummi possint confici ex alia materia praeter
aurum et argentum, ita et Notae Rerum aliae possint cudi, praeter Verba et
Literas (Sp, I, 653)"2.
The immediately preceding context, in both cases, is a survey of the dif
ferent types of signs that can be used for communication. Bacon divides them
into 'analogical' and 'conventional' signs. To the former class belong gestures
and 'hieroglyphics'3, since they have "some similitude or congruity with the
notion" (Sp, III, 400) or "with the thing signified" (Sp, I, 652). To the second
class belong words and the Chinese ideograms which, according to him, sig
nify merely by convention.
Bacon believed that the latter are "Characters Real, which express nei
ther letters nor words in gross, but Things or Notions" (Sp, III, 399), a fact
which endowed them with some value as a means for communication among
people speaking different languages. But in order to have indeed such a (po
tentially) universal 'expressive power', Chinese writing had to pay a very high
price: it ought to contain "a vast multitude of characters; as many, I suppose,
as radical words" (Sp, III, 400). Bacon also stressed that neither Chinese
characters, nor words of any existing language — the other major example of
conventional signs — had been or could have been 'imposed' "from reason
and intendment", a view he considered purely speculative and "of small fruit"
(Sp, III, 400). As for hieroglyphics and gestures, although "they have ever
m o r e . . . an affinity with the things signified" (ibid.), they are cumbersome
and cannot serve as an exact means of expressing men's minds (Sp, III, 399).
They are useful not so much as a means of communication, but as aids to
memory, since they are considered to be 'emblems' (Sp, III, 400), one of the
two devices Bacon considered to be important in his 'art of Memory' (Sp, III,
398-399), the particular function of the emblem being to reduce "conceits
intellectual to images sensible, which strike the memory more" (ibid.).
Bacon then surveys these various types of communicative signs, but his
critical remarks about each of them indicate that he does not see in them
serious rivals to language as candidates for the role of 'organ of tradition',
i.e., instrument of communication (particularly, of scientific communica
tion). This is why he begins his discussion of the topic by saying that "the
organ of tradition is either Speech or Writing" (Sp, III, 399), and stresses,
immediately before our texts, that "words and writing by letters do far excel
all the other ways". The point he wants to make, in comparing language to
currency, is not, therefore, a practical one, a suggestion to the effect that one
might perhaps try to replace language by some other, more efficient, means
LANGUAGE AND MONEY 3
of communication. It is rather a theoretical, perhaps even philosophical point:

although words are, practically, by far the most efficient means of communi
cation, one should not believe that they are the only possible means; "it is not
of necessity that cogitations be expressed by the medium of words" (Sp, III,
399). Similarily, although gold and silver were by far the most efficient and
widespread currencies, and there was no question for Bacon of replacing
them (on the contrary, he even suggested that gold be made a universal
monetary standard (Sp, XI, 243-244))4, it was for him theoretically important
not to forget that they were not the only possible means of commercial
exchanges.
What then, for Bacon, is the theoretical or philosophical significance of
the remark that words are not the only possible means of communication?
One might claim that it is just a matter of theoretical completeness. That is to
say, since in the Advancement as well as in the De Augmentis Bacon is survey
ing the state of the art in all sciences, and suggesting weak points where
further development is required 5 , it is only too natural that he should mention
that the theory of Tradition or Delivery' (i.e., communication), which con
cerns the "expressing and transferring our knowledge to others" (Sp, III, 399)
would not be complete unless it contained not only a discussion of language
but also of other semiotic systems. In other words, he might be interpreted as
claiming that (communicative) semiotics should take the place previously
occupied by (communicative) 'linguistics' alone 6 .
Although this is a plausible reading of the text, it seems to me that in
order to grasp the full significance of Bacon's remark, one has to go beyond
his theory of scientific communication. The obvious place to inquire is his
famous doctrine of the idols, particularly those coming from language: the
idols of the market-place.
In Bacon's subdivision of Logic (which is, with Ethics, one of the two
parts of the "doctrine concerning the use and objects of the Faculties of the
Human Soul") the study of the "Fallacies of False Appearances or Idols"
belongs to the art of "Detection of Fallacies", which is one of the components
of the "Art of Judging" ; this art is the second of the four main subdivisions of
Logic; the other three being the arts of discovering, of retaining and of trans
mitting. (Sp, IV, 279-280). We should recall that for Bacon the main job of
logic is to provide 'helps' for the understanding, so that it may be possible to
avoid the many dangers that lurk in its way to the acquisition and handling of
knowledge. To be able to detect the dangers is already half way towards neut
ralizing them. Hence the utility of the several 'arts' that teach us how to recog-
nize them. The 'idols are one important class of such dangers; they consist in
'false appearances' or 'false notions' (N. O., I,38) which, being deeply rooted
in our understanding, "distort and discolor the nature of things" (N. O., I,
41), thus creating a powerful barrier to the formation of correct judgments,
i. e., to the knowledge of nature. Of these idols, those of the market-place are
"the most troublesome of all" (N.O., I, 59). They are the "false appearences
imposed upon us by words, which are framed and applied according to the
conceit and capacities of the vulgar sort" (Sp, III, 396), and thus "follow those
lines of division which are most obvious to the vulgar understanding" (N. O.,
I, 59). Therefore, they obstruct the way to scientific knowledge, for "when
ever an understanding of greater acuteness or a more diligent observation
would alter those lines to suit the true divisions of nature, words stand in the
way and resist the change" (ibid.) 7 . One might think that the strict observance
of the maxim "Loquendum ut vulgus, sentiendum ut sapientes" (Sp, III, 396)
would overcome the difficulty, since scientific understanding is a matter of
thinking, not of speaking. But precisely in this illusion — namely, in the belief
that we can govern our words, provided our thinking is clear — lies the
greatest danger of the idols of the market-place: even the wisest are not free
from their effect, for "words, as a Tartar's bow, do shoot back upon the
understanding of the wisest, and mightily entangle and pervert the judge
ment" (Sp, III, 396).
Still, one might look for a 'linguistic' remedy or 'help': "define your
terms ! ", the maxim followed by mathematicians, or the coining of new words
could perhaps do. Bacon acknowledges indeed the importance of definitions,
but their usefulness is in fact very limited, according to him. They only serve
to reduce the number of verbal disputes among scholars, for they are con
ceived by Bacon as having a purely communicative function. In fact, the wis
dom of the mathematicians, that he advises us to imitate, consists "in setting
down in the very beginning the definitions of our words and terms, that others
may know how we accept and understand them and whether they concur with
us or not" (Sp, III, 396). Thus, definitions may be useful for improving the
ways of 'transmitting' knowledge; but then they are not the 'helps' required
to take care of the idols of the marketplace, since these concern not the trans
mission, but the very acquisition of knowledge, i.e., discovery and judg
ment: "nec tantum in sermone molestae, sed etiam Judicio et Intellectui
infestae sunt (Sp, III, 599). The use of definitions may transform language —
the organ of tradition — into a more orderly and reliable instrument of scien
tific communication, by clarifying and regulating the relationships between
words. But "since definitions themselves consist of words, and those words
beget others", they are of no help "in dealing with natural and material
things" (N. O., I, 59), which is the aim of knowledge. As long as one remains
on the purely linguistic level, one does not "get down (from his tower) and
come nearer to the things" (Sp, III, 582). To obtain knowledge, one must get
rid of language altogether, one must look for non-linguistic methods, for
some "better and new remedy" (Sp, I, 646), which is, of course, Bacon's
inductive method (N. O., I, 59).
Bacon's attitude towards language, in its relationship to knowledge, is
therefore predominantly negative. In the central part of Bacon's theory of
knowledge, that is, in the arts of discovering and judging, language is discus
sed mainly as an obstacle, that should be known, to be sure, but only in order
to be better avoided8. The same is true, in fact, of the whole of semiotics, for
even when he assigns a positive role to a particualr type of sign (among so
many), namely 'emblems', this role is restricted to one of the subsidiary arts,
the art of retention 9 . And the positive aspects of language are to be found
only in the art of transmitting. This means that even at its best, when purged
of ambiguity and vacuousness through the proper use of definitions and when
some of the "analogy between words and reason" (Sp, III, 401) has been
retrieved by a satisfactory 'philosophical grammar', language still has only an
auxiliary role to play in Bacon's scheme of knowledge.
However, even with respect to this auxiliary and relatively marginal
function, language is not absolutely indispensable: it could be, eventually,
replaced by other types of signs (although practically it still fares better than
any other semiotic system). The text we are trying to interpret, then, is in line
with Bacon's consistent denunciation of all forms of verbal interference with
knowledge, with his general 'distrust of language' 10 . From this point of view,
the comparison of words to moneys acquires distinctively negative overtones:
not only could there be other 'current and accepted' signs for concepts (or
things) besides words, as there could be coins made of metals other than gold
and silver, but also, if gold and silver were no longer used as coins, they would
still keep their intrinsic 'natural' value; whereas if words were replaced by
other signs for concepts, these words, as such, would simply be annihilated.
The point of the comparison, thus, is to leave no possible doubt about the dis
pensable character of language with respect to knowledge.
2. Hobbes
Let us turn now to Hobbes. Almost half a century after Bacon, he too
compares words to money, in the Leviathan (I, 4; E. W., III, 25):

"For words are wise men's counters, they do but reckon by them; but
they are the money of fools, that value them by the authority of an Aristotle,
a Cicero, or a Thomas, or any other doctor whatsoever, if but a man".
The paragraph which this text closes aims to show the importance of
careful definitions in scientific discourse. Its main thesis is that "in the right
definition of names lies the first use of speech; which is the acquisition of sci
ence: and in wrong or no definitions, lies the first abuse; from which proceed
all false and senseless tenets" (E. W., III, 24). Therefore, as Hobbes stresses
already in the opening sentence of the paragraph, one cannot trust authorities
on such a crucial matter; only one's own reasoned judgment should count: "it
appears how necessary it is for any man that aspires to true knowledge, to
examine the definitions of former authors; and either to correct them, where
they are negligently set down, or to make them himself" (ibid.).
That much of the context suffices for the interpretation of the last sen
tence of our text. To value words by the authority of an Aristotle, a Cicero or
a Thomas is simply to accept these author's definitions without examination,
or, what is worse, to use their words even when they are not given any
definitions. Their authority is no guarantee that their definitions are 'right',
that the signification of their words has been properly 'settled' (defining is
"settling the signification of... words", E. W., III, 24). Therefore, to use
words on the basis of such an authority alone is clearly a case of committing
the 'first abuse' of speech which leads to "false and senseless tenets". Hence
the foolishness of such a procedure.
Now, according to Hobbes, "money, of what matter soever coined by
the sovereign of a commonwealth, is a sufficient measure of the values of all
things else, between the subjects of the commenwealth" (E, W., HI, 238).
The relevant factor in the determination of the value of money is, therefore,
the sovereign's authority. Hence, unlike gold and silver, money "is subject to
the change of laws, and thereby to have the value diminished, to the prejudice
many times of those that have it" (E. W., III, 239). Thus, to use words as if
they were money is to assume that their signification is settled merely by the
fiat of some external authority to whose power the user must conform. It also
means that words are subject to unpredictable fluctuations in their value, a
fact that makes them utterly unreliable as instruments of knowledge.
Notice that Hobbes does not compare words to gold or silver, but to
money. Therefore, unlike Bacon, he is not calling attention to the conven
tional character of words against those who might believe that words have,
like gold and silver, some intrinsic value. The conventional nature of lan
guage was, in his system, virtually unquestionable 11 . At any rate, to defend
such a view is clearly not his aim in the text under discussion. His aim is rather
to point out that, given the conventionality of language, one way of handling
it is correct, appropriate to the wise, whereas another is incorrect, foolish.
The latter consists in taking sheer authority to be the ground of linguistic con
ventions. Now we can see exactly where an interpretation like Ueberweg's
went astray. This commentator gives the following reading of Hobbes' dic
tum: "Da die Worte Erfindung der Menschen sind, so haben sie für den
Weisen nur den Werth von Rechenpfennigen, für den Narren sind sie aber
Gold" (Ueberweg, 1893,53-54). The wise, according to this interpretation, are
those who recognize the merely conventinal nature of words, the foolish,
those who don't. That is to say, the conventionality of language is made the
central point, whereas, as we have seen, the conventionality of language is
not at issue in Hobbes' text. The clearest evidence for the incorrectness of this
reading is the fact that in order to make it plausible, Ueberweg had to modify
Hobbes' own text, replacing money by gold.
Ueberweg's interpretation is mistaken also in another respect: he
suggests that the fact that words are (or should be) used as 'counters' implies,
for Hobbes, that they are less valuable that one might otherwise expect. This
mistake is shared by other commentators. Knowlson, for example, presents
Hobbes' text as illustrating the point that one "must take care... to trust words
no more than they deserve" (1975, 40)12. In order to justify the claim that
these suggestions are mistaken, let me propose an explanation of the first part
of the text, namely, the claim that wise men use words as 'counters'.
The other major theme of the paragraph to which the text belongs, a
theme to which it explicitely refers through the word reckon (computare, in
the Latin version) is Hobbes' famous and fruitful (at least in later centuries)
conception13 of reasoning as computation: "Per ratiocinationem autem intel-
ligo computationem... Ratiocinari igitur idem est quod addere et subtrahere"
(O. L., I, 3). "In sum, in what matter soever there is place for addition and
substraction, there is also place for reason; and where these have no place,
there reason had nothing at all to do" (E. W., III, 30). The main instrument
of all this computation, with which reason itself is identified, is language, for
"reason, in this sense, is nothing but reckoning, that is adding and subtract
ing, of the consequences of general names agreed upon for the marking and
signifying of our thoughts" (ibid.). Hence the importance of settling, at the
outset, the significations of these names, i.e., of giving them precise defini-
tions. "For the errors of definitions multiply themselves according as the

reckoning proceeds, and lead men into absurdities, which at last they see, but
cannot avoid, without reckoning anew from the beginning, in which lies the
foundation of their errors" (E. W., III, 24). Now, the "books of
philosophers" are notoriously full of absurdities, "for there is not one of them
that begins his ratiocination from the definitions, or explications of the names
they are to use" (E. W., III, 33). Therefore, to rely upon such 'authorities'
instead of carefully establishing one's own definitions, is as self-defeating as
to start an accounting procedure without first checking the items which are
going to be used in it: "they which trust to books do as they that cast up many
little sums into a greater, without considering whether those little sums were
rightly cast up or not" (E. W., III, 24). The 'wise' accountant is one who set
tles, at the beginning, the value of each one of his counters. Likewise, the
'wise' philosopher (i.e., scientist) is the one who accurately defines his
terms 14. The accountant does not mistrust his counters. Nor does the 'wise'
philosopher mistrust words. On the contrary, he knows how to control them,
through precise definitions, making them reliable instruments of his reason
ing. For he knows that words are untrustworthy only when they are accepted
in their vulgar form or on sheer authority, without examination. It is clear, by
now, that, for Hobbes, to compare words with counters, far from suggesting
that they are less valuabe than one might expect, is to suggest exactly the
opposite, namely that words are much more valuable than most people had
hitherto imagined15. And it is also to indicate the real reason why words
should be praised: not because they are the words of an Aristotle, a Cicero or
a Thomas, but because they are instruments of reason itself.
The importance of words, in Hobbes' system, is not confined to reason
ing (in the sense of argumentation). Words are also required for other mental
operations, particularly for judgment. For Hobbes, "true and false are attri
butes of speech, not of things" (E. W., III, 23). "Where speech is not, there
is neither truth nor falsehood" (ibid.) and, therefore, without speech there is
not what is properly human, namely intellect. The truism that it is the posses
sion of language that distinguishes men from animals is indeed interpreted by
Hobbes in an unusual way: the possession of language is not — as for
Descartes — a sign that men possess intellect, but it is the condition for their
possessing intellect; language is not only the means to convey our thoughts to
others, but it is the means to think those thoughts in the first place (O. L., II,
88-89). Furthermore, the truth of a given judgment is conncected with its lin
guistic formulation: "truth consisteth in the right ordering of names" (E. W.,
III,23).
Such theses are restated by Hobbes in the paragraph under considera

tion, and bear directly upon the interpretation of our text. Without language,
he observes, man is bounded to use only his senses and imagination. This
means that, were it not for the possession of language, he would forever
remain in a state of 'ignorance', in a 'natural' state, similar to that of animals,
in which there is no danger of error, to be sure, but only because there is no
possibility of formulating judgments either: "Natural sense and imagination
are not subject to absurdity. Nature itself cannot err" (E. W., III, 25). Only
with language man is able to leave such a state. But then, with this new power,
new dangers also arise: without language there is neither truth nor falsehood;
with language, there may be truth, but also falsehood. Language increases
our power, but does not necessarily make us better: "oratione homo non
melior fit, sed potentior" (O. L., II, 92). Men, with language, may raise
themselves above the level of ignorance (when they use words properly,
'wisely'), or lower themselves well below that level (when they use words
improperly, 'foolishly'). To rely on some authority for one's definitions is the
paradigm case of the latter use: "those men that take their instruction from the
authority of books, and not from their own meditation [are] as much below
the condition of ignorant men, as men endued with true science are above it"
(E. W., III, 24). On the other hand, "men endued with true science" are
those who, like the careful accountant, rely only on their "own meditation"
in order to establish the meanings of the terms they are going to use in their
scientific reasoning-reckoning. They are those who, knowing the power of
language, also know how to derive the maximum benefit from it. They have
no reason to mistrust language, since they can control it completely and put
it to their service.
3. Bacon and Hobbes

Let us compare now Hobbes' and Bacon's positions, as expressed in the
texts we have considered. At first, they seem to be quite similar, if not identi
cal. Even a superficial inspection of the broader context may give the impres
sion that Hobbes is working within the framework of the same general con
ception of language as Bacon and merely elaborating upon some of it aspects,
as suggested by Knowlson (cf. Note 12). Like Bacon, Hobbes surveys the
abuses of language; both talk about the need for definitions 'at the beginning'
of the scientific enterprise, following the example of the mathematicians;
both stress the conventional nature of language. But, as I hope the previous
sections have made clear, these are only superficial similarities, which are
10 LEIBNIZ. LANGUAGE. SIGNS AND THOUGHT
overridden by deeper and more important differences. Let us sum up these

differences.
They differ in their general attitude towards language in its relation to
knowledge. Bacon's attitude is predominantly negative. For him, language is
mainly the source of many epistemological evils: the degeneration of science
into a purely verbal dialectics, in the sixteenth century; the 'idols' of the mar
ket-place which distort our apprehension of things. Therefore, we should dis
entangle ourselves from words and get to the facts, to the things themselves;
language is an obstacle to knowledge, that should be — ideally — totally
removed. Hobbes' attitude is much more favorable to language. To each one
of the abuses of language in his list he indicates a corresponding corrective
which, if followed, can overcome the abuse in question completely16. Far
from being an obstacle to knowledge, language is a necessary condition for it;
if we were to follow Bacon's advice and stick to the things themselves, with
out language, then we would fall back into the 'state of ignorance'. Language,
therefore, is not, intrinsically, a source of unavoidable epistemological evils:
on the contrary, it is the instrument which transforms man from a simple ani
mal into a rational being, capable of knowledge; epistemological evils can
arise through the misuse of such an instrument, but it is absurd to suggest that
their correction requires the elimination of the instrument itself. These differ
ences are epitomized in what Hobbes and Bacon say about the effects of lan
guage acquisition upon children's understanding: for Hobbes "children...
are not endued with reason at all, till they have attained the use of speech" (E.
W., III, 35), whereas for Bacon "when children learn to speak they begin to
imbibe themselves in the unhappy cabala of errors" (Sp, III, 599).
Furthermore, insofar as Bacon views language as necessary, he restricts
its use to the 'non-creative' parts of the Organon or logic; it has nothing to do
with the acquisition of knowledge, its only acknowledged necessary function
being, for Bacon, that of an instrument of communication. Definitions, for
example, that much praised device used by mathematicians, may be useful
indeed for increasing the efficiency of scientific communication, but certainly
not for helping scientists to discover truth. Hobbes, on the other hand,
assigns to language a central place in his theory of 'computation or logic'.
Language has both a communicative and a cognitive function: judging and
reasoning are dependent upon it, and definitions are primarily useful for car
rying on one's own reasoning (hence, they should be based on one's own
meditation), and only secondarily for communicative purposes.
All these differences clearly correlate with the different uses Hobbes and
Bacon make of the comparison between words and money. First of all,
whereas Bacon claims that words are similar to money, Hobbes claims that
they are not17. What they have in common with money, according to Bacon,
is the fact that both have their values established by some convention and not
by nature. And this is what he wants to stress with his comparison. Hobbes
does not deny the conventional nature of both money and words. In this they
are indeed similar, for him. But this cannot be the point of his remark, since
he is calling attention to the dissimilarity between words and money, not to
their similarity. And the dissimilarity lies in the fact that, whereas for money
it is the authority and credibility of the sovereign who coins the currency that
determines its value, words, when properly used, must have their meanings
established through clear and precise definitions — the only acceptable 'au
thorities' on this matter. Bacon stresses what words are not: they are not nat
ural, they are not indispensable, they could be replaced by other signs. To be
sure, he also tell us what they are, namely, the conventional established "to
kens current and accepted for conceits". But, if one recalls that for Bacon
such a convention, in the case of words, "is framed and applied according to
the conceit and capacities of the vulgar sort", it becomes clear that the con
ventional character of words is a reason for their untrustworthiness. Thus, in
calling attention to it, Bacon is warning us not to attribute to words more than
their proper value. Hobbes too tells us what words are not, but besides this, he
tell us something positive about what they are, when properly conceived,
namely, instruments of our mental 'computation', i.e., reasoning. Those who
seek in them only an exchange value — a communicative function — might
indeed find satisfaction in 'definitions' of the sort: "I am using a word 'w' in
Aristotle's sense". But such a 'definition' would be clearly inadequate for the
cognitive function of language, since it would not allow one to determine,
say, the truth value of propositions containing w. Nor would it be of any help
in the assessment of arguments involving that word.
4. Leibniz
In an undated fragment, Leibniz too compares words to money:
"Vocabula. Die Worth sind wie rechenpfenninge bei verständigen und
wie geld bey unverständigen. Denn bey verständigen dienen sie vor zeichen,
bey unverständigen aber gelten sie als Ursachen und vernunftgründe"
(Bodemann, 81).
In the margin, the following remark is added:
"Sunt nobis signa, sunt vobis fercula digna" (Couturat, 1901, 107).
The first sentence seems to reproduce almost literally Hobbes' state

ment: for the wise (verständigen) words are like counters (rechenpfennige),
for the foolish (unverständigen), like money. But Leibniz's ensuing explana
tion of the metaphor seems to bring his reading of it closer to Bacon's point
than to Hobbes'. The wise, he seems to be claiming, are those who recognize
that words are merely signs of something else (notions and things) and that
their value derives only from what they are the signs of; in other words, for
the wise, words have no intrinsic but only instrumental value. The unwise, on
the other hand, are those who attribute to words the highest possible intrinsic
value, for causes and reasons are certainly the highest 'values' of knowledge,
that which every scientist wants to discover. Of course, on this interpretation,
it would be better to have Leibniz comparing the unwise view of words with
gold and silver and not just with money. But one may assume that he was not
concerned with the subtle distinction between the ways in which money has
value and the ways in which gold and silver do. In a commercial transaction,
money, cash, is one of the end-products: once one of the partners cashes the
bills, checks, promissory notes or whatever he received, the transaction has
come to an end (for him), the 'value' of the merchandise has been fully
'realized'. In this sense, money is certainly one of the things one is looking for
in a commercial transaction, as causes and reasons are what one is looking for
the investigation of nature. Now, on this view, to identify words with causes
and reasons is unwise because it is to leave the scientific 'transaction' incom
plete; it is like contenting oneself with the promissory notes, instead of cash
ing them.
The marginal note in Leibniz's text seems to confirm such an interpreta
tion: we (the verständigen, of course) pay attention to the statues, images,
insignia, effigies (signa) carried in procession, whereas you (the unverständi
gen) concentrate on the stands, pedestals, litters (fercula). The wise under
stand that the latter's only function is to bear the former, as words are merely
the vehicles to convey meaning; accordingly, they look at what is carried and
not at what carries; the unwise, on the contrary, take the unimportant for the
important, concentrate on the vehicle and not on what it conveys. In
Couturat's words, for the wise "les mots sont des jetons en tant qu'ils servent
de signes et des véhicules aux idées", whereas "les fous sont ceux qui s'arrê
tent aux mots sans en penetrer le sens" (Couturat, 1901, 471).
It would seem, then, that Leibniz is expressing here the same general
attitude to language as Bacon. He would be calling attention to the inessential
character of language and criticizing those who attribute to it more value than
in fact it has. In particular, he would be denying, like Bacon, that language
has any fundamental role to play in knowledge. On this reading, Leibniz's use
of the metaphor would indeed have "un sens diametralement opposé"
(Couturat, 1901, 471) to Hobbes', since for Hobbes, as we have seen, the
metaphor expresses a more balanced, if not decidedly favorable, attitude
towards language18.
Such an interpretation of Leibniz's text has no doubt a high prima facie
plausibility. The trouble with it is that it does not fit some of his most funda
mental views about language and semiotic systems in general, views which he
constantly repeats, in all kinds of writings throughout his whole career. Out
standing among these is his conception of the role of signs in general, and of
language in particular in knowledge. According to him, without signs there
can be no serious thought, that is, there can be no knowledge at all, for both
reasoning and precise conceptions require the use of signs: "si characteres
abessent, nunquam quicquam distincte cogitaremus, neque ratiocinaremur"
(GP, VII, 191). It is well known that Leibniz believed that only a carefully
devised notation, his famous characteristica universalis, could satisfactorily
fulfill these requirements. But even though he points out the shortcomings of
natural languages in this respect, he nonetheless recognizes that their con
tribution to our thought is not negligible: "Lingua vulgares, etsi plurimum
prosint ad ratiocinandum..." (GP, VII, 205). There can be no doubt that
Leibniz's attitude towards signs and language was predominantly positive.
This fact alone suffices for raising doubts about the above interpretation of
his comparison of words with money. But before we develop further a rein-
terpretaion of Leibniz's fragment based on evidence from other texts, let us
reexamine it in order to see whether it doesn't contain some internal indica
tion of a more balanced attitude towards language.
Unlike Bacon's formulation of the comparison, which is asymmetric in
that it says (metaphorically, of course) what language is not (intrinsically val
uable) but leaves it to the reader to guess what it is (conventional), Leibniz's
text is strictly symmetrical. Leibniz contraposes step by step the 'correct' con
ception of language to the 'incorrect' one: counters vs. money, signs vs.
reasons and causes, supports vs. statues. Therefore, from a structural point of
view, there is no reason to suppose that the stress lies precisely on the nega
tive aspect. Furthermore, the correct use of language is described as that in
which words serve as 'signs'. Now, the word 'sign' (zeichen), as our remarks
in the preceding paragraph indicate (see also below), has a clearly positive
connotation in Leibniz's writings. Therefore, to say that words function as
signs is, for him, to praise them; it is to claim that they are important, valuable
(though perhaps not intrinsically). Finally, the relationship between Leib-
niz's marginal comment and the text of the fragment itself is by no means as
clearcut as our former interpretation suggests. And again, in the use of the
word 'signs' (signa) lies the crux of the matter. On the proposed interpreta
tion, the 'correct' view was to associate words with the secondary, unimpor
tant element, namely, fercula, not with signa. But then, connecting this with
the text of the fragment, one gets the following chains of associations:
correct ('ours'): words — rechenpfennige — zeichen — fercula
incorrect ('yours'): words — geld — Ursachen und vernunftgründe — signa
This seems inconsistent, since words are associated with 'signs' both in
the 'correct' and in the 'incorrect' view19. To be sure, zeichen and signa have
quite different meanings here. Therefore, the 'inconsistency' in question can
not be a case of logical contradiction. It is rather a case of 'metaphorical-'
inconsistency, of creating effects which instead of reinforcing each other so as
to make the point clearer (as they should, for the metaphors here certainly
have a cognitive purpose 20 ), in fact oppose each other, producing, in that
way, confusion rather than clarification. One simple way of overcoming this
difficulty is to propose an interpretation in which signa and fercula are inter
changed in the chains of associations. Signa, now in the 'correct' side, becomes
associated with what are indeed typically 'signs', namely, rechenpfennige,
zeichen and words; and the 'metaphorical inconsistency' vanishes21. Another
consequence of the proposed interchange, is a 'redistribution of values' in the
text. Signa carry over their prestige and positive connotations to the side of
the 'correct' view of language. Words do not, it is true, become intrinsically
valuable and identical with causes and reasons (such an identification is defi
nitely wrong, for Leibniz, and should be unequivocally condemned), but to
compare them to effigies, insignia, images, etc. is certainly not to depreciate
or mistrust them. In short, our partly speculative hermeneutical exercise
shows, on internal evidence, that the fragment is at least equilibrated: it tells
us both what language is and what it is not and does not suggest that the rec
ognition of what it truly is implies a reduction of its value.
Fortunately, there is no need to base my interpretation on such specula
tions. For there is another instance of a comparison involving words, signs,
counters and money in the Leibnizian corpus. It is less cryptic, but still very close
to the text of the fragment, so that both can be used, jointly, to substantiate
my suggestions. The instance in question belongs to the essay Unvorgreiff-
liche Gedancken, Betreffend die Ausübung und Verbesserung der Teutschen
Sprache22. As the title indicates, the work discusses ways in which the Ger
man language could be 'developed' and 'perfected'. This kind of question was
frequently discussed in the context of the widespread German linguistic

nationalism of the seventeenth century, a movement with which Leibniz was
more or less associated23. Naturally, very different suggestions were made
about now to improve the German language, given the variety of aims one
had in mind for such an enterprise. For Leibniz, however, the main reason for
attempting to improve language lies in its intimate connection with the
understanding. "Es ist bekandt", says the opening sentence of the Unvor-
greiffliche Gedancken, "dass die Sprach ein Spiegel des Verstandes [ist], und
dass die Völcker, wenn sie den Verstand hoch schwingen, auch zugleich die
sprache wohl ausüben" (D, VI, ii, 6)24.
The fact that the relationship between language and understanding is
here depicted as a 'mirroring' relation, should not mislead us. It does not
mean, for Leibniz, that language and understanding are totally external to
each other, having no real reciprocal influence, and just happening to be cor
related. Nor does it mean that language, the mirror-image of the understand
ing, is causally determined by the latter, being thus entirely subordinated to
it. If this were the case, one would be justified in investigating language in
order to disclose the properties of the understanding, but there would be no
point in attempting to improve language for the benefit of the understanding.
Clearly, invoking the relationship between language and understanding as a
justification for attempts to improve language makes sense only on the belief
that there is a real influence of language upon the understanding. Such an
influence might well be purely negative — of the kind of Bacon's idols, for
example. Leibniz mentions indeed, in this work, some possible negative
influences of language upon the understanding, and suggests ways for over
coming them. But his main concern is with the positive role of language vis-à-
vis the understanding. Furthermore, unlike Bacon, he does not restrict such
a role to the communicative function of language: "Es ist aber bey dem Geb
rauch der Sprache, auch dieses sonderlich zu betrachten, dass... wir Zeichen
nötig haben, nicht nur unsere Meynung andern anzudeuten, sondern auch
unsern Gedancken selbst zu helffen" (D, VI, ii, 7). His special concern is with
this cognitive function of language, which makes it an instrument for thought
itself. It is in order to explain the nature of such a function that Leibniz resorts
again to the parallel with economic transactions:
"Denn gleichwie man in grossen Handels-Städten, auch im Spiel und
sonsten nicht allezeit Geld zahlet, sondern sich an dessen Statt der Zeddel
oder Marcken, biss zur letzten Abrechnung oder Zahlung bedienet; also
tuth auch der Verstand mit den Bildnissen der Dinge, zumahl wenn er viel
zu dencken hat, dass er nehmlich Zeichen dafür brauchet, damit er nicht
nöthig habe, die Sache iedesmahl so offt sie vorkommt, von neuen zu
bedencken" (ibid.).
And, introducing the term rechenpfennige, the same idea is restated a
few paragraphs later:
"Daher braucht man offt die Wort als Ziffern, oder als Rechen-Pfen
nige, an statt der Bildnisse und Sachen, biss man Stuffenweise zum Facit
schreitet, und beym Vernunfft Schluss zur Sache selbst gelanget" (D, VI, ii,
8).
The advantages of using promissory notes, letters of change, checks or
tokens instead of cash, at least in some stages of commercial transactions, are
fairly obvious nowadays. They were still more obvious in the seventeenth
century, when currency, for the most part, consisted in gold and silver coins.
For a quite common event at that time was the occurrence of shortages of cur
rency, due to the variations in the amount of precious metals available for
coinage. In such a situation, if every commercial transaction could be per
formed only with cash, trade would be greatly reduced, and with it produc
tion, the collection of taxes, and, in general, all economical activities. The use
of 'cash-substitutes' in such circumstances would neutralize, at least partially
and temporarily, such undesirable effects; they would be the means to let the
circulation of goods, upon which the vitality of the economy depended, pro
ceed at its normal pace. Similar advantages, suggests Leibniz, derive from
the use of words (or other signs) in thought. The functioning of our under
standing can indeed be viewed as a process of 'circulation' of concepts and
propositions which are combined (synthesis) or decomposed (analysis) in
such 'mental transactions' as judgments, definition, demonstration, etc.
Using concepts {Bildnisse) or the things {Sachen) themselves in these mental
transactions would pose enormous difficulties, because of their clumsiness
for handling. To try to reason all the time with pure concepts alone would be
as cumbersome and ineffective as to try to communicate by means of the 'lan
guage' invented by the sages of Lagado, i.e., by handing over to the addressee
the very things one wants to refer to. The use of words or other signs, on the
other hand, allows reasoning to operate freely, swiftly and surely. Hence the
great advantages in their use as instruments of thought.
Granted, then, that signs and language have a cognitive function of this
kind, it could still be objected that it is only an auxiliary function, of marginal
importance for the understanding, and therefore that Leibniz's intention in
comparing it to the use of cash-substitutes is precisely to make its secondary
character evident. This objection might rest on two arguments prima facie
very plausible.
First, it could be argued that, as described so far, the use of words or
other signs may indeed increase the efficiency of our thought in some
respects, but is far from being indispensable or vital for its functioning, and
may even, in some cases, be a disturbing factor. No doubt one could find a
few texts of Leibniz that would apparently support this argument. Neverthe
less, the overwhelming majority of Leibniz's statements on the subject —
including those directly connected with the comparison of words and coun
ters — leave no reasonable doubt that he considered the use of signs in
thought to be a sine qua non for the satisfactory operation of human reason.
Let us consider some of the evidence for this conclusion.
First of all, it must be recalled that the circulation of goods is, for most
seventeenth century 'economists', not only a means of increasing the effi
ciency of the economy; it is the vital principle of economical life altogether.
According to Hobbes, for instance, distribution is one of the conditions for
the 'nourishment' of the commonwealth: "it is necessary that men distribute
that which they can spare, and transfer their property therein, mutually one to
another, by exchange and mutual contact" (E. W., III, 237); and money,
which is the main instrument of such distribution is said to be the "sanguifica
tion of the commonwealth", which "goes round about, nourishing, as it pas-
seth, every part thereof" (E. W., III, 238). Leibniz was certainly aware of the
vital role of circulation in economic life. His use of the parallel thus suggests
that he assigned a similar status to 'circulation' in the life of the intellect. And
indeed, 'moving' from one 'thought' to another is, for Leibniz, the very
essence of intellectual activity, as he stresses continually25. And he does not
miss an opportunity to stress also that the use of characters or other signs is
not only helpful for such a "circulation" but is in fact indispensable if one
wants to "move" beyond the bare first simple steps in reasoning (GP, IV, 204;
C, 351-352). What is true of signs in general is true also of linguistic signs.
Even the strongest understanding, says Leibniz, without the help of an
appropriately developed language, would never be able to advance farther
than a feather thrown by a very strong — but not adequately equipped —
arm26. In the Unvorgreiffliehe Gedancken this idea is further elaborated as
part of the explanation of the parallel between counters and words:
"Und gleichwie ein Rechen-Meister der keine Zahl schreiben wolte,
deren Halt er nicht zugleich bedachte, und gleichsam an den Fingern
abzehlete, wie man die Uhr zehlet; nimmer mit der Rechnung fertig werden
wurde: Also wenn man im Reden und auch selbst im Gedencken kein Wort
sprechen wolte, ohne sich ein eigentliches Bildniss von dessen Bedeutung zu
machen, wurde man überaus langsam sprechen, oder vielmehr verstummen
müssen, auch den Lauff der Gedancken nothwendig hemmen, und also im
Reden und Dencken nicht weit kommen" (D, VI, ii, 8).
There can be no doubt, therefore, that the role Leibniz assigns to linguis
tic or other signs in thought is far from being 'merely auxiliary' or dispensa
ble. The increase in the efficiency of our reason due to them is not merely a
quantitative effect; it is a case in which quantity becomes, so to speak, qual
ity. For the use of signs opens up, for the understanding, possibilities that it
never could dream of reaching without them (cf. Dascal, 1978, 173ff.). It
becomes, therefore, an essential characteristic of human understanding,
and it would be correct to say that Leibniz, perhaps more than any other
thinker in his time, viewed man primarily as an 'animal symbolicum' (Cf. Cas
sirer, 1962, 26). In any case, although he did not actually define man in such
a way, he certainly would not agree with the rapprochement, suggested by
Couturat (1901, 103 n. 2), of his belief that men need to rely on signs in most
of their thought with his general thesis that in most of their actions men are
purely 'empirical' beings, acting (and 'thinking') like beasts. For the use of
signs in thought is, for Leibniz, what distinguishes men from beasts, rather
than what makes them comparable; it is what allows men to be 'rational' and
not merely 'empirical'. On this matter, it should be noted, Leibniz's position
is very close to Hobbes'. Consider the man who counts the hours with his fin
gers because he does not know how to use numerals, as described by Leibniz
in the text quoted above. He instantiates the 'empirical' man, and is the exact
counterpart of Hobbes' 'natural fool': "A natural fool that could never learn
by heart the order of numeral words, as one, two, and three, may observe
every stroke of the clock, and nod to it, or say one, one, one, but can never
know what hour it strikes" (E. W., III, 22).
Another argument could be provided in support of the objection men
tioned above. It would aim to show not that the use of signs in thought is
unnecessary, but rather that is its subsidiary, nonautonomous, secondary. It
would consist in pointing out that the manipulation of signs, though neces
sary, is nevertheless conceived by Leibniz only as an intermediary — and thus
secondary — stage in reasoning, which must always be complemented by the
most important step, namely, the return to the things (or concepts) them
selves, once the conclusion of the argument has been reached. Without this
final 'conversion' of the sign into what it signifies, mental transactions would
be incomplete, as commercial transactions would, if the letters of change
were not finally cashed. It is through such a conversion that the mere sign is
finally replaced by that which is really valuabe. And this is only possible when
at the beginning of the process the opposite procedure (assigning the sign to
a clear and distinct concept) has taken place. "... wenn er [the understanding]
sie [the thing, the notion] einmahl wohl gefasset, begnügt er sich hernach offt,
nicht nur in äusserlichen Reden, sondern auch in den Gedancken und inner
lich selbst-Gespräch das Wort an die Stelle der Sache setzen" (D, VI, ii, 7-8).
Hence the manipulation of signs that takes place in reasoning seems to be not
only intermediary but also subordinated to an encoding and a decoding of
such signs from and into something which is not a sign, something which is
valuable in itself. The real value of the whole process would then lie in these
final and intial operations, upon which the legitimacy of the use of signs by the
understanding would appear to be entirely dependent. There is in Leibniz no
question, the argument would proceed, of an autonomous use of signs in
thought. The possibility of such a use would always be conditional upon the
possibility of a prior, sign-independent, say, 'intuitive', grasping of bare
'ideas' or 'things'. And this would confirm the claim that, in spite of its impor
tance, the use of signs is after all only a secondary element in mental opera
tion. According to this view, the proper attitude towards language would be
"kabdehu vechashdehu" (respect it and fear it), and the maxim to be always
remembered would have to be the Baconian "Back to the things (or
notions)!". The comparison of signs with counters would, accordingly, be a
mere illustration of such a maxim.
This is a challenging argument, which deserves more attention than will
be given to it here, because it concerns not only the interpretation of our frag
ment, but the essentials of Leibniz's contribution to logic and semiotics, and
also because it raises the question of the relationship between Leibniz's
thought and the fundamental components of the épistéme of his time, as
described by Foucault. It would be easy to reject the argument on the grounds
that its last step is a non sequitur. For even if it is true that the use of signs in
thought can never be absolutely autonomous, it does not follow that one can
not proceed, for the most part, as if it were autonomous. That is to say, it is
consistent both to recognize the fact that signs must, ultimately, be
exchanged for notions or things and to proceed by sheer manipulation of
signs, guided only by the formal rules that govern such a manipulation. The
maxim to be followed would then be, in most cases, the opposite of the Baco
nian one 27 . As a matter of fact, it is precisely to the paralyzing effect upon
thought of any attempt to follow the Baconian maxim all the time that Leibniz
calls attention in the Unvorgreiffliehe Gedancken, as well as in many other

texts where, using very similar examples, he expounds and defends his con
ception of a 'blind' or 'symbolic' thought28. It is clear, therefore, that the non-
autonomous use of signs does not require the indiscriminate adoption of the
'back to the things' maxim. But what about the non-autonomy thesis itself?
Is it correctly assigned to Leibniz?
In this case, there is abundant textual evidence supporting a positive
answer. An "analysis of characters", although very useful because it makes
"evident truths appear successively in the paper", is nevertheless only accept
able if "for every character there is a corresponding thought" (C, 351-352). A
"process by definitions", i.e., demonstration through the substitution of the
definiens by the definiendum (which takes place at the level of characters),
although advantageous is also dangerous because it may well lead to 'empty'
combinations of characters, i.e., it may well not correspond to any real "pro
cess by ideas" (Jag., 2-3). And in one of the most authoritative formulations
of Leibniz's mature epistemology, the Meditationes de Cognitione, Ventate et
Ideis, where 'blind' or 'symbolic' knowledge is most convincingly described as
necessary and useful, one is warned of the contradictions that such blind
thinking may conceal and reminded that signs are safely used only when one
can, whenever necessary, supply their 'explanations', i.e., the things or con
cepts they stand for (GP, IV, 423). All this seems to support the claim that
Leibniz held the view that signs could never be used autonomously in
thought. Yet, there is also some evidence for the contrary view. Often, espe
cially when discussing the virtues of mathematical notation, Leibniz comes
very near to presenting a conception of a pureiy formal calculus, a system of
uninterpreted signs whose function and value does not depend at all upon
their interpretation; indeed such an interpretation is conceived as 'external'
to the system itself, as a mere virtuality that need not be actualized at all.
Elsewhere I have described in detail Leibniz's oscillation between these two
positions and this description still seems to me the one that best fits the facts29.
There is no need to repeat here my previous argument. Let me only suggest
a possible explanation for such an oscillation.
As we have seen, it is advantageous, according to Leibniz, to use words
or signs in reasoning because this use facilitates somehow the effectuation of
mental 'exchanges'. But this is the case only when one is allowed to proceed
as far as possible with the signs alone, undisturbed by the requirement to
'realize' the value of the signs, that is to convert them into the things or
notions they stand for. This is the main point in comparing words to
rechenpfennige, marcken, or wechsel-zeddel. Paradoxically, therefore, the

interest of the thinking process as such requires that the fundamental opera
tion of 'conversion', the operation that gives sense to the whole process, be
delayed as much as possible. To be sure, at some point signs must be
anchored in pure notions and things, in the same way as the analysis of
notions must find a resting point in those primary notions which cannot be
further resolved, which are 'conceived by or in themselves' (per se concipiun-
tur C, 429), and in the same way as someone must finally pay (again the
economic metaphor) a debt which has been successively transferred from
man to man30. But the mathematics of the infinite is full of examples in which
the 'end' of a 'process' is never actually reached, a fact that does not impair
the rigor, precision and usefulness of the notions involved: incommensurable
numbers, asymptotes, differentials, sums of infinite series. And it is well
known how frequently Leibniz explains his metaphysical, epistemological,
and logical views with the help of such mathematical analogies (e.g., C, 373-
374; C, 389). Thus, it would be only natural for him to employ here these
familiar mathematical analogues and conceive of an indefinite postponement
of the required conversion of signs into notions and things. This operation
would then be placed at the horizon of thought, it would become a non
actualized potentiality, and finally it would be altogether forgotten: as for
Saussure, the 'value' of a sign would no longer be conceived as something
'else', external to the system of signs itself, with which the sign was in corre
spondence, but rather as nothing more than the 'place' the sign occupies in
the network of signs and rules that constitutes the system. This would com
plete the process of 'autonomization' of the use of signs in thought (and
everywhere, for that matter).
Yet, as pointed out above, Leibniz never fully adopted such a position,
although it seems that he was often on the verge of doing so. Hence the 'oscil
lation' I have mentioned. The reason for that, I suggest, lies in the fact that
the final step towards pure 'formalism' — a step that Saussure and Wittgens
tein could make, apparently without qualms — would require a deep depar
ture from one of the fundamental principles of the épistémé of his time, a leap
into the épistémé of our own time. In its economic version the principle in
question reads: "Valoir, pour la pensée classique, c'est d'abord valoir quel
que chose, être substituable à cette chose dans un processus d'échange"
(Foucault, 1966, 203). It has an obvious semiotic counterpart, which is
implicit in Leibniz's definitions of sign (cf. Dascal, 1978, 78ff.); something
like "To be a sign is to be a sign of something". In essence, both principles
express the idea that 'outside' our systems of representations there is some
thing they are representations of, something to which they owe any value they
may have. And this fundamental idea Leibniz was not prepared to give up.
Returning to our exegetical task, I hope it is by now clear that Leibniz's
oscillation between the autonomy and the nonautonomy theses and his even
tual withdrawal from the former is by no means a proof that, ultimately, he
viewed signs as secondary or marginal. On the contrary, it shows that he
dared to raise the importance and relative autonomy of language and other
signs for epistemology to the highest degree the épistémé of his time allowed
for.
5. Leibniz and Hobbes

If my exposition has been so far convincing, then the reader should have
no reasonable doubt about the existence of profound differences between
Leibniz's and Bacon's conceptions of language and about the different use
they make of the economic metaphor. At the same time, my exposition may
suggest that Leibniz's conception of the relationship between signs (and lan
guage) and knowledge, and his use of the metaphor, are practically identical
to Hobbes'. Nevertheless, we recall that Couturat, for one, has claimed that
the same metaphor has "chez les deux philosophes un sens diamétralement
opposé" (1901, 471). It is necessary, therefore, to clarify the relationship
between Hobbes and Leibniz.
Couturat's discussion of the use of the metaphor in question by Hobbes
and Leibniz is part of his attempt to refute the attribution of the fundamental
Leibnizian idea of a universal characteristic to Hobbesian influence. One of
his main arguments is to point out that such an influence was at most very
limited, since Leibniz was already very early a fierce anti-nominalist, who
directed his criticisms particularly against Hobbes, whom he sometimes cal
led a 'super-nominalist'. The general opposition between Leibniz's anti-
nominalism and Hobbes' nominalism concerns us here in so far as Couturat
makes it the ground for the assignment of completely opposed interpretations
to the two authors' uses of the same metaphor. According to Couturat, for
Hobbes "les mots sont des jetons en tant qu'ils représentent des objets indi
viduels et concrets dont ils sont les substituts ; et les fous qui les prennent pour
de l'or sont ceux qui croient que le mot correspond à une essence générale"
(ibid.). Since, according to nominalism, there are no general essences, it is
foolish to think that words represent or correspond to them; they can only
represent or correspond to what exists, namely, individual objects. The
metaphor, then, would express for Hobbes a critique of those who believe in
the existence of general essences31 and, simultaneously, an "éloge du
nominalisme". For Leibniz, on the other hand, it would express exactly the
opposite, namely a criticism of those who do not believe in general essences
and, like the nominalists, think that generality can be found only in words. In
short, a "satire du psittacisme" identified here with nominalism.
In spite of its ingenuity, Couturat's interpretation seems to me incorrect.
First, because it is not supported by contextual evidence: neither Hobbes nor
Leibniz mention, when they use the metaphor, the problem of general
essences and the general issue of nominalism; on the other hand, both do
mention, in connection with the metaphor, the 'reckoning' function of signs
(in reasoning) and, in addition, Hobbes expressly links the 'foolish' attitude
towards language with the use of words based only on authority. All this is
totally ignored by Couturat. Secondly, he assigns the main weight of the
metaphor as used by Leibniz to its negative or satirical aspect, an interpreta
tion which we have shown to be unsatisfactory both on internal and on con
textual grounds. Thirdly, on Couturat's interpretation, Hobbes' position
turns out to be inconsistent; for, if nominalism is indeed psittacisme, i.e., the
view that generality lies in words alone, and not in the nonexistent general
essences that these words supposedly represent, then words ought to be
praised above all for their intrinsic value as the bearers, in themselves, of
generality; but then, Hobbes ought to consider wise the comparison of words
with money and foolish their comparison with counters, for of the two, it is
certainly money that has more generally accepted value32.
Unlike Couturat, I believe that Leibniz's and Hobbes' uses of the
economic metaphor are quite similar in their purposes: to suggest (alongside
a criticism of current conceptions of language) the proper role that language
plays in knowledge33. There is, however, an important difference that
perhaps explains Couturat's impression that they give to the metaphor radi
cally opposed senses. Hobbes' background assumption, I suggested, was that
both money and words are conventional and the opposition between them
relies in fact upon a distinction between two types of 'convention'. Leib
niz, however, does not make this assumption. Neither words nor money are
'conventional' or 'arbitrary' for him. With respect to words, he repeatedly
denies their alleged arbitrariness: "die Wort nicht eben so willkürlich oder
von ohngefehr herfürkommen, als einige vermeynen" (D, VI, ii, 28), and
most of his 'etymological' work is an atempt to prove their non-arbitrari
ness34. As for money, although I have no specific text to quote, its non-arbit-
rariness would follow from the general Leibnizian thesis that nothing in the
world is in fact arbitrary; it may only seem so, due to our ignorance of the
causes35. But against this background of general non-arbitrariness, it is possi
ble to distinguish various types of relations between a representation and
what it represents: partial or total identity, causality, various kinds of anal
ogy, etc.36. Money exemplifies one type, rechenpfennige another. Money,
apparently, embodies values ;it does so, I guess, through that mysterious 'con
coction' assumed by Hobbes (cf. note 32); the 'analogy' it has with value is,
thus, of an alchemical flavor, like the one the cabalists attribute to the Hebrew
words. And this is why money is the wrong model for explaining the relation
ship between words and understanding. It is not in the labyrinth of the cabala
that one has to look for the source of the power of words and signs. The 'true
cabala' can be found in any well formed and precise language. Hebrew has no
privilege whatsoever, and the model one should emulate is the mathemati
cian's 'art of signs', as exemplified in the algebraic notation. Not a mysterious
analogy, but a structural one is the reason for its success, and its whole secret
is the use of well defined signs according to precisely specified rules of opera
tion (D, VI, 8-9).
There are other important differences between Hobbes' and Leibniz's
conceptions of language and signs37, but none of them — including
nominalism vs. anti-nominalism — bears directly upon the comparison
between words and money. We can leave them aside, therefore, and venture
some concluding generalizations, with the help of Foucault's suggestive con
ceptual framework.
Bacon, at the beginning of the century, is fighting the battle of the new
'classical' épistémé, against the old — but still not dead — 'preclassical' épis
témé. The fundamental category of the latter was that of similitude. For the
sixteenth century man, the world was an immense network of resemblances,
and in order to know it he had to be able to decipher the system of signatures,
those natural signs embedded in the things themselves through which the
world 'talked' to man. Words and ancient texts were part of such a network
and to understand them meant to be sensitive to the signatures they con
cealed as much as revealed (cf. Foucault, 1966, 40ff. and Dubois, 1970, pas
sim). From Bacon's point of view, such conceptions as these were responsible
for the deplorable state of our knowledge of nature; they yielded only
pseudo-science. It was therefore of utmost importance for him to discredit
such tenets and to condemn anything that might even remotely be con
nected with them. Probably this is the reason of Bacon's mistrust of Galileo's
conception of mathematics as the 'language of nature'. Above all, it was
necessary to deny that language was in any way 'natural' and that it might
have any positive influence upon thought. For this might suggest that by look
ing into language's signatures one would be able to gather some knowledge
of nature itself, which would mean a return to pseudo-science. 'Verbal signa
tures' in so far as they exist at all, are, on the contrary, sources of confusion,
of the idols of the market-place 38 . Only the most strict 'official' discrediting of
language can prevent the loss of all the gains so laboriously achieved.
In Hobbes time, the battle of the épistémé is practically over, the new
foundations are solid enough to allow for some flexibility. One can now read
mit the idea that language has some positive role to play in understanding and
knowledge, provided its arbitrary nature is asserted very clearly at all levels.
For the new epistemic foundations are not yet so firm as to tolerate the simul
taneous withdrawal of both theses39. This would fatally lead to a return to the
signature-deciphering pre-classical conception of science. To be sure, the
particular combination of theses adopted by Hobbes — reasoning as compu
tation by means of signs and the arbitrariness of these signs — yields very seri
ous problems, for arbitrariness spreads, via the cognitive functions attributed
to signs, to the whole system of knowledge, and science seems to lose its
necessary foothold in nature. There are indications, in fact, that Hobbes was
not such a strict 'arbitrarist' with respect to signs as he seems to be (cf. Wat-
kins, 1973, 104-109 and Formigari, 1970, 152-155). One such indication is
Hobbes' persistent suggestion that there may be some principle of 'correct
ness' in the definitions one makes by one's own meditation. But, given his
commitment to the new épistémé and the "epistemic" situation at his time, he
could not overtly give up the principle of arbitrariness, in spite of the difficul
ties it caused to his system. Hence the impression of inconsistency one often
has in comparing different statements of Hobbes about the same subject.
Leibniz, at the end of the century, works on an epistemic soil so firmly
established that he can freely reject the two anti-renaissance dogmas. The
idea of an analogical language, modeled on the achievements of seventeenth
century mathematics, no longer evokes pre-classical phantasms. Neither
does its association with the idea that signs have a decisive role to play in cog
nition. Rather than leading back to pre-classical themes, Leibniz's explora
tions of the combinations of these two ideas point already, as we have seen,
to themes that will emerge fully only in the post-classical épistémé.
26 LEIBNIZ. L A N G U A G E , SIGNS AND T H O U G H T
Footnotes
1 Bacon compares words to coins also in the Cogitata et Visa (Sp, III, 599), a text to which I
shall refer later.
2 Here is Spedding's translation of the Latin text: "We are handling here the currency (so to
speak) of things intellectual, and it is not amiss to know that as money may be made of other mate
rial besides gold and siver. so other Notes of Things may be coined besides words and letters" (Sp,
IV, 440). Rossi (1968, 168. 170) points out a significant difference between the Advancement and
the De Aiigmentis version: one refers to "notes (tokens) of concepts", the other, to "notes of
things'". Although this difference is indeed significant, and will be mentioned in what follows on
occasion, it is immaterial to my interpretation of Bacon's text.
3 As they were understood at the time. On the debate around 'hieroglyphics' and related types
of signs in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, see David (1965) and Dascal (1978, 72-74).
4 Since my main concern here is with the significance of the comparison between words and
money for the philosophy of language, I will not attempt a detailed analysis of the monetary
theories of the three authors under discussion.
5 For instance, the second book of the Advancement is devoted to showing "what the particu
lar acts and works are which have been embraced and undertaken for the advancement of learning,
and again what defects and undervalues I find in such particualr acts" (Sp, III, 263-264).
6 On behalf of this interpretation, one might quote the following passage: "In the enumeration
of these private and retired arts, it may be thought I seek to make a great musterroll of sciences;
naming them for shew and ostentation, and to little other purpose. But let those which are skilful
in them judge whether I bring them in only for appearance, or whether in that which I speak of
them (though in few marks) there be not some seed of proficience" (Sp, III, 402-403).
7 In the Cogitata et Visa this kind of 'epistemic obstruction' caused by language is explicitely
linked with a comparison of words to coins: "Verba enim certe tanquam numismata esse" (Sp, III,
599).
8 For a discussion of Bacon's views on the negative effects of language upon the art of discov
ery, see Jardine (1974, passim). Among other things, she points out Bacon's careful distinction
between real invention and the mere invention' of arguments, which he considered a purely
rhetorical exercise (170-171).
9 Bacon is not aware of the fact that his inductive tables, the fundamental device of the art of
discovery, owe their alleged advantages to their special semiotic properties.
10 Rossi (1968, 170), Formigari (1970, 27). Knowlson (1975, 37), who refers to Rossi (1960),
argues that Bacon's attitude is not really one of 'distrust', since he "clearly realizes that language
was important". But, besides the fact that this 'importance' was for Bacon very restricted, his ideal
of a language "intervening as little as possible between a natural object and its apprehension, recol
lection and representation by the human mind" (cf. Formigari. 1970, 15) clearly indicated that lan
guage was for him mainly a disturbing factor, pace Knowlson's description of such an ideal as a
'positive' one.
11 He dubs the opposite, anti-conventionalistic, view 'childish' ("Quod autem dicunt aliqui,
imposita esse singulis rebus nomina juxta ipsarum rerum naturam, puerile est"), and takes the diver
sity of languages to be an obvious counterargument to such a view: "Qui enim fieri potuit, cum una
sit ubique natura rerum, diversae tarnen essent linguae? Et qui habet affine vox, id est sonus, et
animal, quod est corpus?" (O. L., II, 90). Even the names given by the first man, claims Hobbes,
had to be arbitrary (O. L., II, 89).
12 This is clearly a result of Knowlson's description of Hobbes' remarks on language as an 'elab
oration' of Bacon's views. See below, section 3, for a brief discussion of this claim.
13 Perhaps it would be more proper to write 'metaphor' instead of 'conception', in view of the
embryonic state of the conception in question in Hobbes. Yet, given his inclusion of metaphor in
the list of the abuses of language, it seems that he himself did not conceive of the description of
thought as computation as a metaphor, but rather as a serious and perhaps even explanatory claim.
14 Hobbes' efforts to justify the parallel between accounting and reasoning, and the role of
naming therein, include some dubious etymology: 'The Latins called accounts of money rationes,
and accounting ratiocinatio; and that which we in bills or books of account call items, they call
nomina, that is names: and thence it seems to proceed, that they extended the word ratio to the
faculty of reckoning in all other things" (E. W., III, 25).
15 Strictly speaking, the recognition that words are indispensable instruments for knowledge
should lead to neutrality concerning their evaluation. Yet, against a background of condemnation
of words, a reminder of their indispensability is. at least pragmatically, equivalent to a positive
evaluation of their role.
16 Such lists of the uses and abuses of language in Hobbes are not, in general 'equilibrated'.
Some of them clearly show a preference for the former (cf. O. L., II, 90-92).
17 Notice that the fact that Bacon uses the plural 'moneys', whereas Hobbes employs the sing
ular form 'money' makes no difference for our argument. The O. E. D. quotes Hobbes' passage
as an example of the use of the term in the sense of "metal stamped in pieces of portable form as
a medium of exchange and measure of value".
18 The opposition I mention here is not the same as Couturat claims to find in the metaphor.
For here I am provisionally adopting Couturat's reading of Leibniz's use of the metaphor, while
retaining my interpretaion of Hobbes' use thereof, which is radically different from Couturat's.
For further discussion of this topic, see section 5 below.
19 There is another alternative, namely, 'signs' could be taken to be a non-differential element,
i.e., they would not contribute to the contrast the remark conveys. But then its two opposites (fer-
cula and Ursachen und vernunftgründe, respectively) would also lose their contrastive power and
the remark would become practically meaningless, or else it would rely exclusively on the admit
tedly unclear opposition between rechenpfennige and geld.
20 On the cognitive value of metaphors for Leibniz, see GP. VI, 55 and A, VI, 1, 337-340 and
some discussion in Dascal (1975a).
21 Such an interchange would also be warranted by another possible reading of the marginal
comment, suggested to me by Dr. A. Heinekamp. On his proposal the word vocabula should be
added to the sentence, which could then be translated roughly by: "For us, words are signs,
whereas for you they are valuable dishes". On this reading, many of the difficulties of interpreta
tion would be overcome. It would also supply better support to my main claims. Its plausibility
stems from the presence of the term vocabula in the beginning of the fragment. Unfortunately, this
term is not directly appended to the marginal comment; hence, its addition to it remains specula
tive. Dutz (1984, 279-282) points out that the inconsistency in my initial reading of this passage is
due to my own interpretation, which strikes him as implausible from the outset. He reminds us of
the semantic difference between dienen (to serve as) and gelten (to be identical to), and comes up
finally with a schema that interchanges the positions of fercula and signa. Our final interpretation
of the fragment is, therefore, the same. I should point out, however, that the initial, inconsistent
reading we both reject, was claimed by me to be plausible only if one attempted to interpret the
fragment as putting forth views similar to Bacon's. Furthermore, the alleged semantic difference
between gelten and dienen is irrelevant for the marginal comment. Further support for my interpre
tation is provided by the following unpublished fragment: "Les paroles servent de monnoye parmy
les esprits vulgaires, qui s'en laissent payer; mais elles servent de jettons à ceux qui jugent solide
ment; car ils ne les employent que pour mieux faire leurs comptes" (Leibniz Handschriften IV, 4,
13c, 2).
22 Written after 1697 (cf. Aarsleff, 1969, 174).
23 For details on this movement and Leibniz's participation therein, see Schulenburg (1973,
115-148).
24 For other occurences of the mirror metaphor, see D. S., I, 20 (Ermahnung an die De
25 For instance in this definition: "Ingenium est facultas inveniendi seu transiendi utiliter de
cogitatione ad cogitationem. Itaque et reminiscentia quaedam inventio est" (C, 395).
26 "... gleich wie auch ein starker Arm eine Feder so weit nicht werfen kann als einen Stein, also
kann auch der herrlichste Verstand mit leichten Waffen nicht genug ausrichten" (D. S., I, 15).
27 Leibniz flatly rejects the opinion of those who, claiming that what really matters are things
and not words, denounce all occupation with the improvement of language as idle: "Ich weiss, dass
es Leute gibt, deren Verstand und Tugend ich anerkenne und ehre, welche glauben, man solle sich
mit Verbesserung der Sprache nicht aufhalten und nur auf die Sache selbst gehen; die Sprache sei
deswegen erfunden, daß wir uns zu vernehmen geben und andere bewegen" (D. S., I, 17). To this
view — according to which language has only communicative and directive functions (which he
may be here attributing to Bacon) — he opposes his own conception of the cognitive function of
language, a conception that fully justifies the spending of time and energy in projects of language
improvement.
28 GP, IV, 204; A, VI, 1, 170; A, II, 1, 228; A, VI, 2, 481; etc.
29 See Dascal 1977.
30 "Dono tibi centum accipienda a Titio; Titius ad Cajum te remittet; Cajus ad Maevium quod
si ita perpetuo remittaris nunquam quicquam accepisse diceris" (C, 430).
31 Hobbes' point would be, in this case, an anticipation of Berkeley's criticism of Lockean
semantics because of its undesirable epistemological implications. See Berkeley's Principles of
Human Understanding, Introduction, paragraphs 13-17. Notice also that Couturat explicitly
endorses Ueberweg's interpretation mentioned above (cf. Couturat, 1901, 471 .).
32 Hobbes holds indeed a somewhat puzzling doctrine about the way in which money acquires
its value. To be sure, the main element, as we pointed out above, is the sovereign's authoritative
determination of such a value. But, on the other hand, money, as well as gold and silver, represents
the value of all commodities, because such a value has been distilled ('concocted') out of them in
some mysterious way: "By concoction, I understand the reduction of all commodities, which are
not presently consumed,... to something of equal value... ; and this is nothing else but gold, and
silver, and money" (E. W., HI, 238).
33 Apel (1963, 72-73) identifies the figure of the 'Rechensteine' as the nuclear metaphor of the
trend in the philosophy of language represented by the labels 'nominalism', 'mathesis universalis',
L A N G U A G E AND MONEY 29
and 'logistic', a trend to which both Leibniz and Hobbes belonged. Their use of the metaphor
could, thus, indicate this affiliation to a common trend. I think, however, that Apel goes too far
when be attributes to both Leibniz and Hobbes a further common element, namely their adhesion
to 'formalism'. As I have tried to show, Leibniz does indeed come near to a 'formalist' conception
of semiotics, although he never fully adopts it. As for Hobbes, he did not go very far in this direc
tion at all. One might say, in Verburg's words (1968, 1969), that Hobbes is at the very beginning
of the process of 'ennoesis' of language, that is, the integration of language and cognition, that
takes place in the seventeenth century, whereas Leibniz is well advanced in it. In any event, both
Apel's assessment of the meaning of the metaphor in question in Leibniz and Hobbes and Ver
burg's schemata are opposed to Couturat's interpretation and confirm my own suggestion.
34 See, for example, his famous Dialogus of 1677, in which he tries to refute Hobbes' thesis of
the arbitrariness of truth (GP, VII, 190-193), and also Appendix 6 (this volume) as well as D, VI,
ii, 184-185; GP, V, 257-264. For discussion see Aarsleff, 1969, Schulenburg, 1973, Dascal 1980.
35 This is of course a corollary of Leibniz's principle of sufficient reason. It is recalled in the
Unvorgreiffliehe Gedaneken: "nichts ohngefehr in der Welt als nach unserer Unwissenheit, wenn
uns die Ursachen verborgen" (D, VI, 2, 28).
36 On these different types of relations and their connection with the general notion of 'expres
sion' in Leibniz, see Dascal, 1978, 106ff.
37 Cf. Dascal 1975b.
38 "... quod multo deleterius est, istae ipsae pravae verborum signaturae etiam in mentem
radios suos et impressiones reflectant" (Sp, III, 599).
39 It is worth noticing that other authors, like Wilkins and Dalgarno, at about the same time,
felt free to propose languages that would be, to a large extent, 'natural' in the sense that their
'words' would represent directly and analogically the nature of things, but they kept the other
thesis untouched: their languages would have no cognitive function at all, only a communicative
one.
2
LEIBNIZ, HOBBES, LOCKE AND DESCARTES
ON
SIGNS, MEMORY, AND REASONING
I
In a table of definitions composed around 1672, Leibniz introduced a
general definition of 'sign', to which he remained faithful throughout his
career:
"A sign is that which we now perceive and, besides, consider
(judicamus) to be connected with something else, by virtue of our or some
one else's experience."1
He defines here, in fact, the polyadic predicate x is a sign of y for z at t
(where x is a variable for signs or, rather sign-vehicles; y, for what is signified;
z, for interpreters; and t, for instants of time). The definition stipulates two
conditions for allowing one to say that something functions as a sign: a) x must
be perceived by z; b) x must evoke, in z's mind, y, by virtue of a certain con
nection existing, for z, between x and y. The whole process is triggered by the
perception of x by z, at t.
According to this definition, the primary function of every sign is to
evoke its meaning in an interpreter's mind. Yet, within the framework of such
a fundamental function, it is possible to distinguish between several special
functions, on account of the differences between types of interpreters, of
things signified, or sign-vehicles and of the temporal coordinates involved.
The first distinction of this kind introduced by Leibniz, immediately after the
above definition, is the distinction between an 'informative' and a
'mnemonic' function of signs. The signs which fulfil the former are called
'signs', strictly speaking, whereas those which fulfil the latter are dubbed
'notes'. Such a terminology is constantly applied by Leibniz, on many occa
sions2. According to him, a sign is an indication of the present thought of sub
ject S for another individual, whereas a note is an indication of an earlier
thought of S for himself. Two differences are, thus, involved: one of them
concerns the interpreter, who can be either the speaker himself or someone
else3; the other regards the temporal determination of the thought signified,
relative to the time of utterance or of perception of the sign.
II
In one of the passages in which he makes the above distinction, Leibniz
explicitly refers to Hobbes 4 . It is convenient, therefore, to consider directly
the source of the distinction between sign and note, in order to understand
properly their different functions. According to Hobbes, philosophy consists
of knowledge acquired through reasoning (De Corpore, 1,1,2). The latter is
a sort of calculus, whose two fundamental operations are the sum and sub
traction of ideas, concepts or thoughts (De Corp., I, 1,3). Men's thoughts,
however, are fluid and transitory (fluxae et caducae). It is impossible to bring
them to mind, as well as to order and compare them — procedures which are
needed in any reasoning — without the help of sensible signs (monimenta), in
the same way as it is impossible to determine a quantity without a standard of
measurement, or a colour without a sample (De Corp., I, 2,1). It follows that
the acquisition of philosophical knowledge requires sensible signs which ena
ble us to go back to our past thoughts and to record their order and connec
tion. Such signs are what Hobbes calls notes5. However, since the use of such
notes is essentially private, i.e. since they serve to record only individual
memory, with the death of each individual mankind would lose his or her dis
coveries. For the true progress of philosophy, which consists in the accumula
tion of knowledge by generation after generation, it is indispensable to have
sensible signs common to several individuals, and able to show to others what
has been thought by someone. Such signs are what Hobbes calls signs, strictu
sensu {De Corp., I, 2, 2).
The difference between notes and signs is, for Hobbes, a matter of func-
tion. Signs have the function of showing our thoughts, whereas notes, that of
recalling them ("Notae ut recordari, signa ut demonstran cogitationes nos
tras valeamus"; De Corp., I, 2, 3). The former are created for the others, the
latter, for us ("Notae ergo et signi differentia est, quod illa nostri, hoc aliorum
gratia institutum sit"; De Corp., I, 2, 2). Nevertheless, both functions,
though clearly different, do not seem to be, for him, independent. The
mnemonic-fixative function of notes is, in a certain sense, fundamental.
While we can easily conceive notes which are not signs, i.e. notes whose use
is strictly private, with no communicative value, the converse is inconceivable.
Every sign, in order to be able to fulfil its informative communicative func
tion, must be either itself a note or connected with a note which 'fixates' at
SIGNS, MEMORY AND REASONING 33
first the thought which the sign then transmits. The exercise of the communi
cative function presupposes, then, that of the mnemonic function.
The priority of the mnemonic over the communicative function is clearly
illustrated, in Hobbes' view, by the natural languages. Words — more specifi
cally, names — have the double function of signs and notes, but they are first
of all notes and only secondarily signs6. Strictly speaking, he claims, one can
not even say that names or words, taken separately, have a communiative
function at all. Only when they are combined in a sentence do they function
as signs, i.e. as indications revealing the thought of the speaker to the hearer.
The sequence of sounds h-o-m-o, for example, can evoke in the hearer's
mind the idea of a man, but in itself it is not an indication that such an idea is
presently in the mind of the person who utters these sounds; he might simply
have begun to say h-o-m-o-g-e-n-e-u-m. Only when the speaker utters a
complete sentence, like homo est animal, one can say that he used a sign, i.e.
that he informed the hearer about his thought at the moment. Whenever he
utters only isolated words, he is in fact employing only notes. Now, every sen
tence is composed of words, which can, in principle, be used independently
of the sentences. Hence, concludes Hobbes, natural languages illustrate
clearly the primacy of the mnemonic over the communicative function7.
Even if one does not accept Hobbes' argument, nor its conclusion, it is
important to notice that he recognizes here clearly that the true unit of com-
munication is the sentence and not the word. Such a recognition could have
been the starting point for the development of a semantics of the sentence,
radically different from traditional semantics, which was concerned almost
exclusively with the word. However, Hobbes' insight was not exploited nei
ther by himself nor by his immediate successors, and the most influential
semantic doctrine in the following century, that of Locke, remained essen
tially a semantics of the word8.
It is also worth noticing that Hobbes adopts here a specific point of view.
Signs and notes are viewed by him as instruments for the progress of science
and philosophy. In this sense, he is mainly concerned with the 'language of
science', rather than with ordinary language. To be sure, elsewhere he men
tions another use of language which has nothing to do with science, namely
"to please and delight ourselves and others, by playing with our words, for
pleasure of ornament, innocently" (Leviathan, I, 4). But, from his point of
view, this is a purely marginal use. As for the 'social' function of signs also
mentioned by him, a function upon which the very possibility of existence of
a commonwealth is dependent, it is nothing but the transmission, from per-
son to person and from generation to generation, of the knowledge necessary

for the functioning of society. Since such a knowledge is essentially technical
and scientific, the 'social' use of signs, for Hobbes, does not differ from the
scientific one, and does not constitute, therefore, a separate function.
There is a sort of hierarchy of the functions of signs, according to Hob
bes. The ultimate aim is the progress of science. In order to achieve this aim,
it is necessary to accumulate knowledge, i.e. to transmit it from generation to
generation. But the pieces of knowledge are obtained through reasoning. We
must be able, in order to reason, to fixate our thoughts and to recall their con
nection. The hierarchy of functions is, thus: a) progress of science; b) infor
mation, communication; c) discovery through reasoning; d) fixation and
recall of thoughts.
One must notice that, according to the De Corpore, notes have (im
mediately) only function d of this hierarchy. The fulfilment of such a
mnemonic function is, of course, indispensable for the rest, and, in this sense,
all the other functions, particularly reasoning, depend upon the use of sensi
ble notes. However, they have only an auxiliary, though indispensable, role
in the reasoning process. Reasoning itself, i.e. 'computation' operates
directly with the ideas or thoughts evoked by means of notes, but not with the
notes themselves or other signs: "... animo, sine verbis, tacita cogitationes
ratiocinando addere et substrahere solemus" {De Corp., I, 1,3). The use of
notes is indispensable for reasoning simply because it is necessary to be able
first to bring to mind thoughts and concepts before one can reason with or
about them. Yet, once they are brought to mind, notes and other signs can be
dispensed with. Reasoning itself is a purely 'mental' process, where there is
no need nor room for the use of sensible signs.
The above interpretation differs from that of the Kneales (1962, 312) and
many others, who claim that Hobbes holds the view that "our thinking is only
the manipulation of signs. " The reason for these conflicting interpretations is
to be found in Hobbes' own hesitations on the matter. In Leviathan he
describes indeed reasoning as a manipulation of 'general names': "reason...
is nothing but reckoning, that is adding and substracting, of the consequences
of the general names agreed upon for the marking and signifying of our
thoughts" (I, 5). And he adds that science is nothing but the acquisition of
"knowledge of all the consequences of names appertaining to the subject in
hand." Nevertheless, at the beginning of the same chapter of Leviathan he
presents this type of reasoning (based exclusively upon the 'consequences of
names') as a possibility rather than a necessary characteristic of all types of
reasoning:
"When a man reasoneth, he does nothing else but conceive a sum total,
from addition of parcels; or conceive a remainder from substraction of one
sum from another; which, if it be done by words, is conceiving of the con
sequence of the names of all the parts, to the names of the whole ; or from the
names of the whole and the part, to the name of the other part."
Furthermore, in the previous chapter of the same book, he had assumed
the existence of a kind of purely 'mental discourse', different and indepen
dent of spoken discourse: "The general use of speech is to transfer our mental
discourse into verbal or the train of our thoughts into a train of words."
The Hobbesian conception of thought deserves some attention, in view
of its connection with his theory of language. It is a conception that might be
called 'inspectionist' (Reeves, 1969, 11-12). Its main characteristics are sum
med up in the following theses: a) the study of thought is the study of the ele
ments of content which constitute it; b) such elements are 'ideas' or 'images';
c) they are successively 'presented' to the mind during the performance of
cognitive processes, i.e. they appear successively before the 'mind's eye'.
Hence, according to such a theory, thought has special objects (ideas,
images, concepts) which are 'inspected' by the thinking sub jet. Within the
framework of such a theory, besides the function of translating occasionally
the 'train of thoughts' into a 'train of words', signs and words may be useful
only to render the 'presentation' of an idea to the mind quicker, clearer and,
in general, easier. Their contribution to thought, especially regarding its for
mation, cannot go beyond that of psychotechnical aids. Hobbes cannot
understand, within his theory, the possibility that signs fulfil a much more
important role in the constitution of thought itself, especially in the perfor
mance of reasoning.
It is this fundamental limitation of his ideas that shows up in Hobbes' dis
cussion of the value of algebraic signs:
"At symbolica, qua permulti hodie utuntur putantes esse analyticam,
nec analytica est nec synthetica, sed calculationum arithmeticarum quidem
vera, geometricarum autem falsa brachygraphia, ars quidem non docendi
neque discendi geometriam, sed inventa geometrarum celeriter et compen
dio in commentarios redigendi. Nam etsi inter propositiones longe dissitas,
facilis sit per symbola discursus, an tarnen is discursus, cum fiat sine ipsarum
rerum ideis, valde utilis existimandus sit, certe nescio" (De Corpore, III,
20).9
The only function he is willing to assign to algebraic signs is that of
abbreviation, and even about that he expresses some qualms. Furthermore,
Hobbes assesses the value of algebraic symbolism only with regard to its
pedagogical utility, without taking into account its uses as a means of
demonstration, invention, etc. But the most interesting feature of his criti
cism of algebra is the suspicion he expresses towards the very possibility of a
pure manipulation of symbols, non-accompanied by the evocation of the cor
responding 'ideas'. In this possibility lies the foundation of the notion of for
malization and, particularly, of the notion of a calculus, as characterized by
modern logic. The internal limitation of Hobbes' epistemology, with the sub
sequent restriction of the cognitive functions assigned to signs (to the mere
mnemonic function), do not allow him to reach that fundamental idea. As a
consequence, his famous statement that thought is nothing but computation
remains devoid of any specific content.
The merit of developing seriously such an idea, leading to the advent of
modern logic, reverts to Leibniz. Such a development presupposes, of
course, a critique of the Hobbesian theory of signs. At first, however, the
young Leibniz adopts Hobbes' theses, based on which he works out his own
conceptions about, first, the mnemonic function of signs. Let us turn now to
these views of Leibniz.
III
In Leibniz's Nova Methodus Discendae Docendaeque Jurisprudentia,
Mnemonics is one of the three disciplines concerned with typically human
'habits', namely, memory, judgment and discovery. The other two are
Analytics and Topics, respectively. To them, one should add Methodology,
in order to complet the set of disciplines constituting Didactics (A, VI, i, 277).
Generally speaking, the conception of thought of the Nova Methodus is still
'inspectionist' in nature: there are certain special objects of thought — called
'propositions' — which we can recall, judge, discover and order. Signs are
considered useful mainly for the first of these activities. Hence their study is
viewed as part of Mnemonics. The same is true both of the first edition of the
Nova Methodus (1667) and of the revised version Leibniz prepared for a sec
ond edition (1697). The only novelty one finds in the latter is the inclusion of
natural languages among the semiotic systems having primarily a mnemonic
function, a move that justifies the subordination of 'linguistics' to
Mnemonics10.
Nevertheless, in his study of Mnemonics, Leibniz is quite original, and
goes beyond his contemporaries. He develops, especially in his juridical
writings, concepts and techniques belonging to what is now called informa-
tics, namely the theory and practice of information storage and retrieval.
These are, as Leibniz points out, the two main problems of Mnemonics:
"... Mnemonica, seu ars retinendi et in memoriam revocandi quae
didiciums, quae ars multis elegantibus utitur compendiis et inventis, quorum
aliquando usus esse potest in vita... aliud enim retinere, aliud reminisci.
nam eorum quae retinemus non semper reminiscimur, nisi aliqua ratione
admoneamur." (C, 37)
The basic principle of Mnemonics, for him, is a principle of economy:
our memory capacity is limited; hence we must save it as much as we can; i.e.
we must exploit it as efficiently as possible. The correct use of signs is the most
important means for achieving such an economy. For example, when he
proposes the compilation of a 'Breviary of Controversies', he recommends
the use of special signs which indicate how each of the pro and con arguments
listed is derived from the Elements of Law or from specific laws (A, VI, i,
346). Thus, when the argument is based on opposition (à contrario), the sign
suggested is: ')('; when it is based on similarity (à simili), it is: '()'; when on
the cause (à causa): '0—'; when on the effect: '—0'; etc. The function of such
signs is to make evident the relationship between premisses and conclusion,
in order to place them under the user's 'sight', allowing him to grasp
immediately and without effort the force of the argument: "ita qui textum
evolvet et signum intuebitur, vim argumentum facilè perspiciet, eoque ipso
ingenium exercebit, nec quicquam brevitas ei efficiet." The key concept here
is that of one single and immediate 'grasp', here conveyed by the verb 'in-
tuere' 11 . The possibility of achieving such an effect by means of signs trans
forms them into an indispensable instrument of reasoning. This is why this
property is one of those required from a good notation: "One very important
property for symbolism to possess is that it should be concise, so as to be vis
ible at one glance of the eye and to be rapidly written" (Whitehead, 1967,211-
213).
In order to understand some of the reasons for the importance assigned
to such a property of signs, it is convenient to recall what modern psychology
has to say about memory. One of the most widely accepted models of mem
ory views it as composed of two distinct storage devices12. One of them, dub
bed 'short term memory' (STM), receives information coming from the
senses and is able to retain it for a very brief time. Its capacity is restricted, so
that any one unit ofinformation can remain there only until another one takes
up its place. The capacity of STM has been numerically estimated: it averages
seven 'units', plus minus two (Miller, 1967, 33ff.) During its stay at the STM,
the information can be codified and transferred to the other storage device,
'long term memeory' (LTM), which has incomparably larger capacity. If such
a transfer is made, the information is preserved, if not, it is lost.
Within the framework of this model, the psychologial observation
directly relevant to our subject is that the capacity of the STM is indeed
restricted with regard to the number of 'units' it can contain at any one time,
but not with regard to the quantity of information — as defined in informa
tion theory (cf. Shannon and Weawer, 1964) — it can handle simultaneously.
That is to say, the capacity of STM is not seven bits, but rather seven chunks
of information (Miller, 1967, 37). Bits and chunks differ in that the latter may
contain many bits, i.e., much more information than a single bit. For exam
ple, a number of six binary digits, like 101101, contains only six bits of infor
mation. If each digit is perceived as a separate chunk or unit, the perception of
the number in question occupies almost the whole of the STM. But if one
regroups the digits in three chunks of two digits each, 10 11 01, each of these
new units contains more information (two bits) than the former (one bit
each). The perception of the same binary number occupies now only half the
capacity of the STM. This means that the STM is now able to grasp simulta
neously two numbers of six binary digits each, instead of one. Its capacity has
been increased by virtue of the regrouping of individual symbols, which trans
formed them into more 'condensed' symbols, richer in information. Notice
that this result has been achieved without modifying the natural limitation of
the STM (seven chunks). According to Miller, this process of regrouping or
'recoding' has an essential role to play in our cognitive processes13.
Leibniz's 'single grasp' (uno ob tutu) can be identified with the STM just
described, which resembles the head of a tape-recorder or the processing unit
of a computer. Such an identification would require, to be sure, the generali
zation of the Leibnizian notion, so that it would include not only sight but also
the other senses, as well as the 'internal sense' which he will later call 'apper
ception'. Such a generalization, in fact, is quite unproblematic within a Leib
nizian perspective. To use signs which allow for several data to be grasped at
once, is precisely to recode such data in order to maximize the 'grasping' abil
ity, i.e. the STM. The economy obtained is, thus, not only an economy of
memory, if this term is taken to refer to LTM alone. Yet, since this procedure
contributes to a more efficient use of the STM, its study and development
belongs rightly to Mnemonics, especially if one recalls that most of the wide
spread 'mnemonic' techniques are in fact recoding procedures (Miller, 1967,
40; Yates, 1966, passim).
SIGNS. MEMORY AND REASONING 39
IV
Let us compare now Leibniz's position with that of two other
philosophers of the 17th century, who clearly discerned the notion of STM
and perceived the problems raised by its limited capacity.
Whereas for Leibniz and Hobbes the mnemonic function of signs is prim
ary, Locke considers their communicative function as basic:
'The comfort and advantage of society not being to be had without com
munication of thoughts, it was necessary that man should find out some
external sensible signs whereby those invisible ideas, which his thoughts are
made up of, might be made known to others" (Essay, III, 2, 1).
A special chapter of Locke's Essay is devoted to 'retention' (Book II,
Chap. 10). After defining retention as "the keeping (in the mind) of those
simple ideas which from sensation it hath received", he distinguishes two
types of retention, which correspond quite precisely to STM and LTM,
respectively:
"This is done two ways. First, by keeping the idea in view, which is cal
led contemplation. The other way of retention is the power to revive in our
minds those ideas which, after imprinting, have disappeared, or have been
as it were laid aside out of sight; and thus we do, when we conceive heat or
light, yellow or sweet, the object being removed. This is memory which is as
it were the storehouse of our ideas'' (Essay, II, 10, 1-2).
He then points out the limitations of STM, due to the small number of
ideas that one can have simultaneously 'under view':
"For the narrow mind of man not being capable of having many ideas
under view and consideration at once, it was neessary to have a repository,
to lay up those ideas which, at another time, it might have use of" (Essay, II,
10,2).
Even Pascal's prodigious memory does not escape such a fundamental
limitation, because all the extra power it allows him is due to an unlimited
ability of sequential access to all the ideas stored in his LTM, but not to an
ability of simultaneous access to more ideas than those available to a man
endowed with normal memory. Thus, the privilege to have a less limited
STM, i.e. a larger view', is reserved for angels and separate spirits14.
Although he recognizes that an increase in the capacity of our STM
"would be no small advantage to the knowledge of a thinking man", Locke
does not propose any means to actually increase it. Particularly, he does not
mention the value of signs for that purpose. Leibniz's attitude in this respect
is, as we have seen, entirely opposed to Locke's: he firmly believes that the
convenient use of signs is a means to overcome the limitation of our STM,

thus bringing human knowledge closer to angelic knowledge.
Descartes too recognizes the limitations of our 'intuition' (STM) ; yet, he
clearly sees the necessity to increase its capacity, if one wants to achieve any
knowledge whatsoever. Such a necessity is particularly felt when one has to
assess the validity of a lenghty piece of deduction: the certainty of a conclu
sion "depends on more things than we can grasp in one single intuition", he
observes; hence, our 'fluid' and 'weak' memory needs to be "refreshed and
strengthened" (Regula XI). The method he proposes to overcome these dif
ficulties of our intuition consists in practising a tacit recording of the many
data, by letting our thought move continuously and quickly back and forth
through them. For example:
"... if I have first found out by separate mental operations what the rela
tion is between the magnitudes A and B, then that between  and C,
between  and D, and finally between D and E. that does not entail my see
ing what the relation is between A and E, nor can the truth previously learnt
give me a precise knowledge of it unless I recall them all. To remedy this I
would run them over from time to time, keeping the imagination moving
continuously in such a way that while it is intuitively perceiving each fact it
simultaneously passes on to the next; and this I would do until I had learned
to pass from the first to the last so quickly, that no stage in the process was
left to the care of the memory, but I seemed to have the whole in intuition
before me at the same time. This method will both relieve the memory,
diminish the sluggishness of our thinking, and definitely enlarge our mental
capacity" (Regula VII).
Descartes also considers the possibility of employing abridging signs in
order to render the above process of recoding more efficient. Such signs, pre
ferably written, should be short, so that, after having distinctly examined
each thing, one would be able to "run through all of them with a very quick
movement of thought and have the intuition of the biggest possible number
of them simultaneously" (Regula XVI). In so doing, they would let our imag
ination free for the present idea. These signs are doubly economical, accord
ing to Descartes, since they not only abridge but also 'filtrate' nonrelevant
material, namely that which need not be stored and remembered 15 .
'T3y this device not only shall we economize our words, but, which is the
chief thing, display the terms of our problems in such a detached and unen
cumbered way that, even though it is so full as to omit nothing, there will
nevertheless be nothing superfluous to be discovered in our symbols, or any
thing to exercise our mental powers to no purpose, by requiring the mind to
grasp a number of things at the same time {Regula XVI).
SIGNS. MEMORY AND REASONING 41
This type of use of signs — apparently the only one considered cogni-
tively valid by Descartes — belongs entirely to the mnemonic function: the
'signs on the paper' he talks about replace in fact LTM (which one can never
trust, he adds), and the 'condensation' and 'filtration' they perform contri
bute to reduce the burden of STM. In this sense, Descartes' views illustrate
quite well the two types of economy of memory achieved through the use of
signs. The young Leibniz and Descartes are, in this respect, very close to each
other. Yet, they part company very soon. A brief analysis of the Cartesian
position will show the essence of this fundamental divergence between what
will become Leibnizian 'formalism' as opposed to Cartesian 'intuitionism'
(Cf. Beiaval, 1960, 24ff.).
Descartes, like Hobbes, restricts the role of signs in deductive reasoning
and, generally speaking, in thought, to a purely mnemonic function, as the
passages quoted illustrate. Signs, on this view, are useful only in order to
evoke ideas (for that purpose they are, in fact, indispensable), i. e. in order to
place them before the 'mind's eye'. The task of verifying the validity of a
deduction, as well as the task of actually inferring a conclusion from the pre
misses of an argument, is entirely left to the understanding itself. Signs or
'imagination', in the specific sense of 'faculty or ability to manipulate signs
and images', do not play, directly, any role in these tasks. Although he speaks
of "leaving the imagination free for the present idea" through the use of signs,
and although he describes the back and forth movement of thought as a "con
tinuous movement of the imagination", it is quite clear that, in these pas
sages, the term imagination does not have its specific technical meaning, of "a
particular mental faculty, different from the understanding, memory and the
senses" (cf. Regula XII; Meditations, VI; etc.). It is rather synonymous, here,
with 'thought', 'understanding' or even 'reason', i.e. it is broadly used to refer
to our cognitive ability in general. Thus, imagination stridii sensu is not the
faculty involved at the heart of deductive reasoning. It is the understanding
itself which must be totally busy with the performance of the continuous
'movement' required.
The idea of assigning to imagination or to the use of signs a more central
role and a measure of autonomy in, say, the assessment of the validity of a
deductive reasoning, is alien to the Cartesian frame of mind. Descartes
refuses to consider deduction as susceptible to be formalized (in a modern
sense of this term). He is very suspicious about the "precepts through which
the dialecticians think they can govern human reason" 16 , i.e. of logic, because
he has noticed, he claims, that "truth often escapes such chains". In order to
avoid the danger represented by the blind obedience to such precepts, the
only means is, for him, to employ at each step the understanding itself, i.e.
never to leave reason idle:
"Wherefore as we wish here to be particularly careful lest our reason
should go on holiday while we are examining the truth of any matter, we
reject those formulae as being opposed to our project, and look out rather
for all the aids by which our thought may be kept attentive, as will be shown
in the sequel" (Regula X).
The enslaving of the mind that results from such a demand does not seem
to bother Descartes. He does not even raise the possibility of a real division
of labor between a relatively autonomous sign-manipulating 'imagination'
and an 'understanding' which would only deal with those matters which can
not be handed over to the imagination, i.e. an understanding free to tackle
the really creative tasks of man, as suggested, for example, by Whitehead
(1967,212):
"It is a profoundly erroneous truism, repeated by all copybooks and by
eminent people when they are making speeches, that we should cultivate the
habit of thinking of what we are doing. The precise opposite is the case.
Civilization advances by extending the number of important operations
which we can perform without thinking about them. Operations of thought
are like cavalry charges in a battle, they are strictly limited in number, they
require fresh horses, and must only be made at the decisive moments".
V
Leibniz, as opposed to Descartes, adopts, later on in his career, ideas
very close to Whitehead's, concerning the cognitive use of signs. Elsewhere
(Dascal, 1978, Chapter 7) I have described these ideas, which will only be
briefly sketched here. They range from a critique of the Hobbesian concep
tion of the value of algebraic signs, to an extension of the use of signs, beyond
Mnemonics, to Topics and Analytics, through the elaboration of the project
of a universal characteristic17.
In his critique of Hobbes' qualm about the value of symbols in algebra
(see above, p. 35), Leibniz stresses that they have an essential, rather than
merely auxiliary, role in an abstract science like algebra. On his view, when
ever one reasons in algebra, the ideas corresponding to the symbols
employed are not evoked or presented to the mind at each step, as required
by Hobbes. If such a request were accepted, says Leibniz, algebraic reasoning
would become impossible, for the mind would be permanently busy trying to
get hold of evoked ideas, with no capacity left to proceed in the reasoning
SIGNS. M E M O R Y A N D R E A S O N I N G 43
itself. It is essential, on the contrary, that, in this kind of reasoning, our

thought be 'blind1, i.e. that the mind concentrate exclusively on the signs
themselves and on the operations performed upon them, without caring to
'interpret' these signs as it proceeds. In this sense, algebraic reasoning is vie
wed as nothing but the sheer manipulation of signs18. It is performed following
well defined rules, which guarantee the validity of its results. By the way,
Leibniz observed that it is the lack of such a system of precise and constant
rules of operation that renders natural languages inadequate to the tasks
assigned to algebraic symbolism.
But 'blind' thought does not occur only in algebraic reasoning, according
to Leibniz. The only knowledge we can have of a relatively complex notion
— and most of our notions are of this kind — is in fact 'blind' or 'symbolic':
"... cum notio valde composita est, non possumus omnes ingredientes
earn notiones simul cogitare... compositarum plerumque cogitatio non nisi
symbolica est" (GP, IV, 423).
The reason for that is certainly the limitation of our STM, and it means
that, if we did not dispose of characters or other signs, knowledge of any com
plex matters and, a fortiori the ability to perform complex reasoning would be
entirely outside our reach: "... si characteres abessent, nunquam quic-
quam distincte cogitaremur, neque ratiocinaremur" (GP, VII, 19). Signs do
not function, in blind thought, merely as aids or instruments of the under
standing. In fact, in this kind of cognition, they do not even evoke their
'meanings' 19 . They function, rather, as the building blocks of thought itself:
"Omnis Ratiocinatio nostra nihil aliud est quam characterum connexio
et substitutio, sive i11i characteres sint verba sive notae, sive denique
imagines" (GP, VII, 31).
Having recognized this fact, Leibniz doubtless laid the theoretical foun
dations for the study not only of the mnemonic but also of the higher cognitive
function of signs, as well as for the development of symbolic logic. The exami
nation of these implications, however, goes beyond the limits of the present
paper.
Footnotes
1 "Signum est quod nunc sentimus et alioquin cum aliquo connexum esse ex priore experientia
nostra vel aliena judicamus" (A. VI. ii, 500). See also C, 497 (after 1700). for substantially the
same definition.
44 LEIBNIZ. L A N G U A G E , SIGNS A N D T H O U G H T
2 "Nota est signum cogitationis nostrae prioris. seu signum memoriale" (A. VI. ii. 500). "Voc-
abulum est sonus articulatus nota signumque cogitationis (nota mihi, signum aliis)" (A, VI, ii,
488). "... (vocabulum)... quod nota esset memoriae mihi ipsi. signum judicii erga alios..." (GP,
IV, 143). "Nomina sunt notae mihi ipsi ad reminiscendum. signa erga alios ad docendum" (A, VI,
ii, 447). "Les paroles ne sont pas moins des marques (Notae) pour nous (comme pourraient être
les caracteres des nombres ou de l'Algebre) que des signes pour les autres" (Nouveaux Essais, III,
9).
3 Notice that the speaker is not explicitly mentioned in Leibniz's definition. Yet, he must be
mentioned in order, for example, to account for the difference between note and sign. In this
sense, Leibniz's definition is formally incomplete.
4 "Verba enim non tantum signa sunt cogitationis meae praesentis ad alios, sed et notae
cogitationis meae praeteritae ad me ipsum, ut demonstravit Th. Hobbes principio Elementorum
de Corpore" (A, VI. i. 278).
5 "... res sensibiles arbitrio nostro adhibitas, ut illarum sensu cogitationes in animum revocari
possunt similes iis cogitationibus quarum gratia sunt adhibitae" {De Corpore, I,2, 1).
6 "Cum autem philosophiae ut diximus et notae et signa... necessaria sint; nomina ultramque
rem praestant. Sed notarum prius quam signorum officio funguntur. Nam homini, etsi unicus in
mundo existeret, inservirent quidem ad memoriam, cum tamen ad demonstrationem, nisi alius sit
cui demonstrei, inservire non possent" {De Corpore, I. 2, 3).
7 "..., nomina per se singula notae sunt, nam cogitata revocant etiam solas, signa vero non
sunt, nisi quatenus in oratione disponuntur et partes ejus sunt. Verbi gratia, vox homo excitat
quidem in audiente ideam hominis, non tamen (nisi quis addat, est animai, vel aliud aliquid
aequivalens) significai aliquam ideam fuisse in animo loquentis, sed voluisse eum aliquid dicere,
quod potuit quidem incipere a voce homo, potuit vero etiam a voce homogeneum. Natura itaque
nominis consistit primario in eo quod serviat quoque significandis, demonstrandisque iis rebus
quas memoria tenemus" {De Corpore, I, 2, 3).
8 For some qualifications of this statement, see Hungerland and Vick (1973) and Land (1974).
9 For a translation of this passage see Appendix 1, note 18.
10 "Maximè autem ad Mnemonicam et notarum Doctrinam pertinet notitia linguae..." (This is
followed by a mention of the Pori-Royal Grammar and of other linguistic writings of the time).
11 Elsewhere Leibniz uses the more significant expression uno obtutu — at one glance — for the
same concept. E. g.: A, VI, i, 327; A, VI, ii, 477-478: A, VI, ii. 94; A, I, i, 79; GP, VII. 78; etc.
12 See, for example, Hilgard and Atkinson (1967, 328-330).
13 Miller (1967, 13, 38). This is his description of the process in question: "The input is given in
a code that contains many chunks with few bits per chunk. The operator recodes the input into
another code that contains fewer chunks with more bits per chunk. There are many ways to do this
recoding, but probably the simplest is to group the input events, apply a new name to the group,
and then remember the new name rather than the original input events" (pp. 37-38).
14 "For this of Monsieur Pascal was still with the narrowness that human minds are confined to
here, of having greater variety of ideas only by succession, not all at once; whereas the several
degrees of angels may probably have larger views, and some of them be endowed with capacities
able to retain together and constantly set before them, as in one picture, all their past knowledge
at once. This, we may conceive, would be no small advantage to the knowledge of a thinking man,
if all his past thoughts and reasonings could be always present to him. And therefore, we may sup-
SIGNS. M E M O R Y A N D R E A S O N I N G 45
pose it one of those ways wherein the knowledge of separate spirits may exceedingly surpass ours"
(Essay,II, 10,9).
15 In this respect, Descartes's proposed use of signs shares one basic property Leibniz ascribes
to algebraic signs, namely, the ability to present to the mind the algebraic structures in their purest
form, completely nude, as it were.
16 "... precepts of the dialecticians, by which they think to control the human reason. They pre
scribe certain formulae of argument, which lead to a conclusion with such necessity that, if the
reason commits itself to their trust, even though it slackens its interest and no longer pays a heedful
and close attention to the very proposition inferred, it can nevertheless at the same time come to
a sure conclusion by virtue of the form of the argument alone" (Regula X).
17 "Alii enim characteres compendii tantum aut commercii vel etiam arcani causa reperti sunt,
alii inventionem augent ac judicium dirigunt" (GP. VII, 12).
18 "Si semel nobis conscii simus verba distincte constanterque ordinasse, suffecerit
cogitationibus caecis uti ad distincte ratiocinandum. Hinc Symbolica illa recentiorum Analysis,
quicquid etiam contradicat Hobbius, tanti est ad celeriter et secure ratiocinandum usus" (A, VI,
ii,481).
19 In this sense, this particular use of signs does not conform strictly to Leibniz's general defin
ition of sign (cf. fn. 1). This indicates that the further development of the theory of the cognitive
functions of signs requires a revision of the framework set up by this early definition.
3
SIGNS AND THOUGHT IN LEIBNIZ'S PARIS NOTES
I
Leibniz, as I have shown elsewhere 1 , understands much better than his
contemporaries the value of signs for memory. This understanding leads him
to develop both, theoretical foundations and some applications that go far
beyond the classical techniques of the so-called 'art of memory' (cp. Yates,
1966, Chapters 8 to 17). His contributions in this field are, no doubt, an
important step towards the recognition of the decisive role held by signs in the
cognitive processes in general.
But Leibniz goes much farther in his attempt to understand and analyze
the cognitive functions of signs. Throughout his philosophical development,
he recognizes with increasing clearness the role of signs not only in memory,
but in all other 'operations of the mind'. He thus extends the domain of the
cognitive uses of signs from mnemonics to 'analytics', 'topics' and 'methodol
ogy'. To the first two of them, by means of his projects of an art of judgment
(ars judicandi) and an art of invention (ars inveniendi), respectively (C, 36-
37). To the third one, through his insistence on the importance of the
'geometrical' method, i.e. the techniques of axiomatization and formaliza
tion.
The major instrument for achieving all these aims should be the famous
characteristica universalis; this characteristica, as opposed to other 'philo
sophical' or 'universal' languages proposed in the 17th century, would have
been a system of notation whose "characters... must serve invention and
judgment, like in algebra and arithmetic" (A, II, i, 428). This is a quotation
from a letter to Gallois, secretaire of the Paris Academy of Sciences, dated
December 1678. A similar ideal had been expressed by Leibniz since 1666, in
his De Arte Combinatoria, and we can find it again and again in countless
writings of the period between these two texts. As a matter of fact, Leibniz,
in spite of his inability to accomplish such an ideal, was to be faithful to it
throughout his whole life.
Although the idea of a characteristica universalis as the main instrument
of reason can be found throughout Leibniz'z work — a fact that has been
pointed out by commentators — it seems to me that there has been no recog

nition of the evolution that took place in Leibniz's views on the epistemic role
of the characteristica. Such an evolution, sometimes quite subtle, yet very sig
nificant, correlates with the evolution of Leibniz's epistemology, psychology
and metaphysics. It has to do with the central question of the nature of signs
and their contribution to judgment, invention, definition and demonstration:
are the signs mere instruments, mere psychotechnical devices which increase
the efficacy of our reasoning, or else are they its constitutive elements,
inseparable of reasoning itself, which would then be nothing but a process of
manipulation of signs?2
Very slowly Leibniz evolves towards the second alternative, although his
choice on the matter is never a final one, probably because of constraints
inherent to the epistémé of his time 3 . But the evolution of his thought is not
at all linear, on this subject. One can discern in it a number of hesitations as
well as a retour to early positions that Leibniz himself had not explicitly
rejected. The Paris Notes, a collection of fragments written while he was in
Paris (1672-1676), at the very moment he was discovering the work of great
mathematicians like Pascal and Huyghens, and elaborating his 'infinitesimal'
calculus, constitute a very moving record of this thought-in-the-making, a
thought that explores, in the light of the achievements of his century, the still
virgin land of the relationship between signs and thought 4 .
I shall examine some aspects of these Notes in this paper. I will try to
make clear how, in them, the thought of the young Leibniz oscillated between
two different conceptions of the cognitive role of signs: the one that attributes
to them a considerable degree of autonomy and views them, accordingly, as
constitutive of thought; and the other which subordinates them to a purely
evocative function, as mere auxiliaries to reasoning. To be sure, these con
ceptions are not incompatible, and Leibniz in fact will hold them side by side
throughout his career. Yet, whereas later, in the wake of his mathematical
inventions and the definitive formulation of his theory of knowledge, he
tends to emphasize the former conception, here we can observe the confron
tation of the two of them, perhaps with a slight advantage for the latter.
Hence the interest and real suspense in reading these Paris Notes.
II
Let us consider, for example, the first group of the Notes, from
December 1675 (Jag, 2-12). Here one can discern between two movements of
thought, clearly opposed, concerning the evaluation of the role of signs or
THE PARIS NOTES 49
characters. The first movement consists in showing the utility of characters

and definitions for knowledge. Leibniz distinguishes between a 'process by
ideas' and a 'process by definitions' or characters: "Differentur inter proces-
sum per ideas et processum per definitiones vel caracteres" (Jag, 2). Accord
ing to him, the use of characters has two main advantages: a) they contri
bute to the fixation of ideas, thus eliminating their fluidity — which is so
dangerous for correct reasoning; b) they allow one to seize, in one simple
look (of the mind), a whole chain of thoughts ("totus noster cogitandi proces
sus uno obtutu perspici"; Jag, 4). Now, supposing — as Leibniz indeed does
— that whoever speaks thinks ("Suppono enim qui loquitur cogitare", ibid. ),
it follows that every process by definitions involves also a process by ideas
("Omnis processus per definitiones continet in se processus per ideas"; Jag,
2-4). It is therefore clear that it is always advantageous to have, instead of
processes by ideas, processes by characters, since the latter offer nothing less
than the former (they 'contain' them), having, as a bonus, advantages a and
b. According to these remarks, the utility of characters or signs is guaranteed
by the fact that their use is always accompanied by a sort of 'silent discourse'
— the 'process by ideas' that corresponds to them — which they evoke at
every step.
The second movement of thought, which follows immediately the first,
goes in the opposite direction: Leibniz attempts now to show the disadvan
tages involved in the use of characters and definitions. His argument runs like
this. Whenever we have a definition, we have in fact nothing but a sequence
of characters. To each one of the characters corresponds an idea. But the fact
that we put together these characters in the same sequence in order to form
a definition does not guarantee, by itself, that on the level of ideas a similar
union takes place, or even that it is at all possible: "When I think of something
of which nothing bigger can be conceived, what is it that I think of, besides the
separate thought of the ideas of the singular (things) contained in the words
'something', 'bigger', 'conceive', 'not', 'can'? Separaterly I have the idea of
what I call 'something', of what I call 'bigger', of what I call 'thought', and I
can think of the one after the other. But not the idea of all these things
together. I connect only the words or characters, and I just imagine that I
have the idea of something of which nothing bigger can be conceived"5.
In other words, contrary to Leibniz's assumption in the preceeding para
graph, there may well exist processes by characters which are not accom
panied by corresponding processes by ideas. In fact, to assume that they are
always so accompanied may lead one into error, in which case the use of
characters, instead of being helpful, is disastrous for thought. In order to
ensure the real union of ideas and the consequent formation of a 'genuine'
complex idea, another condition, entirely independent of the use of charac
ters, must be satisfied. This condition is that the various component ideas in
question be in fact liable to be conceived simultaneously and together 6 , i.e.,
that they be compatible. If this condition is not satisfied, we will remain only
with the single separate ideas in our mind, without any complex idea corres
ponding to the composed character ("Habermas ideas simplicium, habemus
tantum characteres compositorum", Jag, 4). This is the case, for example, of
the expression "something of which nothing bigger can be conceived", which
is nothing but a character, which we know, no doubt, how to construct, but
which remains without meaning, since it is only able to evoke the separate
ideas corresponding to each of the elementary characters which compose it.
Such an argument constitutes in fact a direct rejection of the second
advantage (b) Leibniz had shortly before assigned to the use of characters.
For here he is claiming that the fact that characters allow us to seize a chain
of thoughts or a set of ideas uno obtutu does not ensure that these ideas are
compatible, that is, combinable tota simul: the process of characters may
sometimes be unaccompanied by the required process by ideas. From the first
movement of thought, then, only advantage a would be left. But a concerns,
ultimately, the mnemonic function of signs, so that, on the whole, no higher
cognitive function of signs would be here involved at all.
Leibniz's arguments and examples reveal the source of his suspicions vis-
à-vis signs: he is still faithful to an 'inspectionist' theory of thought, to a 'clas
sical' theory of ideas. The semantic assumptions underlying the example just
described testify to this. On the one hand, he assumes that all types of words,
including 'something', 'bigger', and 'not', have 'ideas' as their meanings.
That is to say, he is still far from considering the possibility of assigning a pure
operational, non ideational, function to the most natural candidates for such
a function, namely, pronouns like 'something' (which might be conceived as
variables), and logical particles like 'not' (which might be conceived as signs
of logical operations). On the other hand, he conceives of the meaning of a
composed expression as consisting in the juxtaposition of the meanings of its
component expressions. The essential procedure of thought is, then, to
inspect in a single act such an amalgam of ideas. The same inspectionist con
ception of thought reveals itself, in a note of April 1676, in the use of the
expression 'internal discourse' {sermone interiore, Jag, 106), and in the claim
that to every use of a word there must be a corresponding 'internal percep
tion' of the thing denoted by the word (Jag, 108).
THE PARIS NOTES 51
III
Having indicated the dangers involved in the use of characters, Leibniz
goes on to show their in dispensability for the knowledge of complex matters,
and their essential theoretical role for the foundation of mathematics. This
type of considerations forms the basis for the epistemological and metaphys
ical explanation of the importance of signs that he will offer later on, follow
ing the difinitive formulation of his system (after 1680). Consider, for exam
ple, the notion of a circle. Leibniz asserts categorically that we cannot have
the idea of a circle. We can have images of the circle, the definition of the cir
cle, the ideas of each one of the properties that each circle must have. But
since we cannot conceive all of them simultaneously, we do not have the idea
of the circle. Only God can have the ideas of complex things, since he is able
to think of everything simultaneously. We are condemned, in view of our
finitude, to know the essence of the circle — and of other composed things —
only partwise7.
But how can we be sure of the possibility of such an idea, i.e. of the com
patibility of the ingredients present in it, if the very condition of possibility of
a complex idea is the joint simultaneous conceivability of all its components? 8
The answer is: by means of characters and sensible images. "When we do not
possess an idea, its functions are fulfilled by some sensible image or by a
definition, i.e., a set of characters... The place of the idea is always fulfilled
by some image (phantasma), which is completely perceived at once" 9 .
Notice that the appeal to characters becomes necessary because the
'ideas', this supreme object of knowledge, are defined in such a way as to ren
der them practically beyond our reach. Contrary to Plato or Descartes, whose
methods are supposed to teach us the way out of the domain of the senses and
the way into the pure intuition of the ideas, Leibniz seems to accept as given
the inaccessibility of the ideas10. Given this acceptance, he is free to conceive
the domain of the sensible, signs included, as the natural medium within
which our thought must operate, rather than as a preliminary stage, as an
inferior type of knowledge, from which we ought to get away as quickly as
possible. This opens the way towards a completely different conception of
knowledge and method. Method must be a formal and perceptible 'Ariadnes'
thread', capable of guiding our thought in the labyrinths of abstraction, even
in those domains where signs, formal reasoning and imagination have, prima
facie, nothing to contribute. Such a different conception of the function of
signs is, no doubt, one of the indications — perhaps the most important one
— of the distance which separates what Belaval has called cartesian 'in-
tuitionism', from leibnizian 'formalism'.

In a small essay on the usage of meditation (GP, VII, 77-80) which, in its
contents, is fairly close to the Paris Notes, Leibniz comes back to this subject.
It is through the exercise of our imagination and of our ability to manipulate
signs, first in pure mathematics, then in applied mathematics, that we should
prepare ourselves to handle the extremely abstract and important questions
of metaphysics and ethics. In such questions, "the experiments and figures
(essais et figures), which help and confirm us in geometry, begin to abandon
us", because of their high degree of abstration. But this is not a reason to
despise such "experiments and figures" or to abandon all hope of success in
our effort to "meditate about these highest things, upon which our happiness
depends." On the contrary, it is one further reason to try to apply in this
domain what we learned in those domains where the use of signs guarantees
success. "This is why one must begin by the first ones, and climb through the
second to the third ones."
Leibniz does not explain clearly why such a stepwise learning is useful.
He doesn't say, in particular, what is it that can be transferred from mathema
tics to metaphysics and ethics. It seems that he has in mind simply a transfer
of 'good habits' of reasoning: rigour, precision, careful definitions, etc. The
ascension described by him still bears some resemblance to Platonic dialectics
or to cartesian method, whose highest degree of knowledge would be purely
intuitive, without any element of sensation, a sort of direct contact between
the knowing subject and the object of knowledge. The explanation he gives
of the various 'degrees of facility' in the three types of disciplines is no less
ambivalent. "The reason for the degrees of facility, he says, is that in the first
ones experience and imagination can accompany reasoning step by step, so
that one not only finds that he has made a mistake but also the place where
he made it; in the second ones, experience can serve as a means of examina
tion, but not as a guide, i.e., it makes one see that one has made a mistake,
but without showing where. In the third ones, it is impossible to reach experi
ence in the course of this life" (GP, VII, 80). Now, if the difference between
the three types of knowledge is so deep, isn't it worthless to try to apply the
techniques of the one to the other?
It seems to me that the ambivalence has its source mainly in the fact that
here, as well as in the Paris Notes, Leibniz is using two different — but clearly
distinguished by him (here) — conceptions of the role of signs in mathema
tics. One of them, which is explicitly mentioned in the text discussed above,
takes geometry and arithmetic as a model; the other one, underlying the dis
cussion, has algebra as its paradigm. Acording to the former, the only func-
TUE PARIS NOTES 53
tion of signs, figures and images is to 'accompany' mathematical reasoning, in

order to make it, say, 'visible'. But the manipulation of signs does not substi
tute for that reasoning itself: it must always send us back to the thought process
and to the mathematical objects considered by it. According to the latter, on
the other hand, the operations with signs constitute mathematical reasoning;
they replace entirely any other 'direct' experience one might think to be able
to have of mathematical objects. Now, it is this kind of conception, rather
than the former, that is relevant in order to explain the possibility of a transfer
from mathematical to metaphysical thought: here, says Leibniz, the platonic
idea of attaining a direct experience of metaphysical objects and truth is
utopic, and must be given up from the outset. What must be done — and
Leibniz will affirm it clearly later11 — is to use, also in metaphysics, those
means of reasoning and thinking which replace successfully direct experience
in algebra, namely symbolic means, the only ones which are entirely within
the reach of human understanding.
The text of the Paris Notes quoted above indicates, in fact, that, in so far
as proving the possibility of the idea of the circle is at issue, Leibniz believes
that the possession of a sensible image or of an algebraic definition of the cir
cle have the same value as finding by experience that a circular object exists.
In this sense, the formation and manipulation of characters replaces experi
ence whenever the latter is unachievable. Thus, in another writing of the
same period (December 1675), Leibniz clearly presents the characteristica,
which allows us to render the most abstract thoughts 'fixed' and 'visible', as
the 'mechanical' criterion by means of which we are able to decide whether
problematic notions such as the number of all numbers, infinity, the greatest
perfection, and totality are possible or, instead, contradictory (GP, VII, 9-10).
It is in the same sense that characters play, according to Mahnke (1927,
286), an indispensable role in the rigorous logical foundation of mathematics:
without them it would be impossible to prove the existence (i.e., the possibil
ity) of any mathematical object; and without such proofs, it would have been
impossible to guarantee the non-contradictoriness of even the simplest parts
of mathematics12 . Nevertheless, in the light of what I have called 'the second
movement' of the same text, such a guarantee looks pretty weak, since it is
never sure that a complex, non-contradictory idea always corresponds to a
sensible intuition or to the formation of a composite character. Yet, although
weak, such a guarantee is the only one we are able to obtain, given our innate
limitations as humans. The same dialectical relationship between the finite
nature of our understanding and the need to use signs is to be found in Leib
niz's sui generis conception of a 'blind thought' 13 .
IV
The Paris Notes contain many other examples of hesitation about the
role of characters in thought. They deserve, undoubtedly, much more atten
tion than they will receive here. Let me just give a last illustration, whose
interest lies in the fact that it raises the problem of the relationship between
the mnemonic and the other cognitive functions of signs, in the light of Leib
niz's metaphysical preoccupations at the time. At first, Leibniz presents a
hypothetical argument which, apparently, shows that every knowledge and
every reasoning depend on signs: "If it is true that there is no memory without
traces14 and that corporeal traces of thoughts about incorporal things are not
natural but arbitrary (since there is no necessary connection of representation
between the corporeal and the incorporeal), i.e. that they are characters,
then it follows that there is no knowledge nor reasoning without characters,
since every reasoning or demonstration requires the recall of the premisses;
but, as we have assumed, there is no memory without characters or
images"15.
We have here in fact a central argument with four premisses (one of them
implicit) and two conclusions (one of them implicit), followed by a lemma
that justifies one of those four premisses:
Central Argument
Premiss I: There is no memory without a corporeal trace.
Premiss II: Every corporeal trace of a thought is arbitrary.
(Premiss III): For every trace x, x is arbitrary if, and only if, x is a
character.
Premiss IV: Every reasoning requires the recall of the premisses.
Therefore,
Conclusion I: There is no reasoning without characters.
(Conclusion II): Every reasoning is arbitrary.
Lemma
Premiss V: There is no necessary connection of representation
between the corporeal and the incorporeal.
Therefore,
Conclusion III: (=Premiss II) Every corporeal trace of a thought (which
is incorporeal) is arbitrary.
TUE PARIS NOTES 55
A number of features of this argument suggest that it should be inter

preted as a reductio ad absurdum: the hypothetical form of the argument ("if.
not stated by Leibniz, follows immediately from his premisses and is quite dis
turbing, and the context within which the argument is presented 16 . That is to
say, the 'apparent' conclusion (I or II) being absurd, the real conclusion of the
argument is that one of the premisses is false. But which one? Well, IV seems
to be evident and incontestable ; III looks rather like a terminological conven
tion; II is justified by the lemma, whose premiss (V) is apparently derived
from the dualism body-soul, one of the foundations of Leibniz's thought at
the time. The only premiss left is the first one, therefore.
At another point in the same Note, Leibniz in fact rejects the thesis that
memory requires corporeal traces. "Aristotle — he says — believed that a
separate intellect cannot recall, because there is no recollection without
imagination" (Jag, 98). But he (Leibniz) had observed that there is a certain
kind of recollection per se without images or corporeal traces, a kind of mem
ory without characters (Jag, 98,100). The existence of such a type of memory
would prove the falsity of the generalization expressed in premiss I.
What type of memory is this? It is the 'memory' we always have of our
own mental activities, by virtue of the fact that we are always self-conscious
of them. In a paragraph which could serve as a model for a phenomenological
analysis of consciousness, Leibniz describes with admiration the reflective
character of human thought, which makes of it at the same time subject and
object, preceiver and perceived: "Sometimes it happens to me that I cannot
forget something about which I continue to think involuntarily for almost one
hour; and then I think about the difficulty of that very thought, and I exhaust
myself in these endless reflections, in such a way that I begin to doubt whether
I will ever be able to think of any other thing, and whether such an activity of
my mind will not harm me" (Jag, 100). Such a reflective activity or perception
of perceptions has, according to Leibniz, the following properties:
a) It is a kind of memory, since it implies a certain temporal permanence: it
is always a perception of a past perception, even if the latter occurs at the
immediately preceding moment.
b) It does not depend upon external objects, because it is not a perception of
the content of the previous perception, but only of the act of perceiving: "In
tellectual memory does not consist of that which we perceive, but only of the
fact that we perceive" (Jag, 108). This is also what Leibniz apparently has in
mind when he claims that this memory is of the perception per se and not of
the perception of a variety of things (Jag, 98).
c) Finally, it is a memory or perception without characters, i.e., without cor

poreal traces. This is a direct consequence of the fact that it is purely spiritual,
per se. But it is also, I think, a consequence of the finite character of our brain :
if all these reflections of reflections of reflections should leave traces in the
brain, the capacity of our memory would certainly be easily exhausted.
There is, therefore, a memory without characters. For Leibniz, it is
important to demonstrate its existence, for metaphysical and theological
reasons. It is this kind of memory that guarantees the identity of the mind
(spirit) or 'separate intellect', and thereby allows one to explain the immor
tality of the individual soul.
Let us return now to the argument schematized above. The existence of
a kind of memory without characters rules out, of course, the acceptance of
Premiss I in its general form. But does this invalidate, except from the purely
formal point of view, conclusion I? It would rather seem that the very limita
tions and peculiarities of the type of memory and thought presented as a
counter-example, instead of refuting, should confirm the conclusion in ques
tion. For such a reflective or 'pure' thought does not really contain any
reasoning, nor does it lead to any systematic knowledge. It exhausts itself
very quickly, if there are no characters to lend it support. Leibniz indeed
points out that this kind of thought produces intense fatigue. It remains there
fore true that, although there may be some 'pure' character-less thought of
this type, thought which involves reasoning, the only kind which interests
philosophy, science — in short, every systematic and developped form of
thought — cannot exist without characters. A small modification of premiss
I, accompanied by the corresponding restriction in conclusion I, would then
easily accomodate the difficulties raised (for the argument) by the counter
example in question. Hence the argument cannot be plausibly directed
against premiss I. But then what is the premiss to be rejected? Where is to be
located the source of the absurdity of the conclusion? A closer look at the
conclusion itself makes me believe that the absurd conclusion is not I itself,
in Leibniz's eyes, but rather II. Hence the premisses against which the argu
ment is directed must be those which are directly responsible for the deriva
tion of II, namely, premisses II and III. Elsewhere 17 Leibniz rejects the idea
that every character is necessarily arbitrary, a fact that challenges the value of
premiss III. Yet, although the argument relies (implicitly) upon this premiss,
it could easily dispense with it, since conclusion II could be derived directly
from premisses I, II, and IV. The only remaining candidate for rejection by
means of the reductio is, therefore, premiss II. Since it is supported separately
TUE PARIS NOTES 57
by premiss V, it is in fact against V that the argument is directed.

Now, what Leibniz would need in order to replace such a premiss is
nothing less than his metaphysical theory of pre-established harmony, which
offers (in his view) a solution to the problem of the relationship between body
and soul. It is well known that such a theory has a 'semiotic' counterpart in the
form of the theory of 'expression'. Both doctrines are developed by Leibniz
only some time after the Paris Notes. According to such a doctrine, whereas
a relation of strict causality cannot obtain between the corporeal and the
incorporeal, a relation of expression can link both of these domains, without
violating the dualism body-soul. "The soul produces for itself thoughts in the
presence of the corporeal ideas, and not with their help or influence"18, is
Leibniz's reply to Jacquelot's objections. Between such thoughts, even the
most abstract, and the 'corporeal ideas', i.e. the objects of imagination, there
is always a correspondence, a relation of expression (GP, III, 466). And this
relation of expression may certainly serve as a non-arbitrary foundation for a
relation of representation. The Theodicy is absolutely clear about it: " T h e
representation has a natural relationship to what is to be represented" 19 .
The doctrine of expression, if available at the time of the Paris Notes,
would easily allow Leibniz to avoid the disturbing conclusion that all reason
ing is arbitrary, without requiring the modification of the thesis of the indis-
pensability of characters or traces for every reasoning. One could even say that
such a doctrine already underlies some passages in the Paris Notes. In the note
dated February 1676 (Jag, 28-42), Leibniz mentions in fact a 'principle of the
harmony of things', and postulates that "to be is nothing but to be harmoni
ous". This seems to mean that the sign of existence is the coherence or har
mony of sense data. He also suggests that every individual mind is an 'intellec
tual mirror' (speculum intellectuale) of the world and that God has created
these mirrors of the world because their existence increases the overall har
mony of the universe. All this surely calls to mind the doctrines of pre-estab
lished harmony and expression. But in fact these doctrines are explicitly for
mulated and defended only later on20. In any case, it is not used by him in the
Paris Notes in order to solve the intricate problems raised by his accurate
phenomenological observations. The lack of such a kind of theoretical
framework may be one of the reasons why his argument remains here
hypothetical and his discussion of the role of characters in thought, inconclu
sive. If, as my analysis has tried to show, it is true that Leibniz defends here
— and not only hypothetically — conclusion II (that signs are indispensable
for reasoning), the argument he uses for that purpose relies still completely
on the mnemonic function of signs. In this sense, this argument is still an illus
tration of a psychotechnical conception of the cognitive role of signs, essen
tially similar to Hobbes'. But, because of its internal tension, this argument,
as the whole of the Paris Notes, clearly indicates that, in the framework of
Leibniz's thought, such a conception cannot constitute a resting point, for it
does not offer a satisfactory solution for the many semiotical and epis
temological problems it must face. The search for a more stable solution must
continue.
Footnotes
1 Cf. Dascal 1975b.

2 The importance of this question in the history of Western thought has been stressed by Cas
sirer (1953-1957, passim).
3 Cf. Foucault. 1966, passim. For some discussion, see Dascal 1976 and Dascal 1978, Chapter
III.
4 These notes have been compiled by Jagodinsky (Cf. Jag). For an examination of them, from
a different point of view, see Wilson (1976).
5 "Cum cogito aliquid, quo majus cogitare non potest, quid aliud cogito, quam separatim ideas
singulorum. quae sub his vocibus continentur, ut: aliquid, majus, cogitare, non, posse. Separatim
habeo ideam eius quod voco cogitationem, itaque unum post alterum cogitans. Non ideas horum
inter se, sed postea vocabula tantum seu characteres conjungo et fingo me ideam habere eius, quo
majus cogitare non potest" (Jag. 4).
6 "Non... sequitur: ideas habemus eorum, quae definitionem alicujus rei ingrediuntur, ergo
ideam habemus totius, nisi omnes simul cogitare possimus" (Jag, 4).
7 "... nulla est nobis idea circuli, at in DEO est. qui omnia simul cogitai. Imago aliqua circuii
est in nobis; est et definitio circuli, et idea sunt in nobis eorum, quae ad circulum cogitandum
necessaria sunt. Cogitamus de circulo, demonstramus de circulo, cognoscimus circulum: essen-
tiam eius habemus cognitam, sed per partes. Si essentiam circuii totam simul cogitaremus,
haberemus circuii ideam. Solius DEI est ideas habere rerum compositarum. Interea essentiam cir
cuii cognoscimus cogitando eius requisita per partes" (Jag, 6).
8 "... non possimus facile judicare de rei possibilítate ex cogitabilitate eius requisitorum,
quando singula eius requisita cogitavimus atque in unum conjunximus" (Jag, 6).
9 "Ideam defectam in nobis supplet imago aliqua sensibilis, aut definitio, sive aggregatum
characterum. in quibus nulla opus est similitudine. Semper ideae locum supplet phantasma
aliquod, quod totum simul sentitur" (Jag. 6).
10 Ezequiel de Olaso and Mark Glouberman have pointed out to me that I have overstated the
contrast between Leibniz and Descartes on this issue. Descartes — and according to Dr. Glouber
man this is a characteristic of all rationalist thinkers — denies ot humans the optimal type of cogni
tion, say 'adequate' ideas, leaving it to God or 'pure spirits alone. Humans must do with mere
T H E PARIS NOTES 59
'complete' ideas, i.e. abbreviations (Dr. Glouberman refers me to Descartes' fourth reply to
Arnauld). If this is true, then the fact that neither Descartes nor other rationalist thinkers — with
the notable exception of Leibniz — recognized clearly and explicitly the need for signs in human
cognition, as the only means to overcome (partially) its limitation, indicates that these thinkers
were not aware of the full import of the epistemological barriers they had set up for the advance
of human knowledge.
11 See, for example. A, VI. ii. 481. See also Dascal 1978. chapter VII.
12 Mahnke quotes the text of this Paris Note in a fragmentary way, distorting it somewhat. The
same is done by Cassirer (1953-1957. vol. III. p. 362. n. 8). who reaches the same conclusions as
Mahnke. These conclusions seem to me correct, but they must be envisaged within the context of
the hesitations of Leibniz regarding the role of signs in thought, so typical of the present text.
13 On this concept, see for example. A. VI. i, 170; A, II, i. 228; A. VI. ii, 481 ; and above all
the De cogitinone, vernate et ideis of 1684 (GP. IV. 422-426).
14 I am indebted to M. Glouberman for suggesting to me the (classical) term imprint' for the
French 'empreinte'. I think the more modern 'trace' captures quite well Leibniz's intention. It
should be noted that this term suggests a sign relation of the type displayed by Peirce's index'. But
an index, since it is really (causally or otherwise) connected to what it signifies, cannot be substan
tially an 'arbitrary1 sign, contrary to Leibniz's premiss. This is another example of the inconsisten
cies that make the Paris Notes at once so revealing as a document and so disappointing as a state
ment of a doctrine. There are other implications of this remark that cannot be discussed here.
15 "Si verum est, memoriam sine vestigiis esse nullam, et vestigia cogitationem de rebus incor-
poralibus in corpore non sunt naturalia. sed arbitraria (neque enim ulla inter incorporeum et cor-
poreum necessaria connexio repraesentandi). seu characteres, sequitur nullam esse scientia neque
ratiocinationem sine characteribus. quoniam omnis ratiocinatio vel demonstratio fit per
memoriam praemissarum. Memoria autem sine characteribus aut imaginibus nulla, ut sup-
posuimus" (Jag, 96).
16 One might try to interpret the argument straightforwardly (as suggested to me by Professor
Granger) rather than as a reductio. It seems to me, however, that, in the context, the interpretation
here proposed is quite plausible.
17 The rejection of the thesis of the arbitrariness of signs derives from the principle of sufficient
reason, one of the main tenets of Leibniz's philosophy. See Dascal 1978. chapter VI.
18 "L'âme se produit ses pensées à la présence des idées corporelles et non pas par leur secours
ou influence" (GP. III, 464).
19 "La représentation a un rapport naturel à ce qui doit être représenté" (GP, V, 326).
20 They appear, in a somewhat obscure form, in the Dialogue of 1677 (GP, VII, 190-193), and
quite clearly in the Quid sit idea? (GP, VII. 263-264), generally dated 1678. In its metaphysical
applications, they appear in the 80s (correspondence with Arnauld, Discours de Métaphysique,
etc.).
4
LEIBNIZ'S EARLY VIEWS ON DEFINITION
I
Leibniz always recognized, practically and theoretically, the essential
role played by definitions in all forms of knowledge. He compiled lists of
definitions, he produced definitions of his own — which he believed to be bet
ter than the available ones, he tried to organize them in systematic tables,
etc1. And these activities were accompanied by the claim that there cannot be
demonstrations, i.e. sure knowledge, without rigorous definitions (for a
demonstration is nothing but a 'chain of definitions'), not only in mathema
tics, but also in the other domains of knowledge, like physics, medicine, juris
prudence, and even metaphysics and theology2. No wonder then, that when
he encountered for the first time Hobbes' well-known thesis that definitions
are arbitrary (hence it would follow that all truths, in so far as they are
deduced from definitions, are also arbitrary), Leibniz felt the need to find a
way to refute such a disturbing thesis and to avoid the difficulties it generates.
Leibniz offered, basically, two different solutions to what he calls "the
difficulty raised by Hobbes". One of these solutions, no doubt the best
known, is based on his theory of 'real' definitions. This is the solution that
predominates in his mature writings, especially after 1678. The other one,
less known, is rather semiotically oriented, and appears throughout his early
writings. It is, no doubt, tempting to view these two solutions as correspond
ing to different stages in the evolution of Leibniz's thought, but one should
not yield to this temptation. For, not only the two solutions co-exist overtly
in 1676-8 and latently afterwards, but, more importantly, they are not alter
native solutions to the same problem. One can, in fact, ask whether Hobbes
has raised one or two problems with his thesis. For, the claim that a defin
ition is arbitrary may mean either (a) that the relation between the definien-
dum and the definiens is arbitrary, i.e., that the same concept (represented by
the definiens) might have been connected to other names (definiendo) or vice-
versa; or else (b) that the combination of concepts which constitutes the defi
niens is itself an 'arbitrary' combination, i.e. that it is not subject to any con
straints or principles3. No matter what was, in fact, Hobbes' intention, it is
perfectly possible to interpret his thesis, out of context, in either of these

ways. Now, Leibniz's doctrine of real definition seems to be, above all, a
(partial) solution to the second difficulty (b), whereas the 'semiotical' solu
tion is an attempt to face the first difficulty (a). Hence, there is no real oppos
ition between them. On the contrary, their relationship, as I will try to show
here, is rather one of complementation. This means that Leibniz did not have
to abandon one of his 'theories' of definition upon adoption of the other. The
clarification of the two Leibnizian doctrines of definition and of the nature of
their mutual relationship will thus allow one to understand why, although
Leibniz apparently adopted the latter course of action, he nevertheless was
carefull enough not to abandon completely his early views on definition4.
II
One of the first writings in which Leibniz discusses Hobbes' thesis is the
Preface to Nizolius, where he draws a distinction between nominalists and
'super-nominalists'. The former, exemplified by Occam, deny the existence of
universais, since such a hypothesis is unnecessary for the explanation of
phenomena. The latter, exemplified by Hobbes, not satisfied with the reduc
tion of universais to names, reduce truth itself to names; in so doing they
adopt the dangerous view that makes truth dependent upon man's free will5.
Whereas Leibniz agrees with the 'mere' nominalists, who, after all, are only
defending a principle to which he would later assign a central place in his sys
tem ("the simpler a hypothesis is, the better it is, and an explanation is better
when it makes less assumptions"), he is fiercely opposed to Hobbes' thesis.
He even suggests that such a 'super-nominalism' is in fact anti-nominalist,
since it admits arbitrariness, thus violating the principle above. But how does
he propose to solve the difficulty raised by Hobbes' thesis? His solution is
sketched in a correction added to the text of the Preface to Nizolius: "But we
cannot be satisfied with that. In arithmetic, as well as in other disciplines,
some truths remain, even if one changes notation, and it is immaterial
whether, in a progression, one employs the decimal or the duodecimal nota
tion" 6 .
To be sure, this passage is too short and does not afford, by itself, a satis
factory understanding of the solution proposed. Happily, seven years later
Leibniz takes up and develops such a solution, in a Dialogue (GP, VII, 190-
193) entirely devoted to the discussion of the difficulty raised by Hobbes. The
similarity between the two texts is evident:
DEFINITIONS 63
"... although characters are arbitrary, their use and connection have
something which is not arbitrary, namely a definite analogy between charac
ters and things, and the relations which different characters expressing the
same thing have to each other. This analogy or relation is the basis for truth.
For the result is that whether we apply one set of characters or another, the
products will be the same or equivalent or correspond analogously" (L,
184)7.
We find thus here the same idea of the permanence of truth in spite of the
change in characters. And the example given by Leibniz in the Dialogue is
also the same as the one of the Preface to Nizolius:
"... in numbers the problem always works out in the same way whether
you use the decimal system or, as some mathematicians did, the duodecimal.
Afterwards, if you apply the solution you have reached by calculation in sev
eral different ways, by arranging kernels or some other countable objects,
the answer comes out the same" (L, 184)8.
I have labelled the solution here proposed as 'semiotical', because it pur
ports to solve the Hobbesian difficulty by pointing to the existence of certain
relations amongst signs. According to Leibniz, although the signs themselves
are arbitrary, such relations are not. His thesis, then, is that one can over
come the difficulty at the level of signs themselves, without the intervention of
the ideas or of the things these signs are supposed to refer to. In other words,
if one considers not signs in isolation but combinations thereof, one discovers
that they display correspondences, obey to operational rules and are subject
to controls (like the proof by the nines) which reduce the inevitable arbitrar
iness of each individual sign, thus constituting a 'foundation for truth'. To the
example of arithmetic, Leibniz adds now algebra, more important for him:
"In analysis as well, even though different properties of the subjet are
more easily apparent when different characters are used, the basis of truth is
always found in the connection and coordination of these characters'' (L,
184)9.
Thus, whether one represents the magnitude a by means of a difference
(d - e), or by means of a sum (b + c) the different formulae which will then
represent the square of a will always lead us, after the performance of the sub
stitutions permitted by the rules of the calculus, to the same result, namely a2.
No doubt the doctrine here sketched, based on the notion of structural
analogy, presents many problems. Yet, I am not concerned now with justify
ing it, but rather with capturing its peculiarities as a solution to the Hobbesian
difficulty. Instead of simply accepting the thesis of the arbitrariness of the
relationship between definiendum and definiens, or between signifiant and
signifié (problem (a)), as most philosophers of his time have done, and then
going on to reject the view that there is any arbitrariness at the level of the sig
nifié itself (problem (b)), Leibniz tries to face the difficulty already at the first
level. For that purpose, one has to view definition first of all as a sign-sign
relation, and to consider not the isolated case, but the whole set of conditions
that constrain such a kind of relation. That is to say, this approach presup
poses the possibility of a purely 'syntactic'analysis of sign systems.
The other solution offered by Leibniz to the Hobbesian problem, whose
core is the notion of real definition, has an entirely different orientation.
Here, attention is focused upon the definiens alone. The problem is to find a
criterion which is able to eliminate, or at least substantially reduce, the arbit
rariness at the level of the signifié. Leibniz believes he has found such a criter
ion: it is the requirement of logical consistency. For, if one admits as a defi
niens a combination of concepts whose logical possibility, i.e. non-contradic
tion, is not a priori ensured, there is the danger that, once it is used in a
demonstration, contradictory propositions may be proved (A, II, i, 504-505).
That is to say, in such a case, truth, in so far as it is demonstrated, would
become completely arbitrary, since one could easily demonstrate no matter
what proposition. If, on the other hand, one accepts only 'real' definitions,
i.e. definitions whose logical possibility has been at first proved, then the
former undesirable result is avoided. To be sure, arbitrariness is not thereby
totally eliminated, since the number of logically possible combinations of
concepts is very big. This is why Leibniz will attempt to formulate, later,
criteria which allow one to select, amongst the real definitions, those which
are more 'perfect'. But arbitrariness is not totally eliminated even by the first
('semiotical') solution, since isolated signs remain arbitrary. As before, I am
not concerned here with the assessment of the new solution, but rather with
the identification of its orientation. It is clearly a solution which, assuming the
arbitrariness of the relation definiendum-definiens, attempts to solve exclu
sively and directly the second version of Hobbes' difficulty.
Although sometimes the theory of real definition is not explicitly linked
by Leibniz with Hobbes' problem 10 , most often it is presented as a solution to
this problem (cf. GP, IV, 425; GP, IV, 450 = Disc, of Metaph. §24; etc.). In
any event when that theory appears for the first time fully developed in Leib
niz's writings, such a connection is very clear: '"By the same consideration, I
solved the difficulties that embarrassed Mr. Hobbes. For Hobbes, who cor
rectly held that every necessary truth can be demonstrated by means of defin
itions, and took all definitions to be nominal and arbitrary, was led to con
clude that truths were also arbitrary. He did not consider that the formation
DEFINITIONS 65
of definitions does not depend upon us, since we must employ notions which
are possible and compatible, so that every real definition counts in fact as a
theorem, which is either demonstrable or evident, about the possibility of its
subject. To be sure, after that, it is up to us to impose a name on the thing"11.
As for the 'semiotic' doctrine of definition, it is in general explicitly linked to
the very same Hobbesian thesis. In the Dialogue for example, Leibniz claims
that it "gives him the hope to escape the difficulty" raised by "certain men of
learning (who) believe that truth arises from the human will and from names
or characters" (L, 183; GP, VII, 192).
We have then, apparently, two radically different solutions to the same
problem. Yet, our earlier comments show clearly that there are two distinct
problems or, at least, two possible different sources of what, on the surface,
appears as the same difficulty. Hence, there is no question of attempting an
explanation of why Leibniz replaced one solution by another; the ques
tion is rather why he modified his way of interpreting Hobbes' thesis12. Furth
ermore, since he did not abandon the earlier interpretation either, the situa
tion is rather similar to a Gestalt-shift in perception: one can see the 'same' set
of lines and colours either as a cup or as two faces; none of these ways of see
ing is 'better' or 'more accurate' than the other; they just come into the fore
or vanish according to the 'point of view' from which one observes the draw
ing. The appearance of the doctrine of real definitions seems to indicate a new
point of view, a new set of philosophical problems to which definitions are rel
evant in a new way, but it does not invalidate or annihilate the former point
of view. Furthermore (and here the analogy with the Gestalt theory breaks
down), we shall see that, at the bottom of the new theory, one can even dis
cover the main elements of the old one.
III
At this point, let me introduce the distinction, proposed by C. I. Lewis
(1946), of three types of definition, in order to clarify through it the various
Leibnizian doctrines here considered13. According to Lewis, three quite dif
ferent things are often called 'definitions':
(a) 'explicative statements', which are propositions asserting the identity
of the meaning of a certain sign and the meaning of a sequence of signs
(phrase). This type of definition presupposes that each of the signs used in it
(i.e. in the definiens as well as in the definiendum) has a previously estab
lished and known meaning.
(b) 'interpretations' or 'dictionary definitions', which, instead of con
necting one meaning to another, assign a meaning to a sign, the meaning being
that of the phrase used as definiens, whereas the sign is the definiendum. In
this type of definition, which one can dub 'semantic', only the meaning of the
definiens is supposed to be previously known. The function of the definition
is to assign a meaning to the yet meaningless definiendum; it establishes
therefore a rule of interpretation for that sign.
(c) 'symbolic statements', which manifest the decision (of the users of the
language) to employ a certain sign as an abbreviation for a chain of other signs
of the language. In this type of definition no familiarity with the meanings of
the signs used is presupposed. They can, therefore, be viewed as 'syntactic'
definitions. They establish a certain equivalence relation between the sym
bols in question, without making any reference to their interpretation. One
might say, in fact, that any equivalence of this kind could be viewed as a 'syn
tactic definition', independently of an intention to abbreviate.
With the help of this trichotomy, I will proceed now to discuss the two
solutions proposed by Leibniz to Hobbes' problem, as well as some other
views of his on definition. More specifically, I will try to show that: i) Leib
niz's first solution corresponds to an attempt to capture the notion —
unknown at the time — of syntactic definition; ii) this attempt is original and,
if it does not break out of the frame of mind characteristic of his time (the clas
sical 'épistémé'), it no doubt reaches its very extreme limits; iii) the doctrine
of real definition corresponds to an effort to impose systematic constraints
upon the formulation of semantic and explicative definitions; iv) the theory
and practice of definition by Leibniz illustrates all the three types of definition
characterized by Lewis' trichotomy14.
We have already seen that the first of the solutions proposed by Leibniz
relies mainly on the existence of certain relations among characters or signs.
What remains to be shown now is that such relations, although apparently
mediated by a semantic reference to the 'thing' signified, are in fact of a
purely syntatic nature.
First of all, it will be useful to recall another comment about nominalism,
made by Leibniz in his Preface to Nizolius. Marius Nizolius, who defends in
general rhetoric against Aristotelian logic and Renaissance dialectics, wants
to rule out demonstration (as taught by Aristotle) as a legitimate means of
explanation regarding the nature of things. His argument is simply this: "Uni
versais do not exist in nature" 15 . Or, more explicitly: "If universais are false,
as we have said and proved, one can say that, with them, the whole of dialec
tics, of which they are the support, falls"16. To this, Leibniz replies vehe
mently: "This is false! Nominalists themselves have used Aristotle's dialectics
DEFINITIONS 67
as much as the others, and rightly so. For, although there is rarely any truth
in what people attribute to things in their names, the thing itself is preserved,
whenever we use these names in order to explain the things"17. In other
words, "it would suffice for demonstration that universais be merely names"
(A, VI, ii, 429). That is to say, demonstration does not depend upon semantic
nor ontological presuppositions, a deductive system can be built upon a
purely syntactic basis. The definitions used in proofs within such a system can
be considered as syntactic rules which allow one to replace one sequence of
signs by another, without any semantic mediation. Such a conception, whose
kinship with the first Leibnizian solution to Hobbes' problem in evident, con
stitutes no doubt a step towards a purely formal theory of proof, a mark of
Leibniz's originality amongst his contemporaries. And it stresses the need
and the value of the notion of a 'syntactic definition'.
To be sure, the formulations so far discussed of Leibniz's notion of syn
tactic definition, do not present it as a purely syntactic notion. In the Dialogue
of 1677, for example, it is the fact that several characters correspond to
the same thing that seems to ensure the existence of a 'proportion' or anal
ogy among them. Moreover, it is the "reference of the characters to the
things" that constitutes their non-arbitrary and permanent element, the foun
dation of truth 18 . In other words, each character can be compared to a differ
ent 'point of view', several different characters can be said to be 'propor
tional' to each other19. But it is by virtue of their semantic reference to the same
thing, whose existence and accessibility are apparently independent of the
use of characters, that the proportionality in question is ensured. Consider,
for example, this very strong statement of Leibniz on the nature of 'propor
tionality': "Every relation, proportion, analogy, proportionality derives not
from the will, but from the nature of God, or, what is equivalent, from the
idea of the things"20. It is this sort of ultimate reliance on the semantico-
ontological level that led me to state very carefully that the Leibnizian texts
considered so far only suggest a syntactic conception of definition. One can
indeed read these very same texts in a rather superficial way, i.e. without pay
ing attention to the powerful and interesting suggestion implicit in them.
Consider, for example, Gurwitsch's (1974, 46-47) interpretation of the pas
sages of the Dialogue and the Preface to Nizolius discussed above:
"Nicht in den Zeichen selbst oder in deren Kombination, die beide
durch konventionelle Festlegung geregelt sind, noch in den Sachen selbst
liegt die Wahrheit. Sie liegt vielmehr in den Entsprechungen zwischen kon
ventionell geregelten Kombinationen willkürlich gewählter Zeichen und
den 'Sachen'".
The emphasis placed on the semantic dimension, leading to a reduction

to the bare minimum of the role of signs in the determination of truth 21 is typ
ical of most interpretations of Leibniz's early (and for that matter, also later)
writings on the subject. To my mind, such interpretations simply ignore sev
eral other Leibnizian texts, in which the suggestions I mentioned before are
developed and formulated quite explicitly.
For, indeed, these suggestions are carried out very far. In the Charac-
teristica Geometrica (1679), Leibniz claims that the reference to the objects is
not a prerequisite for the usage of signs; on the contrary, it can be postponed
until the calculation is completed22. In a letter to Mariotte (1676), he goes a
step further, by saying that in algebra one never reaches the point of moving
from the characters to the things; one always remains at the level of the
characters themselves and of their mutual relationship. Furthermore, he
claims that what is true of algebra — in this respect — is true of definitions in
general23. The reference to the things denoted is conceived, therefore, not as
the central and indispensable condition for the correct use of signs, but rather
as a mere possibility, quite marginal in so far as the requirements for the man
ipulation of signs is concerned. In some cases, indeed, the situation is even
reversed: instead of the 'thing' conferring its meaningfulness to the character,
it is only the use of characters that makes the 'thing' accessible to our thought.
One could almost say that, like the monad later on, and like the semantic
notion of 'valeur' introduced by Saussure, the 'thing' to which the characters
refer is nothing but the set of relations obtaining amongst the characters
which refer to it. And, in the same way as such a Sausurean 'semantics' should
be viewed, ultimately, as a part of syntax, so the doctrine of characters and
definitions here put forward by Leibniz is, after all, purely syntactic24.
IV
The deep originality of the Leibnizian conception of syntactic definition
and formal demonstration is not easily recognized by a twentieth century
reader, who is familiar with formal and symbolic logic. It is only by looking
into the logical tradition which was dominant at the time of Leibniz that one
can evaluate the novelty of his proposals.
Consider for example Jacob Zabarella, and Aristotelian logician of the
XVIth century, who devoted a little book to the question of the reduction of
demonstrations to chains of definitions (Zabarella, 1608). In the fourth chap
ter of his book, Zabarella presents an interesting argument (originary of
Averroes, according to him) in favour of such a reduction. In order to be able
DEFINITIONS 69
to demonstrate something, he says, one must know the meaning of the terms
used in the proposition to be proved. But, in order to understand the meaning
of a term, one must understand the genus to which the accident denoted
by the term in question belong. Hence, a necessary condition for every
definition is that it must express the genus of the thing defined25. According
to this argument, there is only one type of definition, namely, semantic defin
ition, whose function is to make known the meaning of a term. What is most
interesting, however, is the fact that Zabarella is led to such a conception of
definition (at least here) because he begins with an equally semantic concep
tion of demonstration. The notion of a purely formal proof, where there is no
need to refer to the meanings of the symbols appearing in the proof, is entirely
absent from the traditional framework to which Zabarella belongs26.
Zabarella probably did not go as far as my interpretation suggests, since
he certainly would not exclude explicative definitions. Nevertheless, there is
no doubt that he himself, as well as his predecessors and successors (up to
Leibniz), including such prominent figures as Arnauld and Nicole, recognize
only these two types of definition: explicative and semantic, which corres
pond in fact quite precisely to the traditional scholastic concepts of definitio
rei and definido nominis, respectively (cf. Kneale and Kneale, 1962; Risse,
1964,1970). As a matter of fact the thesis that definitions are at least semantic
and at most explicative has practically the status of a self-evident truth in the
seventeenth century. This is clearly illustrated by the main premiss of the
argument put forward by the Port-Royal Logic against Hobbes' thesis: "...
the conventions mentioned by this Philosopher can only have been the agree
ment of men to take certain sounds as signs of the ideas we have in our mind.
Hence, if, besides the names, we did not have in ourselves the ideas of things,
such a convention would have been impossible..."27.I would even say that, as
far as Hobbes is concerned, such a critique is not unfounded, for, in spite of
his definition of reasoning as computado, he is no exception to the rule of his
century28.
Leibniz himself, in his early writings as elsewhere, is mainly interested in
semantic and explicative definitions. Maybe this is the reason why his notion
of syntactic definition, also present in these writings, has been neglected by
most commentators. At the beginning of the 70s, the definition of definition
adopted by him is mainly semantic: definition is the explication of a word, or,
to use a formulation he seems to have been particularly fond of, it is "the sig
nified signification"29. A considerable amount of his practical endeavour to
find good definitions conforms in fact to such a conception. Yet, although he
condemns as 'logomachy' the attempts of those who, like Nizolius, still

believe in 'definitions of things' (A, VI, ii, 455), his criticism is directed only
against the traditional rule of definition by genus and specific difference. For
Leibniz does not refrain from proposing explicative definitions, in line with
the tradition of definitiones rerum, e.g, his definitions of love (A, VI, i, 472-
482), of similarity (A, II, i, 380), and his elaborate discussion of several pos
sible definitions of justice (A, VI, i, 460-465). Similarly, it is an explicative
rather than a semantic conception of definition that is presupposed in his
critique of Spinoza's definitions (Bodemann, 104; GP, I, 139-150), as well as
of other authors*.
Not only practically is Leibniz concerned with explicative definitions. He
tries to give them a theoretical basis too. A definition — he says — must give
the analysis of the idea to be defined (To Conring, March 1968; L, 187). If we
did not have a previous, natural idea of justice, we would not be able to define
it30. Ultimately, it is the platonic theory of ideas and of reminiscence that pro
vides, for the young Leibniz, the grounds for this type of definition : "The doc
trine of right belongs to those sciences which depend on definitions and not
on experience, and on demonstrations of reason and not of sense... the prin
ciples of these sciences possess eternal truth... They are not derived from
sense but from a clear and distinct intuition (imaginado), which Plato called
an idea, and which, when expressed in words, is the same as a definition". A
definition, thus, is nothing but the verbal expression of a clear and distinct
intuition; and the research leading to the definition of the fundamental terms
of jurisprudence (right, just, justice), which must precede any other
endeavour in the constitution of such a science, is nothing but the inspection
of the "clear ideas by which we usually estimate the truth of the propositions"
containing such terms31.
Such a direct 'intuition' of the clear and distinct idea, so obviously bor
rowed from Descartes, could not satisfy Leibniz — as a criterion for adequate
definitions (semantic or explicative) — for a long time. As soon as he begins
to criticize cartesianism, one should expect him to try to replace such a criter
ion — which cannot in fact fulfil its function — by something more effective.
It is the doctrine of 'real definition' that is supplied by Leibniz in order to fulfil
such a function. It is, primarily, a part of the theory of explicative definitions:
given a relatively unclear concept, one must first of all be able to deter
mine whether such a concept corresponds really to an idea or else to a mere
'chimera', i.e. to a purely subjective, empty 'concept'. The fact that the com
ponents of the concept do not contradict each other is the proof of its 'real'
DEFINITIONS 71
existence as an idea. If such a non contradiction is proved, then one has an

explication of the obscure concept which served as one's starting point; a
name can be given to it, by means of a proper semantic definition. Sometimes
one falls short of a full demonstration of the possibility of a concept. In such
cases, some progress in the explication can be achieved by finding marks that
allow one to distinguish between the present concept and any other one. This
is what Leibniz calls a 'nominal definition'. Notice that this is quite different
from the traditional definitio nominis, since it is as much a definitio rei as the
'real' definition (e.g. the 'nominal definition' of gold as "the heaviest metal"
- C, 50; C, 329). It differs from the real definition only in so far as the explica
tion it offers of the concept to be defined does not go far enough; so that its
possibility cannot be proved a priori.
It is not my purpose here to discuss in detail the theory of real definition,
as it is developed in the later writings of Leibniz. I will only point out a surpris
ing fact. The introduction of the doctrine of real definition, with the solution
it seems to bring to Hobbes' problem, and with its exclusive dealing with
'ideas', would seem to condemn the semiotically based idea of syntactic defin
ition to complete oblivion. At the very least, one should admit that the former
has nothing to do with the latter. Hence, our surprise in discovering, under
neath the doctrine of real definition, a semiotical viz. syntactic foundation.
Firstly, even before going into the depth of the matter, one could ask
whether the criterion of non-contradictoriness itself should not be envisaged
as a syntactic rather than semantic criterion. However, since such a thesis is
open to dispute even today, it cannot be taken as an argument for the attribu
tion of a syntactic foundation to the theory of real definition.
Let us ask, then, with Leibniz, under what conditions is the criterion of
non-contradictoriness satisfied. The standard reply would be: when the
analysis of the concept is completed up to the most elementary components,
and one determines that these components are compatible. To be sure, one
can also have an a posteriori — causal or existential — proof of the possibility
of an idea. But such a proof does not give us an analysis or explication of the
idea. The most perfect real definitions, according to Leibniz, are those which
come closer to the primary notions32. "Indeed — he says — I hold this to be
a certain criterion of a perfect and adequate definition: that when the defini
tion is once grasped, we cannot further doubt whether the thing defined in it is
possible or not" (To Tschirnhaus, May 1678; L, 194). Or else: "the best defin
itions are those which make it evident that the thing defined is possible"33.
But how can we 'grasp' or become convinced that it is evident that a certain
combination of concepts is not self-contradictory? Well, just in case one can

see, i.e. if one has in front of his eyes (literally) all these concepts together, and
if one is able to recognize whether a contradiction obtains between any pair
of such concepts. But is there any other means besides a calculus or a charac-
teristica, where primitive concepts are represented by elementary signs, nega
tion by a special sign, and complex concepts by the combination of signs cor
responding to their elements — is there any other means to make the possibil
ity of a concept immediately visible? Only seldom — says Leibniz — we can
have an intuitive adequate knowledge of a complex idea, i.e. a non-symbolic
direct perception of all its primitive elements. Most of the time we content
ourselves with a 'blind' or 'symbolic' knowledge of complex ideas, i.e. with
their perception by means of symbols which represent their primitive ele
ments (GP, IV, 423). Both, when we employ a calculus — which is "nothing
but operation through characters" (L, 194), and when we have to rely on
blind or symbolic thought, it is to the signs that we must ultimately appeal in
order to be able to establish 'the most perfect' of real definitions. In this way,
the enormous gap that seemed to separate the two solutions presented by
Leibniz to Hobbes' problem, is — to say the least — considerably reduced.
V
The coexistence, in the thought of the young Leibniz, of the three types of
definition, and the oscillation between the new conception of syntactic defin
ition and the traditional ones (even though renewed by Leibniz) of explica
tive and semantic definition, illustrates the same double movement of his
thought we have disclosed elsewhere34. For the underlying question is always
the question of the precise role of signs in knowledge. If one tends to
minimize their role, one can admit without qualms that they are entirely
arbitrary, whereas if one assigns them an important role in the cognitive pro
cesses, then one must try to show that they are not as arbitrary as they seem
to be. Consider, for example, Leibniz's approach to Hobbes' thesis in a long
and important letter to Gallois (A, III, i, 1-20; end of 1672). He tries to refute
the philosophical troublesome consequence of such a thesis (namely that all
truths are arbitrary), while accepting the thesis itself (namely, definitions are
arbitrary). He points out three types of truth which he believes to be non-
arbitrary: (a) those directly established by means of the senses; (b) those
proved from the former with the help of known definitions; and (c) identical
propositions (asserting something of itself with the very same words) 35 . How
ever, Leibniz cannot in fact get rid of the arbitrariness of truth in this way, as
DEFINITIONS 73
long as he sticks to the view that signs and definitions are totally arbitrary. He
is certainly aware of this fact. A first indication is his extreme care in describ
ing case  above: only identical propositions using the very same words, like
'a=a', are non-arbitrarily true, for if the identity relies on an 'equivalence'
between different words, it entails dependence upon definitions, i. e. arbitrar
iness36. But if the reliance on definitions renders a truth arbitrary, then the
propositions of type b are no doubt arbitrary too. Now if we recall Leibniz's
own 'empiricist' definition of truth in the Preface to Nizolius, as well as his dis
cussion of an example ('Rome lies by the Tiber') 37 , it will become apparent
that some measure of arbitrariness will infect also case a. For, according to
that definition, before you get to use your senses in order to 'see' whether
Rome lies by the Tiber or not, you must move from the signs 'Rome', 'Tiber'
etc., to their meanings, i.e. you must use referential rules which are perhaps
even more arbitrary than regular definitions.
In order to avoid such difficulties, it is necessary to bypass altogether any
mediation of signs in the determination of truth, i.e. to view truth as a
relationship between 'pure' ideas (or thoughts) and the world (as it is per
ceived through the senses). This is precisely Leibniz's next move, in the letter
to Gallois:
"Yet, someone might ask, if all the axioms are provable out of the defin
itions of names, then all truth will depend on human will, since the defini
tions of names are arbitrary, as has been demonstrated by Hobbes. To this
I reply that propositions depend on definitions in so far as they are expressed
by words or other symbols; but the non-symbolized thoughts, i.e. the con
nections of the ideas themselves, come either from the senses, or from a dis
tinct imagination..."38.
This strategy is, so far, exactly similar to that of Arnauld and many
others: first — to admit the arbitrariness of signs, and then to rescue truth
from the danger of arbitrariness by placing it at the level of pure, non-sym
bolized 'ideas'. Definitions have still a role to play, but a very limited one: to
express clearly and distinctly the 'meaning of an idea' 39 . Similarly, the role of
signs or characters, though recognized, is minimized: they serve only to
abbreviate and organize knowledge we already possess40. Furthermore, it is
only the ultimate possibility of referring back to the things signified that
grants to the use of characters whatever legitimacy it may have41.
Thus, the main trend of this letter is towards the acceptance of the arbit
rariness of definitions and signs, together with the denial of any major role to
characters in the constitution of knowledge. No wonder, then, that the idea of
syntactic definition does not appear here, the only ones mentioned being
explicative and semantic definitions. Nevertheless, there are some minor

indications of an underlying opposite trend, in this text itself: 'Blind thought'
is considered indispensable — albeit interpreted as exchangeable in principle
for non-blind thought — ; the use of symbols in arithmetic and mainly in
algebra is described as the only means to grasp the 'things in their nudity' in
these sciences42 and the project of a universal characteristic is praised in high
tones, concluding with a comparison of the role of definitions in the charac-
teristica to that of equations in algebra43.
The correlation between this trend and the 'syntactic' solution to the
problem of arbitrariness is very clear in the Dialogue of 1677. Here, it is pre
cisely the recognition of the cognitive role of signs ("B: Thoughts can occur
without words. A: But not without some other signs... B: I notice that no
truth is ever known, discovered or proved by me except by the use of words
and other signs presented to the mind"; GP, IV, 191; L, 183) that blocks the
ready made solution of Arnauld and all other Leibniz's contemporaries,
which would say: "O.K., signs are arbitrary, but the ideas, thoughts — in
short, the knowledge they are supposed to represent, are not. Since "you dis
turb me very much, for I did not think that characters or signs are so necessary
for ratiocination" (ibid), I cannot be satisfied with such a solution; hence I
must look for another one, which removes from signs the stigma of arbitrari
ness, thus rendering them able to fulfil their cognitive role.
In so far as one does not assign to signs and characters an autonomous
role in the cognitive processes, the legitimation for any use of signs — includ
ing definitions — can only derive from the level of ideas, conceived as abso
lutely autonomous. This is the doctrine revealed in the rules for the use of
definitions given by the Port-Royal Logic: "whenever one uses the word
defined, one must replace mentally the defined by the definition; and one
must have the definition so present to the mind, that once someone names,
for example, the even number, one understands precisely that it is the
number divisible by two equally; and these two things must be so connected
and inseparable in our thought, that once one of them is expressed in the dis
course, the mind immediately attaches the other to it" (Arnauld and Nicole,
1683,124).
To be sure, one can find the same 'direction of legitimation' (from ideas
to signs) in some Leibnizian texts. For example: "One must distinguish
between a process by ideas and a process by definitions or characters; for a
definition is the explication of a character. Every process by definitions con
tains in it a corresponding process by ideas. For I assume that whoever speaks
DEFINITIONS 75
thinks" 44 . But whereas such a conception has no competitors whatsoever for

Leibniz's contemporaries, Leibniz himself oscillates between such a concep
tion and another one, which assigns to characters an autonomous and impor
tant cognitive role. This fact allows him to go as far as reversing completely
the 'direction of legitimation' just mentioned: no longer the ideas justify the
characters, giving them 'meaning' and regulating their usage, but rather it is
the latter that make the former available for the human mind and, therefore,
subject to legitimation: "An analysis of characters consists in the substitution
of certain characters by others, equivalent in use to the former; the only
restriction to be observed is that for one character we should substitute sev
eral, and for a few, many non-coincident characters. In any case it will also be
established that the thought corresponding to the substituting characters is
equivalent to the signification of the character that was submitted to analysis.
But this is easier to do by means of characters than by tackling the thoughts
themselves, without relying on characters" 45 . In addition to that, if one recalls
what has been established earlier, namely that it is the use of characters that,
ultimately, provides the legitimation — in the form of an a priori proof of pos
sibility — for an idea, it is easy to see how far apart are the two extremes
between which Leibniz's reflections on these semiotico-epistemological mat
ters oscillate. I hope to have clarified in this paper the part his various
views on definition play in this general pattern of creative oscillatory thought.
Leibniz considered his doctrine of real definition a big discovery. It departs
indeed from tradition, and is important for his metaphysics. Yet, as I have
tried to show, it is rather his unnoticed introduction of a purely formal con
cept of syntactic definition that credits him with one of the most important
contributions to the development of modern logic, semiotics and epistemol-
ogy.
Footnotes
1 See the general tables of definitions compiled by Leibniz (A, VI, ii, 487-510; C, 437-510), as
well as the collections of juridical (A, VI, i and A, VI, ii), grammatical (C, 284), psychological
(Grua, 512-537), and other (Grua, 537-541, 542-545, etc) definitions.
2 See: A, II, i, 50-56, 97-99, 378,428; A, VI, i, 22,199,229, 370,454,494ff; A, VI, ii, 186,479-
480; C, 328; etc. Once Leibniz makes up his mind in favour of an 'analytic' conception of truth, the
importance of definitions for all truths is immediately stressed by him: "Veritatis definito realis est.
Verum est quod ex identico demonstrabile est per definitiones" (GP, VII, 194).
3 Arnauld and Nicole, in their Logique, established clearly such a distinction in order to reject
immediately the second possibility: "Enfin il y a une grande équivoque dans ce mot d'arbitraire,
quand on dit que la signification des mots est arbitraire. Car il est vrai que c'est une chose purement
arbitraire, que de joindre une telle idée à un tel son plutôt qu'à un autre; mais les idées ne sont
point des choses arbitraires, et qui dependent de notre fantaisie, au moins celles que sont claires
et distinctes" (Arnauld and Nicole, 1683, Part I, Chap. I, page 43).
4 One must say that, apparently, Leibniz himself was not aware of the two possible interpreta
tions of Hobbes' thesis. Accordingly, he does not seem to have considered his two solutions as rad
ically different. It is only an interpretative effort that enables one to make such distinctions, which
are justified by the light they throw on many issues.
5 "... Thomas Hobbes, qui, ut verum fatear, mihi plusquam Nominalis videtur. Noncontentus
enim cum Nominalibus universalia ad nomina reducere, ipsam rerum veritatem ait in nominibus
consistere, a. quod maius est, pendere ab arbitrio humano, quia veritas pendeat a definitionibus
terminorum, definitiones autem terminorum ab arbitrio humano. Haec est sententia viri inter pro
fundíssimos seculi censendi. qua, ut dixi, nihil potest esse nominalius" (A, VI, ii, 428-429).
6 "Sed quae tarnen stare non potest. Uti in Arithmetica, ita et in aliis disciplinis manent
eaedem veritates etsi notae mutentur, nec refert decadica, an duodenaria progressio adhibeatur"
(A, VI, ii, 428-429).
7 "... etsi characteres sint arbitrarii, eorum tamem usus et connexio habet quiddam quod non
est arbicrarium, scilicet proportionem quandam inter characteres et res, et diversorum charac-
terum easdem res exprimentium relationes inter se. Et haec proportio sive relatio est fundamen-
tum veritatis. Efficit enim, ut sive hos sive alios characteres adhibeamus, idem semper sive
aequivalens seu proportione respondent prodeat" (GP. VII. 192).
8 "... in numeris eodem semper modo res succedei, sive denaria sive ut quiddam fecere,
duodenaria progressione utaris, et postea quod diversimode calculis explicasti in granulis aliave
materia numerabili exequaris. semper enim idem provenier" (GP, VII, 192).
9 "Et in analysi, etsi diversis characteribus diversae appareant facilius rerum habitudines.
Semper tarnen basis veritatis est in ipsa connexione atque coilocatione characterum..." (GP, VII,
192).
10 This is true mainly of the texts where the notion of real definition is used by Leibniz in order
to criticize the ontological proof as presented by Descartes. See for example GP, VII, 310 (1686).
Such a connection, by the way, appears quite early in Leibniz's writings. One can find it in a writing
of 1676 (GP. VII. 261-262). and even before that date (e.g. in the letter to Oldenburg of December
1675; A, II, i. 250: "Pronuntiare talia facile est. intelligere non aequè. Posito tale ens esse possibile
sive aliqua esse ideam respondentem his vocabulis, utique sequitur existere tale Ens".)
11 Letter to Gallois 1682 (A. II, i, 529). See also the correspondence with Tschirnhaus, espe
cially the letter of early 1680 (A. II, i, 504-505).
12 It seems to me that Hobbes himself did not believe in the arbitrariness of definitions in the
deeper sense (arbitrariness of the ideas or concepts defined). but only in the more superficial sense
(arbitrariness of the names chosen for ideas). For some evidence, see Leviathan I, 4, and for dis
cussion see Dascal 1976 and Hübener (1977).
13 There are many classifications of types of definition in modern textbooks. Lewis' classifica
tion seems to me to be based on really fundamental distinctions, thus offering a general principle
of classification, broad enough to accomodate most of the other schemes (cf. also Serrus 1945;
Church, 1945; Rosenbloom, 1950; Suppes, 1957; Carnap, 1942, 1967; Essler, 1970).
DEFINITIONS 77
14 It is important to insist on this fourth point, since the opinion that assigns to Leibniz only the
two traditional types of definitions is held by most commentators. Quite recently, for example,
such an opinion was put forward by G. Kalinowski (1977, 185): "D'après Leibniz, il y a deux
espèces de définitions. La première consiste à former un concept, à qui on donne ensuite un nom,
en combinant diverses notions; la seconde, à chercher la signification du terme qu'on veut
expliquer".
15 "Illud quoque minime ferendum est, quod Demonstrationem qualem descripsit Aristoteles
prorsus e natura rerum tollit, levibus certe argumentis, ex quibus potissimum est - quo Universalia
non sint in rerum natura (cum tarnen sufficiat ad demonstrandum: nomina esse universalia)" (A,
VI,ii,429).
16 A, VI, ii, 451. See also: "Si universalia dialectica et realia, quemadmodum nos supra pro-
vabimus, falsa sunt, ut certe sunt, ista scientia, quae non nisi de talibus universalibus esse dicitur,
non potest esse vera" (D, IV, i, 71).
17 "Hoc falsum est. Neque enim minus Nominales quam caeteri, Dialectica Aristotelis usi sunt,
et recte quidem. Nam etsi in nominibus saltern vera sint quae vulgo rebus tribuebantur, salva res
est; quando nominibus istis in explicandis rebus utimur" (A, VI, ii, 451, n. 17). Elsewhere Leibniz
offers another argument against Nizolius' claim: "Imo vero hoc non sequitur. Quia scientia est non
solum de existentitibus, sed et de possibilibus. Nee illud curat, an existat in rebus Triangulum sed
qui consequens, quantos angulos habiturum sit, si existat. Scientia igitur non est de universalibus
realibus, sed de omnibus singularibus etiam possibilibus" (D, IV, i, 71).
18 "Quanquam ergo veritates necessario supponant aliquos charateres. imo aliquando de ipsis
characteribus loquantur (ut theoremata de abjectione novenarii agentia) non tarnen in eo quod in
iis est arbitrarium, sed in eo quod est perpetuum, relatione nempe ad res consistunt semperque
verum est sino ullo arbitrio nostro..." (GP, VII, 193). See also fn. 7.
19 In his later philosophy, Leibniz often uses the metaphor of a town viewed from different
points of view in order to explain the relationship between the monads or individual substances
(e.g. Discours de Métaphysique, § 9; Monadologie, § 57).
20 "Omnis enim ratio, proportio, analogia, proportionalitas, non à voluntate sed natura DEI,
vel quod idem est ab idea rerum proficiscitur" (CP, 40). This dialogue was written between 1673
and 1678 (see CP, 12).
21 On Leibniz's various conceptions of truth, see Dascal 1975a.
22 "... Omne operationi, quae fit in characteribus, respondei enuntiatio quaedam in rebus: et
possumus saepe ipsarum rerum considerationem differe usque ad exitum tractationis" (Charac-
teristica Geometrica, August 10, 1679, GM, V, 141; see Appendix 3 to this volume).
23 "Et si les definitions ne servent qu'à decider les questions du nom, comme il semble que vous
dites, il faut dire que les caracteres d'algebre et d'arithmetique ne servent aussi qu'à decider des
question du nom, ou du caractere. Car les noms sont des especes des caracteres. Effectivement
l'algebre ne vous sçauroit donner au bout du compte que des caracteres, sçavoir la valeur d'une
lettre exprimée par quelques autres lettres; mais cela suffit pour entendre la chose même. Et les
definitions en font de même. Puisqu'une equation en effect n'est qu'une espece de la definition"
(To Marione, July 1676, A, II. i, 271).
24 For such an interpretation of Saussure's semantics, see Dascal 1978, Chapter II.
25 "... necessarium est praecognoscere quid nomen significet" (Zabarella, 1608, p. 337): "qui
enim fieri potest, ut demonstrei aliquis, in lunam eclipsin fieri, nisi prius nominis intelligi non
potest, nisi prius nominis eclipsis significationem intelligat?" (p. 336); "significatio autem nominis
intelligi non potest, nisi cognito rei genere vel propinquo vel remoto" (pp. 336-337); "communis
enim conditio est omnis definitionis, sive perfectae sive imperfectae, et omnis descriptionis, ut in
ea genus aliquod rei, quam definire vel describere volumus, exprimitur, in differentiarum postea
assumptione discrimen definitionum consistit" (p. 337).
26 A similar conception of demonstration is to be found still in Descartes, in spite of his criticism
of scholastic logic and of Renaissance dialectics.
27 Arnauld and Nicole, 1683, 68. Translation and italics are mine. These authors inform their
readers that they borrowed their doctrine of definition from Pascal's Del'Esprit Géométrique (Pre
mier Discours, p. 41). Leibniz acknowledges this fact. He also claims that his doctrine of real defin
itions not only solves Hobbes" difficulty, but also satisfies Pascal's requirements. Pascal, in fact,
demanded that only 'nominal definitions' (where a name is attached to something which is
described in perfectly clear and known terms) be admitted in mathematics. According to Leibniz,
such a requirement is precisely the one put forth by his notion of real as opposed to nominal defin
ition. The term 'real' is no doubt much more appropriate to indicate the fact — pointed out by
Serrus (1945, 326), and probably intended by Pascal — that the first job of a definition in mathema
tics is to create the 'object' defined, to which it then attaches a name.
28 cf. footnote 12.
29 "Definitio seu clara vocis explicado" (To J. Chapelain, 1670; A, II, i, 54; "definido... nihil
aliud est, quam significatio verbis expressa, sive brevius, significatio significata" (Preface to
Nizolius, 1670; GP, IV, 140); "vocis explicatio, definitio est" (Demonstration of Primary Proposi
tions 1671-1672; A. VI, ii. 479; see Appendix 1 to this volume).
30 "Nam si nulla a natura prodita est certa Iusti regula, necesse est, Iustitiae vocem ne definire
quidem posse, sed esse nudem nomen, quale est Blitiri. Ubicunque enim possibilis est definitio
(seu clara vocis explicatio) ibi possibilis est certitudo seu demonstratio. Vocem autem hanc nihil
significare, consensui omnium mortalium, aut hâc aut aliâ quam aequipollenter agnoscunt, uten-
tium, repugnat" (To J. Chapelain, 1670, A, II, i, 54).
31 "'Doctrina Iuris ex earum numero est, quae non ab experimentis, sed definitionibus, nec à
sensuum, sed rationis demonstrationibus pendent... Quare mirum non est harum scientiarum
decreta aeternae veritatis esse... Nec à sensu descendunt, sed clara distinctaque imaginatione,
quam Plato Ideam vocabat, quaeque verbis expressa idem quod definitio est... Cum igitur doc
trina juris scientia sit, et scientiae causa sit demonstratio, demonstrationis principium definitio,
consequens est vocabulorum, Iuris, Iusti, Iustitiae, definitiones, id est ideas quasdam claras, ad
quas ipsi cum loquimur exigere propositionum, id est usus vocabulorum veritatem etiam nes
cientes solemus. debere ante omnia investigare" (A, VI, i, 460-461; L, 133).
32 "Porro ex definitionibus realibus illae sunt perfectissimae, quae omnibus hypothesibus seu
generandi modis communes sunt causamque proximam involvunt, denique ex quibus possibilitas
rei immediate patet... hoc est cum res resolvitur in meras notiones primitivas per se intellectas,
qualem cognitionem soleo appellare adaequatam seu intuitivam; ita enim si qua esset repugnantia,
statim apparerei, quia nulla amplius locum habet resolutio" (GP, VII, 295). Voir aussi Noveaux
Essais, IV, 2, 1.
33 "Definitiones optimas... eas ex quibus constat rem definitam esse possibilem" (A, II, i, 504).
"Besides, every definition is imperfect, however true and clear it may be, which permits some
doubt, even when it is understood, about whether the thing defined is possible" (L, 197).
34 In Dascal 1977.
DEFINITIONS 79
35 "In eo vero lapsus est Hobbius, quod colligit veritatem omnium propositionum esse ab arbit
rio humano. Primum enim eae, quae sensu constant, ut me a me sentiri sentientem, excipiendae
sunt; sed et eae, quae ex sensu cognitis adhibitis definitionibus demonstrantur ut quae ex
praecedenti demonstratur: me sentire seu cogitare, item me esse... Excipiendae etiam sunt prop-
ositiones identicae seu ejusdem affirmatio de seipso verbis eisdem" (A, III, i, 13-14).
36 "At cum idem dicitur de seipso verbis aequipollentibus, ut definitio de definitio, aut
definitiones diversae ejusdem definiti de se invicem aut pars definitionis unius de definitio vel alia
ejusdem definiti definitione, manifestum est, propositionis veritatem esse ab arbitrio humano;
definitio enim ab arbitrio humano est" (A, III, i, 14).
37 See footnote 21.
38 "At vero inquiet aliquis, si omnia axiomata ex definitionibus nominum demonstrabilia sunt,
omnes veritatis pendebunt ab arbitrio humano, cum arbitrariae sint nominum definitiones, quae
sententia in Hobbio a doctis improbata est. Huic respondeo propositiones a definitionibus pen
dere, quatenus verbis aliisque symbolis exprimentur, et cogitationes asymbolas seu ipsarum
idearum connexiones aut a sensu esse aut a distincta imaginatione,..." (A. III, i, 16).
39 "Distinguendum ergo mihi videtur inter propositiones; aliarum enim veritatem pendere a
sensu, ut uti sunt experimenta et observationes naturae, aliarum autem a clara distinctaque
imaginatione seu ideis vel si mavis definitionibus; nihil enim definitio aliud quam ideae significatio
est, uti sunt theoremata arithmeticae et geometricae" (A, III, i, 17).
40 "Quid discimus ergo, inquies, cum theoremata talium scientiarum pervestigamus? Nihil,
inquem, nisi celeriter et distincte cogitare ad usum, seu aptis quibusdam symbolis ad ordinandas
jam olim cognitas et a sensibus acceptas ideas uti, sive ea symbola sint nomina sive characteres..."
(A, III, i, 14).
41 "Etsi in rebus valde compositis soleamus uti symbolis in ratiocinando sine ulla con-
sideratione ipsarum idearum... seit enim eo labore sibi post symbola supersedere licere" (A, III,
i, 17).
42 "Ut in numeris, quis non videt nihil novi disci in tota arithmetica nisi nomine numeralia
eorumque varios recursus, qui si rursus incipient, harmonice fiunt; hinc equationes uti theoremata
elicientur et utilitas characterum inde maxime elucet, cum operatis symbolis multum observan
potest, quod alian non posset ut cum integrae cujusdam progressionis summa facile initur. Et haec
maxime apparent ex algebra, ubi nemo non videt omnia symbolis varie transpositis agi ingenti
fructu, non quod nova discentur, sed quod res nude exhibentur menti" (A, III, i, 14).
43 "... idem enim sunt definitiones in characteristica illa universali quod equationes in algebra"
(A, III, i, 18).
44 "Differentur inter processum per ideas et processum per definitiones vel characteres; definito
enim characteris explicatio est. Omnis processum per definitiones continet in se processum per
ideas. Suppone enim qui loquitur cogitare" (Jag, 2). See Dascal 1977.
45 "Analysis autem characterum fit. cum characteribus quibusdam substituimus alios charac
teres, qui prioribus usu aequipollent; hoc uno tantum observato. ut pro uno muitos, pro
paucioribus plures (qui tamen inter se non coincident) substituamus. Utique enim constabit etiam
cogitationes quae characteribus substitutis respondent, prioris characteribus qui resolvendus
proponebatur significationi aequipollere. Hoc autem ope characterum facilius fit. quam si nullo ad
characteres respectu cogitationes ipsas aggrediamur" (C, 351; see Appendix 2 to this volume).
5
ON KNOWING TRUTHS OF REASON
Why should the formulas of symbolic logic reflect

the realities of human thought?
A. Wierzbicka
1. According to Leibniz, truths of reason in general, and logical truths in

particular, are necessary and eternal, true in all possible worlds, provable
(i.e. reducible to identical propositions) in a finite number of steps, and hence
'analytic' in the strong sense (namely, the conceptual analysis that shows that
the concept of the predicate is contained in that of the subject can be actually
performed). As their very name suggests, such truths depend upon 'reason'
alone. Consequently, their knowledge should be obtained through the exer
cise of nothing but reason (i.e. the intellect) itself. In particular, this implies
that other possible sources of knowledge — e.g. sense experience — should
play no (essential) part in the acquisition of one's knowledge of the truths of
reason. This seems indeed to be Leibniz' position, for he claims that, as far as
necessary truths are concerned,
il est generalement vray, que nous ne les connoissons que par cette Lumiere
naturelle, et nullement par les experiences des Sens. Car les Sens peuvent
bien faire connoistre en quelque façon, ce qui est, mais il ne sauraient faire
connoistre ce qui doit estre ou ne saurait estre autrement (To Sophie-Char
lotte, GP, VI, 504).
The 'Natural Light' he refers to in this passage is in fact nothing but
reason itself. For it is essentially equated with the ability of the understand
ing to identify and use "la force des consequences du raisonnement" (GP, VI,
503), i.e. the ability to assess the validity of reasonings and to produce them.
Furthermore, it lies in the deep recesses of the Self ("Moy"), and its princi
ples of operation as well as the knowledge we have of them owe nothing to
sense experience or, for that matter, to anything that happens in the external
world. Leibniz indeed concludes that such a 'natural light' must be innate,
for:
puisque les sens et les inductions ne nous sauraient jamais apprendre des
verités tout à fait universelles ny ce qui est absolument necessaire, mais
seulement ce qui Est, et ce qui se trouve dans des exemples particuliers, et
puisque nous connoissons cependant des verités universelles et necessaires
des sciences, en quoy nous sommes privilegiés au dessus des bestes: il s'en
suit que nous avons tiré ces verités en partie de ce qui est en nous (GP, VI,
496).
And in order to explain how we 'extract from that which is in ourselves'
such truths, he resorts to Plato's notion of reminiscence, and quotes Socrates'
'experiment' with Menon. Apparently — but only apparently, as we shall see
— he is here very close to Cartesian intuitionism and introspectionism.
2. It seems, then, that a logico-ontological thesis about the nature of
necessary truths is taken to entail an epistemological-psychological thesis
about the way in which such truths are known and learned. A similar relation
ship would perhaps obtain for contingent truths: their logico-ontological
nature would entail that they ought to be learned and known not through
reason but through the senses alone. Thus, instead of being called 'truths of
fact' they should perhaps be called 'sensible truths' — an expression that
Leibniz indeed employs occasionally1. If indeed such a close connection
between the two levels existed, then it would be most suitable to establish an
absolutely neat distinction between truths of reason and of fact, keeping them
apart not only on ontological and logical grounds, but also on epistemological
ones. This is indeed the way in which Bunge (1983) interprets the distinction
in question. In addition to ontological and 'semantic' differences between the
two kinds of truth, he lists also two major 'methodological' differences
between them (p. 89):
(v) Some truths of reason need no justification at all. For example, explicit
definitions are conventional, and therefore often declared to be neither true
nor false.... On the other hand every factual proposition is required to be
justified sooner or later.
(vi) The truths of reason in need of justification are justified either by proof
(deduction) or by checking satisfaction (or compliance with assumptions or
definitions). Both operations are strictly conceptual. On the other hand
every factual assumption calls for, at some point or other, some empirical
operation (observation, measurement, or experiment) in addition to con
ceptual operations.
The use of the term 'justification' suggests that Bunge is trying to keep the
'methodological' level apart from the 'psychological' level, following the
positivist distinction between the contexts of justification and discovery. But,
regardless of the value of such a distinction, it is clear that the alleged differ-
TRUTHS OF REASON 83
ences pertain at least to what I have been calling the 'epistemological' level, of
which a question such as "are certain truths in need of justification, and if so,
of what kind?" is quite characteristic. My question is whether one can indeed
find such epistemological differences between the two kinds of truth in Leib
niz's writings.
3. Concerning (v), the answer seems to be no. First of all, there are truths
of fact that, according to Leibniz, need no justification. For him, just as there
are truths of reason which are "absolutely primary", so too there are truths of
fact of this sort. An example of the latter is the proposition Omnis possibile
exigit existere. Their chracteristic feature is that they are such that "all exper
iments can be a priori demonstrated from them" (VOR, 115)2. In an earlier
text, On the demonstration of primary propositions (A, VI, ii, 479-486;
Appendix 1 in this volume), when speaking of unprovable propositions,
Leibniz identifies them with "those which are to be sensed" and gives as
examples The sun shines and The earth is consistent. Furthermore, the general
line of the argument in this text is to show that one should not be satisfied, in
the domain of truths of reason, with the most apparently intuitive and self-
evident axioms such as The whole is bigger than its parts, but should rather
seek to demonstrate them. And Leibniz indeed provides here a demonstra
tion of that proposition. Seeking justification (or proof) as much as possible
is thus a general 'methodological' maxim, applicable to every domain. Its
only restriction is of a practical nature: justifications should be sought "only
in so far as the delay in the investigation of the subject can be tolerated".
Besides, though it is true that the proof or justification of truths of reason is
ultimately based on definitions, Leibniz, unlike conventionalists like
Couturat, does not regard real definitions as conventions (cf. Dascal 1980),
and assigns them a truth value, just as he does to 'sensual' propositions.
As for (vi), it depends upon (a) the ability to characterize precisely the
nature of 'purely conceptual' and 'empirical' operations, and (b) the substan
tiation of the thesis that truths of reason do not require, in any essential way,
the performance of operations of the second type. I am not sure that it is pos
sible to comply with the first requirement without begging the question, i.e.
without assuming that 'purely conceptual' operations are precisely those
which are both necessary and sufficient for the justification of the truths of
reason, and conversely, 'empirical' operations are those which are not neces
sary for that purpose. But let us assume that there are at least a few clear and
uncontroversial examples of each type of operation, namely those indicated
by Bunge. Is it the case that the justification of truths of reason according to
Leibniz does not require the performance of 'empirical' operations such as
observation, measurement, and experiment?

The answer is rather negative. Consider, for example, deduction. The
actual performance of a deduction requires the manipulation of symbols, the
observation of their similarities and dissimilarities, and — if one wishes to
check the validity of the proof—the use of checking procedures that are com
parable to empirical measurements 3 . Leibniz, who was among the first mod
ern philosophers to perceive the power and nature of formalism, is utterly
opposed to Descartes on this point. Descartes, for whom the expression
'purely conceptual operation' would be appropriate, stressed that the validity
of a proof depends upon our ability to have the (mental) 'intuition' of all of
its steps and components simultaneously, and for that purpose he describes
the process of reasoning as a complex mental gymnastics, throughout which
our reason is never idle4. Leibniz, on the contrary, stresses the possibility of
developping a formal language, through which deductive procedures would
become 'automatized', thereby dispensing with all this laborious exercise of
our intellect, thanks to the systematic reliance upon a sensible thread to con
duct and check even our most complex and abstract reasonings. The texts in
which he expresses this view are numerous and spread throughout his whole
career. One example will thus suffice:
J'ay remarqué que la cause que nous nous trompons si aisement hors des
Mathematiques, et que les Geometres ont esté si heureux dans leurs raison-
nemens, n'est que parce que dans la Geometrie et autres parties des
Mathematiques abstraites, on peut faire des experiences ou preuves con
tinuelles, non seulement sur la conclusion, mais encore à tout moment, et à
chaque pas qu'on fait...
L'unique moyen de redresser nos raisonnemens est de les rendre aussi sensi
bles que le sont ceux des Mathematiciens, en sorte qu'on puisse trouver son
erreur à veue d'oeil... (C, 176).
Experiments, the use of our eyes and other senses, in short, the whole
domain of the sensible not only intrudes in the domain of the truths of reason :
it is claimed to be that which grants this domain its peculiar certainty and
reliability. The whole point of formalism, for Leibniz, is that it enables one to
replace 'purely conceptual operations' by 'empirical' manipulations of sym
bols. And this is not restricted to deduction. Even the primitive truths of
reason, namely identical propositions of the form A = A, are said to be unde-
monstrable because they are (literally) seen to be true:
Les sens font voir que A est A est une proposition dont l'opposée A n'est pas
A implique contradiction formellement. Or ce que les sens font voir est inde
monstrable (, 186).
TRUTHS OF REASON 85
One could argue that such a use of symbols and of the senses is only a
handy way of enhancing the powers of reason, something in the category of
"material aids such as pencils and computers" (Bunge, 1983: 86), whose use
in some operations does not change their 'purely conceptual' character. Here
we are back, however, in danger of begging the question, pointed out in con
nection with assumption (a), above : shall we say that any operation that leads
to a truth of reason, no matter how extensively it employs and depends upon
the senses, is ipso facto 'purely conceptual'? Or shall we stick to some inde
pendent characterization of the terms 'purely conceptual' and 'empirical', in
which case truths of reason are obviously not learned and known only in a
'purely conceptual' way?
One could also say that, even though they are useful, such sensible
means are not essential for intellectual tasks. Leibniz indeed sometimes
seems to suggest this:
Je demeure cependant d'acord, que dans le present estat, les Sens externes
nous sont nercessaires pour penser, et que, si nous n'en avions eu aucun, nous
ne penserions pas. Mais ce qui est necessaire pour quelque chose, n'en fait
point l'essence pour cela. L'air nous est necessaire pour la vie, mais nostre
vie est autre chose que l'air. Les sens nous fournissent de la matiere pour le
raisonnement, et nous n'avons jamais des pensées si abstraites, que quelque
chose de sensible ne s'y mele; mais le raisonnement demande encore autre
chose que ce qui est sensible (GP, VI, 506).
To this we could say that, if 'empirical' operations are as necessary to
reason as air to life, they are 'essential' enough, as far as we are concerned.
We could also add that, in other texts, Leibniz assigns to the senses, and par
ticularly to the use of sensible characters, a much more constitutive role in
thought than the one suggested in the passage here quoted 5 .
4. Just as our knowledge of the truths of reason is not 'clean' from sensi
ble elements, so too our knowledge of the truths of fact is heavily 'contami
nated' by intellectual components. "L'Estre m et la Verité — says Leibniz
— ne s'apprend pas tout a fait par les sens" (GP, VI, 502, 494), for without
the help of "something beyond the senses" it would be impossible to distin
guish a long and systematic dream (i.e. appearance) from truth. This "some
thing" is the "liaison", "consensus", or coherence of the totality of our per
ceptions, i.e. a logical property thereof. It is this property that ensures the dis
tinction between dream and reality: "Certainly it is only through this agree
ment among phenomena that we distinghish dreams from waking" (GP, VII,
296; L, 232). Ultimately, therefore, "la verité des choses sensibles... depend
des verités intellectuelles, fondées en raison" (GP, V, 426), and one can
assert that, for all kinds of truth, factual as well as non-factual,
Cette conception de l'Estre et de la Verité se trouve donc dans ce Moy, et dans
l'Entendement plustost que dans les sens et dans la perception des objets
exterieurs (GP, VI, 503).
Factual truths are thus no less grounded on reason than truths of reason
themselves. Their distinctive characteristic, namely contingency, is ontologi-
cal, rather than epistemological or 'methodological'. It has to do with the fact
that such truths concern existence, and therefore depend upon the 'principle
of the best'. Even from an ontological/logical point of view the two kinds of
truth are not as far apart as it might seem. The very same general definition
of truth applies to both: in both cases truth is, according to Leibniz's later
writings, a matter of inclusion of the concept of the predicate in the concept
of the subjet, i.e. it is grounded essentially on a single kind of logical relation6.
5. In all likelihood, it is this clear 'contamination'of the sensual by the
intellectual component that led Kant to accuse Leibniz of 'intellectualizing
the appearances' and depriving sensuality of its specific way of contributing
to knowledge7. Though such a charge has been uncritically accepted by many
kantian historians of philosophy, and actually served as a basis for the current
classification of Leibniz as a rather radical 'rationalist' and anti-empiricist,
the fact that, as I have shown, he retains a crucial role for the senses in his
account of our knowledge of truths of reason, casts doubt upon Kant's
interpretation. Indeed, in the light of such a fact, Kant could as well accuse
Leibniz of committing also the crime he attributes to Locke, namely that of
'sensualizing the intellect'.
No doubt part of the reason for Kant's misinterpretation lies in Leibniz's
own often careless formulations. But its deeper source is the lumping
together — by Kant and many others (e.g. Bunge) — of the logico/ontologi-
cal and the epistemological levels, in their reading of Leibniz's account of
both the differences and the similarities between truths of reason and of fact.
This can eventually be traced back to Kant's own (revolutionary) conception
of epistemology as the investigation of the conditions of possibility of all
knowledge. From this point of view, one can indeed infer a characteristic
'mode of knowledge' of certain principles from their special role as conditions
of possibility of knowledge. Thus, if logic is defined as "a science of the neces
sary laws of thought, without which no employment of the understanding and
the reason takes place, which consequently are the conditions under which
TRUTHS OF REASON 87
alone the understanding can and should be consistent with itself"8, it follows
(for Kant) that the principles of logic should be known by means of the under
standing alone, without any interference of the sensibility:
If, however, we set aside all knowedge that we can only borrow from objects,
and reflect simply on the exercise of the understanding in general, then we
discover those rules which are absolutely necessary, independenly of any
particular objects of thought, because without them we cannot think at all.
These rules, accordingly, can be discerned a priori, that is, independently of
all experience, because they contain merely the conditions of the use of the
understanding in general, whether pure or empirical, without distinction of
its objects (IL, p. 2).
The terms 'discover', 'discern', 'independently of all experience', etc. in
this passage do not refer to actual psychological processes, i.e. to the way in
which we actually come to know the principles of logic. They refer rather to
what Kant calls the 'objective' origin of this knowledge:
We may, in fact, distinguish different kinds of knowledge as follows:
1. According to their objective origin, that is, according to the sources from
which alone the knowledge can be drawn. In this respect all knowledge is
either rational or empirical;
2. According to their subjective origin, that is, according to the manner in
which the knowledge can be acquired by the individual. From this last point
of view knowledge is either rational or historical, no matter how it has origi
nated... (The former is knowledge from principles [ex principiis]; the latter
is knowledge from data [ex datis]) (IL, 12).
Kant himself acknowledges that it is possible for something to be objec
tively a piece of rational knowledge though it is subjectively only learned from
experience, i.e. 'historical' (ibid.). Yet, he rules out psychological (introspec
tive, presumably) observation of our thought processes as a way of coming to
establish or to learn the laws of logic:
If we were to take the principles from psychology, that is. from observations
on our understanding, we should merely see how thought takes place, and
how it is affected by the manifold subjective hindrances and conditions; so
that this would lead only to the knowledge of contingent laws. But in Logic
the question is not of contingent, but of necessary laws; not how we do think,
but how we ought to think. The rules of Logic, then, must not be derived
from the contingent, but from the necessary use of the understanding, which,
without any psychology, a man finds in himself (IL, 4).
But this leaves us with no account whatsoever of how 'a man finds in him
self such necessary principles, and of how he proceeds to 'derive' from them
the rules of logic. Nor, of course, of how the understanding actually uses such
rules. In other words, even if we grant that the appropriate 'mode of know
ledge' of logic is purely rational, from this nothing follows as to what is actu
ally involved in our knowledge and use of logic. For, the former notion con
cerns only the 'objective' origin of the logical principles. And, if this is the
only interesting issue for Kant, he has indeed no use for Leibniz's observa
tions about the necessary reliance upon signs in cognitive processes in gen
eral, and in the logical processes of proving, checking validity, etc. in particu
lar. He can safely put them aside as part of the "manifold subjective hindr
ances and conditions" that affect knowledge, but are not essential to its 'ob
jectivity'. And, in so doing, he can also claim to be faithful to the Leibniz of
the letter to Sophie-Charlotte, who stresses the inessential, though necessary
role of the senses in thought.
6. Yet, even in this statement, the distinction between the two planes is
preserved. For, 'inessential' here refers indeed to the logico/ontological
plane or to Kant's 'objective origin', whereas 'necessary' refers to the issue of
the conditions prevailing in all actual thinking, including our thinking of the
loftiest logical principles. Leibniz, unlike Kant, is interested in both questions,
and avoids lumping them together, or drawing conclusions from the one into
the other. Thus, he distinguishes, though not always as consistently as one
would wish, between an 'idea' (a purely logical, abstract entity, characterized
by a real definition) and a 'notio' (a psychological entity) 9 . The latter can be
present even when its supposed logical counterpart does not exist (e.g. when
we have 'some notion' of the biggest number). Notions can be clear or
obscure, distinct or confuse, symbolic or intuitive, etc., but not so ideas. Only
when we have at least a clear and distinct notion can we be said to 'have an
idea'. Truth is a matter of there being certain relations between ideas, regard
less of whether the truth in question is of reason or of fact. But knowledge of
truths is a matter of how do we grasp these relations. Ideally, all knowledge
should be intuitive, i. e. based on a grasping of the complete component struc
ture of the ideas involved. Practically, this is impossible for any but the
simplest ideas. Hence, we must rely upon 'symbolic' knowledge, which
involves the use of the senses in all fields, including logic. Though there is an
element of arbitrariness in the choice of individual symbols, if the symbolism
employed is such that it preserves a global and structural 'proportionality'
between the characters and the things they refer to, a certain constancy of
'use and connection', it won't lead us astray, but will rather provide a 'basis
for truth', thus yielding reliable knowledge10.
TRUTHS OF REASON 89
Should we discard all of Leibniz's concern for, and careful investigation

of the role of symbolism in knowledge as a misleading and futile psychologis
tic consideration of the "manifold subjective hindrances and conditions" of
knowledge in general, and of the knowledge and use of logic in particular?11 If,
as Kant puts it, "Logic... treats also of the act of knowing, because in the act
of knowing there is already Thought" (IL, 24-25), then certainly not, since,
according to Leibniz most of our 'acts of knowing' are in fact acts of knowing
symbolically. Yet, for Leibniz, logic proper is one thing, and the investigation
of the act of knowing, another. The former has to do with relations of ideas,
truth, propositions, etc., not with how we grasp and manipulate them, actu
ally or ideally, which is the subject matter of the latter. In this sense — and
only in this sense — logic is a 'purely conceptual' affair. As soon as we move
to the question not of the (ontological) nature of logical truths, but of our
knowledge thereof, we cannot avoid acknowledging that it involves 'empiri
cal operations' as well. Thus, whereas Leibniz can easily and consistently
avoid psychologism by means of his distinction between the logical and the
epistemological levels, it seems that it is rather Kant who runs into trouble in
this respect. For, according to him, "as consciousness is the essential condi
tion of every logical form of knowledge, Logic can and must concern itself
only with clear, not at all with obscure, ideas" (IL, 24). He defines 'clear' and
'obscure' ideas as follows:
The diversity of the form of knowledge rests on a condition that accompanies
every act of knowledge, namely, consciousness. Am I conscious of the idea,
it is clear; am I not conscious of it, it is obscure (IL, 24).
But, in so far as the point of using sensible signs in 'symbolic knowledge'
lies in that we don't have to be aware of their values all the time — as stressed
again and again by Leibniz — it follows that, since such signs are necessarily
involved in our knowledge, if Logic were indeed to deal with the investigation
of the 'act of knowing' (as claimed by Kant), it should per force be concerned
with the 'obscure' ideas involved in the use of those signs. In other words,
Kant cannot, without contradiction, hold both the view that Logic deals with
the act of knowing and the view that it is concerned only with clear ideas.
Unless, of course, he denies that the senses are necessarily involved, through
the use of signs, in that act. For Leibniz, on the other hand, no such a diffi
culty arises, because — as I have tried to show — he keeps the levels of logic
(proper) and epistemology apart. 12
As pointed out earlier, Leibniz is not always consistent neither in his ter
minology, nor in keeping strictly apart the two levels. A case in point is his use
of epistemic concepts in his definitions of logical and ontological concepts (cf.

Dascal, 1978:82-88):
Aliquid est. quicquid cogitabile est (A, VI, i, 457).
Essentia est alicuius cogitabilitas distincta (C, 255).
Existens quod distincte percipi potest (C, 437).
Relatio est duorum concogitabilitas (A, VI, ii, 489).
Verum est quicquid clare distincteque sensibile est (percipi potest) (A, VI,
ii, 493).
Yet, all these definitions employ the epistemic concepts sub specie pos-
sibilitatis. They do neither require nor refer to actual perception, sensation,
conception, or thought. In this sense, they remain at the 'purely conceptual'
level, and have nothing to do with an investigation of the 'act of knowing' and
of its conditions. When we turn, however, to the definition of the properly
epistemic notions themselves, a subtle shift from the subjunctive to the indi
cative makes all the difference in the world. For instance:
Certuni est quicquid clare distincteque sentitur (percipitur). Seu certitudo
est claritas veritatis (A, VI, ii, 493).
Certainty thus lies in a peculiar mode of perception of truth, rather than

on the particular nature of the truth perceived itself. It can be achieved (or
not) both in the realm of truths of reason and of factual truths.
How then are truths of reason acquired, known, and used? The answer
is: just like factual truths. That is to say, through some combination of sensual
experience and 'reason'. The relative weight of each ingredient, as well as
their particular mode of combination can be different in both cases. But in
neither case would we do justice to Leibniz if we asserted that such a know
ledge is 'pure', in the sense of being only the result of the application of the
powers of reason or of the senses. With all due respect and appreciation for
the need to keep the distinction between the two kinds of truth, if we want to
do this in a leibnizian spirit, we must forego any attempt to conflate such dis
tinction with a distinction in 'modes of knowing'.
TRUTHS OF REASON 91
Footnotes
1 "Veritates Physicae sunt vel intellectuales vel sensuales vel mixtae.... Veritates physicae
sensuales sunt quae solo sensu a nobis cognoscuntur" (VOR, 646, 647). Notice that here they are
opposed to intellectual' truths, not to 'truths of reason'.
2 "Veritates absolute primae, sunt inter veritates rationis identicae et inter veritates facti haec ex
quas a priori demonstrari possent omnia experimenta, nempe m possibile exigit existere, et
proinde existeret nisi aliud impedirei, quod etiam existere exigit. et priori incompatibile est. unde
sequitur, semper earn existere rerum combinationem, qua existunt quam plurima..." (VOR. 115).
Notice that the deduction in question is of the totality of phenomena, and not of specific
phenomena. See also GP. V. 342.
3 For details, see Dascal, 1978, chapter 7.
4 See Regulae VII. X, XI. XVI. See also Dascal, 1975b. For Leibniz*s criticism of Descartes'
criterion of truth, see Cabanas, 1983.
5 See Dascal, 1978: 173-182: Dascal. 1976: 204-212 (pp. 15-21, this volume): and Appendix 5,
this volume.
6 '"Verum est affirmatum. cujus praedicatum inest subjecto, itaque in omni Propositione vera
affirmativa, necessaria vel contingente, universali vel singulari, Notio praedicati aliquo modo con-
tinetur in notione subjecti; ita ut qui perfecte intelligeret notionem utramque quemadmodum earn
intelligit Deus, is eo ipso perspiceret praedicatum subjecto inesse'* (C, 16-17; VOR, 455). Even
when he held, at the time he wrote his Preface to Nizolius, a rather different conception of truth,
with disctinctly 'empiricist' overtones. Leibniz stressed that it applied to observational and mathe
matical statements as well (cf. A, VI. ii. 409f. ; L, 121). For discussion, see Dascal. 1975a and 1985.
On the use of epistemic notions in Leibniz's definition of truth, see below.
7 "Leibniz intellektuierte die Erscheinungen, so wie Locke die Verstandsbegriffe... insgesamt
sensitiziert" (K. der r. V.. A 271).
8 Kant's Introduction to Logic (Henceforth 'IL'), p. 3. The fact that the Logik was put together
by one of Kant's disciples (G.B. Jäsche), rather than be Kant himself is immaterial for the argu
ment here presented, since the views here quoted from the Logik correspond quite closely to those
expressed in the  der r. V. (e.g. B 76ff.). Furthermore, the kantian distinction between formal
and transcendental logic, though relevant to the argument, does not affect its conclusion. For,
'transcendental logic' is concerned with the issue of whether the principles of logic are deducible
from some higher, absolute principle, and not with the problem of their actual acquisition, know
ledge, and use (see Jäsche's preface to the Logik, in Kant's Werke, ed. Suhrkamp, vol. 6. p. 429).
And, at any rate. Kant's account left the way wide open to psychologism.
9 For example, in Quid sit idea (GP, VII, 263-264), [Meditationes] de cognitione, verdate et
ideis (GP, IV, 422-426), Discours de Metaphysique, etc.
10 Cf., for example, the Dialogas of 1677: "Semper tarnen basis veritates est in ipsa connexione
atque collocatione characterum" (GP, VII. 192). Notice that the kind of convergence or propor
tionality which ensures the truthfulness of a symbolic system is analogous to the 'liaison des
phenomènes' which ensures the truthfulness of our sensual experience.
11 In the Discours de Metaphysique (§ 25). Leibniz employs, instead of the term 'symbolic", the
term 'suppositive' for this kind of knowledge, and suggests quite strongly that it is unreliable, for
it affords only 'knowledge' comparable to that afforded by notions that involve a hidden impossi-
bility. This negative evaluation of symbolic knowledge contrasts with its positive evaluation
elsewhere in his work. It seems to me that this is due to fact that, in the Discours, he is looking at
the matter from the point of view of pure relations of ideas, rather than from the point of view of
our knowledge of such relations. On this distinction, see below.
12 It would be interesting to pursue the question of whether, for Leibniz, the use of symbols is
connected either with obscurity or with confusion (in his, rather than in Kant's sense of these
terms). Unfortunately, this cannot be done within the framework of this paper. Parkinson's article
(1982), which was brought to my attention only after I had written the present text, addresses itself
to the question of the nature of 'confusion' according to Leibniz, as well as to other issues related
to my concerns here. On the whole, he also claims that Kant misinterpreted Leibniz, following in
this McRae (1976), whose account he supplements. Elsewhere (Dascal, forthcoming), I have spel
led out how McRae's and mine accounts of Kant's misinterpretation of Leibniz diverge. It should
also be pointed out that Kant is here quite faithful to the Cartesian tradition concerning the notion
of an idea. He not only takes an idea to be a psychological entity of sorts, but he also adopts the
view that the concept of idea is a primitive one, and requires no further explanation: "... know
ledge always presupposes the presence of the idea. And this latter can by no means be explained.
For we could not explain what an idea is, except by means of another idea" (IL, 25). This view is
similar to the Logique de Port Royal's well known statement to the effect that "Le mot d'Idée est
du nombre de ceux qui sont si clairs qu'on ne les peut expliquer par d'autres, parce qu'il n'y en a
point de plus clairs et de plus simples" (Arnauld and Nicole 1683, 39).
6
REASON AND THE MYSTERIES OF FAITH:
LEIBNIZ ON THE MEANING OF RELIGIOUS DISCOURSE
I
Believers in Christianity are required to believe, among other things, in
certain dogmas which are 'mysteries of faith'. For example, the dogma of the
trinity (that God is three-in-one), the dogma of transsubstantiation (that the
sacramental bread and wine contain really and essentially the body, blood,
soul and divinity of Jesus Christ, though conserving their accidents as bread
and wine), etc. 1 According to the decisions of several councils, which have
established the official Roman Catholic position on the subject, these dogmas
are instances of "true mysteries properly so called" because they are "dogmas
of faith that cannot be understood and truly demonstrated by a properly cul
tivated mind from natural principles". They are "truths hidden in God that
cannot be known unless divinely revealed" and "by their nature so transcend
a created mind that even when communicated by revelation and accepted in
faith, they remain covered by the veil of faith itself and as it were shrouded
in obscurity"2.
Yet, in spite of the fundamental unintelligibility of such dogmas, Christ
ians are required to believe in them, i.e. to consider them true. But how is it
possible to consider true (or for that matter false) a sentence that is not under
standable? Isn't the understanding of a sentence a necessary condition for
believing it to be true? If not, how could one identify the object of one's par
ticular belief, distinguish it from the presumably equally unintelligible 'con
tents' of other sentences allegedly expressing mysteries, and ascribe to it a
truth-value?
Let me point out that difficulties like these do not plague only the sen
tences expressing the mysteries of faith. According to most theologians, they
arise in fact within all types of religious discourse. For the concept of God is
supposed to be beyond the clear grasp of our limited minds3. It is God's essen
tial incomprehensibility that constitutes the deep reason for the existence of
the mysteries of faith, which "even when revealed cannot be fully understood
in their essence or intrinsic possibility" (Sacr. Mundi, 4, p. 135). Therefore,
the mysteries cannot be simply set aside as a marginal portion of religious dis
course, whose incomprehensibility needs not be accounted for in a coherent
way. Any serious philosophy of religion and any theory of religious discourse
must cope with this fundamental incomprehensibility of talk about God and
it would be best for it to tackle the problem where it is most obvious: the mys
teries of faith.
Obviously, the orthodox position is not that there is absolutely nothing
intelligible in the mysteries, in which case they would be mere nonsense.
Thus, again according to official catholic sources, "reason, enlightened by
faith, when it diligently, reverently and modestly inquires, by the gift of God,
attains some understanding of the mysteries" (New Catholic Encycl., ibid.).
The question, of course, is to determine exactly how much 'understanding' of
the mysteries there may be. For if the measure of intelligibility is too large so
as to make the mysteries as intelligible as, say, the statements of logic and
mathematics or of physics and philosophy then there is nothing particularly
'mysterious' about them and religious discourse will have to conform to the
same standards as scientific discourse.
The task facing those who want to account for the peculiar status of the
mysteries in conformity with the demands of the church is to try to satisfy two
apparently contradictory requirments. On the one hand the mysteries should
be intelligible enough so as to make it possible for them to be objects of belief
and bearers of truth-values (let us call this the 'intelligibility requirement').
On the other hand they should be unintelligible enough so as to allow them
to be significantly different in this respect from other kinds of statements,
especially those which can be confirmed or disconfirmed by the use of
'reason' (let us call this the 'unintelligibility requirement').
Anyone, in order to succeed in such a task, has to be able to show that
certain semantic-epistemological properties, e. g. 'being the object of a belief'
and 'bearing a truth-value', can be dissociated from others, e.g. 'being fully
intelligible', 'being a proposition', 'being able to be confirmed or discon
firmed by logical or empirical methods'. Serious attempts to solve the prob
lem of the intelligibility of the mysteries of faith must, therefore, bring
to the fore some interesting semantic-epistemological issues.
In this paper, I will explore Leibniz's attempts to solve the semantic-epis
temological problem of the mysteries of faith. In so doing, I hope to clarify
not only some of his views on the philosophy of religion proper but also some
aspects of his philosophy of language and of knowledge4. I will first recall
briefly some contemporary solutions to the problem, which Leibniz would
RELIGIOUS DISCOURSE 95
probably reject. I will then examine three different proposals made by Leib
niz at different moments of his career, only the last of which was finally
retained by him.
II
Since the simultaneous satisfaction of both, the requirements of intelligi
bility and of unintelligibility for the mysteries of faith, as well as for consider
able other parts of religious discourse, seems to be quite difficult if not totally
unachievable, it is only too natural that many authors take into account only
one of these requirements, disregarding completely the other. This may lead
to two kinds of one-sided positions.
2.1 Some believers — mainly but not only philosophers — in their eager
ness to respond to disbelievers, attempt to pro ve the truth of a given religion
or at least the truth of some of its main dogmas (e.g. the existence of God, the
fact that God is good, omnipotent, omniscient, etc.). In so doing they tend to
stress what is intelligible — and even more, provable — in religion. That is to
say, the 'overt' element of religion is stressed whereas its 'hidden' side is dis
missed as irrelevant, marginal, or unimportant. To be sure the 'overt' element
is undoubtedly part of religion even for the most orthodox approach. It con
stitutes the subject matter of the legitimate part of theology called 'natural
theology'. But beside it there is another part of theology, probably more
important (at least for the official church), the 'revealed' part which deals
primarily with the mysteries of faith. The attempt to concentrate exclusively
on natural theology at the expense of revealed theology, by applying the (ra
tional) criteria of intelligibility and proof which are legitimate within the
former also in the domain of the latter, has been considered a heresy and has
been, accordingly, condemned 5 . Such an attempt creates, as a matter of fact,
a special kind of religion, a 'philosopher's religion', which bears very little
similarity to institutionalized religion. Hence the general refusal by the clergy
to accept the philosophers' generous offers of help in the church's battle
against skepticism. The price of such help would be excessively high, for the
success of reason in refuting skepticism would only strengthen reason and
stimulate it to direct its growing appetite towards other objects escaping its
control, the obvious candidates being the mysteries of faith.
Is the kind of religion defended by Leibniz a 'philosopher's religion'?
No, if by this expression it is meant "religion without the mysteries". Leibniz
severely criticized John Toland's book Christianity not Mysterious (1696)6
and attacked quite often the extensive stress put on the rational side of relig
ion by Socianians (Grua, 70, 177; A, VI, i, 531). Yet this criticism must not
be interpreted as implying the opposite extreme position which stresses the
hidden elements in religion and demands a total separation between natural
and revealed theology, claiming that arguments from the former are irrelev
ant to the latter. On the contrary, as we shall see later on, Leibniz will attempt
to show that between natural theology (which relies only on reason and com
mon experience) and revealed theology (which relies on a special kind of
experience: revelation) there is full harmony rather than opposition (Grua,
69 n.).
Eventually, in order to defend the special status of the mysteries and to
satisfy the requirement of unintelligibility Leibniz will have finally to accept
the view that there is some sort of principled separation between natural and
revealed theology. Probably something like the thesis Mathews (1964, 100)
calls theological nonnaturalism: "natural theology cannot either confirm or
disconfirm the truths of divine revelation". But certainly not the thesis that
natural theology is totally irrelevant for the foundation of religious faith. He
will reserve for reason a particularly important task with respect to the mys
teries of faith, namely their defence against attacks which try to prove them
to be self-contradictory or meaningless. Precisely this task, although modest,
is what satisfies, acording to Leibniz, both the intelligibility and the unintel
ligibility requirements. We shall pursue the discussion of this topic in part V
of this paper. For the time being let us conclude that, in spite of the over
whelming importance of the concept of God in Leibniz's philosophy, there is
no reason to claim that his defence of religion is in fact the defence of a
'philosopher's religion'. For he does not throw out the mysteries of faith but
rather tries to provide a satisfactory explanation for them.
2.2 Another one-sided approach to the question is the skeptical
approach. It is best illustrated by logical positivism. Among other things, the
doctrine of the hiddenness of God and of the incomprehensibility of the mys
teries of faith, can be viewed, by its defenders, as intended to safeguard the
dogmas of religion from any criticism coming from 'reason'. This is why they
place these dogmas 'beyond' or 'above' reason. This means, according to log
ical positivism, that such dogmas cannot be the object either of logical proof
(or disproof) or of empirical verification (or falsification)7. But these are, for
the logical positivist, the only ways in which a statement can be cognitively
meaningful. Therefore, by being 'above' reason, the mysteries of faith are
also 'beyond' (cognitive) meaningfulness. They may still retain other types of
'meaning' though - emotive meaning, for example. On that view, the major
function of the description of the mysteries (as well as other forms of religious
discourse) would be to arouse certain emotions and to orient action towards
certain ends. But this kind of meaning does not confer upon such sentences
the privileges of those which possess cognitive meaning. The latter express
propositions; as such they can be true or false; they can be the objects of prop-
ositional attitudes like knowing and believing, etc. Religious 'statements',
even if they have emotive meaning, are not, therefore, properly called 'state
ments' and the recognition of this fact should make clear for ever their precise
(and inferior) epistemological status8.
Some theologians and philosophers of religion accept in fact this kind of
criticism, and try to stress its positive value. By noticing that the main func
tion of religious discourse is not cognitive or informative, but rather emotive
or directive, they free religious discourse from the burden of literal interpre
tation, and allow thereby its poetical, suggestive, ethical and metaphorical
virtues to blossom exhuberantly 9 .
Leibniz rejects this kind of approach, in its negative as well as in its posi
tive version. It seems that already in his time there were authors who argued
for an 'emotivist' theory of religious discourse. For Leibniz refers to "those
who deny that faith is an opinion, i.e., something to be contrasted with awe
and reverence" (A, VI, i, 552). His argument here is not completely clear:
"Even those persons — he continues — if sincere, should try to explain for
what reasons such a faith is more or less accepted". It seems that he is claim
ing that the fact that it is possible to accept to a greater or lesser extent a
certain belief (i.e. to have reasons for or against it), proves that the belief
has a cognitive element in it, even though it might also have an emotive
impact. For 'accepting' (and a fortiori 'having reasons for') is a concept which
belongs essentially to the cognitive sphere; it requires that some 'proposition'
be considered true and that it be linked logically to other 'propositions' or
'statements'. And this could not be the case if religious discourse had only
emotive meaning.
Leibniz rejects also the 'metaphorical' theory of religious discourse. He
constantly warns us that one should avoid as much as possible metaphorical
interpretations of sacred texts. This should only be tolerated when it would be
ridiculous to stick to a literal interpretation, e.g. when "our Lord said that
Herod was a fox he certainly meant it metaphorically"10. The basis for this
strictly literalist view of Leibniz seems to be his belief that a metaphor is of
value only when it has an equivalent literal paraphrase. For him, the concept
of an 'irreducible metaphor' would be strictly meaningless (cf. A, VI, i, 337-

340). Thus, when he refers positively to the language of the mystics, he stres
ses that their metaphors ought to have a literal interpretation, i.e., that they
are not irreducible metaphors, and that their value lies not only in their poetic
force, but mainly in the cognitive content they convey (GP, VI, 55; Théod.,
Disc. Prél.,9):
"I do not disfavor the Mystics; their thoughts are generally confused;
but since they use for the most part beautiful allegories, or moving images,
this may be useful for making the truth more acceptable, provided one gives
a satisfactory meaning to these confused thoughts".
An emotivist theory of the mysteries cannot therefore be a real 'solution'
to the problem at hand, since it amounts to stressing their uninteUigibility
(thus fully complying with the uninteUigibility requirement), and denying
completely its (cognitive) intelligibility (thus failing to comply with the intel
ligibility requirement). In order to comply simultaneously with both the only
way open is the way of compromise. Let us turn now to some of Leibniz's
proposed compromises.
III
3.1 A quite interesting discussion of the question of the intelligibility of
the mysteries of faith can be found in the On the Judge of Controversies, writ
ten around 1670 but never published during Leibniz's life11. This work is
devoted to the search of a sure means for deciding in every kind of con
troversy, but its greater part deals with the question of the 'judge' — i.e., a
decision procedure — for religious controversies. In general, Leibniz's posi
tion, dubbed by himself 'textualist', is that the text of the scripture is the sole
and final judge in every controversy concerning "questions of faith necessary
for salvation". One has to distinguish carefully, insists Leibniz, between such
questions and those that can also lead to religious controversy although they
are not 'questions of faith' but merely of tradition, e.g. marriage, divorce,
baptism, etc. The method of decision in such cases consists in acting according
to certain practical principles endorsed by the society to which one belongs.
Yet one is not required to believe in these principles absolutely, i.e. the ques
tion of their 'truth' does not arise at all.
But this is not so when one comes to 'questions of faith'. These, which
include mainly the mysteries, are far away from immediate practical con
cerns. Their only 'praticai' consequence — to be sure, a decisive one for
believers — stems from their connection with salvation; for the belief in the
correct principles is necessary for salvation. Consequently, the determination

of these correct principles must rely on a clear and precise decision proce
dure. The 'judge' of controversies in these matters should be "visible and
infallible". According to Leibniz the text of the scripture itself satisfies these
requirements. Hence the rule suggested by him: "In questions of faith (which
are necessary for salvation) one should not accept any proposition which is
not contained in the very terms of the scripture" (§ 7, § 12). One should not
attempt to deduce propositions of this kind from the text but rather accept
only those which are explicitly contained in the text itself (§ 6).
When one adopts such a strict 'textualist' position, it is of course extre
mely important to develop a philological method for the determination of the
correct text among the available translations, manuscripts, variations, etc.
Leibniz is aware of that, and his remarks in this connection are an invaluable
contribution to philology. Fortunately, we don't have to elaborate on this to
pic here because, even supposing that one succeeds in determining the cor
rect form of a text, one would still have to face the problem of interpreting it
correctly so as to be able to believe in the correct 'content' of the text.
"Since one has to have faith not in the words but in their meanings, it is
not enough for us to believe that the person who uttered the sentence "this
is my body' said the truth unless we know also what he said. However we do
not know what he said if we only have the words and ignore their meaning.
Here is how I substantiate this claim: to have faith is to believe. To believe
is to consider (something) true. Truth does not belong in words but in things,
for whoever considers (something) true, considers that the thing is such as
signified by the words; but nobody is able to do so unless he knows what the
words signify or at least unless he (presently) thinks about their meanings"
(§§9-13).
3.2 In this passage Leibniz demands in fact the satisfaction of the intelli
gibility requirement by rejecting the possible view that the sentences themsel
ves and not their 'contents' are the objects of belief12. He rejects such a view
on the grounds that it is not able to guarantee that when we utter or hear those
sentences we are not behaving like parrots. These animals are indeed able to
react to, and to produce in the appropriate context, sequences of sounds very
similar in their acoustical properties to the sentences of a natural language.
Nevertheless, they are not considered to believe in the sentences they 'hear'
or 'utter' just because they are able to behave in that way. Therefore, in order
to assign to someone belief or faith, his or her "mind cannot be exposed only
to the words, as in the case of the parrot" (§ 22). In particular this should not
be the case when what is in question is our salvation. For if our belief were
merely a belief in "sounds without a thought", such a belief would have been
a 'belief in 'nothing' (defined by Leibniz as "that which can be named but

cannot be conceived; a name without a reference, a sound without a concep
tion" 13 ). Therefore, we must be able to provide a meaning — the correct one
— for the sentences which describe the mysteries of faith. Yet how much
meaning? To what extent can and should our comprehension of these sen
tences be clear?
3.3 The answer to this question depends on the sense of the term 'true',
which occupies a central position in the quoted passage. Apparently Leibniz
relies here on a relatively unknown conception of truth that he developed ap
proximately in the same period (1669-1672). He considered this conception
of truth to be of utmost importance and described it as "the truest definition
of truth, from which all the principles of correct judgment follow"14. Here are
two formulations of the same definition:
"True is that which is clearly and distinctly sensible (perceptible)".
"An utterance is true whose meaning can be perceived through a right
disposition of both the percipient and the medium".15
In order to clarify these definitions let us use Leibniz's own example:
"The sentence 'Rome is situated on the Tiber' is true for the reason that
nothing more is needed to understand what it says than that the sentient
and the medium be in a right disposition. The sentient should certainly
not be blind or deaf, and the medium or the interval should not be too large.
If this be granted, and I be in Rome or near it, it will follow that I shall at one
glance see the city on this river and realize that this city is situated on this ri
ver, and I shall hear the city called 'Rome' and the river called 'Tiber'" (A,
VI,ii,409).
In other words, the sentence is true because a 'normal' observer in 'nor
mal' conditions of visibility and audibility would be able to determine, with
the help of his 'senses' alone, that what is described in the sentence is indeed
the case. But in order to do so, as Leibniz's example indicate, it is not enough
that the observer open his eyes and ears. When someone "hears that the city
is called Rome" for example, he is using not only the senses of audition and
vision but much more than that: a) he hears a sequence of sounds and identi
fies it as belonging to the category 'words in English' (and in his mind a corres
ponding acoustic image is formed); b) he sees a certain object and identifies
it as belonging to the category 'cities' (and in his mind a corresponding visual
image is formed); c) he knows how to connect the acoustic image with the vi
sual one by means of the semantic relations 'name of and 'refers to'. A simi
lar description — which is by no means exhaustive — applies also to the other
components of the sentence 'Rome is situated on the Tiber'.

It is clear then that the 'sensation' mentioned in Leibniz's definition of
truth relates not only to the 'external' senses but also to 'mental operations'
like 'knowing a certain semantic relation', 'understanding a definition' and
'thinking of'16. The possibility of determining the truth value of a sentence re
quires the ability to perform such operations. In particular the ability to 'sen
se' (i.e., to perceive, to understand) the meaning of each one of the compo
nents of the sentence as well as of its composition or structure. This is the rea
son why "it is impossible to perceive the truth of a proposition if the meanings
of its words are not perceived" (A, VI, ii, 409). If one recalls that in the same
text Leibniz says that "speech is clear if the meanings of all its words are
known at least to the attentive", it follows that someone can consider a sen
tence true (i.e., he can believe in it) only if the meaning of the sentence is
clearly and distinctly understandable 17 .
Therefore it seems that, if "the truest definition of truth" applies not only
to scientific and philosophical discourse but also to religious discourse, one
has to conclude that such a discourse must be in principle totally clear and dis
tinct, i.e., that there is no room in its framework for 'mysteries'. But is this
conclusion really necessary? Aren't Leibniz's definitions able to preserve a
place for the mysteries and their essential unintelligibility and yet allow the
application to them of the expressions "S believes that p" or "S considers p to
be true"? Let us take a closer look at the definitions and concepts just quoted.
3.4 One distinction in Leibniz's definitions has not yet been considered
in our discussion. It is the distinction between the possible and the actual clear
understanding of the given sentence. Although the definition of truth speaks
about an observer's sensations, such sensations are mentioned in the defini
tion only within conditionals of the form "if such and such observations are
performed under such and such conditions then they will yield such and such
results". A sentence p is true according to the definition if and only if a condi
tional of this form corresponding to p is true. But the truth of such a conditio
nal does not depend upon the actual performance by someone of the observa
tions described in it, since it only asserts that, if the observations are perfor
med, the results will be of a certain type. We will be able to understand better
the distinction if we compare the definition of truth, formulated in terms of
'would perceive' (i.e. possible perception) with the definition of certainty for
mulated in terms of 'perceives' (actual perception):
"Certain is that which is clearly and distinctly perceived"18. Clearly, such
a definition is not complete. For it is natural to ask: Certain for whom? What
is certain for Jones may not be certain for Smith. In other words, certainty is
an epistemic notion. To ascribe certainty to someone with respect to a propo
sition p is to describe the state, type or mode of his/her knowledge of p. Ac
cordingly, a more complete formulation for this concept would be 'S is certain
that p'. Leibniz's definition can then be reformulated as:
"S is certain that p if and only if S perceives p clearly and distinctly".
As opposed to certainty, the ascription of truth to a sentence or proposi
tion does not require the ascription of a property or state to a particular sub
ject. The truth of a proposition depends only on the relationship between it
and reality and not on the sensations or the knowledge of this or that subject.
In this sense, 'p is true' does not belong to the family of epistemic expressions
which describe 'propositional attitudes' such as 'S is certain that p', 'S knows
that p', 'S believes that p', etc.
'S considers p to be true', which is Leibniz's proposed analysis of 'S belie
ves that p' belongs, of course, to this family, since it is an expression descri
bing (in the cases relevant to the present discussion), if not a propositional at
titude, at least an epistemic state. What is its place in this family? If one envi
sages the epistemic concepts as ordered on a single scale according to their
'degree of strength' — as suggested for instance by Plato — it is possible to say
that 'S is certain that p' occupies perhaps the highest position in the scale,
whereas 'S considers p to be true' occupies a lower position. But we must be
more specific, for we want to know what is the amount of understanding or
knowledge of the proposition p required from someone that considers p to be
true. Is it also the case that, with respect to this particular property (i.e., the
amount of understanding of p), the requirements that apply to 'S considers p
to be true' are less stringent than those applied to 'S is certain that p'?
"Certainty — says Leibniz — is nothing but the clearness of truth" (A,
VI, ii, 409, 493). That is, in order that someone be certain that p he has to
know clearly that p is true. This knowledge in turn implies that he knows
clearly what proposition p is, that is what are the observations that have to be
performed in order to determine p's truth-value (this is approximately equi
valent to what is today called the 'truth conditions' of a sentence) and what is
the result of such observations. Probably, by stressing that the subject for
whom p is certain senses p, Leibniz means that a further condition for cer
tainty is that the observations be performed directly by the person who is cer
tain of p and not by someone else. But even without such a further condition
it is clear that whoever is certain that p must know what p is. Is this also true
of whoever considers p to be true? Other passages from the Judge of Con-
troversies will help us to answer this question.

3.5 Commenting on the problem he formulated in paragraph 20 (see
above) Leibniz says "this is a very hard problem" and continues:
"§ 21. But it can be solved as follows. It is not always necessary for faith
that we know that a particular sense of the words is true. It suffices that we
understand that sense, and do not reject it positively but rather leave it under
doubt even though we might be inclined towards some other (sense). That is,
it is sufficient that we believe, in the first place, that whatever is contained in
the meanings be true. This clearly is the case in the mysteries, in which the
practice does not vary whatever the meaning turns out finally to be.
§ 22. However, the mind should not be exposed barely to the words like
a parrot. It should rather perceive some meaning albeit general and confused
or — so to speak — disjunctive, as is the perception by a peasant or any other
common person of every theoretical matter."
The solution proposed here apparently implies that somone can believe
that p, i. e., consider p to be true, even if he doesn't know what the proposition
p is. It is only required that he/she knows or thinks at that moment something
about p. This 'something' may be, for example, that knowledge that p is to be
found in the scripture, or that the belief that p is essential for religious ceremo
nies that go on unchanged from generation to generation, or the formation of
certain images in his mind, or — and this may be the best possible case with res
pect to the mysteries — the understanding of the concepts which compose p
but not of the way in which they are composed19. The satisfaction of such a re
quirement guarantees that the believer's mind is not empty when he hears or
utters p, for there will be always a certain content before his 'mind's eye' and
not merely the words. Furthermore, such a content will be relevant in some
sense, since it is a thought about p. Yet since it is possible to think about p in
these and many other ways without knowing clearly what p is, one can claim
without contradiction that "the faith of the majority of Christians consists and
has always consisted in the approval of propositions which are not under
stood" (Judge of Controv., § 30). It is possible to claim this only if one accepts
the view that to know what p is is not a necessary condition for believing that p
or for considering p to be true. Leibniz insists that this is the case not only in
the domain of religious discourse but also in philosophy and science20. In
other words he is convinced that we are facing here a general property of the
use of the epistemic expressions (or concepts) under discussion.
Indeed it seems to me that he is right and that it is possible to offer at least
two satisfactory reconstructions of the view he holds. Yet it will also become
clear that none of them is able to solve the problem of the mysteries.
3.6 Let us first consider the sentence:

(1) John believes that the president ought to bear responsibility for the
acts of his top aides.
According to (1), there is a certain proposition (p = the president ought to
bear responsibility for the acts of his top aides) which is the object of John's
belief, and John can be said to be in a 'direct' relationship to it. By this I mean
that p is part of John's system of (conscious) beliefs. A good way of testing
this is to ask John:
(2) Do you believe that the president ought to bear responsibility for
the acts of his top aides?
If his answer is positive, that is, if he discloses a disposition to answer positive
ly to questions of this type, then it is possible to say that p is part of the system
of his conscious beliefs and that there is a direct relationship between John
and p.
When the relationship between John and the object of his belief, p, is di
rect, one can claim in general that John knows what the proposition p is. But
one has to distinguish several possible degrees of such knowledge. Assuming,
for example, that
(3) The president is Richard Nixon,
is true, if we ask John:
(4) Do you believe that Richard Nixon ought to bear responsibility for
the acts of his top aides?,
there will be no reason — if he answers "no" — to accuse him of inconsis
tency. This stems from the fact that (5),
(5) John believes that Richard Nixon ought to bear responsibility for
the acts of his top aides.,
follows from (1) and (3) just in case John knows that (3).
But John may as well not know that (3) ; hence there would be no incon
sistency in his system of beliefs if it were described by the conjunction of (1)
and (6):
(6) John does not believe that Richard Nixon ought to bear responsi
bility for the acts of his top aides.
On the other hand, if John knows that (3), a fact that allows (given (1)) to de
duce (5), and if he knows also all sorts of other things connected with the com-
ponents of p, e.g.:
(7) The president has two daughters.
(8) Responsibility for the acts of aides implies resignation in case these
acts are illegal.,
one can say that he knows whatp is better than if he wouldn't have known (3),
(7) and (8). For in this case he is able to deduce from p much more consequen
ces and to adopt these consequences as objects of belief. One can say that in
such a case his belief that p is 'transparent' to a great extent21. The less he is
able to derive conclusions from p, the less we are entitled, on the basis of our
knowledge that he believes that p, to ascribe to him other beliefs. At the same
time, his knowledge is also lesser, and his belief that p less 'transparent'. At
its lowest point his belief is completely 'opaque'. This occurs when any small
change in the linguistic formulation of p within the context 'John believes that
p' will cause John to answer negatively to the question 'Do you believe that
p*?'. p* may be, for example,
(9) The president must be responsible for the acts of his top aides.
In this case John's knowledge of what p is, is considerably limited since he is
only able to identify, so to speak, the proposition p under a given linguistic
clothing, namely:
(10) The president ought to bear responsibility for the acts of his top
aides.
without being able to do it when it is presented under a very similar clothing,
(i.e., (9)), which expresses in general the very same proposition. In spite of
that, we must say that even in the extreme case of a totally opaque belief,
John knows what p is in a certain sense. For he is able to identify p and to
express his assent to it at least in one kind of case: whenever he is asked (2).
No doubt this is a very weak 'knowledge', which allows John to identify p in
relatively few cases but does not allow him to analyze p or to describe it in a
way that enhances its comprehensibility (for himself or for someone else). In
Leibniz's precise terminology, introduced later in his career, such knowledge
is called clear but not distinct or confused22.
If now we look back at the passage we are trying to explain, it seems that
the solution proposed by Leibniz can be taken to mean that our belief in the
mysteries is an opaque belief. On this interpretation, whenever someone sta
tes that he believes that the sacramental bread and wine contain the body and
soul of Jesus there is no need to ascribe to him the clear and distinct knowled-
ge of the proposition expressed by the sentence 'the sacramental bread and

wine contain the body and soul of Jesus'. All that is needed is that the believer
have a clear but not distinct knowledge of the proposition in question, i.e. a
knowledge which provides him with sufficient means to identify the proposi
tion under certain conditions. The believer is not required to be able to reco
gnize the proposition under linguistic formulations which differ even slightly
from the traditional one, the one used in the relevant religious ceremonies.
On the contrary, we have already seen that he should not try to suggest con
clusions or 'improved' formulations which are not literally contained in the
text of the scripture. The reason for this is that, not only practically but also
in principle, humans cannot know clearly and distinctly what are the proposi
tions expressed by the sentences describing the mysteries of faith; therefore,
they cannot deduce with certainty any conclusions from such propositions.
This property — the blocking of a great number of inferences is, as we have
seen, characteristic of opaque beliefs, a fact that increases the plausibility of
the present interpretation 23 . Notice that I am not proposing to interpret Leib
niz's solution as claiming that the belief in the mysteries is totally opaque. It
seems preferable to assume that the believer will be able to identify the object
of his belief under several linguistic clothings provided they don't differ too
much from the traditional formula. Among the permissible deviations one
might eventually include word by word translations into different languages
and paraphrases (in the same language) obtained through grammatical trans
formations which 'do not go too far' (e.g., the transformation linking sen
tences (9) and (10)). But such a possibility should open the way only for a li
mited number of inferences and therefore does not impair the characteriza
tion of the belief in the mysteries as a kind of belief whose degree of transpa
rency is near to zero.
Even so, it seems that, on this interpretation, Leibniz's proposal is in
deed a solution to the problem: a confused knowledge of the mysteries —
which obviously does not violate the requirement of unintelligibility — is ap
parently sufficient to satisfy the requirement of intelligibility as well, at least
insofar as it allows one to view beliefs in the mysteries as belonging to the
same class of legitimate, cognitive beliefs illustrated by sentence (1) (in its
opaque reading).
3.7 According to the above interpretaion, the relationship between the
believer and the object of his belief is direct and this requires a certain
knowledge, although minimal, of that object by the believer. Yet there is
another type of belief which apparently does not require even that minimal
amount of knowledge by the believer. Since some of what Leibniz says here,
as well as in other texts, suggests that he may be referring to such a type of be
lief, let us try to clarify it in order to offer an alternative interpretation of
Leibniz's proposal,
Let us suppose, for example, that (11) and (12) express true statements
and that John doesn't know that (12):
(11) John believes that the fifth conclusion of the Grand Jury's report
is true.
(12) The fifth conclusion of the Grand Jury's report is that the president
ought to bear responsibility for the acts of his top aides.
Under these conditons, it is impossible to infer (1) from (11) and (12), even
though (11) and (1) describe beliefs whose object is the same, namely p. From
(11) — as opposed to (1) — it doesn't follow that John's belief, in spite of the
fact that it is a belief abo ut p, is a belief that p. We have here a case where the
relationship between the believer and the object of his belief is not 'direct' but
rather 'indirect'. Evidence for this is the fact that John may perfectly well hold
the belief described in (11) while, at the same time, answering negatively to
(2), without being thereby inconsistent.
It is true that, according to (11), John is in a direct relationship to a cer
tain proposition. However, this is not the proposition p, but rather another
one (let us call it 'q'):
(13) The fifth conclusion of the Grand Jury's report is true.
By being in a direct relationship to this proposition, John must know what q
is, at least confusedly, but he doesn't have to know, not even confusedly,
what p is, since p is a proposition with which he is only in an indirect relation
ship. In other words, he must be able to identify q at least in so far as being
able to answer positively to questions like:
(14) Do you believe that the fifth conclusion of the Grand Jury's report
is true?
John does not have to be able to provide reasons for his answer. But he can
do so. His reasons can be, for example: "I know the members of the Jury; all
of them are honest and have always told the truth; I believe the report has at
least five conclusions". If he is able to justify in that way his answer, one can
say that his knowledge of what q is, is broader than the minimal confused
knowledge required. For, in a sense, he knows, in this case, some of the 'truth
conditions' of q. According to Leibniz's definition of truth, this means that
John believes that if a 'normal' observer would read the report, would identi
fy the fifth conclusion, would understand what it says and would check the
facts24, he would find that they are as described in the fifth conclusion.
Yet, in spite of all John knows about q, and although q is about p, it
doesn't follow from this that John knows or must know what p itself is. In the
description of the truth conditions of q, p was not mentioned at all; and John's
reasons to believe in q are 'general' reasons, which do not rely on his
knowledge of what p is. Therefore, it is perfectly possible to ascribe to some
one who does not know what proposition p is, a belief about that very proposi
tion p. More precisely, someone may 'believe that a certain proposition is
true' or 'consider a certain proposition to be true' without knowing what the
proposition is. The amount of knowledge or understanding of p required in
order to 'consider p to be true' is even smaller than that required in order to
'believe that p' opaquely, since in the first case the relationship between the
believer and p is only indirect whereas in the latter it is direct.
The distinction between a direct and an indirect relationship between the
believer and the object of belief provides a basis for the interpretation of
Leibniz's explanation of the 'fact'that belief in the mysteries is possible even
though understanding the mysteries is impossible. The explanation consists
in envisaging the relationship between a believer and the object of his belief,
when this is one of the mysteries (let's call it 'm'), as a purely indirect relation
ship. That means that his beliefs must be described as beliefs about m which
are not also beliefs that m. As we have shown, only the latter, not the former,
require at least a confused knowledge of m by the believer. Among the beliefs
that he has about m, there might be the belief that what is written in a certain
passage of the scripture is true, the belief that what a certain prophet said is
true, etc. On this interpretation, every utterance of the type T believe in m',
which gives the impression that the subject's relationship to m is direct, must
be construed as an utterance of the type T believe that m* is true' or T con
sider m* to be true' (where 'm*' is a definite description that refers to m),
which presuppose, on our account, only an indirect relationship. This is
clearly in agreement with Leibniz's own suggestion to define T believe that p'
as T consider p to be true'.
At first, such an interpretation might seem undesirable. We would like
to have m itself rather than some substitute, related only indirectly to it, befo
re our 'mind's eye' as the object of our belief. But in fact the proposed inter
pretation is in perfect agreement with the orthodox view about the ways open
to us in order to reach belief in the mysteries. According to this view, it is not
possible for us to obtain direct evidence for the truth and meaningfulness of
the mysteries. The mysteries are 'revealed' to a small number of prophets

who persuade a large number of 'common persons' to believe in them without
explaining to these persons their clear meanings. The belief of these common
persons is then a belief in what the prophets say about m, i.e. it is a belief of
the type T believe that what the prophet X says in the seventh verse of chapter
three of his book is true', which is clearly an indirect belief. For those who are
not prophets or mystics, this is the only attainable kind of belief in the myste
ries. Hence, any belief in the mysteries by a 'common person' is in principle
always an indirect belief.
This interpretation is also in agreement with another property Leibniz
attributes, later on, to the mysteries of faith. This is the property that the rea
sons we can provide as justification for our belief in the mysteries are always
'reasons to believe in m' (motifs de crédibilité), and never 'reasons for m'25.
Reasons to believe in the proposition p are reasons similar to the 'general'
reasons we mentioned before, e.g., the reliability of a prophet or of any other
kind of authority. It is always possible to compare such reasons with other
ones; hence they may serve as a basis for a rational belief in p. Yet, if we were
able to present 'reasons for p', e.g. a proof of p or empirical evidence confir
ming p, then these reasons would have much more weight than the reliability
of any authority, or any other 'indirect' or 'general' reason. But 'reasons for
p' can be presented only when we know clearly what p is; therefore, it is im
possible to present such reasons for the mysteries. Such a result is desirable
also from another point of view: were we to say that it is possible to present
'reasons for m', we would also have to admit that it is possible to present rea
sons for the denial of m (~m). That is to say, we would open the way for the
possible corroboration of refutation of m by reason alone, a fact which would
destroy its 'mysterious' nature. This is another reason for claiming that only
'reasons to believe in p' and not 'reasons for p' are available in the case of the
mysteries of faith. Since an indirect belief allows only for 'reasons to believe
in p', the present interpretation of belief in the mysteries as indirect beliefs
explains also this particular feature of the justification of such a kind of belief.
3.8 Let us examine now, in the light of the intelligibility and unintelhgi
bility requirements, the two alternative interpretations just proposed.
Let us begin with the second one, which interprets belief in the mysteries
as indirect belief alone. On this interpretation, the mysteries can be objects
of legitimate cognitive belief (this satisfies, at least partially, the intelligibility
requirement) without implying that they are fully understandable (this satis
fies the unintelligibility requirement). Yet it seems that the price paid for the
satisfaction of the unintelligibility requirement is too high, to such an extent

that it becomes questionable whether the intelligibility requirement is indeed
satisfied at such a price. For, if the belief in the mysteries is only indirect, i.e.
if it is a belief that does not require any knowledge whatsoever of its object
by the believer, there is nothing in it which guarantees that the object of belief
is not self-contradictory. Moreover, such a belief may well be 'empty' i.e.
without any object at all. This can be illustrated by the following example.
Suppose that John holds the belief described in (11) and that we know
that the Grand Jury's report contains only three conclusions. In this case, not
only John but no one else can know what is the proposition that John holds
to be true, since such a proposition does not exist at all. There is no paradox
here, for the situation can be explained as follows: John browsed quickly
through the report, he saw somewhere the number 5 and thought it was the
number of one of the conclusions; based on this, as well as on the general rea
sons we mentioned above, he reached the belief described in (11). He certain
ly is allowed to hold such a belief in spite of the fact that it's indirect object,
p, does not exist, at least insofar as he continues to believe that p exists. In
other words, an indirect belief is legitimate even when it has in fact no object.
Thus, if behef in a mystery is systematically construed as indirect belief alone,
it can turn out to be a belief 'only in words', a belief without a content, a
view that Leibniz rejected from the outset. Therefore, the proposed interpre
tation is unwarranted because of its excessive lean towards unintelligibility.
Our first interpretaion remains to be examined. According to it, belief in
the mysteries is construed as 'opaque belief'. This guarantees that the belief
has a certain content, albeit 'confused'. Yet, although this excludes the dan
ger of 'emptiness', it does not exclude another danger: the possibility of self-
contradiction. For if our 'knowledge' of a concept or combination of concepts
is nothing but confused, there is no guarantee that such a combination is pos
sible, i.e. that it doesn't involve a contradiction. We are able, for example, to
think confusedly about all sorts of strange things, e.g. when we attempt to 'see'
something corresponding to the description 'round square'. In this sense, when
we hear that expression we do not consider words alone, our mind is not
'empty'. But this does not ensure that the combination of concepts "round"
and "square" is possible. We all know that in fact such a combination involves
a contradiction. In such cases, Leibniz will later say that we have an image of
something connected to the expression 'round square' but that we cannot
have an idea or notion corresponding to the expression. It is clear that not
always confused knowledge conceals contradiction. Often, confused
knowledge serves as a starting point for a better understanding of a given the-
me. But if the theme is such that in principle it allows only for confused
knowledge — and such are the mysteries — then there cannot be any certain
ty that our beliefs in this case will not turn out to be beliefs in contradictions.
But if this is so, then either they are false beliefs or they are 'empty' in the sen
se that they are beliefs whose objects are not legitimate combinations of ideas
and cannot therefore be considered as 'propositions' 26 .
It seems that in order to avoid such a consequence it is not enough to as
cribe confused intelligibility to the mysteries. One has to add a proof of their
(logical) possibility. That is what Leibniz tries to do in another group of texts,
to which we turn our attention now.
IV
As against those who try to prove that the mysteries of faith involve con
tradictions, Leibniz suggests the following strategy:
The best way of not only denouncing but also exposing their errors in
claiming impossibility and contradiction is by means of a demonstration of
possibility. For, as a single clear definition saves a thousand distinctions, so
too a single clear demonstration saves a thousand responses. Once the possi
bility is thus clearly shown, it appears immediately that all the alleged impos
sibilities derive from a false hypothesis and from a contested sentence which
is ill-understood 27 .
4.1 In order to illustrate the application of this strategy, let us consider

Leibniz's analysis of te Catholic dogma of Mary's virginity. To be sure, this is
not one of the central mysteries of Christianity, but the problems it involves
and the way in which Leibniz proposes to solve them are highly illuminating.
If the dogma of Mary's virginity is true, then it seems that two contradic
tory propositions, a universal negative and a particular affirmative one, must
be true at the same time, namely:
(15) No virgin ever gives birth.
(16) There is at least one virgin who gave birth.
Proposition (15) is true by virtue of the definition of 'virgin' and (16) follows
from the dogma of Mary's virginity. A contemporary of Leibniz, Daniel
Stahl, proposed the following solution to the problem 28 . The philosopher (or
scientist) who holds (15) and the theologian who holds (16) are in fact talking
about different things. The philosopher talks about what happens 'naturally',
and 'naturally' a virgin cannot give birth. With this the theologian agrees.
Therefore, for both of them (15) is true in so far as it is a statement covering
only 'natural' phenomena. But the theologian's claim (16) describes a 'super
natural' state of affairs. Thanks to God's intervention — and God is certainly
able to cause supernatural phenomena — a virgin can give birth. In this, the
philosopher can agree with the theologian, so that both accept (16) as true in
so far as it is a statement that covers only the supernatural domain.
This analysis is not satisfactory for Leibniz because it follows from it that
God is not only able to violate the laws of nature but also the laws of logic (A,
VI, i, 41ff.). For the contradiction between (15) and (16) is not removed by
Stahl's solution, since it is impossible to qualify (15) in the appropriate way if
it is true by virtue of the meanings of the expressions it contains.
The solution proposed by Leibniz, instead, is an attempt to get at the
root of the problem. "Everything depends on the definition of 'virgin'" he
says. If this term is defined as a "woman who never gave birth" then (15) is
true by virtue of the definition, that is to say it is a necessary truth. As such,
there is no force in the world, natural or supernatural (including God's force)
which is able to change (15)'s truth or (16)'s falsity, which follows logically
from (15)'s truth. Under this definition of 'virgin', (16) is simply impossible. In
order to claim that God can intervene and generate the truth of (16) one has
initially to show that it is at least a possible proposition. And indeed this is the
case, claims Leibniz. For the usual meaning of 'virgin' is "a woman that had
no intercourse with a man" and not "a woman that never gave birth". Accor
ding to this definition, (15) is no longer logically necessary but simply false (if
one still wants to claim that something similar to (15) is true one has now to
use a lesser generalization like "in the majority of cases a virgin does not give
birth"). Such a change shows that (16) is not logically impossible, although
the state of affairs described by it is at odds with everything we know about
the normal processes of conception and birth and therefore it is rather' im
plausible. But God does not have to take into account probabilities. Within
the domain of logical possibilities, he certainly can intervene and bring about
conception in a "woman who never had intercourse with a man", without vio
lating the laws of logic...
4.2 In general, Leibniz's strategy in the above example, as well as in
others from the same period, is to try to show that the mysteries of faith are
'paradoxical' or 'impossible' only prima facie (A, VI, i, 515). That is to say,
it seems indeed that they contradict a proposition which is undoubtedly true
or that they involve self-contradiction — both cases of violation of the laws of
logic. In order to dissipate such an impression, Leibniz suggests that one has
to actually show a possible way for the realization of the state of affairs descri-
bed in the mysteries:

"To prove the possibility of something is the same as to explain a certain
hypothesis or possible mode (possible means clearly and distinctly intelligi
ble) such that, if it is assumed, then it follows that the thing occurs (produci).
In other words, it is to show in which way a certain problem could be solved,
at least by God. Thus, to find a circle equivalent to an ellipsis is a problem
which can be solved by a geometrician, but to remove the Earth from its pla
ce, to annihilate a given body, and to transsubstantiate bodies while conser
ving their species (salva specibus), are problems that can only be submitted
to God. Although we cannot actually work out their solution, we can never
theless solve them through contemplation, i.e., we can prove clearly and dis
tinctly a possible mode for them. This is what we shall try to do now for the
mysteries of the Eucharyst" (A, VI, i, 515).
Leibniz performed such a task in the example of the virgin by means of
a clarification of the meaning of the central expression under discussion. In
his attempts to prove the possibility of transsubstantiation he proceeds in the
same way. He proposes precise definitions of the central terms — 'substance',
'numerical identity', and 'appearance' or 'accident'29 — and shows that there
is no self-contradiction involved in the claim that one substance occupies the
place of another substance without changing the appearance of the latter. In
this way, Leibniz believes that he succeeded for the first time in presenting a
'possible mode' for transsubstantiation. He is also convinced that such a pos
sible mode has the further advantage of being in agreement with the princi
ples of the 'new philosophy' of his time30.
Later on, he concedes that "transsubstantiation implies a contradiction
if the philosophy of the moderns is correct" (cf. Couturat, 1901,165 n. 2). He
refers here mainly to the identification of 'body' or 'matter' with extension,
by Descartes. But this concession must not be seen as withdrawal by Leibniz
from his attempts to prove the possibility of transsubstantiation as well as of
the other mysteries of faith. On the contrary, now (in 1684), after he develo
ped his well known doctrine of substance as well as the other central notions
of his metaphysics, Leibniz is convinced that with their help he will be able to
overcome not only the fundamental problems of metaphysics and physics,
but also — and perhaps mainly, for him — many theological problems, inclu
ding the problem of proving the possibility of the mysteries31.
4.3 The common element in all of Leibniz's attempts to prove the possi
bility of the mysteries is the fact that they are based on the ascription of a pre
cise interpretaion to the sentences which express the mysteries, and on the
drawing of inferences based on such an interpretation: "To my mind, trans-
substantiation when it is properly understood... is not opposed to the views

of the protestants but rather follows from them" (italics mine) 32 . Undoubted
ly, such a procedure guarantees the satisfaction of the intelligibility require
ment. The question is whether it is consistent with the unintelligibility requi
rement. The answer to this question is apparently negative.
Through the ascription of precise definitions to the terms in the descrip
tion of the mysteries Leibniz gives them clear and distinct meanings, thus al
lowing for their full understanding. This is not only the fault (from the point
of view of the unintelligibility requirement) of the special way in which Leib
niz attempts to prove the possibility of the mysteries, but rather an essential
difficulty plaguing all attempts to prove their possibility. Because in order to
prove the possibility of a certain combination of concepts, one has to show
that there is no contradiction among its components. This in turn requires an
analysis — i.e., distinct knowledge — of each one of the components and of
their mode of composition. If it is possible to offer such an analysis, then the
components as well as the mode of composition can be fully understood. That
is to say, if it were possible to prove a priori their possibility, the mysteries of
faith would lose their 'mysterious' character.
In other words, if one could offer an adequate analysis of the concepts
which figure in the mysteries of faith, one could also apply the 'universal cha
racteristic' (a symbolic language with a logical calculus which is supposed to
provide for the ending of every dispute by recourse to calculation; a language
that Leibniz tried to develop throughout his life) in order to prove the possi
bility (and why not the truth?) of the mysteries. Couturat draws this conclu
sion when he claims that Leibniz's Catholic demonstrations should be consid
ered an early example of the application of the universal characteristic to
theology (Couturat, 1901, 164). But the inconsistency between such a posi
tion and the orthodox view on the hidden character of revealed theology is so
obvious that Leibniz, who seeks always harmony with Christian orthodoxy,
could not hold it for a long period. Indeed, in one of his many papers praising
the universal characteristic and its multiple applications he warns:
"It must be noticed, moreover, that this language (i.e., the universal
characteristic, M.D.) can adjudicate controversies, but only with respect to
natural matters, and not with respect to revealed questions, because the
terms of the mysteries of revealed theology cannot be afforded an analysis of
this type; for if they did, they would be perfectly understood, and there
would be no mystery in them. In so far as it is necessary to use ordinary words
in matters of revelation, these words are endowed with another, superior,
meaning" (C, 285).
Whereas the solution proposed by Leibniz in the Judge of Controversies

failed because it leaned too heavily towards unintelligibility, the solution
which consists in attempting to prove the possibility of the mysteries leans too
heavily towards intelligibility and therefore is also unsatisfactory. What is
needed is some compromise which will ensure more than confused know
ledge of the mysteries (thus avoiding the danger of their hiding contradic
tions) but without requiring an a priori proof of their possibility, which would
amount to requiring full intelligibility. Near the end of his life Leibniz appears
to be convinced that he found such a compromise. Let us consider it pre
sently.
V
The Theodicy — the only large philosophical work that Leibniz publish
ed in his lifetime (1710) — opens with an introductory essay on 'The Confor
mity of Faith With Reason". This essay is mainly devoted to showing, as
against the sophisticated skeptical criticism of Pierre Bayle, that there is no
real opposition between rationality and Christian faith. Bayle of course direc
ts his attacks against the mysteries, arguing that 'not fully intelligible' is the
same as 'against reason' and therefore that the opposition between rationality
and faith in a religion containing mysteries is absolute. In order to meet suc
cessfully such a claim, Leibniz must provide a satisfactory characterization of
the measure of intelligibility in the mysteries. But now, in view of his prior
attempts to solve the problem, he is aware of the fact that the maneuvering
space between the requirements of intelligibility and unintelligibility is quite
restricted. Nevertheless, he believes that he can work out a solution, which he
in fact exposes and defends in his introduction to the Theodicy33. Here, I will
be able only to highlight the major elements of the proposed solution.
5.1 Leibniz's proposal is based on a distinction between four types of
'acts of reason' (§ 58, p. 105) which someone can in general 'perform' with
respect to a given proposition, p (§ 5, p. 76): To explain p (expliquer, a better
translation would have been perhaps 'to interpret'); to comprehend p; io pro
ve p; to uphold p (soutenir; a better translation would be 'to defend'). The
first concept is undefined; about the second it is said that 'to comprehend p'
means "to understand how p comes about to pass" or "to account for p's
occurrence" ; the third refers apparently to the notion of logical proof; and the
'upholding' mentioned in the fourth is "upholding p against objections".
Throughout the discussion, Leibniz introduces also the following propositio-
nal attitudes: 'to have a founded belief in p', 'to assent to p' or simply 'to be-
lieve in p' (ajouter foi à p), and a concept we have already found, 'reasons to
believe in p' (motifs de crédibilité).
Among these concepts the following logical relations obtain, according
to Leibniz:
(a) If it is possible to prove p then it is possible to comprehend p.
(b) If it is possible to uphold p then it is possible to explain p.
(c) A belief in p is founded if, and only if, it is possible to uphold p.
(d) Reasons to believe in p are sufficient for an assent to p (or a belief
in p) but not for a founded belief in p.
(e) An assent to p (or a belief in p) requires the possibility of explaining
p (at least to a certain extent).
According to Leibniz, this set of concepts allows for a satisfactory description
of the epistemological status of the mysteries of faith (m) in the following
way:
(17) It is impossible to comprehend m.
(18) It is possible to explain (interpret) m.
(19) It is impossible to prove m.
(20) It is possible to uphold (defend) m against any given objection.
A few quotations will illustrate the meaning of such statements as well as the
peculiarity of Leibniz's style in the Theodicy:
"... moderate minds will ever find (in the mysteries) an explanation suf
ficient for belief, but never such as would be necessary for understanding. A
certain what it is (T έoτi; un certain ce que c'est) is enough for us, but the how
is beyond us and is not necessary for us... nor have we any need either
us that the thing is thus (τò óτ ) even though we know not the why (τò óτi),
which God has reserved for himself' (§ 56, p. 104).
"All that remains for us then, after having believed in the mysteries by
reason of the proofs of the truth of religion (which are called 'motives of cre
dibility') is to be able to uphold them against objection. Without that our be
lief in them would have no firm foundation; for all that which can be refuted
in a sound and conclusive manner cannot but be false. And such proofs of the
truth of religion as can give only moral certainty would be balanced and even
outweighted by such objections as would give an absolute certainty, pro
vided they were convincing and altogether conclusive" (§ 5, p. 76).
5.2 To be sure Leibniz could have been satisfied, in his presentation of a
solution for the problem of the mysteries, with statements (17) and (20) since
(19) follows from (17) and (a), whereas (18) follows from (20) and (b). It is
also clear that (17) is designed to satisfy the unintelligibility requirement and
(20) the intelligibility requirement.
Claim (17) says that the regular methods of scientific explanation (nomo-
logical-deductive or deductive alone) are not able to explain m. That is to say,
it is impossible to show how m follows from any empirical generalization,
including the so-called 'laws of nature'. As a matter of fact, the mysteries,
claims Leibniz, are 'paradoxical' precisely because they are at odds with the
distribution of probabilities predicted by such empirical generalizations (§ 28,
pp. 90f). Therefore, empirical science cannot help us in understanding the
how of the mysteries (§ 38, pp. 95f). Even logic, mathematics and
metaphysics are unable to explain them. For every explanation in such deduc
tive sciences is nothing but an a priori proof; and "He who proves a thing a
priori accounts for it through the efficient cause; and whosoever can thus
account for it in a precise and adequate manner is also in a position to com
prehend the thing". (§ 59, p. 106; one should see this as a justification for
axiom a). Claim (17), therefore, allows one to hold the view that the mys
teries are 'above reason' in the sense that the methods of explanation avail
able for reason are unable to explain them. In their being 'above reason' in
this sense their unintelligibility is fully taken account of, according to Leibniz.
But from their being 'above reason', Bayle derives the conclusion that
the mysteries are also 'against reason' or at least that it is impossible to "know
that they conform to reason" (§ 60, pp. 106f.)34. He claims that if one accepts
the view that the mysteries of faith are above reason then it follows necessari
ly "that it is impossible to settle the difficulties raised by the philosophers, and
in consequence that a dispute where only the light of Nature is followed will
always end unfavourably for the theologians, and that they will see themsel
ves forced to give way and to take refuge in the canon of the supernatural
light" (§ 71, p. 113). In other words, Bayle rejects Leibniz's distinction
between 'intelligible' and 'defensible' and claims that from (17) one can cor
rectly infer (21):
(21) It is impossible to defend m at least against some objections.
But if this is so, (20) and (17) cannot be true at the same time, and the basis
for the delicate balance between the intelligibility and unintelligibility of the
mysteries that Leibniz is trying to create crumbles at once.
5.3 In order to avoid such a disaster, Leibniz has to defend (20), as well
as its consequence (18), in a way that does not bring about the denial of (17).
This means that he has to clarify the concepts 'to explain' and 'to uphold' (de
fend) a proposition in their application to the mysteries.
The possibility of explaining the mysteries in spite of the impossibility of
understanding them is accounted for by him in terms of the distinction
between adequate knowledge (clear and distinct in all its parts) and inade
quate knowledge (which can be, among other things, confused knowledge)35 .
Bayle's inference, "that if reason is unable to comprehend a certain doctrine
then it is unable to find in it any idea whatsoever", is not valid, claims Leibniz,
"... for, to 'comprehend' something, it is not enough that one have some
ideas thereof; one must have all the ideas of everything that goes to make it
up, and all these ideas must be clear, distinct, adequate. There are a thou
sand objects in Nature in which we understand something, but which we do
not therefore necessarily comprehend. We have some ideas on the rays of
light, we demonstrate upon them up to a certain point; but there ever re
mains something which makes us confess that we do not yet comprehend the
whole nature of light" (§ 73, pp. 114f).
With respect to the mysteries this means that our belief in them need
not be 'empty' because of our inability to comprehend them. It is true that we
don't have, and we cannot have, an adequate knowledge of the mysteries, but
we do have, and we can have, some knowledge of them. And this is all that is
required for us to be able to explain them (claim (18)). It is thus guaranteed
that "the mysteries receive a necessary verbal explanation" which avoids the
consequence that they be "sound without thought, words without meaning"
(§66, p. 110).
Yet all this does not advance us much beyond the proposals of the Judge
of Controversies, proposals which, as we saw, do not satisfy the intelligibility
requirement, since mere non-adequate knowledge does not guarantee that
the mysteries are not 'against reason'. A further element which is needed in
order to overcome this flaw is the ability to uphold (defend) the mysteries. To
be able to defend a proposition p means, according to Leibniz, to be able to
prove, for every argument designed to refute p, that such an argument is un
sound (i.e., either its conclusion doesn't follow from its premisses, or at least
one of its premisses is false). But is it possible to defend a proposition in this
sense without understanding it fully?
Bayle presents several arguments in favor of a negative answer to this
question. For example: without a full understanding of the mysteries, the
only possible ways of replying to objections against them are either not to re
ply at all or to give an answer not less confused than the mysteries themselves.
However, he continues, there is no doubt that the objection is victorious in

both cases: "Can the contest be equal between a man who alleges in objection
to you that which you and he very clearly conceive, and you, who defend
yourself by answers wherein neither of you understands anything?" (§ 73, pp.
114f). But Leibniz is not easily defeated and, step after step, he refutes Bay-
le's arguments. To the above argument, for example, he replies:
"... when I answer someone by denying some premiss, in order to com
pel him to prove it, or some conclusion, to compel him to put it in good form,
it cannot be said that I answer nothing or that I answer nothing intelligible.
For as it is the doubtful premiss of the adversary that I deny, my denial will
be as intelligible as his affirmation" (§ 74, pp. 115f.).
In this reply, Leibniz describes two possible moves (denial of a premiss
and rejection of the conclusion of the opponent) of the defender of a given
thesis when attacked by an opponent. As a matter of fact, he is giving us a pre
cise description of two out of a whole set of 'legitimate' moves in the so-called
'art of disputations'. In general, the concept of 'defensibility' (upholding)
used by him in the Theodicy in order to solve the problem of the mysteries can
only be understood within the framework of the system of rules of that logical
'game' of disputation, so widespread in his time. Such rules, except for minor
variations from author to author, constitute a precise formal system defining
rigorously the permissible as well as the obligatory moves of the opponent
(oppugnans) and of the defendant (defendens) of a certain thesis (cf.
Angelelli, 1970, 806-813). Among other things, the rules — at least as they
were understood by Leibniz — determine explicitly that the burden of proof
(onus probandi) falls in general upon the opponent and not upon the defen
dant (cf. Olaso, 1973). This is one of the characteristics of the art of disputa
tions that Leibniz employs in order to account for the possibility of defending
the mysteries without understanding them fully. For, from this characteristic
it follows that the 'initiative' in a disputation belongs always to the opponent.
The defendant has only to reply "I accept", "I deny", or "I distinguish", refer
ring only to the interpretations, assumptions and inferences of the opponent.
The defendant is not required to suggest a precise interpretation of his own
to the thesis he is defending.
In this way, the strategy of 'defence' differs radically from Leibniz's
earlier attempts to prove the possibility of the mysteries, which have led to an
excessive emphasis on their intelligibility. The danger is avoided here becau
se the defence of a thesis does not constitute a general or a priori proof of its
possibility, a proof which would establish beforehand that no valid objec-
tion to the thesis can be raised. It is rather a method for handling each one of
the objections separately, for it clearly requires a separate refutation of every
actual objection. Compared with the permanent 'alertness' that the strategy
of 'defence' requires, the attempt to prove possibility a priori expresses a ten
dency towards 'laziness'; it is an attempt to find a 'short-cut' which will put an
end once and for all to the dispute. But the price for such a laziness is usually
too high: by defining his terms through submitting his own interpretation to
the thesis, the defendant exposes himself to counter-attacks which may be di
sastrous for him. And why to behave so dangerously when the rules of dispu
tation do not oblige him to do so?
From this point of view, the situation of someone defending the mys
teries (but not being able to prove a priori their possibility) is similar to that
of someone who is convinced that arithmetic is consistent (and complete) and
attempts to defend such a belief. As was shown by Gödel, that person, or
any other person, will not be able to offer a general and final proof for the
consistency (and completeness) of arithmetic. But up to now, at least, his de
fence has been successful, for all the attempts to find a contradiction within
arithmetic have so far failed. Therefore, his belief is to some extent jus
tified...
It seems that Leibniz's relentless efforts to solve the problem of the intel
ligibility of the mysteries led him finally to a proposal that at least is not pla
gued by the same defects that caused the failure of his previous attempts. It
is true that the 'intelligibility' (and moreover, the 'rationality') afforded to the
mysteries, on his proposal, by virtue of their being 'defensible' in terms of the
rules of the art of disputations, is totally dependent upon the 'rationality' of
these rules themselves. For, ultimately these are merely conventions, rules of
a 'game', which it is apparently possible to change arbitrarily. However, one
cannot say that the rules of the art of disputations are completely arbitrary.
They are a sort of codification of the procedures of argumentation as followed
— or as they ought to be followed — in a court. There is no doubt that
juridical argumentation is itself a sort of game based on conventions but there
is no doubt also that this is one of the most important and serious games we
ever play.
To what extent Leibniz's solution to the problem of the mysteries can be
accepted by theologians is a question that I cannot answer. For some reason,
the church apparently ignored Leibniz's suggestions on this subject. But no
doubt his proposals constitute an interesting alternative not only to the fideis-
tic approach based on the skepticism of his time but also to the emotivist theo
ries of religious discourse and belief so popular nowadays. On the whole his
thorough treatment of the topic is certainly a valuable contribution to this
particularly confused area of the philosophy of language.
Footnotes
1 In this paper, I will deal only with the Roman Catholic version of Christianity, since it is with
the mysteries of this religion that Leibniz is particularly concerned. Yet it is clear that some kind
of 'mysteries' or at least some thesis about the 'hiddenness' or 'incomprehensibility' of divinity is
characteristic of all the major religions. Therefore, much of what will be said here could be applied,
mutatis mutandis, to other religions.
2 The quotations are from the decision of the council Vatican I (1869-1870), which confirmed
the resolutions of the Council of Trent (1545-1563). See New Catholic Encyclopedia, vol. 10, p.
152.
3 "You cannot see my face: for man shall not see me and live" (Exodus 33, 20). "If you have
been able to understand it, it is not God that you contemplate" (Augustine, Sermo 113, 3, 5). "We
call Him the inexpressible, the unthinkable God, the invisible, the inapprehensible: who quells the
power of human speech and transcends the grasp of mortal thought..." (Chrysostom, De Incom-
prehensibili, Discourse 3). For other quotations see Coburn (1960). For some theologians, God's
hiddenness does not derive only from His own essence, but also from intrinsic epistemological limi
tations of man. "Radically and intrinsically man is not a being who employs the idea clara et dis-
tincta...; the unlimited transcendentality of the finite human subject in knowledge and freedom,
theory and practice, consists in going beyond any comprehensible statement and raising a further
question.. and being led into precisely what we call mystery..." (Sacramentimi Mundi, vol. 4, 135-
136).
4 Leibniz is no doubt an excellent case for this kind of study. Besides his scientific and
philosophic work, he participated actively in the major religious controversies of his time.
Throughout his career he attempted to promote the reunification of the Christian churches, a task
which requires, among other things, the clarification of the dogmas and of the mysteries. Hence,
Leibniz's approach to the problem of the mysteries was fully aware of the theological constraints
of his time, which set up the framework for all acceptable solutions thereof. On the other hand, the
coherence of his (rationalistic) philosophical system established other, quite severe constraints on
these solutions. The interplay of such a double set of constraints guarantees the seriousness of
Leibniz's attempts to solve the problem and offers a non-conventional vantage point for the study
of his thought.
5 One example of this type of heresy is that of the Socianians (17th Century), followers of Lae-
lius and Faustus Socinus, who denied, among other things, the dogma of trinity, because of its
unintelligibility.
6 For a description of the contents of this book, see Hazard (1963), 148-151. Leibniz on To-
land:GP,VI,83.
7 On the logical positivist criticism of religious discourse, see Ayer (1942, 114-19) and Flew
(1963). On some problems related to the criterion of empirical meaningfulness, see Dascal
(1971a).
8 It should be noticed that, on this view, religious discourse arouses emotions directly, i.e., not
through its cognitive content. One must distinguish carefully between sentences which describe
emotions (like 'John was happy yesterday') and sentences which express emotions. There is hardly
any doubt about the cognitive character of the former. Thus, Rudolph Otto can write a descriptive
and argumentative book on the 'idea of the sacred', in order to show that the 'sacred' is a very deep
emotion which cannot in fact be apprehended as a concept or idea.
9 For example. Karl Barth and Kierkegaard. But even some analytic philosophers adopt this
view: Hare (1955), Wisdom (1944/5), McPherson (1955). In Jewish contemporary thought, such
a position is defended by A. J. Heschel (see Kaplan, 1973).
10 Essai de Théodicée, Disc. Prélim., § 21 (GP, VI, 63). As a rule, "Christians ought to listen
to the words of the text, to grasp as much truth as there is in their proper sense, yet with only as
much pious candor as not to become self-defeating" (Commentatiuncula, § 24, see note 11).
11 Commentatiuncula de Judice Controversiarum, seu Trutinâ Rationis et Norma Textus (A, VI,
i, 548-559); quoted, in what follows by paragraph.
12 I do not know whether someone held this position in Leibniz's time. But nowadays it has
some popularity, steming mainly from Quine's work. See, for example, Field (1978).
13 "Nihil est quicquid nominan potest, cogitari non potest; nomen sine re, sine mente sonus"
(A, VI. ii, 487). A definition from the years 1671-1672.
14 Preface to Nizolius (A, 6, 409). The special interest of this definition lies in its clear 'empi
ricist' overtones. Moreover, it is substantially different from Leibniz's well-known, 'analytical',
doctrine of truth, namely, that a proposition is true if and only if the concept of the predicate is
'contained' in the concept of the subject.
15 "Verum est quicquid clare distincteque sensible est (percipi potest)" (A, VI, ii, 493); "Vera
est oratio quae sentiente et medio recte disposito sentietur" (A, VI, ii, 409).
16 At this time, as well as later on, Leibniz usually defines 'sensation' very broadly, so as to in
clude the 'external senses', the 'common sense' (unifying sensations from different senses) and the
'internal sense' which is responsible for our direct sensation of our own mental operations (A, VI,
i, 90-286, passim). That he relies on this broad notion of sensation in the present definition of truth
is still clearer in his second example, where he explains how one can 'sense' the truth of an abstract
proposition such as "a number which is divisible by two is even".
17 This conclusion is further supported by the following (similar) definition of clarity in general:
"claritas est notitia omnium partium cogniti" (A, VI, i, 457).
18 "Certum est quicquid clare distincteque sentitur" (A, VI, ii, 493). Notice the difference
between the indicative sentitur of this definition and the subjunctive sentietur of the definition of
truth.
19 "... if you ask a peasant if he believes that God exists, he will be angry at such a doubt. But
if you ask what is it that he calls God, he will be surprised at your asking such a thing, but he will
finally admit that he hardly ever cared about what is understood by the word 'God', and that it was
enough for him to repeat that sentence with some confused meaning attributed to the words, God
being imagined variably, either as a big wise man. or as something else'* {Commentatiuncula, § 30).
20 "... most men have only a confused and often equivocal understanding of the terms in prop
ositions dealing with theoretical matters, i.e., not those which prescribe what is good or what is to
be done, but rather what is true... Still more admirable and significant is the fact that all Scholas
tics, led by Aristotle, use the term for cause, material and formal, efficient and final, considering
these the only types of causes. And yet neither Aristotle, nor any Scholastic, nor anyone what
soever from the beginning of the world has explained what is meant by the term 'cause' when so
broadly used... Therefore, it would be enough for us to understand Christ's words 'this is my body'
as well as the Scholastics understand their axiom that there are four types of causes. If for so long
they have talked correctly about causes, believing that they had not to avail themselves of a more
distinct meaning of the word, it is equally legitimate for believers to believe in God's word without
any other, more distinct, understanding available to them" (Commentatiuncula, §§ 26-69).
21 The concept of 'opacity' (and 'transparency'), as defined by Quine is a discrete concept: a

context is either 'opaque' or not, there are no intermediate degrees. Of course, much work has to
be done in order to develop satisfactorily the non-discrete version of the concept, which I am trying
to use here. Something along these lines has been proposed, e.g., by Ackermann (1972). Kaplan's
(1968) continuum of 'vividness' is also similar to what I have in mind, in some respects.
22 "On Knowledge, Truth and Ideas" (GP, IV, 422-426); New Essays on Human Understand
ing, Book II, Chaps. 29-32.
23 It is his willingness to eliminate inferences dependent upon any specification of the individual
terms of a sentence that seems to lead Leibniz to interpret the sentence 'This is my body' (when
used in the appropriate ceremonies) almost as a tautology: "... if I heard the Christ saying 'this is
my body', it is necessary that under 'this' I perceive confusedly "all that, in the preceding context,
serves as an antecedent". This includes certainly the bread and whatever is contained in it. But in
order that it be not determined in this confused interpretation whether the bread is made of the
body of Christ or whether something which is contained in it is actually the body of Christ, it would
be enough to interpret the 'hoc' as '"that which is the body of Christ" (Commentatiuncula, § 23).
24 It is possible to disregard the question whether sentences containing expressions like 'ought'
do in fact describe 'facts'. I could have as well chosen an example in which the conclusion referred
to is undoubtedly 'factual', say, 'The earth is round'.
25 See New Essays, IV, 18, 1-9. In the Theodicy (Disc. Prél., § 5). Leibniz withdraws from this
claim, and argues that the possibility to uphold (defend) the mysteries against objections is more
than a mere 'motif de crédibilité. Nevertheless, this possibility does not reach the level of a 'reason
for m'. See below, section 5.1-5.3.
26 See GP, IV, 422-426 and Theodicy (disc. Prél.. § 39): instead of a 'proposition', it will be a
'chimera of the mind'.
27 "On the proof of the possibility of the mysteries of the Eucharist" (A, VI, i, 515-517). This
is a part of a bigger project, the "Catholic Demonstrations", of which Leibniz produced only frag
ments (A, VI, i, 489-559).
28 Daniel Stahl, Compendium Metaphysicae in 24 Tabellas Redactum, Jena, 1655.
29 "This proof depends on the interpretation of the terms 'substance', 'appearances' or 'acci
dents', and 'numerical identity', which we develop on the basis of their meanings as accepted by
the Scholastics, but which we explain clearly'" (On transsubstantiation". A, VI, i, 508).
30 "In view of the present revolutionary philosophy, the only hope to disarm Hercules and to
convince the enemy himself of the correctness of the wise Catholics' judgment is to prove the pos-
sibility (of transsubstantiation) starting from the very principles of the new philsophy. This is the
only way to put an end to the controversy once and for all" (A, VI, i, 517).
31 "What must we then add to extension in order to complete the concept of the body?... Body
is extended activity, and a substance may be said to be extended if we hold that every substance is
active and every active thing is called a substance;... there are certainly many and important things
to be said of the nature of conatus (effort) and of the principle of activity,... things which also illu
minate natural theology and the mysteries of faith and dispel the darkness due to the obscurantist
objections of philosophers;... we can find something wonderful in the fact that the consubstantia-
tion of bodies becomes resolved in transsubstantiation. On the other hand, whoever says that the
body is contained in the bread, does not realize that he is asserting the destruction of the substance
of the bread and still leaving its properties intact — all such fallacies can be avoided once the true
and inevitable concept of substance is understood. Of what great significance these theorems are
for the firm foundation of religious faith and for peace among the churches, the understanding will
appreciate" ("On the True Method in Philosophy and Theology", 1686).
32 "On the demonstration of the possibility..." (A, VI, i, 516). Notice that the method here pro
posed by Leibniz violates the rule of interpretation adopted by him in the Judge of Controversies,
according to which one should not go beyond the text (see 3.1 above).
33 Quotations of the Theodicy are from the English translation by E. M. Huggard (New Haven,
Yale University Press, 1952). Page numbers refer to this translation. Paragraph numbers refer to
the introductory essay of the Theodicy.
34 Bayle's position vis-à-vis faith is fideistic: from the fact that religious dogmas are contrary to
reason he does not conclude that one should not believe in them, but rather that one should believe
in them in spite of that, since reason is entirely irrelevant for faith. Hence his claim that "the incom
prehensibility of a dogma or the impossibility to refute the objections against it are not legitimate
reasons for rejecting it" (§ 58).
35 For references, see note 22.
7
ABOUT THE IDEA OF A GENERATIVE GRAMMAR IN LEIBNIZ
The purpose of this paper is to comment and expand upon suggestions

recently made by Professor Brekle (1971) about the relevance of some of
Leibniz's views to the ongoing discussion concerning the methodological and
theoretical foundations of linguistics. On the whole, I think that there are
enough similarities, both in methodological and in substantive issues,
between Leibniz's and the generativists's conceptions to justify Prof. Brekle's
claim that there is an "idea of a generative grammar" in Leibniz's writings.
However, I would like to see this claim better justified, and it is the aim of my
comments to indicate some lines of thought along which such a better justifi
cation could, perhaps, be provided 1 . I shall commence by formulating some
general requirements for the successful establishment of analogies of this
type, proceed to the analysis of methodological analogies and, finally, to
some substantive topics in linguistic theory.
I
Professor Brekle assumes that the leibnizian texts selected by him are
perfectly clear and understandable by themselves, so that "no commentaries
are needed" (p. 149) in order to explain in what sense they contain theses
which are analogous to those of generative grammar. In conformity with this
assumption, the analogies are merely suggested by quoting the relevant texts,
but not explicitly articulated. This would not be a flaw if leibnizian terminolo
gy were really unequivocally understandable by the contemporary reader.
Unfortunately, this is not the case. As a matter of fact, there are changes in
the meaning of Leibniz's terms even from text to text, so that the same term
may express quite different concepts for him.  fortiori, it is by no means
certain that the same terms have the same meanings today as they had for
Leibniz. The outstanding examples of confusion arising from this dubious as
sumption in Prof. Brekle's selection of texts are 'analysis' and 'synthesis' on
the one hand, and 'transformation rules' on the other. These examples will be
discussed later. Here I just want to point out that it is not sufficient to quote
the texts, but rather that some interpretative work is also needed in order to
ensure that the similarity is not merely a superficial and terminological one,
in which case it may, in fact, conceal more profound dissimilarities.
Given the particular circumstances characterizing linguistics today, a
reasonable requirement for the adequacy of the claim that Leibniz's (or any
other author's) writings contain the 'idea of a generative grammar' may be
formulated as follows. In order to speak properly of the presence of an 'idea
of a generative grammar' in Leibniz's writings — taking 'idea' (of a thing) in
the broad leibnizian sense of "something (in our minds) that leads to the thing
and expresses it*' (GP, VII, 263-264) — it must be shown that it is possible to
single out some elements (theses, methodological principles, concepts, etc.)
in these writings, such that it becomes reasonable to assume that, were they
fully developed, they would 'lead' to corresponding elements which are cha
racteristic of the generativist school, but not of, say, structural linguistics. For,
if the embryonic elements of a linguistic theory and metatheory, which are
certainly present in Leibniz's texts, can be shown to be compatible with both
generative and structuralist theories of language, why should we say that they
constitute an 'idea of a generative grammar rather than an 'idea of a structural
grammar'? And, in that case, would it not be more proper to say that they
contain an 'idea of a linguistic theory' tout court?
Structuralism was taken above as the basis for comparison not by acci
dent, but because it is the only approach in linguistics today which 'competes'
with generative grammar, i.e., it is the only alternative to a transformational
theory of language which is still seriously envisaged by some linguists. There
fore, in order to make a significant claim that Leibniz had an 'idea of a gene
rative grammar', it must be shown at least that the evidence presented to jus
tify this claim does not also support the alternative claim that he had an idea
of a structuralist theory of language. In other words, attention must be focus
ed upon those characteristics of generative grammar which distinguish it
from structural linguistics, and it must be asked: to what extent, in fact, do the
elements of the leibnizian doctrine, singled out as indicative of the presence
of an idea of a generative grammar, unequivocally correspond to or 'lead to'
distinctive features of generative grammar2?
Of course, a positive answer to this question is not sufficient to justify the
claim. Many other conditions would have to be satisfied as well. However,
the requirement stated above seems to be at least a necessary condition for
LEIBNIZ AND GENERATIVE GRAMMAR 127
the establishment of the desired analogy and, as such, it provides some form
of a test for the adequacy of claims to the effect that a significant analogy
exists. In what follows I will submit to this test some of Prof. Brekle's sugges
ted analogies.
II
2.0 The short commentaries on pages 141f., referring to the texts C, 557
and C, 159, apparently establish the following points:
(a) Leibniz distinguishes between two methods (two 'scientific proce
dures' or 'wissenschaftliche Verfahrensweisen'): the analytic (or
inductive) and the synthetic (or deductive) methods;
(b) The synthetic method is, in fact, the 'methodological kernel' of ge
nerative grammar, whereas the analytic method is the essence of
the methodology of classical structuralism;
(c) Leibniz manifestly considers the synthetic method 'scientifically
more perfect', though recognizing the inter-dependence of analy
sis and synthesis.
The conclusion not explicitly stated, but obviously suggested, is that
Leibniz's preference for the synthetic method provides evidence supporting
the claim that methodologically Leibniz's views are analogous to the genera
tive grammarian's views and not to the structuralist's ones.
In order to discuss this argument, it is convenient to recall the dis
tinction, widely employed by philosophers of science, between a context of
discovery and a context of validation (or justification) of scientific theories
(Hempel, 1966). The closely connected, though not identical, distinction
between Lernsituation and Lehrsituation (Lorenz, 1970,14-16) will also be of
some help in the discussion.
In the light of these concepts, the methodological opposition between
generativism and structuralism, referred to here in terms of 'synthesis' versus
'analysis', can be construed in a number of different ways. It can be seen
as
(a) concerning the methods of discovery, or
(b) regarding the methods of validation;
(c) it can also be envisaged as a controversy about the best method of
exposition of the results (Lehrsituation);
(d) 'analysis' and 'synthesis' can also be interpreted as, respectively,
the activity of the hearer when he recognizes a syntactical structu
re, and the activity of the speaker when he produces a sentence
with its syntactical structure; the opposition in this case would be

construed as meaning that structuralism concentrates its attention
upon the hearer's activities, and generativism upon the speaker's.
Professor Brekle mentions at least the issues (a), (b) and (c) (pp. 143f),
apparently implying that Leibniz is on the side of generativism in all these is
sues. But, would it not be equally reasonable to expect that for each interpre
tation a different answer will have to be given to the question, "On which side
of the controversy is Leibniz to be placed?" Let us then consider each of these
possibilities in turn.
2.1 The first possibility is the one according to which structuralism and
generativism are opposed in their discovery procedures or, more generally, in
their attitudes towards theory construction. The aspects of the structuralist
position, attacked by generative grammarians in this respect, are, e.g., its
narrow empiricism, characterized by the exigence of remaining as close as
possible to the observational data, its anti-theoretical tendency, responsible
for the reluctancy to employ theoretical terms, its close alliance with behavior-
istic psychology, its suspicion of any elaborate formalism in linguistic theory
or description, etc. In general, the generative grammarian denies the structu
ralist assumption that all linguists have to do is to gather data and to make ca
reful empirical generalizations based on them, using solely processes of
segmentation and classification. Describing and criticizing the structuralist
view, Chomsky (1964, 105-106) says:
"The only legitimate activity for the linguist is 'the study of phenomena
and their correlations' (this value judgment Twaddell regards as a principle
of 'scientific methodology')... In part, Harris seems to take a similar posi
tion... He describes his procedures as 'merely ways of arranging the original
data'."
"This point of view takes a theory to be, essentially, nothing more than
a summary of data. In contrast, it has been repeatedly pointed out (most for
cefully by Karl Popper) that the prevailing attitude in the sciences is to re
gard data as of interest, primarily insofar as it has bearing on the choice
among alternative theories, and to search for data, however exotic, that will
be crucial in this sense."
In some extreme cases (Harris, for instance), structuralist linguists have
come to believe that "the proper task of 'structural linguistics' is to formulate
'discovery procedures' for the establishment of the rules of particular gram
mars on the basis of attested utterances" (Lyons, 1968,157). Chomsky and all
other generative grammarians deny the possibility of finding such procedu-
res, and concentrate their attention mainly on the question of validation or

adequacy of the theories put forth. In this they agree with the dominant
branch in contemporary philosophy of science, which has come to the conclu
sion that there are "no generally applicable 'rules of induction' by which
hypotheses or theories can be mechanically derived or inferred from empiri
cal data.... theories are not derived from observed facts, but invented in order
to account for them" (Hempel, 1966, 15).
2.1.1 Having thus clarified the issue on level (a), what can be said about
Leibniz's position with regard to this dispute? Whatever his position may be,
one thing is clear from the outset: the texts quoted by Prof. Brekle are not the
relevant ones in this context. The first text is a short fragment in which disco
very is mentioned, certainly, but where both 'analysis' and 'synthesis' are pre
sented as being equally satisfactory methods of discovery3. The second one,
in which a preference for 'synthesis' is correctly signalled, does not refer
mainly to discovery4. It belongs, rather, to the context of exposition, for it is
a part of a short paper significantly called by Couturat Methodus docendi,
which deals with the pedagogical question of the best way of teaching "our
language and with the language also the sciences to an American (sic!) or to
an infant" (C, 158). The sentence immediately preceding the quoted passage
explicitly contrasts the enormous amount of time required for learning from
tradition and observation with the brevity and easiness of learning from scien
ce itself, provided it is correctly exposed5. And in the passage quoted itself,
the synthetic method is appraised against the background of the enormous
amount of (analytical) work which enabled the teacher to achieve that degree
of simplicity in his exposition (see footnote 4). To be sure, the passage
suggests also that science is not done by starting merely with observations,
but rather through an interplay between abstract hypotheses (about, for
example, the most general categories) and the analysis of data. But its main
concern is clearly the problem of optimizing the way of exposition of scientific
results previously acquired, rather than the question of how to discover these
results in the first place. Therefore, the solution here proposed (i.e. the
'synthetic method') is directly relevant to problem (c) and only quite indi
rectly to problem (a), which is the question here at issue.
2.1.2 Incidentally — and this will do for a discussion of aspect (c) — it
seems to me that both structuralists and transformationalists would gladly
adopt Leibniz's recommendations for using the synthetic method in the expo
sition of their theories, meaning with this a maxim like: "begin with the sim-
ple and proceed gradually and in an ordered manner to the more complex
concepts and propositions...". Therefore, if there is a significant difference,
concerning (c), between generativism and structuralism it does not lie in
either's preference for 'analysis' or 'synthesis'.
2.1.3 When Chomsky (1965, 52) says that
"... it would not be inaccurate to describe the taxonomic, data-proces
sing approach of modern (i.e., structuralist — M. D.) linguistics as an empi
ricist view that contrasts with the essentially rationalist alternative proposed
in recent theories of transformational grammar.",
he is clearly referring to issue (a), i.e., to the opposition between both schools
concerning the existence and nature of methods of discovery. This can be de
duced from his use of the terms 'taxonomic' and 'data-processing' which ap
ply to procedures of theory construction (cf. 2.1 above). However, the Leib-
nizian texts he invokes (Chomsky, 1965, 50, 52) in support of this claim are
irrelevant to the issue in question. For in these passages, Leibniz introduces
the innate ideas hypothesis in order to explain the possibility of our acquisi
tion of certain forms of knowledge, namely, that of necessary truths. But the
claim that there are innate ideas and that they are the source of necessary
truths does not of necessity carry with it any particular methodological doctri
ne as to how these truths are to be discovered.  fortiori, the theory of inna
te ideas has no methodological recommendation to offer concerning the dis
covery of contingent truths, which form the bulk of empirical sciences, inclu
ding linguistics6. In particular, this theory, as well as the general 'rationalist'
outlook of Leibniz's philosophy, does not imply the denial of the possibility
of establishing an accurate and fruitful method of discovery. On the contrary,
he was convinced throughout all his life of having developed a new and revo
lutionary ars inveniendi applicable to all sciences and to grammar in particu
lar. This fact shows that he, like the more extremist structuralists criticized by
Chomsky, believed in the possibility of completely mechanizing the procedu
re of discovery7. In this sense, Leibniz would have to be placed on the side of
the fence opposite to generativism, pace Prof. Brekle. Besides that, it should
be noticed that there is no straightforward correspondence between his ars in
veniendi, normally opposed to an ars judicandi (compare 'discovery' vs. 'vali
dation') and either 'analysis' or 'synthesis', for both are parts of it:
"duas partes invenio Artis inveniendi. Combinatoriam et Analyticam"
(67).
('Combinatoria' and 'Synthesis' are synonyms in Leibniz's usage).
2.2 Turning now to (b). The tendency in contemporary philosophy of

science, as we have seen, is to consider unfruitful the search for 'rules of in
duction' in the sense of a method of discovery. According to this line of
thought, 'induction' as well as 'deduction' are better seen as concepts belon
ging to the context of validation:
"And any 'rules of induction* will have to be conceived, in analogy with
the rules of deduction, as concepts of validation rather than of discovery."
(Hempel, 1966, 15)
Therefore, if we adopt this more than merely terminological proposal,
the methodological opposition between transformationalism and structura
lism should not be described in terms of 'deduction' vs. 'induction', as it is in
the beginning of Prof. Brekle's paper. This is only a source of confusion. For
it is obvious that both approaches employ deductive as well as inductive
methods in their validation procedures, since both are theories which pretend
to have empirical import.
Moreover, in a Leibnizian perspective, the unqualified assimilation of
'analysis' and 'induction' on the one hand, and 'synthesis' and 'deduction' on
the other, is incorrect. For, according to Leibniz, neither is synthesis necessa
rily deductive nor is analysis necessarily non-deductive. On the contrary, ana
lysis is closely connected with demonstration, that is, deduction. Demonstra
tion is for Leibniz, essentially, a process of substitution of definientes for
terms, at the end of which we arrive at identical propositions; it is called ana
lysis finita (, 1). Another case in point is algebra, which is always cited by
Leibniz as the outstanding example of a successful application of the analytic
method, and permits, according to him the "accurate demonstration" of
theorems (C, 580). On the other hand, synthesis may sometimes have a de
ductive character, but it is by no means necessarily so, as is shown by the men
tion of the invention of the mariner's compass as an example of a 'synthetic'
invention (C, 572; GP, VII, 60). Sometimes Leibniz even opposes explicitly
the method of discovery to the method of demonstration: "... les verités qui
ont encore besoin d'estre bien establies, sont de deux sortes, les unes ne sont
connues que confusement et imparfaitement, et les autres ne sont point
connues du tout. Pour les premieres il faut employer la Methode de la certitu
de ou l'art de demonstrer, les autres ont besoin de l'art d'inventer" (GP, VII,
183). It is true that Leibniz himself uses the term 'induction' at times, mea
ning approximately what we have called above 'empirical generalization' (C,
174; C, 33), but this form of reaching conclusions has nothing particularly
'analytic' in it, in Leibniz's sense.
2.2.1 The difference between structuralism and transformationalism, in

the context of validation, can be better construed as a difference in the claims
of adequacy or justification of alternative theories, structuralism being critici
zed by transformationalists for contenting itself, at most, with merely descrip
tive adequacy, whereas transformational theory is supposed to reach the
higher level of explanatory adequacy. Chomsky (1965, 26f.) explains these
concepts as follows:
"To summarize briefly, there are two respects in which one can speak of
'justifying a generative grammar'. On one level (that of descriptive adequa
cy), the grammar is justified to the extent that it correctly describes its ob
ject, namely the linguistic intuition — the tacit competence — of the native
speaker. In this sense, the grammar is justified on external grounds, on
grounds of correspondence to linguistic fact. On a much deeper and hence
much more rarely attainable level (that of explanatory adequacy), a gram
mar is justified to the extent that it is a principled descriptively adequate sys
tem, in that the linguistic theory with which it is associated selects this gram
mar over others, given primary linguistic data with which all are compatible.
In this sense, the grammar is justified on internal grounds, on grounds of its
relation to a linguistic theory that constitutes an explanatory hypothesis
about the form of language as such."
According to Chomsky, therefore, given two hypotheses equally compa
tible with the linguistic data, if the one is based on general (linguistic) princi
ples and theories, whereas the other is based merely on relatively ad hoc
considerations, the former is to be considered more adequate than the latter.
Linguistic theory must strive to maximum generalization. When faced with
an 'exception' to the accepted system of rules, the linguist must seek more
comprehensive generalizations which explain away the now merely apparent
exception, and by no means condescend in accommodating it by some ad hoc
proviso. And only this will mean "real progress in linguistics"8. To be.sure,
this 'anti-ad-hocness principle' is common to every scientific enterprise, and in
this sense it characterizes also linguistic structuralism. However, what is dis
tinctive of transformationalism, with respect to this principle, is its strong em
phasis on the need of having it in mind at all levels of linguistic inquiry. It per
vades the transformationalist literature, from the most abstract methodologi
cal considerations, as in the text quoted above, to its use as an indispensable
part of the arguments offered to support or reject concrete proposals of rules
in a particular grammatical description9. Moreover, these arguments "are
central to generative grammar. The empirical foundations of the field rest to
a very large extent on arguments of just this form" (Lakoff, 1971, 289). The
choice of notational conventions must also reflect this principle, according to
the transformationalists: a shortening of the grammar (in terms of the

number of rules and symbols used) indicates a 'real generalization', whereas
a 'spurious' one does not admit of an easy and natural notational conven
tion10.
The importance of the anti-ad-hocness principle for transformationalism
is illustrated by recent developments in the field. In the name of this very prin
ciple, so strongly advocated by him, Chomsky's own views are now challen
ged, giving way to what may be called 'post-Chomskyan' transformationa
lism. Thus, even the correctness of the most 'sacred' distinctions postulated
by Chomsky — like deep vs. surface structure, base vs. transformational
component of syntax, lexical vs. non-lexical categories, competence vs. per
formance — are now questioned on the grounds that they are a hindrance for
the formulation of comprehensive, non ad-hoc, rules11.
2.2.2 According to Leibniz, "in accounting for the causes of phenomena,
that hypothesis is the most sucessful which makes the fewest gratuitous as
sumptions" (GP, IV, 158; L, 128). He is proud of the universality of the 'ru
les' of his system:
"... il sera bon de remarquer parmy les autres avantages de mon systeme
celuy de l'universalité des Regies que j'employe, qui sont tousjours sans ex
ception dans ma philosophie generale: et c'est tout le contraire dans les au
tres systemes" (GP, VI, 545);
and
"Cette universalité des Regles est soutenue d'une grande facilité des explica
tions..." (GP, VI, 546).
Accordingly, if a proposed explanation for a given phenomenon is part
of a general theory which explains other phenomena as well, whereas another
proposed explanation of the same phenomenon is purely ad hoc, it is clear
that the former will be more 'successful' or 'adequate', by Leibniz's criterion.
But, this is precisely what is asserted by the anti-ad-hocness principle discus
sed above. Like transformationalists, Leibniz strongly emphasized the im
portance of this principle, and strived to apply it to all the fields of inquiry he
dealt with12, particularly to linguistic and semiotic matters.
All the 'reductionist' moves in his theory of rational grammar, illustrated
in the texts quoted by Prof. Brekle 13 , can be better understood in the light of
this principle. For the principle recommends, as a means of attaining more
adequacy, the reduction of the number of primitive (i.e., arbitrary, unexplai
ned, gratuitously assumed) elements in a theory, and this is what is done
when adverbs are explained in terms of prepositions, verbs in terms of parti-
ciples (adjectives) and the auxiliary est, etc. It is also this principle that ex
plains why we should first concentrate our efforts on the 'regular' part of the
grammars of particular languages, in order to construct a general grammar,
leaving the 'anomalies' peculiar to each language to be treated separately af
terwards (C, 35-36; GP, VII, 28).
The fact that a good notation should express 'real generalizations' and
cannot therefore be merely arbitrary, is also stressed by Leibniz. The aim of
his Methode de l'Universalité, for instance, is described as follows:
"La Methode de l'universalité nous enseigne de trouver par une seule
operation des formules analytiques et des constructions geometriques gene
rales pour des sujets ou cas differens dont chacun sans cela auroit besoin
d'une analyse ou synthese particuliere" (, 97):
and
"... la Reduction de plusieurs cas differens a une seule formule, regle,
equation ou construction..." (C, 98).
The instrument for accomplishing this objective is the use of appropriate
signs, called caracteres ambigus, by means of which it is possible to ignore the
differences between the operations of addition and subtraction, multiplica
tion and division, and to express general results applicable to all these parti
cular types of operations (C, 99ff.). In the same way, the symbolism of the dif
ferential calculus is modified by him in order to permit an easier comparison
with polynomials, a procedure that leads immediately to the formulation of
a deeper (arcanior) law, common to mathematical 'phenomena' previously
considered to be completely different (GM, V, 377ff.). Examples of this kind
are very common in Leibniz's thought. They illustrate the methodological
applications of a fundamental idea of his semiotics, namely, that appropriate
signs are never arbitrary14. The connection of this idea with the anti-ad-hoc-
ness principle should be obvious.
Leibniz extends the application of this principle to the study of etymol
ogy and to other diachronic considerations. His thesis that all proper nouns
were once appellatifs (general) is explicitly presented as a consequence
of the principle15. Looking for non-arbitrary starting points, he concludes af
ter careful comparative and etymological studies that
"... presque toutes les langues ne font que des variations, souvent bien
embrouillées, des mêmes racines, mais qu'il est difficile de reconnaître, à
moins que de comparer beaucoup de langues ensemble; sans negliger les jar
gons..." (D, VI, 2, 185).
And these roots themselves are, according to him, the natural expression
of human's basic 'affections' (D, IV, 2, 187)16.
I have not discovered in Leibniz's writings clear cases of application of
diachronic considerations to the justification of theoretical decisions about
particular synchronic rules. But it would be plausible to expect this kind of ar
gument, in the light of his adherence to the anti-ad-hocness principle. For, ac
cording to this principle, convenientia or harmony with known diachronic
facts and theories may be relevant to deciding between alternative synchronic
hypotheses when these are equally compatible with data and synchronic theo
ries17. It is remarkable that we find in transformationalism today precisely
this kind of argumentation. In fact, Paul Kiparsky (1968, 1970) has recently
argued that diachronic considerations bring powerful support to generativism
in general and that, within its framework, they may be decisive for the non-ar
bitrary choice of rules, notational conventions, etc.
If we recall that structuralism recommends a sharp separation between
diachrony and synchrony, and that it raises the 'arbitrariness of the sign' to
the position of an inviolable principle of linguistics18, whereas, as we have
seen, transformationalism and Leibniz adopt the opposite views, it is clear
with respect to the topic of this section on which side of the fence Leibniz
stands.
2.3 Let us consider briefly another analogy between Leibniz and genera
tivism, related though not identical with issue (d). Structural linguistics defi
nes the main function of language as a communicative function (Martinet,
1960, 13, 31, 37ff.). On the other hand, Chomsky emphasizes rather the ex
pressive function of language and its creative aspect19. To be sure, both
schools recognize that language fulfills a communicative as well as an expres
sive function. They differ, however, in the centrality attributed to each of the
se functions. This difference in emphasis has important consequences. It lar
gely determines the different kinds of results sought by linguists in each
school. Structuralists will try to establish the inventory of distinctive features,
i.e., of linguistic units that are carriers of information. Generativists will look
for rules that are able to account for the creativeness of language. The starting
point of the analysis for the structuralist is a model which includes a speaker,
a hearer and the communicative link between them by means of a language
in a situation of communication. The generativist, although officially com
mitted to the same model, is primarily interested in the binary relationship
between a speaker's (or hearer's) thoughts and their expression in language.
He has, therefore, a 'natural' tendency to disregard the pragmatic component

in his linguistic theory20.
Leibniz's attitude in this respect is parallel to that of generativism. As op
posed to Locke and to the 'Cartesian linguist' Cordemoy, who define langua
ge mainly in terms of the communicative needs of man, Leibniz stresses the
fundamental importance of language and other signs for thought (GP, V, 254;
GP, VII, 204-207, 190-193, etc.) 21 . Language and other systems of signs are
envisaged by him as the indispensable instruments for creative thought, and
their communicative function becomes secondary. This tendency had impor
tant consequences both for the development and for the limitations of his
theory of language and semiotics. He too tended to minimize the role of
pragmatic factors in the functioning of semiotic systems, and believed that it
is possible to construct purely non-pragmatic languages with unlimited ex
pressive power — a view hardly defendable today.
III
Let us turn now to analogies in substantive points of linguistic doctrine
suggested by Prof. Brekle.
3.0 The crucial issue that distinguishes the transformationalist from the
structuralist point of view is the recognition by the former, but not by the lat
ter, of the insufficiency of Phrase Structure Grammars (PSG) for an adequate
account of linguistic structure. This recognition has two major consequences
for early transformationalists:
(a) the distinction between clearly recognizable and perfectly defina
ble syntactical levels, namely, the 'surface structure' and the 'deep
structure' of sentences; and
(b) the need to introduce into the grammar, besides the immediate-
constituent rules of the PSG which generate deep structures, rules
of another type — 'transformation rules'. These rules are, in their
formal nature, essentially different from the immediate-consti
tuent rules.
3.1 It is possible to assert that there is an idea of a generative grammar in
Leibniz without implying that there is an idea of a transformational grammar.
Though perhaps surprising, since the terms 'generative' and 'transformatio
nal' are constantly associated, this is perfectly possible, for a "generative
grammar is not necessarily a transformational grammar" (Lyons, 1968,155).
A grammar is said to be generative when it "constitutes a system of rules
(with an associated lexicon) which are formulated in such a way that they
yield, in principle, a decision-procedure for any combination of the elements
of the language" (ibid., 156). That is, such a grammar is able to decide, for an
actual or potential sentence, whether or not it is grammtical and, furthermo
re, it provides a 'structural-description' of each sentence. For a grammar to
be generative, therefore, means approximately the same as to be formaliza-
ble, in the sense of having its rules made entirely explicit. Structuralist gram
mars can, in principle, be formalized, that is, be presented in generative
form. If this formalization is done, the grammar obtained will generally be a
PSG, and it is correctly called 'generative' despite the fact that it does not
contain transformation rules (Chomsky, 1965, 60-62). In this weak sense, it
is perfectly legitimate to say that there is an idea of a generative grammar in
Leibniz. The distinctive feature of this idea, with respect to structuralist lin
guistics, would be the aspect of formalization of the rules, present in Leibniz
but not, in general, in structuralist linguistics. However, this does not allow
us to make the further step of claiming that there is an idea of a transformatio
nal grammar in Leibniz; and it is in this stronger sense that Prof. Brekle is
using the term 'generative'. In order to justify this further claim, Prof. Brekle
has then to show that requirements (a) and (b) are satisfied, at least in some
embryonic form, in Leibniz's writings. This is what he tries to do by bringing
the texts quoted in pages 146ff. I wish to discuss some of these texts presently.
3.2 The text C, 35122 is said to provide grounds for establishing both the
distinction between deep and surface structure and for identifying the set of
rules that generate deep structures, in Leibniz's grammar, as analogous to the
PSG rules that form the 'base' component in a Chomskyan grammar. Let us
first examine this last claim.
3.2.1 Professor Brekle asserts that in this text Leibniz defines some for
mal properties that his 'formation rules' (i.e., according to Prof. Brekle, the
rules of his 'base' component) must have, and claims that these formal pro
perties are those of a PSG; he does not elaborate on the analogy, however.
In order to assess its value, let us recall the formal properties of PSGs and
look for their presence in Leibniz's texts:
According to Postal (1964,139ff.), three conditions formally characteri
ze the rewrite rules of a PSG whose general form is XAY → XZY (to be read,
"rewrite sequence XAY as XZY"):
(i) Singleness of the left side element substituted by each application
of the rule (that is, A must be a single symbol);
(ii) Z is not null (i.e., the operation of the rule cannot result in a mere
deletion of a symbol);
(iii) A is not identical with Z.
Another condition is added later:
(iv) Permutations are excluded.
An additional characteristic of a PSG is the fact that the set of rules is unorde
red, that is, any rule can be applied at any stage in the derivation. This allows
for the generation of "equivalent" derivations, which differ only in the order
of application of the rules.
The motivation for conditions (i)-(iv) is that if they were not fulfilled by
the grammar, then it would be impossible, having as starting point the deri
ved sentence, to recover the structural information which was associated with
its generation, and thus the interpretation of these sentences by a hearer
would become deficient. Clearly, it is hard to see in Leibniz's cryptic remarks,
quoted by Prof. Brekle, anything like a precise formulation of these formal
requirements. He speaks of the substitution of characters, one by many and
few by more, and this may be paralleled to the 'rewrite-rules' of a generative
grammar. However, the clause of his rule which says pro paucioribus plures
seems to violate condition (i) above; and in C, 352, Leibniz, offering an alter
native characterization of the process of analysis of characters described in C,
351, calls it "substitutione ordinata continuata". Does this mean that the rules
have to be applied in a fixed order, thus violating the condition that the set of
rules in a PSG be not ordered? The only indication I can see which would, per
haps, justify the establishment of a closer parallel between Leibniz's rule of
analysis and a PSG grammar, is the remark qui tamen inter se non coincidunt,
referring to the many characters which may figure in the right side of the ru
les. For this restriction may, perhaps, indicate that Leibniz recognized the
fact that phrase-structure grammars cannot (simply) account for the existen
ce of terminal strings of the form (XX) (see Postal, op. cit.), but I cannot see
exactly how this connection could be formulated, and my own interpretation
is excessively speculative.
3.2.2 The case for the identification in Leibniz of a distinction between
a deep and a surface structure, seems to be better established, mainly by the
text where he speaks of the 'homonymy' of cases, suggesting that the same
'surface' case may 'mean' different 'deep' cases23. However, on closer inspec
tion, there is no reason for considering this 'deeper' level a grammatical level,
i.e., the product of the application of a special set of rules of the grammar —
a set which, incidentally, we were not able to isolate (see 3.2.1). This level,
in which 'propositions' would be represented ultimately only by means of
'particles' (comparable to logical connectives) and termini integrales (compa
rable to Bach's (1968, 115) 'contentives', as Prof. Brekle points out24, could
be reasonably viewed as the level of semantic representation. In this case, the
distinction between a deep and a surface structure, in Chomsky's sense,
would not be found in Leibniz, but this would only mean that Leibniz's views
are probably similar to certain versions of what we have called 'post-
Chomskyan' transformationalism.
3.3 Finally, we turn our attention to the transformation rules. That Leib
niz makes the modern logical distinction between formation and transforma
tion rules is beyond doubt. The question is: to what extent did he apply this
distinction, which belongs to the field of logic, to linguistic matters? If this is
the question to be asked, then the text GP, VII, 224-22525 is clearly irrelevant,
for it belongs entirely to a logical context. No other direct evidence for the use
of the logical notion of transformation in Leibnizian linguistics is presented
by Prof. Brekle.
3.3.1 A possible indirect evidence, however, could perhaps be found in
Leibniz's treatment of the above-mentioned problem of the 'homonymy' of
cases. Let us examine this possibility.
According to modern transformational linguistics, this is an example of
the need of transformations. In the presence of a surface-sentence containing
a case flexion of this type (that is, allowing for different 'interpretations'), the
linguist (and probably also a hearer) would point out that this surface structu
re may have been derived from different kernel-sentences (containing the
distinct 'deep-cases') by different chains of transformations.
What does Leibniz suggest as a possible treatment of this question? He
seems to suggest that what is involved here is, essentially, similar to what oc
curs when the ambiguity is caused by the existence of lexical homonyms. In
this case, the standard treatment consists simply in specifying the different
meanings of the polysemic term and in labelling them conveniently: "table 1 ",
"table 2 ", etc. The important point is that each of these meanings is directly and
immediately associated with the term, and can be reached in one single step.
If this procedure is applied to the 'homonymy' of cases, there is no room left
for speaking of chains of transformations which lead from distinct deep-cases
to the same surface-case, since one single and immediate link connects the
surface-case to each of its deep meanings. Moreover, in describing this pro

blem, Leibniz suggests that the only means needed for solving it is the addi
tion of definitions and substitution-operations ('ita ut aliquando pluribus sit
opus definitionibus diversis, adeoque et pluribus substitutionibus" C, 353),
which would be exactly the kinds of procedures used to characterize the
'base-component' of formation rules (see above 3.2.1), according to Prof.
Brekle. That is, Leibniz seems to be suggesting that the new problem may be
treated merely by an extension of the base-component, without the addition
of any significant distinct type of rule not already present in that component.
3.3.2 The text immediately following the passage discussed above seems
to be a better source in which to search for the application of the logical no
tion of transformation in linguistic matters by Leibniz. It says:
" analysi grammatica absoluta sequitur analysi Logica, id est osten-
ditur quomodo propositiones in propositionum locum substitui possunt, li
cet non immediate una ex alia per grammaticam substitutionem oriatur id est
ostenditur modus plures grammaticas substitutiones inter se invicem conju-
gendi."(C, 353)
Here Leibniz distinguishes between 'grammatical substitutions' and 'lo
gical substitutions'. The former are those resulting from the application of
'grammatical' (formation, base-component) rules, whereas the latter, of an
entirely different type, result from the application of the logical rules of infe
rence (transformation rules). It is worth noticing that in other texts Leibniz
mentions the possibility of finding (logical) rules of inference by examining
certain syntactic constructions (illationes obliquae — cf. C, 244), thus establi
shing the reciprocal link between linguistics and logic as well.
3.3.3 Another candidate for an example of a transformational analysis in
Leibniz is the analysis of the sentence
(1) Dominus indiget eorum.
into its paraphrase
(2) Dominus vult eos habere, quia sine ipsis aliquid necessarium effi-
cere non potest (GP, VII, 28).
According to Leibniz, the passage from (1) to (2) is simply the result of subs
titution of indigere by its definition.This is done in order to obtain a 'regular'
sentence, namely (2), one in which the idiosyncrasies of this particular Latin
verb are absent. That means that (2) behaves exclusively according to the ru
les of regular or universal grammar. In modern terms, it means that it could
LEIBNIZ AND G E N E R A T I V E G R A M M A R 141
be generated by these rules, whereas in order to generate (1) we would need

also the specific rules of Latin grammar. It should be noticed, moreover, that
(2) is not yet the 'deeper' level, for another version using still less 'primitive'
elements could be obtained by reducing all cases of (2) to nominative plus
prepositions, and all verbs to auxiliaries (GP, VII, 29). Let us call this hy
pothetical version '(3)'. Could we not say, then, that (3) is the semantic repre
sentation of the 'proposition' in question, that (2) represents its 'deep' struc
ture, generated by a 'base' component composed by the rules of universal
grammar, and that (1) is its final surface representation, generated by the
'transformation' rules peculiar to Latin grammar? It is tempting to do so, but
it is difficult to believe that it corresponds to anything Leibniz could have had
in mind when he wrote this text. Moreover, it is clear that the terms 'base' and
'transformation' have not the precise meanings in this speculative interpreta
tion that they have in generativist literature. Still, I believe that the formula
tion is highly suggestive, and I leave it as an invitation to further discussion.
Footnotes
1 A warning must be added here. Chomsky's attempts to find precursors of his linguistic and
methodological ideas in what he calls 'Cartesian linguistics' (Chomsky. 1966, 1968). after a period
of enthusiastic acclamation, are now being severely criticized, mainly on grounds of their historical
inaccuracy (see, e.g., Hall, 1969; Aarsleff, 1970). Some of the views expressed in this paper will
have some relevance to this issue, but I do not intend to discuss it directly, since it deserves separate
and detailed treatment. It should be noticed that, although my comments support the view that
there is an analogy between generativism and Leibniz, who is placed by Chomsky in the tradition
of 'Cartesian linguistics', I do not accept most of Chomsky's own arguments in support of this view,
as will be clear from the discussion that follows.
2 I am aware that 'structuralism' is a relatively vague label which has been used to designate
widely divergent theories of language, not to mention its use in other fields. I will use the term to
refer to the school of linguistic thought described and attacked by generativists, especially by
Chomsky (see the texts quoted in 2.1 and 2.1.3). It may well turn out, upon closer inspection, that
this description does not correspond to any real school of linguistic thought, present or past (and
this is a question worth investigating), but this is not relevant for our argument, since by stressing
its opposition to a (probably fictitious) structuralism, generativism defines what are, from its point
of view, its own distinctive characteristics, and this is what we must take into account here. Concer
ning the equally problematic term 'generativism', see 3.1.
3 "Duae sunt Methodi, Synthetica seu per artem combinatoriam, et analytica. Utraque osten-
dere potest invenlionis originem, neque ergo hoc est privilegium analyseos. Discrimen in eo est
quod combinatoria (orsa a simplicioribus) totam aliquam scientiam. vel saltem theorematum et
problematum seriem exhibet, et inter ea etiam id quod quaeritur. Analysis vero problema prop-
ositum reducit ad simpliciora; et fit vel per saltum, ut in Algebra, vel per problemata intermedia
in Topica vel reductione. Idem discrimen et in combinatoria: ordimur enim vel a primis vel a prop-
inquis" (C, 557).
4 "At Methodus scientifica, (maximè perfecta), incipiet non à posterioribus natura atque com-
positis et specialibus, quae in sensus incurrunt, sed à (notionibus et veritatibus) maximè
simplicibus ac generalibus, (quae primum intellectui obversantur,) unde paulatim ad notiones
speciales et compositas descendit. Legesque syntheseos sive combinatoriae artis sequitur, quae
ostendit quomodo variae species ex summis generibus inter se compositis ordine exurgant et
definitiones inter se et cum axiomatibus observationibus et hypothesibus jungendo theoremata
oriantur.  Methodo Synthetica (si semel haberetur) nihil foret clarius et faciliùs. Sed antequam
constituantur ejus Elementa, hoc est summa genera seu primae notiones, et (simplicíssima)
axiomata aliaeque primae veritates, opus est analysi difficili ac diuturna, quam Magister ipse
secum instituere cogetur, ut pulcherrima illa synthesi apud alios uti possit, quibus (sane) multorum
annorum labore collectos fructus paucis horis tradere potest. Valde autem errant qui putant
Analysin Synthesi praestare, cùm analysis ad synthesin perfectam inveniendam sit comparata" (,
159). This passage is translated in Appendix 5, note 15.
5 "... quae observatione ac traditione discenda sunt, multo tempore ac labore indigent; at nihil
est brevius faciliusque scientiis ipsis, si rectè tradantur" (C, 159).
6 In the same way, it seems to me that to draw inferences — without further justifications —
from theories of learning to theories about how theories should be constructed is a plain non-sequi-
tur. In my opinion, the Chomskyan child-linguist analogy belongs to this category.
7 Hermes (1969) presents quite convincingly these characteristics of Leibniz's 'art of discove
ry'. It seems to me that he goes too far, though, when he identifies them with the modern concepts
of decidability and enumerability.
8 "Real progress in linguistics consists in the discovery that certain features of given languages
can be reduced to universal properties of language, and explained in terms of these deeper aspects
of linguistic form" (Chomsky, 1965, 35).
9 See the examples discussed in Botha (1970); see also my review of this book (Dascal, 1973).
A recent example of this kind of argument as applied to the problem of the nature of the prosodic
component of English grammar is in Vanderslice (1970).
10 Chomsky (1965, 42, 43, 80, 95, 104, etc.). G. Lakoff asserts the significance of notational
conventions and their connection with the anti-ad-hocness principle, clearly stating: "... transfor
mational grammar has in its theoretical apparatus a formal device for expressing the claim that a
generalization does not exist. That formal device is expressed by the curly-bracket notation. The
curly-bracket notation is used to list a disjunction of environments in which a rule applies. The
implicit claim made by the use of this notation is that the items on the list (the elements of the dis
junction) do not share any properties relevant to the operation of the rule. From the methodolog
ical point of view, curly-brackets are an admission of defeat, since they say that no general rule
exists and that we are reduced to simply listing the cases where a rule applies" (Lakoff, 1971,291).
11 A good example of this kind of critisim and development is this:

"It should be obvious that general solutions are preferable to lists of ad hoc solutions. However,
since this is not obvious to all contemporary linguists, some comment is required. One of the lin
guists who has most vehemently questioned the preferability of general solutions over lists of ad
hoc solutions in such cases is Noam Chomsky. In his paper 'Credo 1969' at the 1969 Texas Confe
rence on the Goals of Linguistic Theory, Chomsky correctly pointed out that all the derivational
constraints proposed to date were of somewhat different forms. This is not surprising, since if they
were all of exactly the same form, they would be the same rule. Ignoring their similarities,
Chomsky concluded that there was no reason to consider derivational constraints as a single uni
fied phenomenon. For each different case he would propose not a different rule, but a different
KIND of rule, adding a new type of theoretical apparatus to the theory of grammar for each new
global rule discovered. It is sad and strange to encounter such remarks" (Lakoff, 1970, 637).
12 The principle is in fact a corallary of the logico-metaphysical principle of sufficient reason
("nihil est sine ratione"), considered by Leibniz "the fundamental principle of all reasoning", and
applied by him everywhere in his metaphysical as well as in his scientific work. Cf. , 11, 25; GM,
II, 199, etc.
13 "... nominum casus semper eliminari possunt substitutis in eorum locum particulis quibus-
dam cum nominativo... Verba semper reduci possunt ad nomina adjecto tantum verbo est; Adver
bia sunt ad verba ut adjectiva sunt ad nomina substantiva. Subjiciendae denique sunt significatio-
nes particularum donec perveniatur ad eas quae nulla explicatione eliminari possunt, qualia sunt
est, et, non, harumque certus est constituendus numerus et ex his solis cum nominativo nominum
casu junctis caeterae omnes possunt explican" (, 35-36; see also , 433, 243-245, 280-282).
14 "Mais quoyque il semble que les caracteres soient arbitraires, il y a pourtant bien des regles
a observer, pour rendre les dits caracteres propres a l'usage" (C, 99). See also the Dialogus of 1677
(GP, VII, 190-193).
15 "Illud enim pro axiomate habeo, omnia nomina quae vocamus propria, aliquando appellati
va fuisse, alioqui ratione nulla constarent" (D, IV, 2 186). "Et il est seur que tous les noms propres
ou individuels ont esté originairement appellatifs ou generaux" (GP, V, 255). After giving an
example of etymology, he claims: "Des exemples de cette nature ne sont pas rares; ils ne decou
vrent pas seulement l'origine des choses, mais ils demontrent que ces mots ne sont pas aussi arbi
traires qu'on le pense communement. Rien n'est par hazard dans ce monde, et si nous jugeons dif-
ferement, ce n'est que parce que nous en ignorons la cause" (D, VI, 2, 28 — I quote Dutens'
translation of the German text). See also C, 151; D, IV, 2, 187.
16 For other references see Aarsleff (1969). Prof. Aarsleff has already made in this article some
of the points I am arguing for in this and the preceding section. In particular he stresses that the
law of sufficient reason operates in languages, according to Leibniz (p. 179). In my opinion, this
clearly shows that Leibniz's linguistic studies and his search for a 'philosophical language', though
different subjects, are closely connected, since they are based on the same principles. A clear rec
ognition of this fact would have led Prof. Aarsleff (1970, 579ff.) to admit that "the fusion of univer
sal grammar and the origin of language", attributed by him to the work of the 18th century (par
ticularly to Du Marsais and Condillac) had already been accomplished, though perhaps without
historical consequences, in the work of Leibniz. The fact that a similar 'fusion' is occurring now,
joining transformational grammar with historial linguistics, as I will mention later, shows that
indeed Chomsky was wrong, not only in historical accuracy but also from the point of view of the
identification of the precursors of transformationalism, by neglecting these previous 'fusions' even
in his treatment of the authors he actually discusses, like Leibniz and Du Marsais.
17 An example of this would be the possible influence of the above-mentioned diachronic prin
ciple that all proper nouns were once appellatifs upon Leibniz's choice to reduce certain kinds of
nouns to adjectives (C, 243-245, 432-435) instead of choosing the opposite way (reducing adjec
tives to nouns). This influence, however, has not yet been demonstrated.
18 E.g., Martinet (1960, 35): "il convient que la description soit strictement synchronique"; and
Saussure (Cours, Part I, Chap. 1, § 2 — "l'arbitraire du signe"; and Part II. Chap. 7, § 3).
19 ".. in its normal use, human language is free from stimulus control and does not serve a
merely communicative function, but is rather an instrument for the free expression of thought and
for appropriate responses to new situations" (Chomsky, 1966, 13).
20 The problems that arise from this omission have been often pointed out by Y. Bar-Hillel
(e.g., 1970, 218ff.).
21 For discussion see Dascal 1975b and 1976.
22 "Analysis autem characterum fit, cum characteribus quibusdam substituimus alios charac
teres, qui prioribus usu aequipollent; hoc uno tantum observato, ut pro uno muitos, pro
paucioribus plures (qui tarnen inter se non coincidant) substituamus" (C, 351). See Appendix 2 to
this volume.
23 "Annotandae et anomaliae, id est, quando casus flexusve aliter usurpantur, quam definivi-
mus, sunt etiam ut in vocibus, ita in flexionibus homonymiae, ita ut aliquando pluribus sit opus de-
finitionibus diversis, adeoque et pluribus substitutionibus" (C, 353).
24 See footnote 13.
25 "Ex quotcunque propositionibus fieri potest una additis omnibus subjectis in unum subjec-
tum et omnibus praedicatis in unum praedicatum. a est b, et  est d, et e est/, inde fiet ace est
fieri plures, quarum quaelibet idem quod ante habet subjectum, sed loco praedicati habe aliquam
prioris praedicati partem, a est bed, ergo a est b, et a est c, et a est d" (GP, VII, 224-225).
APPENDIX
This appendix contains translations of six texts of Leibniz on the issues

discussed in the preceding essays. Since the essays are self-contained in
their references, the texts here included complement the references con
tained in the essays, rather than repeat them. In this sense, the appendix too
is self-contained. Except for the leibnizian sources and the essays contained
in this volume, the bibliographic references in the footnotes are independent
of the general bibliography at the end of this volume.
1
ON THE DEMONSTRATION OF PRIMARY PROPOSITIONS
1671-1672
A, VI ii, 479-486
I am of the opinion that no proposition should be accepted without

proof, and no word without explanation; but only in so far as the delay in the
investigation of the subject matter can be tolerated 1 .
An explanation of a word is a definition, and an explanation of a propo
sition is identical with its demonstration2.
There are, however, unprovable propositions, namely, those which are
to be sensed, like the proposition that the sun shines3.
Amongst the provable propositions, some are propositions of reason,
and some of fact.
An example of a factual proposition is the proposition that the earth mo
ves. If I am not mistaken, I was the first to prove this proposition in my Hy
pothesis4, by assuming two other propositions: a factual but indemonstrable
one, i.e., a proposition which has to be sensed, namely, that the earth is
consistent or coherent 5 ; and a proposition of reason, demonstrated by me,
namely, that the cohesion of a resting (body) is null6. From these, I concluded
that, in general, every celestial globe7 — like the sun, the moon, the earth,
etc. — must have a natural motion around its own center, distinct from the
motion of the remaining mass.
Propositions of reason are those which derive from ideas alone, or, what
is the same, those which originate from conjoining definitions, owing nothing
to the senses. They include, therefore, hypothetical, necessary and eternal
propositions, like all the abstract propositions of Geometry, Arithmetic, and
Phoronomy 8 . Examples are: the whole is greater than its part, nothing is
without a reason, the areas of circles are proportional to the squares of their
diameters, odd numbers are the differences of square numbers. All these pro
positions are such that they follow solely from a precise and distinct exposi
tion, i.e., from definitions. This was Aristotle's view, and also Lull's 9 , both
great men.
There are, however, some people who believe that certain axioms are
known by themselves10, and that they should be added to the definitions, in
demonstrations. About these people, I dare say that they have not displayed
the patience needed to penetrate into the depth of the matter. First of all, I
give assurance that I will be able to establish, for each of the propositions
mentioned above, that, given some definitions, the propositions must be ad
mitted even by the most radical sceptic. That the whole is greater than its part
was proved — in the first place by Hobbes — to be the foundation of the
science of quantity11. That nothing is without a reason was proved by me — as
far as I know, for the first time — to constitute the foundation of the sciences
of mind and motion12. It is well known that some axioms assumed by Euclid
subsequently became theorems, through the work of Clavius and others, al
though this change makes them slightly more difficult (to understand).
Who — I ask — will determine the degree of difficulty? Who will provide
a reason for stopping? What indeed is the criterion of what is known by itself10
and does not require explanation? Some things are clearer than others, but
nothing is absolutely known. Except when something is asserted of itself, by
means of identical words, or by means of different words having the same
meaning, either through universal agreement or expressly through the will of
the speaker.
And what shall we answer to the sceptics who laugh at our 'known by it
self'? And what about the great mathematicians and philosophers who some
times dare to deny what seemed clear to others? Gregory of St. Vincent, for
example, denied that the whole is greater than its part in the angle of contact,
and so did Cardinal Pallavicinus with respect to the infinite13. And that
nothing is without reason is denied by anyone who holds that the will is
not subordinated to that rule, like all those who defend the 'Scientia media'
against the predeterminists 14 . Nevertheless, letting the absolute and rigorous
universality of these propositions slip away is questioning the certainty of all
the propositions the human mind may discover.
But — you may ask — how is it possible that definitions alone generate
something new in the mind? Aren't in fact the 'new' propositions merely the
old ones expressed in another way? And what is the use of proving a theorem,
ON THE DEMONSTRATION OF PRIMARY PROPOSITIONS 149
if I already know all about it, except the words?

Those who put forth such objections have not yet understood the mys
teries of science, and of ideas, and of what Plato called 'reminiscence'.
Suppose someone learns Arithmetic, including, e.g., the pythagorean
table 15 . What does he learn? Does he learn something new, except the words?
When I learn that two multiplied by two is four, do I learn more than a nume
ral name, whose use — afterwards — in speaking and calculating, is more eco
nomical? And yet, without such words, or any other constant signs in their pla
ces, Arithmetic would be completely useless for us. Therefore, it is true to say
that he who learns only matters of reason, theorems, and definitions, does
not in fact learn anything but how to use what is already known.
Thus, nobody could calculate, especially with very large numbers,
without names or numerical signs, i.e., if he had to imagine distinctly, for
each number, all the units comprised in it16. Who, indeed, could imagine dis
tinctly the units contained in 1.000.000.000.000. in a time shorter than the age
of Methuselah? And even if he could, he would forget the first units as he pro
gressed towards the end.
Similarly, nobody could follow a lengthy reasoning with his mind if certain
signs or names had not been devised. Through them, a great number of things
can be comprehended in such a way as to allow one to run through many of
them very quickly; this would be impossible if, suppressing the names and all
equivalent signs, we should use the definitions instead of the defined (terms).
Thoughts of this kind I usually call blind thoughts, and there is nothing
more common nor more necessary for men17. Very few people, indeed, dis
tinctly imagine all the units of the number nine, or the method of generating
a hyperbola, when talking about them 16 . If we were once conscious of orde
ring the words distinctly and constantly, then blind thoughts alone would be
sufficient for distinct reasoning. This is why the modern Analysis Symbolica
— in spite of Hobbes' criticism18 — is so useful for quick and sure reasoning.
We can observe, therefore, that those who have developed the art of using
adequate words constantly, usually also reason, i.e., order their thoughts,
with accuracy.
Reasoning and demonstration do not amplify our thoughts, but only or
der them. Theorems have no other use than to say many things compen
diously. And this implies that they are good for usage, for when many things
are expressed compendiously, it is easy to run through them simultaneously
in order to compare them in thought and to coordinate them in order to solve
problems, especially the most important of all problems, that of attaining

happiness19.
All of us already knew in separation all those things which, when orderly
conjoined, distinctly proposed, and carefully thought of by Euclid, produced
his theorems. When one terminates the reading of a Euclidean demonstra
tion, one wonders at not previously having seen something so evident, for one
realizes that all the components of whose combination only the demonstra
tion made him aware, were already known before. But that well-ordered
combination — which constitutes the light of all philosophizing — did not
come to his mind. He thought, but it was as if he did not think, that is to say,
he thought without reflexion. Thus when I think of nine units, I think also se
ven, but without reflexion. Similarly, all possible figures are in a given form
less mass, but they can be made to appear only after the elimination of the
useless parts 20 .
To conclude, let me say that as the essence of the mind consists in action
in itself, so the essence of wisdom — or what is popularly called 'judgment'
— consists in reflexion21, and can be summed up in the phrase Dic cur hic22.
And the wisest are often those who know a few things, but clearly — for dis
covery, distinctly — for judgment, and compendiously — for action.
Proposition:
The whole cde is greater than the part de23.
Definition: Greater is something one part of which is equal to another
whole24.
Scholium: By means of this definition, men are able to estimate in general
what is greater and what is smaller; they place the two given things so that
they are congruent or at least parallel, as are ab and cde (fig. 1), so that it may
be seen that cde is greater, i.e., that it has a part equal to ab, namely, cd,
and also a remainder, namely de.

fig. 1
Proof:
That [thing], one part of which is equal to another whole, is greater (by
def. of greater).
A part of the whole cde (i.e., de) is equal to the whole de (i.e., equal to
itself);
Therefore, cde is greater than de; the whole is greater than the part.
Quod erat demonstrandum.
This is an elegant example of a proposition very close to what is primary,
i.e., a proposition which is closely related to definitions and identical propo
sitions. It is proved by means of a single syllogism of the first figure, whose
major premiss is a definition, the minor, an identical proposition, and the
conclusion, the proposed theorem.
Proposition:
Nothing is without a reason,
or whatever is has a sufficient reason.
Definition 1 : A sufficient reason for something is something which,
once given, that thing occurs.
Definition 2: A requisite is something which, when not given, the thing
does not occur25.
Proof:
If something occurs, then all its requisites are given
for if one of them were not given, the thing would not occur (by def.
2).
Given all the requisites, the thing occurs,
for if it did not occur, there would be lacking something
for its occurrence, i.e., a requisite26.
Therefore, all the requisites constitute a sufficient reason (by def 1).
It follows that, whatever is has a sifficient reason.
Q.E.D.
Proposition:
The resistance of a resting body is null27.
Definition 1: To be in rest is to remain in the same location during a
continuous interval of time.
Definition!: To resist is to change the motion of an impingent body.
Definition 3: To impinge is to tend28 to move a receiver29 with the same
speed and direction30.
Definition 4: To tend is to start moving.
Proof:
Every impingent body tends to move a receiver with the same speed
and direction (by def 3).

Therefore, every receiver tends to be moved with the speed and di
rection of the impingent body.
Therefore, it starts to move in this way (by def 4).
Any motion, once started, continues, unless there is a conatus or a
beginning motion with another direction31 (for there is no cause for the chan
ge)32.
A resting body does not have any conatus with a diffferent direc
tion, prior to the one acquired through the present impulsion (by dej. 1) 33 .
Therefore, a resting body which is impinged upon continues to
move with the speed and direction of the impingent body.
If a body moves with the same direction and speed as another, it
does not change the motion of the latter (for when the one arrives at a loca
tion, the other leaves it, and every action of a body upon another — i.e., eve
ry change of motion and location — requires the concourse of several bodies
in the same location, a proposition which should be proved elsewhere
through the definitions of motion and body).
Therefore, a resting body does not oppose any resistance to an im
pingent body (by dej. 2).
Q.E.D.
Proposition:
The wiser someone is, the more powerful he must be, as far as possible..
1. Wisdom is the science of happiness.
2, Powerful is, in this context, someone who is happy if he wants to
be.
3. A duty is what is necessary for a good man.
4. A good man is one who loves everybody.
5. To love is to be pleased by the happiness of the other.
6. To be pleased is to feel a harmony.
Proof:
A wise (man) is one who knows (= has the science of) happiness (by
def 1).
He who knows happiness wants happiness.
A powerful (man) who wants happiness is happy (by def 2).
That in which one is wiser is also that in which one must be happier.
Therefore, that in which one is wiser is also that in which one must
be more powerful34.
It remains to be proved that that in which one is wiser is als  that in
which one must be happier:
That in which one is wiser is also that in which one understands bet
ter what happiness is.
Therefore, happiness will rejoice him more, in that field.
Therefore, he will have a greater ability to be happy, in it.
The greater one's ability to be happy, the more one must be happy
This is proved as follows: everybody must be as happy as possible
(by defs. 3, 4, 5 combined). But they are the happier in those things that are
the more harmonious (by def. 6), and what is more harmonious is what is
more possible, everything else remaining the same35.
(Argumentation from the oblique to the direct & vice versa)
Example: The Christ is God. Therefore, whoever receives the Christ re
ceives God.
Definitions: The Christ is him who is Christ.
God is him who is God.
Scholium: Every oblique (phrase) can be reduced to a direct (phrase)
with an added relative clause. A part of an oblique thought is
a direct thought. Grammatical composition itself is thus gene
rated.
Proof i.e., concatenation of definitions:
Whoever receives the Christ, receives
him who is Christ (by def. 1).
The Christ is God (by hypoth.),
Therefore, he receives him who is God (by the first figure)
(it must then be argued: The Christ is God by hypoth. : whoever
is the Christ is the Christ; therefore, whoever is the Christ is God.
Therefore, if 'who is the Christ' can be replaced by 'who is God',
it will be possible to replace 'him who is the Christ' by 'him who
is God', since if you add equals to equals, the results are also
equal).
Whoever receives him who is God, receives God (by def. 2).
Therefore, whoever receives the Christ receives God,
Q.E.D.
154 L E I B N I Z . L A N G U A G E , SIGNS A N D T H O U G H T
him who receives the Christ

= def.l
receives him who is the Christ
= hypoth.
him who is God
= def. 2
God
Q.E.D.
It is clear, from these examples that all reasoning consists in the substitu
tion of equipollents to the whole or to a part.
To say 'Christ' is the same as to say 'him who is Christ'.
Footnotes
1 According to Leibniz, the search for such absolute rigour must be postponed — because the
delay it causes cannot be tolerated — not only in practical matters, but also in some theoretical en
deavours, like the construction of an axiomatic system (see below his justification of Euclid's
method).
2 Leibniz's marginal note:
"A definition is a signified idea
A demonstration is a signified reasoning
A reasoning is a chain of ideas
A demonstration is a chain of definitions."
We have here, apparently, a strict proportion, in the mathematical sense:
(a) definition: idea :: demonstration : reasoning
or, interchanging the middle terms:
(b) definition: demonstration :: idea : reasoning.
Two kinds of relation are involved in this proportion, namely, the relation between signifiant and
signifié — which is the link between the members of each pair in (a) —, and the relation of being
the ring of a chain, or of being a (simple) element of a (complex) whole — which connects the mem
bers of each pair in (b). Schematically, we could represent this double classification as follows:
simple complex
(ring) (chain)
signifiant DEFINITION DEMONSTRATION
signifié IDEA REASONING
Leibniz's marginal note, as well as his remarks in the main text should be compared to his observa
tions on the same topic in the Preface to Nizolius (A, VI, ii, 401-476).
3 Apparently, Leibniz has in mind '"directly observable" propositions, i.e., propositions
ON T H E D E M O N S T R A T I O N O F P R I M A R Y PROPOSITIONS 155
whose truth or falsity can be determined by a single act of observation. In this sense, he means
something similar to the logical positivists' "protocol sentences". Another of his examples is:
'Rome is situated by the Tiber* (Preface to Nizolius). His definition of truth, namely, that a sen
tence is true if the proposition expressed by it would be sensed, given proper conditions of sensing
(ibid.), seems to fit the class of directly observable propositions. Nevertheless, Leibniz claims in
the Preface that the same definition applies also to propositions of reason like "a binary number
is even". The contrast — sought in the present text — between (indemonstrable) directly observ
able propositions and (demonstrable) propositions of reason, is thus apparently unavailable, in the
Preface. This seems to be due to the rather wide sense in which Leibniz uses (in the Preface and
other texts of the same period) the terms 'sense', 'sensation', 'sensing', etc. These terms denote not
only the activity of the "external" senses, but also those of an "internal" sense (see A, VI, i, 284-
288), so that, for Leibniz, one can be said to "sense" even the meaning of a word or sentence.
4 Hypothesis Physica Nova (1671). This work contains two treatises, the "Theory of Abstract
Motion", and the "Theory of Concrete Motion". It sums up Leibniz's early mechanics, which was,
— since 1675 — criticized and, for the most part, abandoned by him, being replaced by a theory
in which the concept of force plays a central role (whereas in the Hypothesis this concept was com
pletely absent: see P. Costabel, Leibniz et la Dynamique, Paris. 1960. and M. Guéroult, Leibniz
— Dynamique et Métaphysique, second edition, Paris, 1967). The "Theory of Abstract Motion" is
a purely a priori theory of motion, based on the concepts of space, time, and motion itself. Its cen
tral notion is that of conatus: since to move is to run through a certain space in a certain time,
motion must be continuous, as are space and time; like every continuum, motion is infinitely divis
ible, but it must be composed of units; since a unit must be indivisible, the units of motion must be
heterogeneous from motion itself (which is divisible) ; they cannot — without contradiction — be "as
signed" a specific motion, as a point cannot be assigned a specific extension, and an instant, a
specific duration; Leibniz's mechanics is based on the properties of these three "unassignable"
units, point, instant, and conatus. The "Theory of Abstract Motion", thus, has nothing to say
about factual, observable propositions such as "The earth is consistent" and "The sun shines". The
precise locus of Leibniz's reference is paragraph 2 of the "Theory of Concrete Motion" (A, VI. ii,
223): "It is necessary that there be some motion, first of all, in the sun and in the earth. Since the
parts of these globes must certainly cohere, for if this were not the case, the impact of the lightest
particle upon them would dissolve or perforate them entirely: and since, on the other hand, a rest
ing body has no coherence (by what was said in Th. of Abstr. Motion; theorem 20, and will be
proved in its proper place), some motion must be assumed in these globes. This is, probably, the
first and unique demonstration of the necessity of the earth's movement".
5 It is not quite correct, for Leibniz, to claim that this proposition is justified by direct observa
tion, for he tries to justify it, elsewhere, by other means. For example, in the passage quoted in
note 4, he justifies the claim that the earth is consistent by pointing to the observation that it is not
dissolved or perforated by the particles that constantly impinge upon its surface. Moreover, in
another text, Leibniz even tries to give an elaborate "demonstration of the resistance and consis
tency of the earth". As a matter of fact, it may be asked, in general, whether there is room in his
theory for any directly observable proposition at all, for his methodology is based on a fundamen
tal asymmetry between the senses and reason as sources of knowledge: "Motion may be studied
in a twofold manner: through the senses and through reason. But the senses cannot prevail upon
(praejudicare) reason, whereas reason can prevail upon the senses. In other words, when it
appears that the senses contradict reason, it must be concluded that there is some underlying factor
which is sensed only through its effects (this is a case of apparent contradiction, i.e., evav-
). It seems to me that this principle has been acknowledged by all those who studied
motion perspicuously: Galileo. Hobbes. Descartes and, more recently. Huyghens. Here is an
156 L E I B N I Z . L A N G U A G E , SIGNS A N D T H O U G H T
example: it appears to the senses that a large body at rest cannot be moved by a smaller one; we
see indeed that a house is not demolished by a stone thrown at it; but what reason proves is
altogether different, namely, than an arbitrarily big resting body is impelled by an arbitrarily small
moving (body), although its motion, then, is also arbitrarily small" (A, VI, ii, 159).
6 This is theorem 20 of the "Theory of Abstract Motion'1 (A. VI, ii, 270). An elaborate proof
of it is given latter in this paper. Leibniz's proof is based on the idea that only a conatus can oppose
resistance to another conatus. Since there is conatus only where there is movement, and since resis
tance is the sign of coherence, it follows that a body which resists must have its proper motion.
7 Globum Mundanum.
8 Phoronomy correponds roughly to that part of mechanics known today as kinematics. It is a
purely abstract study of motion, considering only spatial and temporal dimensions, but not the
physical properties of bodies.
9 Here we have another mark of Raymond Lull's influence upon the young Leibniz (see also
Appendix 4, note 24).
10 per se nota.
11 Hobbes, De Corpore, Chapter 8, Paragraph 25: "Let greater be defined as that whose part
is equal to another whole; consider now a whole A and its part ; since the whole  is equal to it
self, and  is a part of A, it follows that a part of A is equal to the whole B; therefore, by the defi
nition of greater, A is greater than B; as was to be proved."
12 A proof of this principle is given later in this paper. In the "Theory of Abstract Motion" (see
note 4, above), it is the last mentioned "fundamental principle", and it is dubbed "the noblest of
the principles" (A, VI, ii, 268). But, although it is often used throughout his theory of motion, the
principle is not proved by Leibniz there. Whereas the "science of motion" was thoroughly worked
out and even published by the young Leibniz, the "science of mind" — to which he alludes here
— was nothing but a vague project. Some relevant material may be found in the New Method for
Learning and Teaching Jurisprudence (A, VI, i, 277-280). There are also some preliminary studies
for a work that was to be called "Elements of Mind and Body" (A, VI, ii, 276-291). Throughout
these fragments, one may find passages that apparently rely on the principle of sufficient reason,
like the following one: "The conceivables themselves must contain the reason why they are sensed,
that is, why they exist. But the reason is not (contained) in the thought of single (things). It must,
therefore, be in (the thought of) a plurality. Therefore, in that of all (things). Therefore, in the
Mind, which is one in many. Therefore, in Harmony, i.e., the unity of many, or diversity compen
sated by identity. God, however, is one in all" (A, VI, ii, 283).
13 Gregory of St. Vincent (1584-1687), Opus Geometrician (1647); Pietro Sforza Pallavicino
(1607-1667). The same examples are used by Leibniz in the Preface to Nizolius (A, VI, ii, 432) to
illustrate the claim that, if the nominalist doctrine that universal knowledge is attained only
through induction were correct, then nothing could be said against men like Gregory of St. Vincent
who deny the universal truth of a principle such as that the whole is greater than its part. Leibniz's
claim, against the nominalist view attributed to Nizolius, is that perfect certainty is possible, and
that it is attained through deduction.
14 'Scientia media' — the middle science — is the type of knowledge God has of "conditional"
events, that is, events that will happen only if men, using their freedom, act in certain specific ways.
This doctrine was formulated by the theologian Molina (1570), in order to accomodate God's
foreknowldge of all events with men's freedom. Molina distinguished "three objects of divine sci-
ence, the possibles, the actual events, and the conditional events, i.e., events which would occur
as a consequence of some condition, in case this condition were actualized. The science of pos
sibilities is called the science of simple intelligence; the science of the events which actually occur
in the sequence of the universe, is called the science of vision. And since there is a sort of middle
term between the simple possible and the pure and absolute event, namely, the conditonal event.
one can also say, according to Molina, that there is a middle science between the sciences of vision
and intelligence" (Leibniz. Essais de Theodicée, I, 40). The conditional events, in Molina's view,
would constitute an awkward exception to the principle of sufficient reason ("nothing occurs with
out a cause or at least a determinant reason, i.e. something which can provide an a priori reason
why that (thing, event) exists rather than does not exist, and why it is so and not otherwise", ibid.,
I, 44), because there would be no a priori reason for their occurrence, which only follows upon the
occurrence of certain purely contingent and free acts. For the "predeterminists" on the other
hand, God's foreknowledge of all types of events — being in principle unbounded — must be based
on the nature of things, i.e.. on the real causes of the events, which are. ultimately, God's own
decrees. This would make all truth predetermined, leaving no room for the contingency and free
dom which Molina's "middle science"' seeks to preserve. Leibniz's own view is an ingenious
attempt to reconcile both parties, using the notion of "possible world" and trying to preserve both,
freedom and the principle of sufficient reason, which "does not tolerate any exception, for other
wise its force would be weakened" (id.ibid.). See Théodicée, I, 42ff., the fragment "Scientia
Media" (C, 25-27), and G. H. R. Parkinson's, "Leibniz on Human Freedom". Studia Leibnitiana,
Sonderheft 2 (1970), Chapter II, pp. 5-17.
15 As is well known, Pythagoras (or members of his school) represented numbers as sums of
series, which can be arranged (and easily remembered for calculation) in various geometrical fig
ures. E.g., "triangular" numbers are the sums of the series of succesive numbers:
1
3=1 + 2
6=1+2+3
10=1+2 + 3 + 4 ....
etc. etc.
These geometrical figures are mathematical "tables", in Leibniz's sense (i.e., series of series — cf.
M. Serres, Le Système de Leibniz et ses Modèles Mathématiques, Paris, 1968, pp. 30ff.). It is prob
ably to one of these tables that Leibniz is referring here, although elsewhere 'tabula pythagorica
major' seems to refer merely to the multiplication tables (C, 277).
16 Cf. Appendix 5.
17 The notion of "blind thought" plays a central role in Leibniz's philosophy of signs as well as
in his epistemology. It is first used in his early work De Arte Combinatoria (1666) (A, VI, i, 170),
then in several intermediary papers, like the present one, to appear, finally, as a central piece of
Leibniz's theory of knowledge, in his "On Knowledge, Truth and Ideas" (1684; L, 291-295).
18 Hobbes {De Corpore, III, 20) criticizes the newly born algebra of his time ('analysis symbo-
lica') as being merely an abbreviatory device, actually useless for the progress of mathematical
thought: "But the socalled 'symbolica', which is used by many scholars who believe that it is truly
analytic, is neither analytic nor synthetic. It is merely an adequate abbreviation of arithmetical cal
culations, and not even of geometrical ones, for it does not contribute either to the teaching or to
the learning of geometry but only to the quick and succint compilation of what was already disco
vered by geometricians. Even though the use of symbols may facuiate the discourse about propo-
sitions which are wide apart from each other, I am not sure whether such a symbolic discourse,
when employed without the corresponding ideas of things, is indeed to be considered useful," For
a discussion of this passage, and Leibniz's reaction to it, see Dascal 1975b.
19 See Appendix 2.
20 Employing Leibniz's precise classification of the types of knowledge (L, 291-295), one could
say that the "knowledge" the hypothetical subject of these examples has of the number seven and
of a certain geometrical form does not even reach the level of "confused" knowledge, but is at
most "obscure" knowledge. Leibniz is here suggesting that this is a type of knowledge we can
hardly be satisfied with ; and since this is the type of knowledge we have of a conclusion prior to its
explicit formulation and proof, there is no point in claiming that we "already know" the conclusion
before the proof and that, therefore, demonstration is useless.
21 The essential characteristic of the mind is, for Leibniz, "thought", defined elsewhere as "ac
tion in itself" (actio in seipsum) or reflexive action (A. VI, i. 483). Taking this definition in con
junction with the definition of 'action' ("an action of something is a change in it which is the cause
of a(nother) change" — ibid.) one gets, approximately, "thought is a change which causes its own
change", or else "the mind is a self-modifying system". But this is too general, for any machine with
a feedback loop is a self-modifying (or self-regulating) machine. It seems that what Leibniz is try
ing to capture by means of these definitions is the basic intuition that all "thought" is accompanied
by self-awareness which is. in turn, another, modified, thought, namely, the thought that the first
thought occurred.
22 "Tell why!" or "Explain!".
23 This proof is only slightly more elaborate than Hobbes' proof, quoted in note 11.
24 This is clearly the definition of the binary (or relational) predicate "greater than". A modern
formulation would be: "For all x and y, x is greater than y if, and only if, there is a z such that z=y
and z is a part of x".
25 That is. it is a necessary condition.
26 This step in the proof seems to beg the question, for it assumes that there must always be a
reason for the non-occurrence of a thing, a statement which is obviously a particular case of the
principle which the proof is intended to prove. Significantly enough. Leibniz does not indicate
from what proposition this one follows, whereas he does so in all other cases.
27 See note 6 above.
28 conari. See note 4, on the concept of conatus.
29 Excipiens. The body which is impinged upon.
30 plaga.
31 "affecting that motion", Leibniz should have added.
32 This proposition is based, therefore, on the principle of sufficient reason, and on the axiom
(basic, in Leibniz's mechanics at the time) that only a conatus can effectively act upon another
conatus (see notes 4 and 12). This step is the crucial step in the proof, of course, and, as in the case
of the preceding proof it seems to introduce some circularity.
33 This step is not a direct application of def. 7, since it presupposes other definitions, not men
tioned in the present proof.
34 This formulation of the conclusion is clearer than the one stated at the head of the proof.
35 This proof does not end with the usual 'Q.E.D.' because the conclusion is actually stated in
the fifth step of the proof; what follows is the proof of a lemma ("that in which one is wiser is also
that in which one must be happier"), used as a premiss in the main proof.
36 The importance of this type of proof lies, for Leibniz, in the fact that it shows a possible way
of reducing relational predicates to monadic predicates, thus showing, in a sense, that relations can
be dispensed with. His works are full of attempts to accomplish such reduction. See, e.g., Leibniz
— Logical Papers, edited by G. H. R. Parkinson, pp. 88-89, and 47-49, for the definition of 'obli
que' and 'direct'.
2
THE ANALYSIS OF LANGUAGES
September 11, 1678

C, 351-354
An analysis of thoughts is needed for the discovery and demonstration of

truth 1 . Such an analysis corresponds to an analysis of the characters we use to
signify thoughts, since for every character there is a corresponding thought.
We can thus render the analysis of thoughts sensible and orient it, so to speak,
by a certain mechanical thread 2 , the analysis of characters being, in a sense,
sensible.
An analysis of characters consists in the substitution of certain characters
by others, equivalent in use to the former; the only restriction to be observed
is that for one character we should substitute several, and for a few, many
non-coincident characters. In any case, it will also be established that the
thought corresponding to the substituting characters is equivalent to the si
gnification of the character that was submitted to analysis. But this is easier
to do by means of characters than by tackling the thoughts themselves,
without relying on characters. For our intellect, in view of its weakness, must
be directed by a certain mechanical thread; in this connection, recall that,
with regard to thoughts which represent things that do not fall under the ima
gination, only the characteres are available.
Furthermore, all the demonstrative sciences deal with nothing but equi
valences or substitutions of thoughts, and show, in fact, that in some necessa
ry propositions the predicate may safely replace the subject, and that in any
convertible proposition the subject may also replace the predicate and that in
demonstrations a proposition formerly called a 'conclusion' may safely repla
ce any of the truths now called 'premisses' 3 . Hence, it is evident that truths
themselves4 would appear successively on paper through the mere analysis
of characters, that is, through orderly and uninterrupted substitution.
Although there are many human languages, all of them sufficiently deve
loped to be suitable for the transmission of any science whatsoever 5 , it is
enough, I think, to consider one language: any nation can in fact make disco
veries and direct the sciences in its own backyard. Nevertheless, since there
are certain languages in which the sciences have been much cultivated, like
Latin, it would be more useful to choose one of them especially because they
are mastered by the majority of the people interested in the sciences.
There are in language several characters, namely words and modifica
tions of words6. Amongst the words, some are frequently used and serve as
auxiliary to the others, whereas some occur more rarely and stand by them
selves. There are also whole phrases, propositions and even formulae which
recur in the same way: these are to be treated like words7. Thus, the word
'Bonus' is to be treated in much the same way as 'vir bonus' 8 , which must be
considered as a single word. Also the phrase 'boni viri arbitrio' 9 , and the sen
tence 'multa cadunt inter calicem supremaque labra' 10 , which is a proverb,
are to be treated, I think, like words, since their whole sense is not gathered
from their constituent words, as the whole sense of a word is not gathered ety-
mologically, i.e., from its constituent letters11. As in the case of the words
which constitute a proverb or a phrase, the letters in a word are useful for the
understanding of the origin of its meaning, but the meaning12 of a proverb or
phrase is not completely grasped through such an analysis. Similarly, an 'inte
gral formula' is one which is understood not through the force13 of the senten
ces which compose it, but rather through the use given to the formula by peo
ple. Integral formulae are often remnants of ancient times, and today the
phrases and words which compose them clearly have a (new) use, although
a formula itself may retain the old one, which, again, is connected with the
origin of the words. Such fomulae are to be found in juridical usage.
Therefore, words, phrases, proverbs and formulae — namely all those
expressions whose analysis is not obtained from the parts which compose
them — are to be (separately) analyzed.
Indeed, since periods (i.e., those which are not solemn formulae), sen
tences (i.e., those which are not proverbs), constructions (i.e., those which
are not phrases), and words (i.e., those which neither are simple primitives
nor possess a meaning diverging from the origin) are understood once the
parts which compose them are understood, it is sufficient to have an analysis
of the primary words14, i.e., those whose meaning is not entirely given by
their Etymology, of the phrases, of the proverbs and of the formulae. Every
intelligent person can derive the others from the abovementioned. Besides,
T H E ANALYSIS O F L A N G U A G E S 163
the mode of formation or composition must be explained: formation of deri

ved from primitive words, of constructions or sentences from several words,
of periods from the latter, and of a discourse15 from periods. Therefore,
besides the words, we must also consider the particles and inflexions, to
which a constant meaning must be ascribed. Like words, some inflexions can
not be explained by simpler ones, whereas for the others it can be shown how
they can be dispensed with, and how they can be replaced by simpler inflex
ions. Thus, we can dispense with adverbs, with most of the conjunctions, with
all the interjections, with cases, tenses and persons. This is grammatical
analysis, by means of which the force and propriety 16 of everything general in
language is understood. The anomalies must also be recorded, e.g., when a
case or an inflexion is used not in accordance with the way it was defined.
There are in fact, as in the case of words, homonymous inflexions, so that sev
eral different definitions are needed, and thus also several substitutions17.
This absolute grammatical analysis is followed by a logical analysis, whe
reby it is shown how propositions can replace other propositions, although
the former are not generated from the latter through immediate grammatical
substitutions. In other words, logical analysis shows how several grammatical
substitutions are conjoined.
Thus prepared, we approach the sciences themselves, first of all the most
general, Metaphysics; then, (the science of) the most frequent actions and af
fections18 of men; then we progress towards Mathematics; finally, we con
clude with Physics and History19.
It is necessary to compile a nomenclature of all things, collected from
these sciences, and to organize it according to the order of things indicated by
each one's definition20. It is necessary to write a book of histories, i.e., of uni
versal propositions derived from singular ones, containing also singular pro
positions in which something occurs21 contrary to tradition and expectation,
i.e., those which depart from our prejudices or from the universal proposi
tions already formed. Finally, it is necessary to write a practical book about
the way of applying the sciences in practice, in which the order of problems
should be such as to contribute to our happiness or the happiness of others 22 .
Footnotes
1 This is so because, according to Leibniz, a sentence is true if it can be shown that the concept
of the predicate is at least partially identical with the concept of the subject. Leibniz held such a
doctrine — at least for some truth — as early as 1666 {De Arte Combinatoria). The doctrine was
explicitly stated, for mathematical truth, in his preface to an edition of Nizolius (1670, A, VI, ii,
401-476). What varied in the course of Leibniz's development was the scope of the doctrine, i.e.,
whether it applied to all types of truths (as suggested by later formulations of the "principle of suf
ficient reason") or only to a certain type of "analytic" truth (as in the Preface to Nizolius). It seems,
in the light of what follows, that the present paper belongs still to the class of texts which attribute
only a limited scope to the above mentioned view of truth, since it speaks only about the "demons
trative sciences".
2 The metaphor of the sensible as a mechanical thread, which is able to lead men out of the
labyrinth of complex thoughts, is widespread throughout Leibniz's writings. Here is another exam
ple: "The true method must offer us an Ariadne's thread, that is to say, a certain sensible and rough
means of leading the mind, like the lines drawn in geometry and the forms of the operations pre
scribed to the apprentices in arithmetic" (A, II, i, 381). The thread must be "sensible", "mechan
ical" and "rough", so that in order to use it, there will be no need of any special intelligence or wit,
these higher abilities remaining free, then, for more complex tasks.
3 This last sentence merely means that after a proposition has been proved, it can be used as
a premiss in subsequent demonstrations.
4 That is. truths which belong to the demonstrative sciences. See note 1, above.
5 Leibniz here, as elsewhere (e.g. "Considerations of the perfection of the German Lan
guage", D, VI, ii, 6-52), recognizes the suitability in principle of every natural language to the
expression of any (scientific) truth. In a sense, this is a rough — but stronger — formulation of the
"principle of expressibility" (roughly: "whatever can be meant can be said"), which some contem
porary philosophers of language consider of the utmost importance (cf. J.R. Searle, Speech Acts,
Cambridge, 1969, passim). Leibniz's formulation is stronger because it claims that "whatever can
be (scientifically) meant can be said in every natural language'". In view of such a recognition of the
power of natural languages, one must naturally ask why Leibniz expended so much of his energy
in attempts to build an artificial language for the development of science.
6 Leibniz distinguishes here, first, between words and inflexions. Then, he distinguishes
between syncategorematic and categorematic words, and he seems to include the particles in the
former class. He is aware, however, of the fact that particles are closer, in their function, to in
flexions than to categorematic words. This is expressed later in this paper, where he deals with in
flexions and particles as if they belonged to the same category.
7 Leibniz recognizes here the importance of idiomaticity for linguistic theory. For modern
treatments of this topic, see Y. Bar-Hillel, Aspects of Language, Jerusalem, 1970, pp. 311-315, and
W. L. Chafe, Meaning and the Structure of Language, Chicago, 1970, pp. 40-50. From these discus
sions it emerges that Leibniz's characterization of idiomaticity by means of the concept of non-ana-
lyzability is far better than other proposals, e.g., of identifying idiomaticity with non-translatability
(into other languages). On unanalyzability, see also: C, 281.
8 One of the possible idiomatic interpretations of this expression is "usurer".
9 Probably "a usurer's evaluation (of a certain property)".
10 There is many a slip twixt the cup and the lip.
11 The notion of etymology underlying this statement is the belief that, "at the beginning", eve
ry single sound (nondistinguished from "letter", in this passage) had a "natural" meaning. There
fore, if each of the sounds which compose a word can be traced back to its original meaning, and
T H E ANALYSIS O F L A N G U A G E S 165
if the meaning of the word can be explained as the sum of the original meanings of its sounds, then
it has been explained "etymologically". Leibniz developed considerably this theory of etymology
towards the end of his life (see Hans Aarsleff, "The Study and Use of Etymology in Leibniz",
Studia Leibnitiana Supplementa III, pp. 173-189; for Leibniz's texts, see, e.g., Collect.).
12 res. A more exact translation would perhaps be 'reference'.
13 vis. Technically used, this expression means also 'meaning'.
14 This expression is used here as a general term for the two kinds of words mentioned in the
previous parenthesis, namely, simple primitives and artificially defined terms.
15 sermo.
16 See note 13.
17 By 'different definitions...' it is probably meant that the same inflexion may represent differ
ent cases. E.g., '-is' in Latin, for the genitive singular, dative plural, etc. By 'several substitu
tions...', on the other hand, Leibniz probably means that each of these different definitions leads
to different possible combinations (through substitution) with the (possibly different too) defini
tions of the other words in the sentence. Each such combination may have, of course, a different
meaning (Cf. GP, VII, 28-30).
18 'Affections' is a term which denotes, for Leibniz, practically all the "mental life" of men (cf.
Grua,pp.512ff.).
19 Compare the order of sciences here proposed with the "a priori" or "characteristic" order
described in Appendix 5 (particularly, note 15).
20 Here, a significant sentence has been suppressd by Leibniz: "Optime investigentur omnes
species per dichotomias". This suppression may be compared with Leibniz's rejection of the
"method of Ramus", also called by him the "divisive method", as a valuable scientific and even ex
pository device, and his corresponding preference for the "method of Euclid" (cf. e.g., A, II, i,
55).
21 This is certainly a slip of the tongue, for in propositions nothing occurs. Leibniz probably
means "propositions which describe unexpected events".
22 Leibniz always declares that the pursuit of happiness is the major purpose of all his logical,
linguistic and scientific endeavours: "La science est necessaire au vray bonheur" (, 153); "Le
grand dessein que j'ai et qui enferme tous les autres, c'est l'avancement des arts et sciences utiles
aux hommes..." (A, II, i, 533).
3
A GEOMETRIC CHARACTERISTIC
(selections)
August 10, 1679

GM, V, 141-168
(1) Characters are things by means of which the relations between other
things are expressed, and whose treatment is easier than the treatment of tho
se things. Thus, for each operation carried through on the level of characters,
there is a corresponding proposition 1 on the level of things; consequently, we
can often postpone considering the things themselves until the end of the ope
ration. Once that which is sought is discovered on the level of characters, it is
easily found on the level of things, thanks to the initially established accord2
between things and characters. Thus, just as machines can be exhibited by
means of models3 , so solid bodies can be represented on a flat board, in such
a way that there is no point of the body to which a corresponding one on the
board cannot be assigned according to the laws of perspective. Therefore, if
we performed — for representative purposes 4 — a certain geometrical opera
tion on the image of the thing on the flat board, that operation would yield a
certain point on the board, and it would then be easy to determine a point of
the thing corresponding to it. The solution of stereometrical problems will,
then, be accomplished on the plane.
(2) The more precision the characters have, that is, the more relations of
the things they exhibit, the more useful they are 5 . And when they exhibit all
the relations of the things among themselves, in the way the arithmetical cha
racters used by me do, then there is nothing in the thing which cannot be grasp
ed through the characters. The algebraic characters are as useful as the
arithmetical ones, because they denote indefinite numbers 6 . And since there
is nothing in Geometry which cannot be expressed by numbers, once a certain

scale of the equal parts is established, it follows that any geometrical pro
blem7 can also be subjected to a calculus.
(3) It must be known that the same things may be referred to, by means
of characters, in different ways, of which some are more convenient than the
others. Thus, a board on which a body is drawn according to the art of pers
pective, may well be crooked, but it is better to use a flat board; and everybo
dy is aware of the fact that the modern characters for numbers, called Arabic
or Indian, are more adequate for calculating than the older Greek and Ro
man characters, although with the latter it is also possible to calculate. The
same is true of geometrical usage. The algebraic characters, indeed, neither
express everything that must be considered to be in space (they presuppose
in fact that the Elements are already discovered and demonstrated 8 ), nor do
they directly signify the situation9 of the points, but rather indicate it oblique
ly by means of quantities ; hence the great difficulty of expressing by means of
a calculus that which is shown in a figure; and the yet greater difficulty of per
forming on the figure that which is discovered through the calculus. Similarly,
the constructions suggested by the calculus are often distorted and cumber
some, as I have shown elsewhere through the example of the problem of
determining a triangle, given the base, the height, and the opposite angle10.
(4) Of course, I am aware that geometricians usually add certain descrip
tions to their figures, by means of which the figures are explained, so that
what cannot be sufficiently gathered from the figure itself, e.g. equalities and
proportionalities of lines, can be at least understood through the added
words. Generally, the farther geometricians proceed, the more they expound
verbally, including what is evident in the figure itself. This is sometimes done
in order to make the reasoning more rigorous, so that nothing remains depen
dent upon the senses and the imagination, but, rather, is penetrated by rea
son, and sometimes in order to guarantee the possibility of drawing the figure
— or, in case it is eventually lost, to recover it from the description. But, al
though they do not rigorously observe such principles, geometricians have
provided us with the first traces of a Geometrical Characteristic. Thus, for
example, when they call (see fig. 31) a rectangle ABC, they mean that it is made
of the line AB over the line , at right angles; or, when they say that AB
equals  equals AC, they express an equilateral triangle; or else, when they
say of the three (segments) AB, , and AC that (the sum of) any two of
them equals the third, they indicate that all three (points), , ,  are on the
A GEOMETRIC CHARACTERSTIC 169
same straight line11.
A A
 
■
A  
 
  
Figure 31
(5) Since observing that, merely by using letters denoting the points of a
figure, one can indicate many properties of the figure, I began to wonder
whether it would not be possible to denote all the points of the figure, as well
as their relations, by means of such letters, so that the entire figure be charac
teristically12 exhibited, and moreover, so that those (properties) which are
obtained with difficulty or not at all — through the drawing of many lines, be
come discoverable solely by means of the transposition and placing of these
letters. For, generally, the drawing of many lines generates confusion in the
figure, especially when some of the lines are still tentative, whereas, on the
contrary, tentative moves can be made with characters without any damage.
But there is something still greater underlying this project, for we will be able
to express, by means of these characters, the true definitions of all that be
longs to geometry, and everywhere to pursue the analysis until reaching the
principles, i.e., until reaching the axioms and postulates. Such a task cannot
be fulfilled by Algebra alone, since Algebra is obliged to rely on proposi
tions proved geometrically, and since, when it tries to refer everything back
to those two propositions, one of which adds two squares in one and the other
compares similar triangles13, it is obliged to drive many things away from their
natural order.
(6) We, on the other hand, will easily be able to discover the way of find
ing the solutions of problems, once we have demonstrated the Elements by
means of our characters14. Moreover, these solutions will immediately show
— without supplementary work — the constructions and linear demonstra
tions, whereas the algebraists, after having determined the values of the
unknown (variables), must still worry about the constructions, and, after ha
ving found the constructions, look for the linear demonstrations. It is therefo
re amazing that men have not taken into account that, if all demonstrations
and constructions can be linear, exempt of any calculus, and much shorter,
then there must be also a linear method of discovery, for it is as necessary that
there be a regress in the linear synthesis as in the algebraic synthesis15. The
reason why the linear analysis has not been devised up to now is, undoubtedly,
the fact that no Characters directly representing themselves have yet been
discovered. For without characters, it is hard to disentangle oneself amid a
multitude and confusion of things.
(7) Therefore, if we could already represent figures and bodies by means
of letters, we would not only greatly promote geometry, but would also be
enabled to treat by an infallible method and a sort of analysis the sciences of
optics, kinematics16, mechanics, and in general, everything that falls under the
imagination. Besides, this marvelous art would lead to a further achieve
ment: the invention of machines would not be harder than the geometical
constructions of problems. Thus, it will be possible to delineate without figu
res, with no effort and expense, even rather complex machines17, as well as
natural objects, so that they will be transmitted to posterity, and, whenever
desired, it will be possible, with the utmost precision, to draw the figures from
the description. Nowadays, on the contrary, in view of the difficulty and cost
involved in delineating figures, many (inventions) get lost, and men are de
terred from describing things useful to society which they have discovered,
for up to now, the words they have are neither sufficiently precise nor suffi
ciently adequate in order to formulate descriptions, as is made plain by bota
nists and by interpreters of arms and insignia18. Indeed, it will also be possible
to subsume under characters even those remaining qualities in which the
points, which are considered similar in geometry — differ among themselves.
And, finally, only when we shall be able to elicit from the data, safely and
quietly, by means of an infallible art, all that others can extract from the same
data only through the power of their wit and imagination, there will be some
hope of penetrating nature's secrets.
Since, as far as I know, nobody thought of something like this, and since
no help is available from any source, I am forced to retrace the matter from
the very first steps, a procedure which only those who have attempted to fol
low know to be so difficult. Thus, on different occasions19, I have approched
the matter in different ways, all of which, though acceptable and somehow
useful, did not satisfy my scruples. Finally, after many cuts, I recognized I had
reached the simplest (elements), when I had no need to presuppose anything
from other sources20, but could demonstrate everything out of the characters
themselves. For a while, however, I stopped short of recognizing the true cha-
racteristic, because it seemed to me that it was necessary to start from Ele

ments easy in themselves and from other sources of knowledge — an excess
of scruples in ordering, which could be hardly welcome; but I continued my
way through, and, after having overcome this hindrance, I finally achieved
greater results....
In what follows Leibniz gives an ordered series of "definitions" of fundamen
tal geometrical concepts: space, point, distance, trajectory21, line, surface,
and straight line. The verbal descriptions of these simple concepts are suffi
cient, according to him, to make them understandable, but neither are they,
nor are the figures normally used for them, sufficiently precise to guarantee
the rigorous use of such concepts in complex reasoning. Therefore, Leibniz
develops a notation for these concepts which expresses, primarily, how each
one can be generated. Here are come examples:
(17) I cannot envisage a better way of denoting space itself or the ex
tended (i.e., the continuum whose parts exist simultaneously) than by means
of points. Since it is proposed to express rigorously the delineations of figu
res, taking into account only points and continuous strokes from one point to
another, in which an infinite number of points can be taken at will, I think that
definite points22 should be expressed by individual letters like A and  (fig.
32).
(18) Let us express continuous strokes by indefinite or arbitrary points23,

taken in a certain order, so that it be always apparent that other points may
be assumed either to lie between them or on this or the other side of them.
Thus 3 b 6 b 9 b (fig. 33) will mean for us a whole stroke, of which any point
chosen at will is called b, and which we arbitrarily assume to be divided in two
parts, one whose termini are the points 3b and 6b, and another whose termini
are the points 6b and 9b. Hence, it is evident that these two parts are conti
nuous, since they have a common point, 6b, and their division was done arbi
trarily. Such a stroke, in which the common terminus of the two parts is
nothing but a point, is called a line, and can be represented by the movement
of point b, which is understood to run through a certain trajectory, or to leave
as may traces as different points 3 b , 6b, 9b, etc. Therefore, the line can be
said to be the trajectory of the point. The trajectory is the continuous and suc-
172 LEIBNIZ L A N G U A G E , SIGNS AND T H O U G H T
cessive locus of the point. It can also be represented, more economically, as

follows: Line where or another letter — denotes arbitrarily selected
ordered numbers taken collectively, whereas when we write b, without a
mark over y, we mean, distributively, any point whatsoever of the line
In the same way, we can imagine certain strokes whose parts constitute
lines, i.e., such that they can be understood to be described by the movement
of a line whose points do not succeed each other, but rather fall into new
places. Such a stroke, or trajectory of a line, is called a surface. Supposing
that (fig. 34) the abovementioned line 3 b 6 b 9 b is moved, and calling the locus
of one of its points 3 3 b 3 6 b 3 9 b, of a second 6 3 b 6 6 b 6 9 b, and of a third 9 3 b
9 6 b 9 9 b, we obtain the surface 3 3 b 3 6 b 3 9 b, 6 3 b 6 6 b 6 9 b, 9 3 b 9 6 b 9 9 b, which
we represent, economically, by
(19) It is also evident that just as the surface is described by the move-
ment of the line along the points so the same surface is described
by the movement of the line along the points On the other hand b
will mean any locus whatsoever of the point b, taken not collectively, but dis-
tributively, and means any Line in the s u r f a c e t a k e n also at will and
distributively, not collectively....
Footnotes
1 enuntiatio.
2 consensus.
3 modulus.
4 scenographica ratione.
5 This is a version of the same maxim later formulated as in the beginning Appendix 5. Here,
however. Leibniz does not use explicitly the concept of "expression".
6 Compare GM, VI, 5-7 and C, 579-580.
7 tractatio Geometrica. In order to make the general point that geometry can also be reduced
to "calculations", Leibniz relies here on Descartes' achievement, namely. Analytic Geometry. In
the course of the present paper, however, he will criticize Analytic Geometry (the treatment of
geometrical problems by means of numbers, as well as by algebraic means), and will propose a
specifically geometrical calculus which he believes to be much more adequate for geometry (see
note 15).
8 This is probably an allusion to Euclid's Elements. Leibniz indeed is convinced that the
analysis of Euclid's axioms and definitions is an indispensable preliminary to the constitution of the
geometrical characteristic, and consistency with Euclid's elements is considered by him a funda
mental criterion of adequacy for a geometrical calculus: "We will have succeeded in the elabora
tion of a calculus of situation if the Elements of Euclid can be adapted to it: let us inspect the defin
itions, postulates and axioms of the first book" (C. 541: see also L. Couturat. La Logique de Leib
niz, Paris, 1901. p. 397). Later in the present paper, Leibniz argues that an algebraic treatment of
geometry (like Analytic Geometry) is inadequate, among other things, because it is not auto-suf
ficient, i.e.. because it presupposes the independent demonstration — by purely geometical means
— of at least some basic theorems, like the Theorem of Thaïes and the Theorem of Pythagoras.
9 situs. This is one of the central concepts in Leibniz's geometrical theory. Nevertheless, he did
not succeed in producing a satisfactory general analysis or definition of the concept of situation, in
spite of his efforts (Cf. Couturat, op. cit., pp. 407-408). The best he can offer us. by way of approx
imation, is the description of some characteristic features of "situation": situation is a relation of
spatial order between geometrical points or objects in general" (C, 545): "... if A has a situation
(e.g.. with respect to L) and  has a situation (e.g.. with respect to M). then A and  have a situ
ation between themselves..." (C. 541): situation is a species of the genus "position" (C. 541) — it
differs from position in that two objects may have the same situation in one position (place) or
another (C, 534); "the situation of a point is the way of determining its distance from any point,
whose distances among themselves are determined..." (C.543); etc. In any case, the concept of sit
uation was sufficiently important and well delimited — at least as applied to particular cases — to
lend its name to the entire Leibnizian project of a geometrical characteristic, alternatively called
"characteristica situs' (GM 11.258). 'calculus situs' (GM. II.334) and 'analysis situs' (GM. V. 141-
171). It is also beyond doubt that Leibniz's essays in this domain are the direct forerunners of mod
ern topology, whose founders, in the 19th century — like Riemann — referred explicitly to Leib
niz's'analysis situs' (cf. N. Bourbaki, Eléments d'Histoire des Mathématiques, Paris. 1960, p. 147).
10 In an appendix to the Characteristica Geometrica (GM. V. 168-171), Leibniz presents side
by side an algebraic and a purely geometric treatment of this problem, showing how the algebraic
solution follows a path which is completely different from the "natural" geometrical construction
based on the intuitive properties of the figure.
11 These are crude ways of expressing, by means of rudimentary equations, topological proper
ties. Thus, the equation AB +  = AC. where the sign '+ ' is understood "ambigously" i.e.. as
"plus or minus" (cf. C. 97-105). means that .  and  lie on the same straight line.
12 characteristice.
13 See note 7.
14 See note 8.
15 As we pointed out before (notes 7 to 9). Leibniz is striving to develop a geometrical calculus
which represents directly what is specific to geometry, namely, situation, as opposed to a calculus
which represents geometrical properties indirectly, i.e., by means of magnitudes. A linear analysis
(and synthesis), i.e.. the reduction of all constructions to the (ideal) drawing of straight lines (as
in projective geometry) is a means of "representing directly the relations of situation, indepen
dently of any metrics..." (Couturat. op. cit.. p. 409). i.e.. without the use of the concepts of number
and magnitude. It would be a way of "expressing the construction of figures and, consequently, all
their properties, through intrinsic relations among their points, without the help of a system of
coordinates" (ibid.). A representation through coordinates, on the other hand, makes use of aux
iliary magnitudes and defines a figure not by its internal relations, but by its relations with a system
of reference arbitrarily chosen, being, thus, complicated and anti-natural (op. cit.. p. 400).
16 Phoronomia.
17 Leibniz, as it is well known, was actively engaged in the design and construction of machines.
One outstanding example is his famous calculating machine, a precursor of modern computers.
A n o t h e r , perhaps less known, example are the complex mechanical devices he designed for the
exploitation of the mines in the Harz region, near Hannover (a project that was. incidentally, a fai
lure). Yet Leibniz never used his "characteristica geometrica"' in the design or description of these
machines.
18 Leibniz was well acquainted with heraldic signs as well as with emblems, devises, "hierog
lyphs", and many other types of symbols which were very popular in his time (cf. C. 22-24; , ,
VI. i. 275-276). As a historian — later in his life — he was professionally concerned with these sym
bols as sources of historical information. See Madeline David, Le Débat sur les Ecritures et
I' Hiéroglyphe aux XVII et XVIII Siècles. Paris. 1965. pp. 59-72.
19 See references to other essays on the geometrical calculus by Leibniz in Couturat, op. cit.,
pp. 396-398.
20 Cf. note 8. In many writings, dealing not only with geometry. Leibniz demands proofs of
postulates and axioms, on the grounds that in most cases the reliance upon axioms merely indicates
that our analysis of the concepts and truths is only partial and incomplete (cf. C, 50, 147, 180-181,
etc.).
21 via.
22 puncta certa.
23 puncta incerta.
4
VERBAL CHARACTERISTIC 1
Approximately 1680
, 432-435
Words are signs either of concepts, as in the case of nouns, or of modes

of conceiving, as in the case of the other parts of speech.
Concepts are viewed either in themselves or by accident. They are view
ed in themselves, i.e., according to the "formalities"2, e.g., humanity,
beauty, "threefootness" 3 . when the mind abstracts from the metaphysical
matter or subject, and also from time, place and case. Concepts are viewed by
accident insofar as the concurrence of many 'forms' in the same subject is
considered, as when it happens that one and the same subject has both a poe
tical and a juridical ability. Hence, nouns are either abstract, like 'humanity',
'heat', or concrete, like 'man', 'hot' 4 .
The distinction between nouns and adjectives may be dispensed with in
the characteristic5. Thus, 'body' and 'extended' differ only in that 'body' seems
to mean "an extended subject"; but this is already sufficiently contained in
the word 'extended'. Similarly, a man is nothing more than a human subject
or a subject of humanity. Nevertheless, people usually adopted such substan
tives (nouns which include the subject) 6 only for those things they continually
consider. Thus, the multitude of extended things constitutes a certain assem
bly, i.e., an aggregate whose parts are not only in agreement but also connec
ted 7 , whereas the multitude of hot things is dispersed8. In the same way as all
the gold in the entire world is considered as a certain whole (hence, we do not
use the plural 'golds', but rather 'gold', 'de l'or', 'auri copiam' 9 ), so all men
are understood to constitute a certain assembly once we take into account
their reproduction. Here arises the question of whether things differ in spe
cies, for people in fact conceive of something like seeds as existing also in in
animate things, e.g., metals. And. first of all, the chemists who ascribe, so to
speak, radical subjects to every quality, lend their support to such a view10.
They believe that substantial forms are latent in seeds, as colours in dyes,
odours in sulphurous substances, savours in salts, so that the forms (i.e.,
together with their vehicles) can be extracted from certain subjects and
infused into others. But since this is uncertain, and since it is not satisfactorily
explained what those who look for specific differences mean, I think that
they11 should be neglected in the characteristic, until they are more distinctly
construed.
The distinction between proper and common12 nouns may also be ne
glected, not only because the names of individuals were originally common
nouns suggested by some distinctive property, but also because it is irrelevant
here whether that of which we speak can be said to be unique among the
things, or else whether there are other things similar to it. We must rather re
place the above distinction among nouns by another distinction, similar to it,
namely, that things are named either through signs selected from their quali
ties or through some arbitrary signs ascribed to them. In this sense, 'quadrila
teral' is a "common" name of the thing it is attributed to, whereas 'rhombus'
is a "proper" name (of the same thing)13.
The distinction of genders, masculine, feminine and neuter, is clearly
useless for reasoning, and it has been invented only for conversational purpo
ses, like the titles by means of which we distinguish people 14 .
The modes of conception are designated by particles, which in the usual
languages, either separately constitute words or combine (as affixes or termi
nations) with other words. But, in the philosophical language, particles, af
fixes and terminations are not distinguished, for any part of a word will be a
word15.
Variations, namely, cases and inflexions, are generated from particles
and nouns. I include auxiliary verbs in the class of particles. All verbs are for
med by the fusion of nouns with a connotation of some judgment, i.e., from
nouns with the verb 'is'.
But let us follow the thread of the usual languages, and let us look for the
easiest way of analyzing all of them. Let us begin by the cases of the noun,
which can always be analyzed into prepositions with nominative, as, e.g., in
Italian, French, and Spanish16. Prepositions are connections of many nouns
in order to form one noun17. Conjunctions are connections either of many
nouns in order to form a judgment or proposition, or of many propositions
either to form — from the many — one proposition, or to form a discourse18,
i.e., a composite of propositions, which is a reasoning or a discussion19. Pre-
positions, then, are supported by relations of things, meaning place, time,

place and time simultaneously, like a past place or a future place (the places
from which and to which), cause (efficient or final), matter; agreement, op
position, exclusion, separation; permutation (i.e., mutual separation and ad
junction), union. But all this should be presented in a more orderly way:
A relation of one thing to another is either of agreement (convenientia)
or of connection20. A relation of agreement is either of similarity or of dissimi
larity. To this category belongs analogy, i.e., the comparison of similarities.
A relation of connection is either of subject to adjunct, or of adjunct to
adjuncts, or of subject to subject. However, it must be noticed that some ad
juncts may become subjects, as when, e.g., 'heat' is the subject of 'magnitu
de' 21 .
A connexion of a subject and an adjunct is expressed by 'in', e.g., 'doctri
na in homine est laudanda' 22 . There is no reciprocal way, in Latin, of expres
sing the relation of 'homo' to 'doctrina', unless you are willing to say 'homo
cum doctrina est laudandum' 23 . But the word 'cum' means in general any
connection, and not specifically the one in question.
Incidentally, it should be investigated whether two 'formalities' may be
both subject and predicate of each other, like virtue of glory, and glory of vir
tue — as is usually stated in Lull's work24.
A connection of two adjuncts is also expressed by 'cum'. Indeed, there
is no specific preposition for this purpose. E.g., consider 'gloria cum virtute
est efficax'25, where, moreover, glory and virtue are in the same subject.
Abstract nouns may be dispensed with in the philosophical language,
and once this is established, many things will be blocked26. For indeed ab
straction leads to infinity, by returning over itself27.
It must be recalled, however, that in dealing with proportions and num
bers it is not easy to dispense with abstract (nouns). Therefore, it is enough
to adopt the principle that they should be avoided as far as possible, although
I am sure that, once the characteristic is correctly constituted, it will be possi
ble to avoid them completely. Thus, in Geometry and in Arithmetic, by lines
and numbers we do not mean abstractions, but rather things with them28: a
circle is certainly a golden, a silvern or a wooden one; and number means
"many things", e.g., 'square number' means "as many things as can be
squarely set up" 29 .
178 LEIBNIZ. L A N G U A G E . SIGNS AND T H O U G H T
Footnotes
1 This is a rather peculiar title, for the term 'characteristica' is generally combined — in Leib
niz's texts — with adjectives which describe its scope — like in 'characteristica universalis'. 'charac-
teristicå geometrica' — but not the type of signs which constitute the characteristic. Throughout
this text itself, Leibniz speaks of the "characteristica'. without qualification. He seems to take this
to mean the "language" in which only the strictly necessary grammatico-semantical categories —
i.e., those that cannot be analyzed into simpler ones — are retained. There are two possible
reasons for calling such a system of fundamental categories a verbal characteristic: a) the way it is
reached, namely, through the analysis of natural languages; b) the fact that the signs it will be com
posed of are not characters especially designed, but the (non-analyzable) words of some natural
language themselves. Another possibility of interpretation could be based on the interchangable
use Leibniz sometimes made of the terms 'character' and 'word' (see G. Patzig, "Leibniz, Frege
und die sogenannte 'lingua characteristica universalis'"", Studia Leibnitiana Supplementa III, Wies
baden. 1969. pp. 103-112).
2 formalitates. These "formalities", it must be noticed, are. in what follows, opposed to "uni
versais" (like "man", "hot"), although they raise the same metaphysical problem as the latter,
namely, the old "question of the universais". Leibniz, indeed, lumps together the questions of the
reality of formalities and of universais, dubbing the single question thus formed, the "nerve" of the
controversy between nominalists and realists (Preface to Nizolius. A. II, i, 427). Here, he does not
take sides on this metaphysical issue (See also note 26). He seems to be interested, rather, in a
purely "grammatical" or "linguistic" discussion of the matter. Thus, following — on the purely lin
guistic level — the methodological maxim of the nominalists. Entianon sunt multiplicanda praeter
necessitatem, he will be able to reject abstract nouns — those which express "formalities" — as
superfluous, whereas he will keep common nouns — those which express "universais" — as an
essential category of the "characteristic". The linguistic or semiotic requirements, then, seem to be
significantly different from the metaphysical ones, which, no matter what side in the dispute one
takes, apparently imply a single position concerning both "formalities" and "universais".
3 tripedalitas.
4 The "formal" or "grammatical" distinction "abstract" vs. "concrete" is thus assimilated to
the "epistemological" or "semantic" distinction "per se" vs. "per accidens". That is, Leibniz's
grammatical analysis is not purely formal, but rather his grammatical categories have a "notional"
content, as in Aristotle. Significantly, a similar attitude has been recommended recently be leading
linguists (e.g., John Lyons, Introduction to Theoretical Linguistics, Cambridge, 1968, 134ff.).
5 This view is consistently held by Leibniz (see, e.g.. C, 432-435 and GP, VII, 28-30).
6 The bracketed remark implies that all "substantives" refer to "subjects", i.e., individual sub
stances. But then, this view is in conflict with the claim, expressed above in the same text, that
some substantive nouns are abstract. For, according to Leibniz's definition, abstract nouns refer
to concepts considered "per se", i.e.. without reference to any ""subject", to which the concept is
applied. Similar difficulties in the definition of ""substantive" may be found in the Port Royal Logic
(Part I. Chapter 2).
7 "... aggregatum cujus partes habent non tantum convenientiam sed et connexionem". Cf.
note 20 below.
8 Thus, two rather different grounds are given for the adoption of a noun to denote something:
a) the importance of the denoted thing and the high frequency of people's references to it; b) the
fact that the denoted thing is, in some sense, a real aggregate, and not only a merely imaginary one.
The first of these reasons corresponds to Locke's theory about the names of the "modes" (Essay,
III, 5), whereas the second corresponds — although not completely — to his theory about the na
mes of "substances" (id., III, 6).
9 The idea that mass nouns denote scattered totalities has been given a certain prominence in
contemporary philosophy of language, mainly through its use by Quine (cf. Word and Object,
Cambridge, Massachusetts, 1960, pp. 98-99, and passim).
10 Leibniz may be referring here to the disciples of Paracelsus, who believed in a sort of natural
evolution of metals, and assimilated their supposed birth from the earth to the generation of ani
mals. They also tended to multiply the number of "essential principles" or "quintessences", by as
cribing to each slightly different substance its own quintessence. This quintessence, in turn, was a
particular combination of the tria prima, i.e., of the three basic "elements", sulphur, mercury and
salt. But these elements were radically different from the elements of modern chemistry: they were
mere abstractions of sensible qualities, and, moreover, they were actually infinite in number, for
"as there are many kinds of fruits, so there are many kinds of sulphur, salt, and mercury; a different
sulphur is in gold, another in silver, another in lead, another in iron, tin, etc..." (Paracelsus, quo
ted by E. J. Holmyard, Alchemy, London, 1957, p. 175).
11 I.e., these specific differences.

12 Appellativa.
13 Using the terminology proposed by some contemporary semioticians, one may say that
'quadrilateral' is a motivated name, whereas 'rhombus' is an unmotivated one (Compare with
Appendix 6). Leibniz's proposal is to reserve 'proper' for uninformative names.
14 Here Leibniz makes use of an important distinction between a communicative and a ratioci
native (or, more generally, cognitive) function of signs. For more on this distinction and its implica
tions and use by Leibniz, see my La Sémiologie de Leibniz.
15 This, it should be stressed, is a principle which is claimed to hold only for a philosophical lan
guage, i.e., for a characteristic. since it is obviously false for natural languages (see note 1).
16 For a concise statement of this type of reductions, see C, 35.
17 This is in fact a definition of "prepositional phrase", not of "preposition".
18 oratio.
19 tractatio. The terminology used here is somewhat confused. A more consistent use of a simi
lar terminology may be found in Appendix 2.
20 This classification of types of relations is rather constant in Leibniz's thought (cf. A. VI, ii,
500; A, Vi, i, 285; , 355; A, VI, i. 95). The pair of concepts con venientia vs. connexio corresponds
roughly, in the linguistic or semiotic level, to the pairs of polar concepts: metaphoric vs. metony
mic (Jakobson), associatif vs. syntagmatique (Saussure), relation vs. correlation (Hjelmslev). See
my La Sémiologie de Leibniz for discussion. For an analysis of the following passages of this text,
see F. Schmidt, "Zeichen, Wort und Wahrheit bei Leibniz", Studia Leibnitiana Supplemento III,
pp. 196f.
21 That is, when heat (or, probably, temperature) is measured.
22 "Education in a man is to be praised"
23 "A man with education is to be praised". This seems to be a satisfactory paraphrase. It is by

no means obvious that 'in' has a more specific meaning than 'cum', as claimed by Leibniz. He
seems to believe that 'in' means (originally?) some sort of inclusion-relation.
24 Raymundus Lullus (1235-1315). Leibniz refers here to Lull's Ars Magna, a work with which
he was very well acquainted (L. Couturat, La Logique de Leibniz, Paris, 1901, pp. 367ff.). In order
to obtain all the possible propositions out of his 6 classes of 9 categories, Lull disposed the letters
symbolizing the categories in concentric circles. In his system, therefore, any combination of
categories was allowed, and it is such a lack of syntactic or semantic constraints that Leibniz is here
criticizing.
25 "Glory with virtue is powerful."
26 Leibniz is consistent in his rejection of abstract nouns, considered by him pernicious "for
philosophy" (Pref. to Nizolius). This fact could lead to the attribution of a nominalist position to
Leibniz. Couturat (op. cit., pp. 470ff.) brings interesting, though not fully convincing, arguments
against such an interpretation even of Leibniz's early views.  S. Peirce, on the other hand, seems
to be convinced that an evolution can be traced in Leibniz's thought — as in his own — going from
nominalism to realism (cf. Max Fisch, "Peirce and Leibniz". Journal of the History of Ideas 33
(1972), pp. 485-496).
27 A somewhat artificial example of this phenomenon, namely, 'caloreitas', has been suppres
sed by Leibniz, here.
28 I take this to mean that the term 'thing' is implicit in any use of geometrical and arithmetical
terms. Thus, 'two' is to be expanded into 'two things', 'circle' into 'a circular thing', etc.
29 Here Leibniz adopts a rather anti-platonic attitude, which may be contrasted with his pro-
platonic attitude in the ''Discours de Metaphysique", for example. Leibniz's sketchy remark on
'number' may be compared to Russell's famous definition of number in terms of classes. Leibniz,
in any case, adopts here the same characteristically reductionist attitude as Russell.
5
THOUGHT, SIGNS AND THE FOUNDATIONS OF LOGIC 1
after 1684
GP, VII, 204-207
All human reasoning is performed by means of certain signs or charac

ters. Indeed, it is neither possible nor desirable that the things themselves or
even the ideas of them be always distinctly observed by the mind. So, for rea
sons of economy, signs are used for them. For, if each time that, in a demon
stration, a geometrician mentioned a hyperbola, a spiral, or a quadratic curve,
he would be compelled to recall their definitions or modes of construction
exactly, as well as the definitions of the terms which comprise those defini
tions, this would retard the attainment of new discoveries. If an arithmeti
cian, when calculating, were to think continuously of the values of all the
marks 2 or ciphers he writes and of the multitude of units involved, he would
never complete large calculations, just as if he wanted to use a corresponding
multitude of lapilli. Similarly, a jurist, when recalling the action, exception,
or benefits of a law, cannot always make a thorough mental examination of
the essential conditions3 of all these things, which are frequently very nume
rous — nor is such an examination necessary4. Hence, names were assigned
to contracts, to geometrical figures, and to several kinds of things, and signs
to numbers in Arithmetic and to magnitudes in Algebra, so that the signs of
all that was once discovered about things, either through reasoning or
through experience, could later safely be conjoined with the signs of those
very things5. In the number of signs I include words; letters; chemical, astro
nomical, Chinese and hieroglyphical figures; musical, stenographic, arithme
tic and algebraic marks; and all the others we use for things when thinking.
Written, traced, or sculpted signs are called 'characters'. Moreover, signs are
the more useful the more they express the concept of the thing they denote 6 ,
so that they may do service not only in representation but also in reasoning7.
For that purpose, the characters of Chemists and Astronomers are of no use,
unless someone like John Dee of London, the author of The Hieroglyphic
Monad8, expects to be able to discover in them some — I do not know which
— mysteries. Neither do I believe that the Chinese or Egyptian figures may
be useful for the discovery of truth. The Adamic Language or at least a lan
guage equivalent to it, which some claim to have known and to be able
thereby to grasp (intueri) the essence of things through the names given to
them by Adam, is certainly unknown to us. Ordinary languages, although
considerably helpful for reasoning, are guilty of countless equivocations and
cannot be used to perform the task of a calculus, namely, to allow the detec
tion of errors of reasoning through the formation and construction of words
themselves, as in the case of solecisms and barbarisms9. Up to now, such
admirable benefits are assured only by the symbols of Arithmetic and
Algebra, where all reasoning consists in the use of characters, and an error of
the mind is identical with an error of calculation.
As a matter of fact, when thinking about these matters a long time ago10,
it was already clear to me that all human thoughts may be resolved into very
few primitive notions; and that, if characters are assigned to them, it will then
be possible to form characters for the derived notions, from which it will
always be possible to extract all their conditions3, as well as the primitive
notions they contain, and — let me say explicitly — their definitions or val
ues, and, therefore, the properties 11 which may be deduced from the defini
tions as well. Once this is assured, anyone who would use this sort of charac
ter in reasoning or writing, would either never make a mistake, or his mis
takes would always be easily detectable by himself as well as by others. More
over, he would, as far as possible, discover the truth from the given12, and if
in some cases the available data were not sufficient for discovering that which
is sought13, he would still see which experiments or observations are neces
sary in order, at least, to be able to approach the truth, as far as possible from
the data, either by approximations or by the determination of a higher degree
of probability. In this system of characters, sophisms and paralogisms would
be nothing more than what errors of calculation are in Arithmetic, or sole
cisms and barbarisms in language.
Since this ars characteristica, whose idea I conceived, contains the True
Organon of the General Science of everything that falls under human reaso
ning — when clothed with the uninterrupted demonstrations of a clear calcu
lus — it will be necessary to expound our characteristic itself, i.e., the art of
using signs by means of a certain kind of exact calculus, in the most general
way. Since, however, it is not yet possible to establish how the signs should be
THOUGHT, SIGNS. AND THE FOUNDATIONS OF LOGIC 183
formed, we will follow in the meanwhile the example of the mathematicians,

and use, for the signs which are to be formed in the future, letters of the alpha
bet or any other arbitrary symbols which progress may show to be the most
adequate. Proceeding in this way, the order of the sciences "characteristical
ly"14 treated will be apparent, and it will teach us that Arithmetic is prior to
and simpler than the Elements of the Logical Calculus that deals with figures
and moods15.
Let an arbitrary16 character be A or B, or another symbol.
Let a composite of several characters be called a formula17.
If a certain formula is equivalent to a character, so that they may substi
tute for each other, let the formula be called the value of the character.
The primitive18 value of a character, that is, the one which is assigned to
it arbitrarily and must not be proved, is its signification19.
A relation of equipollence is said to hold among those (characters or for
mulae) 20 which can substitute for each other without violating the laws of the
calculus21.
Besides equipollence, there are many other relations which the subject
itself will manifest, e.g., inclusions, similarities, determinations — each will
be dealt with in the proper place. Relations are to characters and formulae
what judgments 22 are to concepts, or the second operation of the mind to the
first23.
A calculation— or operation consists in the production of relations by
means of transformations24 of formulae, performed according to certain pres
cribed laws. The greater the number of laws or conditions which are prescri
bed to the calculator, the more complex the calculus and the less simple the
characteristic. Therefore, it is clear that formulae (which may be understod
to include — as the simplest ones — the characters themselves), relations and
operations, are related in the same way as concepts, judgments and syllo
gisms. There are also complex relations, which presuppose certain opera
tions.
Let a character be said to be contained25 in a formula if it is clearly a part
26
of it ; similarly, a character will be said to be contained in another if it is
clearly a part of its signification27. Let a character be said to be involved (in a
formula) if at least through the substitution of equipollents it may finally be
shown to be contained (therein).
Characters may be contained in formulae either absolutely, i.e. simply,
or under a certain modification or relation to another character. For example,
in the formula A . ( B ) . C, A and  are contained directly, whereas  is
contained obliquely, under A28. It is also possible for all the characters of a
formula to be contained in it under a modification. For example,
where A . B . C , taken together as connected in a certain way,
constitute a single character directly composed out of A . . , and the same
holds for L . M . N . For if an absolutely posited character is expressed
otherwise than by modified characters, it is called direct29, and if by a modi
fied character, oblique. Some characters are contained in a formula in such a
way that they cannot be distinguished from one another; others are contained
differently30. A container31 or aggregate is a uniform composite, i.e., a formu
la which cannot be divided — except in an arbitrary way — into other formu
lae, e.g., A .  or A . . . Every composition is either equiform or nonequi-
form. It is equiform, as in A . B, or or when
the (elements) connected by the same link are also uniformly contained in a
link. It does not matter whether A and  are linked in the same way as  and
D, or whether A and  are connected in the same way as and (If
two (elements) are contained non-equiformly in a single link, like
and one of the same As is uniformly included in a new link with a near 
contained in the formula, like in. A will be direct, and  oblique33.
The extreme direct (elements) are those which terminate the formula, e.g.,
in the formula L and M will be the extreme direct, and A
and B, the intermediary (elements). Certain elements may be uniformly
conjoined, but with a kind of relation such that one of them (whichever you
like) may be considered as absolute, and the others, as modified. This hap
pens, for example, in multiplication: if in ab, a is given the value 2 and b, the
value 3, ab may be understood to mean 2b so that b becomes absolute and a,
the number by which b is multiplied. And, the other way around, a may be as
sumed to be an absolute whose modification is 3, so that a is understood to be
tripled.
A part of a formula is sometimes itself a formula and can stand by itself,
and sometimes it is something different34.
Footnotes
1 The paper is originally untitled. The title I suggest seems to fit its content better than Erd-
mann's proposed title "Fundamenta Calculi Ratiocinatori" (E. I. 92). N. Rescher ("Leibniz's In
terpretation of his Logical Calculi", The Journal of Symbolic Logic 19, p. 1, note 2) claims that
THOUGHT, SIGNS. AND THE FOUNDATIONS OF LOGIC 185
Leibniz in this paper '"adumbrates the notion of a logistic system**. This is what is probably meant
by Erdmann's 'calculus ratiocinator'. But the paper in fact places such a notion in the wider context
of a discussion of the nature of signs in general and their function in thought in particular. The da
ting is based on the allusion to the 1684 paper "On knowledge, truth and ideas" (L, 291-295).
2 notas.
3 essentialia requisita. 'Requisitum' is a technical term, thus defined by Leibniz: "Requisitimi
est id sine quo res esse non potest, aggregatum omnium requisitorum est causa plena rei" (Grua,
267 — December 1676), or "Requisitum est suspendens natura prius, vulgo causa sine qua non" (,
471 —from the years 1702-1704). It corresponds fairly well to what is nowadays called 'necessary
condition'. (See Confessio Philosophi, Belaval edition, note 23).
4 Leibniz was originally a jurist, and he manifested very early a deep concern for the problems
involved in dealing with the enormous amount of information relevant to every juridical decision.
The present passage contains an echo of that early concern. Roughly, Leibniz's view was that, gi
ven the limitations of the human intellect and particularly of human memory, only with the help
of "mechanical" aids, like indexes, thesauri, special printing devices, or more logically ordered sys
tems of law, could these problems be solved. He worked intensively — especially during his youth
— in the development of such aids, thus becoming the pioneer of what is now known as "Informa
tics" or "Information Science". It should be noticed that all such aids involve the use of signs of
some sort, a fact which makes their study a part of Leibniz's contribution to semiotics (broadly un
derstood). More on this topic, including full references to Leibniz's texts, may be found in my La
Sémiologie de Leibniz.
5 Here Leibniz seems to be formulating a condition that applies not to all types of signs, as sug
gested, but only to "adequate" signs, that is, those which constitute a "characteristica", as he will
explain later in this paper.
6 res signata. A thing is said to "express" another, in Leibniz's terminology, if "there are in it
relations corresponding to the relations of the thing expressed", ("... illud, in quo habentur
habitudines, quae habitudinibus rei exprimendae respondent"; Quid sit Idea, 1678, GP, VII, 263)
that is, if there is a structural isomorphism between the two things. The relation of "expression"
plays a crucial role in Leibniz's semiotics, as well as in his metaphysics. The special contribution
of this text to the understanding of the relation of "expression" is its suggestion that there are dif
ferent degrees of expression, namely, that a sign can express its designatum more or less. Here,
Leibniz claims that a relation of expression should hold, in its highest degree, between a sign and
its designatum, but this condition can only be satisfied, again, in a special "language", namely the
characteristica.
1 Therefore, the highest degree of expression is attained by a sign from which all the predica
tions deducible from the essential concept of the thing denoted can be directly deduced. Such a sign
could be said to be "deductively transparent". Compare this passage with the following one: "...
tanto perfectiores esse characteres, quanto magis sunt ita ut omnes consequentiae inde
duci possint" (, 284 — "... characters are the more perfect the more they are autonomous, so that
all the consequences may be deduced from them").
8 John Dee (1527-1608) "was one of the most celebrated and remarkable men of the
Elizabethan age. Philosopher, mathematician, technologist, antiquarian, teacher and friend of
powerful people... but also a magician deeply immersed in the most extreme forms of occultism:
he was Elizabethan England's great magus" (P. J. French, John Dee — The World of an
Elizabethan Magus, London. Routledge & Kegan Paul. 1972, page 1). His Monas Hieroglyphica,
first published in 1564, aimed to explain — in a purposedly obscure manner, in order to avoid its
misuse — Dee's hieroglyph, which he considered to be "a unified construction of significant astro-
alchemical symbols that embodied the underlying unity, or monas, of the universe" (ibid., p. 78).
Such a symbol "would embody the entire universe and. when understood and engraved within the
psyche, would enable men to achieve that gnostic regenerative experience" which is one of the
basic aims of hermetic philosophy (ibid.. p. 80). Although inspired in the work of Paracelsus and
Cornelius Agrippa, John Dee's work was highly original in developing a new alchemy. His book,
as well as his hieroglyph, were widely known and reproduced by many authors in the 17th century,
including Athanasius Kircher, whose writings had some direct influence upon the young Leibniz.
But in the present passage, of course, Leibniz claims that he is unable even to understand what
hermetic philosophers, in general, and John Dee, in particular, are looking for.
9 This is Leibniz's usual position concerning the 'scientific' use of natural languages: they
should be replaced, for 'scientific' purposes, by better systems of symbols. But this is not an opin
ion that Leibniz defends everywhere. See Appendix 2. note 5.
10 The reference is to the De Arte Combinatoria (1666), where these ideas were formulated by
Leibniz for the first time.
11 'affectiones' is the term used here by Leibniz, strangely enough.
12 quantum ex datis licet or quantum ex datis possibile est are standard formulae employed by
Leibniz in order to indicate the limitations imposed upon the scope of the characteristica.
13 quaesitum.
14 scientias characteristice tractatas.
15 Sc. of the syllogism. The "characteristic" order of sciences here mentioned and illustrated is
the ideal, logical order, going demonstratively from the simple to the complex. It should be com
pared to the more commonly found order, which goes from the complex to the simple, from the
"observed" facts and truths to their elements (see Appendix 2. ad finem). The former could be
dubbed "a priori" order, and the latter, "a posteriori". They correspond not only to the two differ
ent ways of constructing the "characteristica universalis". namely. starting either from general and
abstract considerations, as in this paper, or from an examination of what actually happens in natu
ral languages, as in many other texts, but also to the two general methods of thought and discovery
envisaged by Leibniz, the "synthetic" and the "analytic" methods. Here is one of his best descrip
tions of these methods: "The scientific method, which is the most perfect, starts not from that
which affects our senses, and whose nature is to be posterior, complex and particular, but rather
from notions and truths which are the most general and simple, being those which present them
selves in the first place to the intellect, and from which the intellect gradually goes down to the par
ticular and complex notions. In this process, the laws of synthesis, i.e., of the art of combinations,
are followed, showing how several species are formed by the orderly composition of the highest
genera and how theorems are generated through the combination of definitions among themselves
as well as with axioms, observations, and hypotheses. Nothing would ever be clearer and easier
than such a Synthetic Method, if only it were in our possession. However, before the establishment
of its Elements, i.e., of the highest genera or first notions as well as of the simplest axioms and
other first truths, a painstaking daily analysis is needed. A master should himself undertake this
analysis, in order to guarantee that such a beautiful synthesis be available to others, to whom it will
allow to transmit in a few hours the fruits of many years' work. But those who believe that Analysis
supersedes Synthesis because analysis is required for the perfection of synthesis, are completely
wrong" (C, 159).
16 quidlibet.
T H O U G H T . SIGNS. AND T H E F O U N D A T I O N S OF L O G I C 187
17 'Formula' here is. therefore, defined and used as a technical term, as are most of the terms
which follow. It should be noticed that such a use is by no means constant in Leibniz's writings. In
another text, for example (Appendix 2). he uses 'formula', more or less technically too. but in the
quite different sense of "idiomatic expression containing more than one sentence".
18 primigenius.
19 A 'signification' is, according to this definition, a sequence of characters, and not a kind of
"mentar" entity like a "concept", an "idea", etc. In other texts, however, the term is used with the
ambiguities involved in its current usage and not technically like here. It is instructive to compare
this strict definition with the difficulties of interpretation caused by Leibniz's apparently inconsis
tent usage of a word like 'term' in his important "Generales Inquisitiones de Analysi Notionum et
Veritatun"' (C, 356-399: English translation in P, 47-87). of 1686 (probably written at the same
period as the present paper).
20 The bracketed words are an addition of mine. The text does not specify the nature of what
can substitute, etc.
21 ... salvis calculi legibus. Compare this condition with Leibniz's famous "salva ventate" prin
ciple for identity: "Eadem sunt quorum unum in alterius locum substitui potest, salva ventate...""
(GP, VIH, 219).
22 enuntiationes.
23 This is an allusion to the traditional hierarchy of "operations of the mind", respectively:
conceiving, judging, reasoning and ordering. Arnauld and Nicole's la Logique ouI'Art de Penser
(whose fifth edition was published in 1683 and was therefore familiar to Leibniz) divides logic, ac
cordingly, into four parts, the logic of concepts, of judgments, of reasoning, and method.
24 transmutationes.
25 ingredi.
26 in qua expresse ponitur.
27 In the technical sense defined above (see note 19).
28 It is not clear why  is said to be "under A", in the formula . (  ) .  Maybe the brackets
are used to indicate a sort of "functional" notation, like in the predicate calculus, where 'a' is the
argument of the propositional function 'P( )' in the formula 'P(a)', But it seems that this interpre
tation is ruled out by the presence of a point between 'A' and '(B)'. The point, however could be
taken to be merely a punctuation mark. As a matter of fact, the symbolism used in this paper is nei
ther explained nor interpreted by Leibniz, and serves merely as an illustration for some general
definitions. For a' detailed account of his use of parentheses and other symbols, see the "General
Inquiries about the Analysis of Concepts and of Truth" (C, 357-359. English translation: P. pp. 48-
49).
29 rectus.
30 What Leibniz wants to say here is. probably, that different occurrences (tokens) of a charac
ter (type) may be either closely similar to each other, like A and A. or rather different in shape.
like A and a. Of course, a question may arise as to whether A and a are indeed tokens of the same
type. This only shows that a single type-token dichotomy may not be enough for dealing with these
problems. In any case, Leibniz apparently does not formulate even this elementary distinction.
31 continens.
32 The sign ' is left unexplained by Leibniz. Maybe it means the same as Frege's "assertion
sign', which is equiform to it. A similar sign is used by Leibniz in his "General Inquiries about the
Analysis of Concepts and of Truths" (C, 385; English translation, P, p. 74), where it denotes uni
versal quantification. The 'vinculum*, on the other hand, is widely used by Leibniz and usually
indicates the boundaries of a formula, as brackets do today.
33This seems to mean that is not taken to be a single component of the formula
but rather that A and  separately, as well as C, may be taken to be components of
34 Whereas the beginning of this paper seems to be a rather finished and well balanced piece of
work, towards its end Leibniz seems to hesitate, and the text becomes a sort of collection of notes
indicating ideas for further development. Thus, this final remark, although connected, in a general
way, with the whole topic of the paper, shows no particualr connection with what precedes it.
Moreover, it seems to contradict what Leibniz said before, for he defined 'formula' as a set of
characters, and indicated explicitly that characters may be considered "the simplest formulae"
from which it follows that every "part of a formula" is also a formula, unless there are elements in
a formula (maybe connectives?) which are not "characters".
6
ON THE CONNECTION BETWEEN THINGS AND

WORDS OR RATHER ON THE ORIGIN OF LANGUAGES 1
undated
C, 151-152
It is impossible to say that there is a sure and determinate connection

between things and words. But neither is the connection purely arbitrary.
There ought to be a reason why certain words are assigned to certain things.
It cannot be said that this was a result of design2, except for some artifi
cial languages, such as Golius3 thought Chinese to be, and such as Dalgarno,
Wilkins and others have constructed4. As for the primitive5 language used by
the first man, some think it was a result of God's design, others, that it was in
vented by Adam, a man illuminated by divine inspiration, at the moment he
gave names to the animals. But such a language either was entirely mutilated,
or necessarily subsists only in ruins, where it is difficult to recognize any wit6.
Nevertheless, languages have a certain natural source, namely the har
mony7 between sounds and affections which the sight of things excites in the
mind. And I think that such a source is not to be found only in the primitive
language, but also in later languages, born partly out of the primitive langua
ge and partly out of the new needs of men dispersed all over the world. And
of course, an onomatopoeia manifestly imitates nature, as when we attribute
'crocking'8 to frogs, or when 'st' means for us a demand for silence or rest, and
'r' a running, or when 'hahaha' designates laughing, and 'vae' pain.
Footnotes
1 The title is not Leibniz's but Raspe's, who also added the following remark: "These sheets
are only a part of what seems to be a bigger work and they contain only trivialities which do not
deserve publication*'.
2 ex instituto.
3 Jacques Golius (1596-1667), mathematician and orientalist. He was a well-known traveller
and usually brought home precious old manuscripts. The opinion Leibniz ascribes to him, about
the artificiality of the Chinese characters, was rather widespread in the 17th century. An interesting
rapprochement was usually made, then, between the Chinese characters and cryptographic sys
tems, and this view had some influence upon the projects of a "philosophical language" mentioned
in the next note (see Madeleine David, Le Débat sur les Ecritures etI'Hiéroglyphe aux XVIIe et
XVIIIe Siècles. Paris, S.E.V.P.E.N.. 1965). Leibniz refers to this view of Golius also in the
Nouveaux Essais, III. 1. 1 and III, 2, 1.
4 The references are to George Dalgarno's Ars Signorum, vulgo Character universalis et lingua
philosophica (London, 1661) and John Wilkins' An Essay toward a Real Character and a philoso
phical Language (London. 1668). These are the two most developed attempts to build a "philoso
phical language*' in the 17th century, but there were many others. Leibniz appreciated these
works, but considered them as misconceived on some essential points, and he thought that his own
Characteristica Universalis would overcome the mistakes of his predecessors (cf. A, I, i, 104; GP,
VIII. 7-8). For an account of the idea of a philosophical language in 17th century England, see Lia
Formigari, Linguistica ed empirismo nel Seiscento inglese (Bari. 1970).
5 The Latin expression 'primigenia orta' is much more emphatic. A more literal translation
would be "the first of all generated languages".
6 That is. the wit of its creator.
7 consensus.
8 coaxatio.
BIBLIOGRAPHY
1. Leibniz
A = Gottfried Wilhelm Leibniz. Sämtliche Schriften und Briefe, herausgegeben von

der Preussischen (jetzt Deutschen) Akademie der Wissenschaften zu Berlin, 6
Reihen, Darmstadt 1923 sv., Leipzig, 1938, Berlin. 1950 - (quoted as volume,
part, page).
 = . I. Gerhardt. Der Briefwechsel von G. W. Leibniz mit Mathematikern. Berlin,
1899 (reprinted. Hildesheim. 1962).
Bodemann = Die Leibniz-Handschriften der Köninglichen öffentlichen Bibliothek zu Han
nover. E. Bodemann. Hannover and Leipzig. 1899 (reprinted. Hildesheim.
1966).
 = Opuscules et Fragments inédits de Leibniz, extraits des manuscrits de la bib
liothèque royale de Hanovre par Louis Couturat. Paris. 1903 (reprinted. Hil
desheim. 1966).
Collect = G. W. Leibniz. Collectanea Etymologica, illustrationi linguarum. veteris, cel-
ticae. germanicae. gallicae. aliarum inservientia. cum praefatione Johannis
Georgii Eccardi. Hannover. 1717 (reprinted. Hildesheim. 1970).
CP = Confessio Philosophi (1673), texte, traduction et notes par Yvon Beiaval. Paris,
Vrin. 1961.
D = Gothofredi Guiliemi Leibnitii Opera Omnia, nunc primum colleta... par
Ludovicus Dutens. 6 vol.. Genève. 1767 (quoted as volume, part. page).
DS = Leibniz. Deutsche Schriften, ed. W. Schmied-Kowarzik. Leipzig, 1916.
E = God. Gud. Leibnitii Opera Philosophica quae exstant latina gallica germanica
omnia — instruxit J.E. Erdmann. Berlin. 1840.
GM = . I. Gerhardt (ed.). Leibnizens Mathematische Schriften. 7 vol.. Halle. 1849-
1863 (reprinted. Hildesheim. 1962).
GP = C. I. Gerhardt (ed.). Die Philosophischen Schriften von G. W. Leibniz. 7 vol..
Berlin. 1875-1890 (reprinted. Hildesheim. 1965).
Grua = G. W. Leibniz — Lextes inédits d'après les manuscrits de la bibliothèque provin
ciale de Hanovre, publies et annotés par Gaston Grua. 2 vol., Paris. Presses Uni
versitaires de France. 1948.
Jag = Leibnitiana. Elementa philosophiae arcanae de summa rerum, ed. Ivan
Jagodinsky. Kasan. 1913.
Child = The Early Mathematical Manuscripts of Leibniz. Translated from the latin texts
with critical and historical notes by J. M. Child. Chicago-London. The Open
Court Publishing company. 1920.
L = Gottfried Wilhelm Leibniz— Philosophical Papers and Letters, edited by Leroy

E. Loemker, 2nd edition. Dordrecht. D. Reidei Publ. C o . . 1969.
P = G. H. R. Parkinson. Leibniz— Logical Papers — A selection. Oxford, Clarendon
Press. 1966.
Pr = Leibniz — Œuvres, éditées par Lucy Prenant, avec introduction, tables et com
mentaires, tome I. Paris, Aubier Montaigne. 1972.
S = Gottfried Wilhelm Leibniz — Fragmente zur Logik, ausgewählt, übersetzt und

erläutert von Franz Schmidt. Berlin. I960.
VOR = G. W. Leibniz — Vorausedition zur Reihe VI — Philosophische Schriften. Manus

kriptdruck, Leibniz-Forschungsstelle der Universität Münster. 1982--.
2. Other seventeenth century sources
Arnauld and
Nicole. 1683 = La Logique ou I' Art de Penser, édition critique, d'après l'édition de 1683, pub
liée par Pierre Clair et François Girbal. Paris. Presses Universitaires de
France. 1965.
Arnauld and
Lancelot, 1672 = Grammaire Générale et Raisonée. édition critique présentée par Herbert E .
Brekle. Stuttgart-Bad Cannstatt. F. Frommann Verlag. 1966.
Sp = The Works of Francis Bacon, ed. by J Spedding. R. L. Ellis and D. D. H e a t h ,

London. 1864-1874.
N. . = Bacon, Francis, Novum Organum (The New Organon or True Directions Con
cerning the Interpretation of N a t u r e ) , in E . A . Burt (ed.) T h e English
Philosophers from Bacon to Mill, New York. 1939.
Descartes = The Philosophical Works of Descartes, translated by E. S. Haldane and G. R.

T. Ross. Cambridge University Press, 1964.
E. W. = The English Works of T h o m a s Hobbes. ed: Sir William Molesworth, L o n d o n .

1839-1845.
O. L. = Thomas H o b b e s Opera Philosophica quae Latina scripsit. ed. Sir William
Molesworth, L o n d o n , 1839-1945.
Locke = An Essay Concerning Human Understanding, edited with an introduction by

John W. Yolton. London, Dent, 1961.
Zabarella. J.
1608 — Liber de conversione demonstrationes in definitionem, in Opera Logica, fac
simile edition. Frankfurt. Minerva, 1966.
3. Other works
Aarsleff. H. ( 1969): ' T h e study and use of etymology in Leibniz". Akten des Internationalen Leib
niz Kongresses 1966. vol III. Wiesbaden: F. Steiner, 173-189.
BIBLIOGRAPHY 193
Aarsleff. H. ( 1970): "The history of linguistics and Professor C h o m s k y " . Language 46. 570-585.
A c k e r m a n n . R. (1972): "Opacity in actual belief structures'". The Journal of Philosophy 57. 689-
712.
Angelelli, I. (1970): "The techniques of disputation in the history of logic". The Journal of
Philosophy 67, 800-815.
Apel, . . (1963): Die Idee der Sprache in der Tradition des Humanismus von Dante bis Vico.
Bonn: Bouvier.
Ayer. A. J. (1942): Language, Truth and Logic. London: Victor Gollancz.
Bach, E. (1968): "Nouns and noun phrases", in E. Bach and R. T. Harms (eds. ). Universais in Lin
guistic Theory. New York: Holt. Rinehart and Winston. 91-122.
Bar-Hillel, Y. (1970): Aspects of Language. A m s t e r d a m : North Holland.
Belaval, Y. (1960): Leibniz Critique de Descartes. Paris: Gallimard.
Botha, R. P. (1970): The Methodological Status of Grammatical Argumentation. The Hague:

Mouton.
Brekle, H. E. (1971): "Die Idee einer generativen Grammatik in Leibnizens Fragmenten zur
Logik**, Studia Leibnitiana 3. 141-149.
Bunge. M. (1983): "The need to keep the dichotomy between truths of reason and truths of fact".
Vorträge der IV. Internationalen Leibniz-Kongress. Hannover: Gottfried-Wilhelm-Leibniz-
Gesellschaft, 85-91.
C a b a ñ a s , L. (1983): "Leibniz' Kritik am cartesischen Wahrheitskriterium". Vorträge der IV. Inter

nationalen Leibniz-Kongress. Hannover: Gottfried-Wilhelm-Leibniz-Gesellschaft. 103-109.
C a r n a p . R. (1942): "Introduction to Semantics. Cambridge. Mass.: Harvard University Press.
C a r n a p , R. (1967): The Logical Syntax of Language. London: Routledge and Kegan Paul.
Cassirer, E. (1953/7): The Philosophy of Symbolic Forms. 3 vols. New Haven: Yale Univ. Press.
Cassirer. E. (1962): An Essay on Man. New Haven: Yale Univ. Press.

Chomsky. N. (1964): "Current issues in linguistic theory", in J. Fodor and J. J. Katz (eds.). The
Structure of Language. Englewood Cliffs: Prentice Hall, 50-118.
Chomsky. N. (1965): Aspects of the Theory of Syntax. Cambridge, Mass. M.I.T. Press.
Chomsky. N. (1966): Cartesian Linguistics. New York: H a r p e r and Row.
Chomsky, N. (1968): Language and Mind. New York: Harcourt. Brace and World.
Church. A. (1945): "Definition", in D. R. Runes, The Dictionary of Philosophy. London: Rout-

ledge and Kegan Paul, 74-75.
C o b u r n . R. C. (1960): "The hiddennes of God and some barmecidal God surrogates"". The Journal
of Philosophy 57, 689-712.
Couturat, L. (1901): La Logique de Leibniz. Paris: Presse Universitaires de France.
Dascal, M. (1971a): "Empirical significance and relevance". Philosophic; 1. 81-106.

Dascal, M. (1971b): " A b o u t the idea of a generative grammar in Leibniz". Studia Leibnitiana 3.
272-290 (reprinted in this volume).
Dascal. M. (1973): review of Botha (1970), Philosophia 3, 351-364.
Dascal, M. (1975a): "La razón y los misterios de la fe segun Leibniz", Revista Latinoamericana de
Filosofía 1: 193-226 (reprinted in this volume).
Dascal, M. (1975b): "Quelques fonctions des signes d'après Leibniz et ses contemporains*'. Akten
des II. Internationalen Leibniz-Kongresses. Band IV. Wiesbaden: Franz Steiner Verlag, 239-255
(reprinted in this volume).
Dascal. M. (1976): "Language and money: a simile and its use in the 17th century philosophy of
language". Studia Leibnitiana 8: 187-218 (reprinted in this volume).
Dascal. M. (1977): "Caractères et pensée dans les Notes Parisiennes de Leibniz", Les Etudes
Philosophiques 1977(4): 387-398 (reprinted in this volume).
Dascal. M. (1978): La Sémiologie de Leibniz. Paris: Aubier-Montaigne.
Dascal. M. (1980): "Leibniz's early views on definition". In A. Heinekamp and M. Pfeil (eds.),
Theoria cum Praxis — Akten des III. Internationalen Leibnizkongresses, Band IL Wiesbaden:
Franz Steiner Verlag. 33-50 (reprinted in this volume).
Dascal. M. (1985): "Leibniz on the senses and the understanding: beyond empiricism and
rationalism", Yioun 34: 201-218 (in Hebrew).
David. M. (1965): Le Débat sur les Ecritures etI'Hiéroglyphe aux XVIème et XVIIème Siècles et
l'application de la Notion de Déchiffrement aux Ecritures Mortes. Paris: S.E.V.P.E.N.
Dubois. C. G. ( 1970): Mythe et Language au Seizième Siècle. Paris:
Dutz. K.D. (1984): "Schlüsselbegriffe einer Zeichentheorie bei G.W. Leibniz: Analysis und
synthesis. Expressio und Repraesentatio". in K.D. Dutz and L. Kaczmarek (eds.). Rekonstruk
tion und Interpretation. Tübingen: Gunter Narr, 259-310.
Essler. W. K. (1970): Wissenschaftstheorie I— Definition und Reduktion. Freiburg/München:
Alber.
Field. H. (1978): "Mental representation", Erkenntnis 13. 9-61.
Flew. A. N. (1963): "Theology and Falsification", in A. N. Flew and A. McIntyre (eds.). New
Essays in Philosophical Theology. London: SCM Press. 96-98. 106-108.
Formigari. L. (1970): Linguistica ed Empirismo nel Seiscento Inglese. Bari: Laterza.
Foucault. M. (1966): Les Mots et les Choses. Paris: Gallimard.
Gurwitsch. A. (1974): Leibniz— Philosophie des Panlogismus. Berlin: Walter de Gruyter.
Hacking. I. (1975): Why does Language Matter to Philosophy9 Cambridge: Cambridge Univ.
Press.
Hall. Jr., R. A. ( 1969): "Some recent studies on Port-Royal and Vaugelas". Acta Linguistica Haf-
niensia 12. 207-233.
Hare. R. M. (1955): "Theology and Falsification", in A. N. Flew and A. Mclntyre (eds.), New
Essays in Philosophical Theology. New York: MacMillan. 99-103.
Hazard, P. (1963): The European Mind 1680-1715. Cleveland and New York: Meridian Books.
Hempel. C. G. (1966): Philosophy of Natural Science. Englewood Cliffs: Prentice-Hall.
Hermes, H. (1969): "Ideen von Leibniz zur Grundlagenforschung: Die ars inveniendi und die ars
iudicandi". Akten des Internationalen Leibniz-Kongresses 1966. vol III. Wiesbaden: F. Steiner. 92-
102.
BIBLIOGRAPHY 195
Hilgard, E. R. and R. . Atkinson (1967): Introduction to Psychology. New York: Harcourt.

Brace and World.
H ü b e n e r . W. (1977): "Ist T h o m a s Hobbcs ultranominalist gewesen'?". Studia Leibnitiana 9, 77-

100.
Hungerland, I . c . and Vick. G . R . (1973): " H o b b e s ' s theory of signification". Journal of the His
tory of Philosophy 11: 459-482.
Jardine, L. (1974): Francis Bacon — Discovery and the Art of Discourse. Cambridge: Cambridge
Univ. Press.
Kalinowski, G. (1977): "La logique juridique de Leibniz", Studia Leibnitiana 9, 168-189.
Kant. I. (1781): Kritik der reinen Vernunft. Leipzig: Verlag Philipp Reclam (1971). [A = 1st e d . :
 = 2nd e d . ] .
Kant, I. (1800): Kant's Introduction to Logic and his Essay on the Mistaken Subtility of the Four
Figures. Translated by . . Abbott. New York: Philosophical Library. 1963.
Kaplan. D. (1968): "Quantifying in". Synthèse 19. 178-214.
Kaplan. E. K. (1973): "Language and reality in A b r a h a m J. Heschel's philosophy of religion".

Journal of the American Academy of Religion 4 1 , 94-113.
Kiparsky, P. (1968): "Linguistic universais and linguistic change", in E. Bach and R. T. Harms
(eds.), Universals in Linguistic Theory. New York: Holt, Rinchart and Winston. 171-202.
Kiparsky. P. (1970): "Historical linguistics", in J. Lyons (ed.), New Horizons in Linguistics.

Edmonsworth: Penguin Books. 302-315.
Kneale, W. and Kneale. M. (1962): The Development of Logic. Oxford: The Clarendon Press.
Knowlson, J. ( 1975): Universal Language Schemes in England and France 1600-1800. T o r o n t o and
Buffalo: University of T o r o n t o Press.
Lakoff, G. (1970): "Global rules". Language 46. 627-639.
Lakoff, G. (1971): "On generative semantics", in D. D. Steinberg and L. A. Jakobovits (eds.).

Semantics — An Interdisciplinary Reader in Philosophy, Linguistics and Psychology. Cambridge:
Cambridge Univ. Press. 232-296.
Land, S. K. (1974): From Signs to Propositions — the Concept of Form in 18th Century Semantic
Theory. London: Longmans.
Lewis, C. I. (1946): An analysis of Knowledge and Valuation. La Salle. III.: Open Court.
Lorenz, . (1970): Elemente der Sprachkritik. Frankfurt .  . : S u h r k a m p .
Lyons, J. (1968): Introduction to Theoretical Linguistics. Cambridge: Cambridge Univ. Press.
McPherson, T. (1955): "Religion as the Inexpressible", in A. N. Flew and A. Mclntyre (eds.).

New Essays in Philosophical Theology. New York: MacMillan, 131-143.
M c R a e , R. (1978): Leibniz: Perception, Apperception and Thought. T o r o n t o and Buffalo: Univ.

of T o r o n t o Press.
Mahnke. D. (1927): Leibnizens Synthese von Universalmathematik und Individualmetaphysik.

Halle: facsimile edition: Stuttgart-Bad Cannstatt: F r o m m a n n . 1964.
Martinet. A. (1960): Eléments de Linguistique Générale. Paris: A r m a n d Collin.

196 LEIBNIZ. L A N G U A G E . SIGNS A N D T H O U G H T
Mathews, G. B. (1964): "Theology and Natural Theology". The Journal of Philosophy 61,99-108.
Miller, G.R. (1967): 'The magical number seven, plus or minus two: some limits on our capacity
for processing information. In The Psychology of Communication. London: Allen Lane, The Pen
guin Press.
New Catholic Encyclopedia. Washington: The Catholic University of America, 1967.
Olaso, E. (1973): "Leibniz y el arte de disputar". Diálogos 9, 7-31.
Parkinson, G.H.R. (1982): 'The Intellectualization of Appearances": Aspects of Leibniz's
Theory of Sensation and Thought". In M. Hooker (ed.). Leibniz: Critical and Interpretative
Essays. Manchester: Manchester University Press, 3-20.
Postal. P. M. (1964): "Limitations of phrase structure grammars", in J. Fodor and J. J. Katz(eds.),
The Structure of Language. Englewood Cliffs: Prentice Hall. 137-152.
Reeves. J. W. (1969): Thinking about Thinking. London, Methuen.
Risse, J. W. (1969): Die Logik der Neuzeit I: 1500-1640. Stuttgart-Bad Cannstatt: Frommann.
Risse. J. W. (1970): Die Logik der Neuzeit II: 1640-1780. Stuttgart-Bad Cannstatt: Frommann.
Rosenbloom. P. (1950): The Elements of Mathematical Logic. New York: Dover.
Rossi. P. (1960): Clavis Universalis, Arti Mnemoniche e Logica Combinatoria da Lullo a Leibniz.
Milano/Napoli: Riccardo Ricciardi.
Rossi, P. (1968): Trancis Bacon —from Magic to Science. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.
Sacramentum Mundi — An Encyclopedia of Theology. New Haven: Herder. 1969.
Saussure, F. de (1915): Cours de Linguistique Générale. Paris: Payot; ed. of 1969.
Schulenburg, S. von der (1973): Leibniz als Sprachforscher. Frankfurt a. M.: Vittorio Kloster
mann.
Serrus, . (1945): Traité de Logique. Paris: Aubier-Montaigne.
Shannon. . E. and Weaver, W. (1964): The Mathematical Theory of Communication. Urbana:
IIIini Books.
Suppes, P. (1957): Introduction to Logic. Princeton: Van Nostrand.
Ueberweg. F. (1893): Grundriss der Geschichte der Philosophie der Neuzeit. 6th ed. Berlin: Mittler
und Sohn.
Vanderslice, R. (1970): "Occam's razor and the so-called stress cycle". Language Sciences 13, 9-
15.
Verburg. P. A. (1968): "Ennoesis of language in 17th century philosophy of language", Linguali 21,
558-572.
Watkins, J. W. M. (1973): Hobbes's System of Ideas. London: Hutchinson.
Whitehead, A. N. (1967): "The importance of good notation", from his Introduction to Mathema
tics, in I. M. Copi and J. A. Gould (eds.), Readings on Logic. New York: MacMillan.
Wilson, M. D. (1976): "Leibniz: self-consciousness and immortality in the Paris Notes and after",
Archiv für Geschichte der Philosophie 58, 335-352.
Wisdom, J. (1944/5): "Gods", Proceedings of the Aristotelian Society, reprinted in A. N. Flew, ed.,
Logic and Language, 1st Series. Oxford: Blackwell (1952), 187-206.
Yates, F. A. (1966): The Art of Memory. Chicago: The University of Chicago Press.
INDEX
A A R S L E F F , H. 28, 29, 141, 143, 165 B A C H , E . 139

abbreviation 35, 66, 73, 157 B A Y L E , P. 115, 117-9
A C K E R M A N N , R. 123 B A C O N , F. 1-5, 6. 9-13. 15, 19, 22. 24-5,
adequacy 132,133 26-8
ad-hocness SEE arbitrariness B A R - H I L L E L , Y. 144. 164
adjective SEE word B A R T H , K. 122
adverb SEE word behaviorism 128
agreement 177, 179 B E L A V A L . Y. 51, 185
A G R I P P A VON N E T T E S H E I M ,  186 belief 93-4. 97. 99-111. 115 SEE ALSO
alchemy 186 reason to believe
algebra 24, 35-6, 42-5, 47, 52-3, 63, 68, 74, B E R K E L E Y , G. 28
77, 130. 142, 149, 157, 167-9, 173, 181-2 B O T H A , R.P. 142
allegory 98 B O U R B A K I . N . 173
analogy 24-5, 29, 63, 67, 77, 125, 127, 177 B R E K L E . H . E . 125, 127-131, 133. 136-
analysis 16, 20-1, 70-1. 75, 114. 125, 127, 140
129-31,134,138,144,157,161-5,169-70, B U N G E , M. 82,83,85-6
173-4, 186
cabala 24
analyticity 81, 122
C A B A N A S , L. 91
Analytics 36, 42, 47, 130
calculation SEE computation
analyzability 164
calculus 36, 63, 72, 182-5, 187-8
A N G E L E L L I . I 119
anti-nominalism 22, 24, 62 -, differential 48, 134
A P E L , K.O. 28-9 -, formal 20
apperception 38, 55 -, geometrical 168-74
arbitrariness 23-5, 27, 29, 54. 56-7, 59, 61- C A R N A P , R. 76
CASSIRER, E. 18,58-9
4, 67, 72-4, 76, 79, 88, 120, 132-5, 142-3,
certainty 90, 101-2. 122, 156
176, 183,189
C H A F E , W.L. 164
argumentation 8, 120
C H A P E L A I N , J. 78
Ariadne's thread 51, 161, 164, 185
character x-xi. 13, 17. 20, 43-5, 47, 49-51,
A R I S T O T L E 6, 8, 11, 55. 66, 77. 123,
53-9, 63, 65-8, 72-7, 79, 85, 91, 138, 143-
148,178
4, 161-2, 167-70, 178, 181-4. 187,190
arithmetic 35, 47, 52, 62-3, 74, 76-7, 79.
-, ambiguous 134, 173
120, 147, 149, 157, 164, 167, 177, 181-3
-, 'rr' 2, 190 SEE ALSO philosoph
A R N A U L D , A. 59, 69, 73-4. 76, 78, 92,
ical language
187
characteristica 72, 182-3. 185-6
ATKINSON, R.C 44
- geometrica 68, 167-74, 178
A U G U S T I N E , St. 121
- universalis ix, 13. 22, 42, 47-8, 53,
A V E R R O E S 68
74,79, 114, 178, 186,190
axiomatization 47, 154
- verbalis 175-80
A Y E R , A J . 122
Chinese 2, 181-2. 189 144, 147-50, 153-4, 163, 165, 169, 181-2,
CHOMSKY, N. 128,130-2, 135, 137, 139, 186
141-4 -, dictionary 65
C H R Y S O S T O M 121 -, explicative 65-6,69-70,72,74
C H U R C H ; A. 76 -, nominal 6 4 , 6 9 , 7 1 , 7 8
C I C E R O 6, 8 -, real 61-4,66,70-2,75-6,78,83
C L A V I U S , C . 148 - rei 69-71
C O E U R N , R . C . 121 -, semantic 66, 69-72, 74
cognitive function 10-1, 15-6, 25, 28-9, 36, -, syntactic 66-9,71-3,75
43,47-8,50,54,58,74-5,97,179 demonstration 36, 48, 54, 58-9, 61, 64, 66,
coherence 57, 85 68-70, 77-8, 83, 111, 131, 147-59, 161,
combinatoria 130, 141-2. 186 169, 181 SEE ALSO proof
communication 2, 3, 10, 33-4, 135 D E S C A R T E S , R. 8, 40-2, 45, 51, 58-9,
communicative function 4, 11, 15, 28-9, 70,76,78,84,91,113,155,173
31-3, 39, 135-136, 144, 179 dialectician 41, 45
compatibility 50-1 dialectics 10, 52, 66, 78
computation 7, 10-1, 25, 27, 34, 36, 69, didactics 36, 129
149, 173, 181-3 directive function 28, 97
conatus 124, 152, 155-6, 158 discovery 161 SEE ALSO method
conceptual operation 82-5, 89-90, 167 -, art of 2 6 , 3 4 , 3 6 , 4 7 , 1 3 0 , 1 4 2
C O N D I L L A C , E . B . 143 -, context of 82, 127-8
connection 177, 179 disputation 119-20
C O N R I N G , H. 70 dogma 93,95-6,111,121,124
consciousness 55, 89, 158 dream 85
consistency 64 D U B O I S , C.G. 24
contemplation 39, 113 D U M A R S A I S , C . C . 143
contingency 86-7, 157 SEE ALSO truth D U T Z , K. 27
contradiction 72, 110-1, 114, 155
emblem 2, 5, 174
controversy 37, 98-9, 114, 124, 128
convention 11, 23, 69, 82-3, 120, 132 emotive function 96-7
empirical operation 82-3, 89, 167
-,notational 132-4, 142
empiricism 128
conventional 6, 7, 9, 13, 23, 67
English 142
de C O R D E M O Y , G. 136
ennoesis 29
C O S T A B E L , P . 155
épistémé 1, 19, 21, 22, 24-5, 48, 66
C O U T U R A T , L. 11-3, 18, 22-3, 27-9, 83,
epistemology ix-x, 20, 22, 36, 48, 75, 82-3,
113-4,129, 173-4,180
86,89, 97, 157
D A L G A R N O , G . 29,189-90 E R D M A N N , J . E . 184-5
D A S C A L , M. 18, 2 1 , 26-9, 42, 58-9, 76-9, E S S L E R , W . 76
83,91-2,122,142,144,158 ethics 52
D A V I D , M. 26, 174, 190 etymology 23, 27, 134, 143, 162, 164-5
deduction 41, 84, 127, 131, 156, 185 E U C L I D 148, 150, 154, 165, 173
D E E , J. 182,185-6 expressibility, principle of 164
defensibility 116-20 expression x, 29, 57, 63, 126, 168, 172,
definition 4-11, 16, 20, 25, 31, 48-9, 51-3, 181,185
58, 61-79, 82-83, 101, 112,131, 140, 142, expressive function 135
INDEX 199
faith 93-4,96-9,103,115,124 HARRIS, Z. 128

fallacy 3 HAZARD, P. 121
fideism 121,124 Hebrew 24
FIELD, H. 122 HEINEKAMP, A. xi, 27
FISCH, M. 180 HEMPEL, C G . 127, 129, 131
FLEW, A.N. 122 heraldics 174
formalism 21, 29, 41, 52, 84, 128 HERMES, H. 142
formalization 36, 41, 47, 68-9, 137 SEE HESCHEL,A.J. 122
ALSO calculus hieroglyph 2, 26, 174, 181-2, 185-6
FORMIGARI, L. 25-6, 190 HILGARD,E.R. 44
formula 162, 183-8 history 163
FOUCAULT, M. 1,19,21,24,58 HJELMSLEV, L. 179
FREGE, G. 188 HOBBES, T. x, 1, 5-13, 17-8, 22-5, 27-9,
French 176 32-6, 39, 41, 42, 44, 58, 61-7, 69, 71, 73,
FRENCH, P.J. 185 76,78-9,148-9,155-6,158
HOLMYARD,E.J. 179
GALILEI, G. 25, 155
homonymy 138-9, 144, 163
GALLOIS, J. 47,72-3,76
HÜBENER, W. 76
gender 176
HUGGARD,E.M. 124
geometry 35, 52, 79, 84, 147, 157, 164,
HUNGERLAND, I.C. 44
167-74, 177
HUYGHENS,  48, 155
German 14-5
Hypothesis physica nova 147, 155
gesture 2
GLOUBERMAN,M. 58-9 idea 19-20, 32, 34-6, 39-40, 42, 44, 49, 50-
GÖDEL, K. 120 1, 53, 57-8, 63, 67, 69-71, 73-8, 88-9,110-
GOLIUS,J. 189-90 1, 118, 126, 147, 149, 154, 158, 181, 187
grammar, generative 125-44 -, clear 89, 100-2, 105, 106, 113, 118,
-, phrase structure 136-8 121-2, 150
-, Port Royal 44 -, confused 92, 98, 105-8, 110-1, 115,
-, rational ix, 133 118, 123, 158
-, structural 126, 136-7 -, distinct 101, 105-6, 113-4, 118, 121-
-, transformational 126, 129, 132, 2,150
136-7, 142-3 -, innate 130
-»universal 134,140-1,143 -, obscure 89,92-3, 158
grammatical analysis 163,178 ideogram 2
- case 138-41, 143-4, 163, 165, 176 identity 187
- composition 153, 163, 184 idiomaticity 164, 187
- transformation 106, 126 'idol' 3-4,10,15,25
GRANGER, G.G. 59 image 35, 41, 43, 51, 53-5, 58-9, 98, 100,
GURWITSCH,A. 67 110
GUÉROULT, M. 155 -, sensible 51, 53, 58
imagination 9, 40-2, 51-2, 55, 57, 70, 73,
HALL, Jr. R.A. 141 78-9,149, 161,168,170
HARE,R.M. 122 immortality of the soul 56
harmony 135, 152-3, 156, 189 index 59
-, pre-established 57 induction 5, 26, 82, 127,129-31
infinite 21, 53. 148 - of nature 25

inflexion 162-5, 176 -philosophical 176-7, 179,190
informarics 36, 185 - of science 33
information, quantity of 38 Latin 141, 162, 165
informative function SEE communicative Lernsituation and Lehrsituation 127
function Lewis, C.I. 65-6, 76
inspectionism 35-6, 50, 70 linguistic 5, 133, 178, 178
intelligibility 94-6, 98-9, 106, 109-11, 114- - nationalism 15
5, 117-20 - competence 132-3
interpretation 97, 99, 123, 138 linguistics xi, 3, 36, 125-6, 128, 130, 140,
interpreter 31 142
intuition 84 -, 'Cartesian' 136, 141
intuitionism 4 1 , 5 1 - 2 , 7 0 , 8 2 literalism 97-8
invention SEE discovery L O C K E . J. 28, 33, 39, 86, 91, 136, 179
isomorphism 185 logic x, 3. 10, 19, 36. 41. 43, 50, 66, 68, 75,
Italian 176 78, 82, 86-9. 94, 112, 117, 139-40, 181-8
logistic 29, 185
J A C Q U E L O T , I. 57 L O R E N Z , K. 127
J A G O D I N S K Y , I. 58
LULL, R. 148, 156, 177, 180
J A K O B S O N , R. 179
LYONS, J. 128, 136, 178
J A R D I N E . L. 26
J Ä S C H E , G . B . 91 MCPHERSON, T. 122
On the Judge of Controversies 98-100, 102- M c R A E , R. x, 92
3, 115, 118, 122, 124 M A H N K E . D . 53,59
jurisprudence 37, 61, 70, 185 M A R I O T T E . E . 68
justification 82-3, 127, 131-2 M A R T I N E T , A. 143
mathematics x, 4, 9-10, 21, 24-5, 48, 52-3,
KALINOWSKI, G. 77 6 1 , 7 8 . 8 4 , 9 4 , 117, 163
KANT, I. 86-9,91-2 mathematical notation ix, 20
K A P L A N . D. 123 - reasoning 53
K A P L A N , E.K. 122 mathesis universalis 28
K I E R K E G A A R D , S. 122 M A T H E W S . G.B. 96
K I P A R S K Y , P . 135
meaning 99-100. 112-4, 140, 148, 155, 162-
K I R C H E R . A. 186
5
K N E A L E . M. 34, 69
-, emotive 97, 121
K N E A L E . W . 34, 69
-, literal 97
K N O W L S O N . J . 7,9.26-7
meaningfulness 96, 108, 122
L A K O F F . G. 132, 142-3
mechanics 148, 155-6, 158, 170
L A N D , S . K . 44
medicine 61
language 1-29, 161-5. 175-80
memory 2, 32, 36-41, 44, 47, 54-6, 59, 185
-. abuse of 9. 10
-, long term (LTM) 38-9,41
-. Adamic 182. 189
-, short term (STM) 37-41,43
-. analogical 25
- trace 54-7, 59
-. conventional nature of 9 SEE
mental discourse 35,49-50
ALSO arbitrariness
metaphor 14, 27,97-8
-, improvement of 28 metaphysics x. 48, 52-3. 57, 61, 75, 113,
INDEX 201
117,163, 178,185 paralogism 182

method 127, 130, 142, 164 PARKINSON, G.H.R. 92. 157. 159
-, analytic 127, 129, 141-2, 186 Paris Notes 47-59
-of discovery 12931, 170, 186 particle SEE word
-, Euclid's 154, 165 PASCAL, B. 39.44, 78
-of exposition 127, 129, 165 P A T Z I G , G. 178
-, geometrical 47 pedagogy SEE didactics
-, Ramus' 165 P E I R C E , C . S . 59, 180
-»synthetic 127, 129, 141-2, 186 perception 55-6, 90, 101
MILLER, G.R. 37-8.44 philology 99
mnemonic function 31-5, 39, 4 1 . 43, 50, phoronomy 147, 156, 174
54,58 physics 61,91, 94, 113, 163
Mnemonics 36-8, 42, 44, 47 P L A T O 5 1 , 7 0 , 7 8 , 8 2 . 149
model 167 point of view 67, 77
de M O L I N A , L. 156-7 P O P P E R , K. 128
monad 68, 77, 182, 185-6 Port Royal Grammar 44
mystery of faith 93-124 Port Royal Logic 69, 74, 76, 92, 178, 187
mystic 98, 109 positivism 96, 122, 155
possible world 157
name 33, 44, 78 SEE ALSO word possibility 51, 53, 58, 64-5, 71-2, 75, 77-8,
natural light 81, 117 111-5, 119-20, 157
necessity 81.87-8 SEE ALSO truth POSTAL, P.M. 137-8
N I C O L E , P. 69, 74, 76, 78, 92, 187 pragmatics 136
N I Z O L I U S , M. 66, 70, 77, 156 Preface to Nizolius 62-3, 66-7, 73, 78, 91,
nominalism 22-4, 28, 62, 66, 76-7, 156, 122, 154-6, 164, 178, 180
178,180 preposition SEE word
nota 2 , 2 6 , 3 1 - 2 , 3 4 , 4 3 - 4 , 1 8 1 pronoun SEE word
notation 62, 134, 168, 171, 187 SEE proof 69, 75, 84, 109, 115-6 SEE ALSO
ALSO convention demonstration
notion 88, 110 -, burden of 119
-, primary 71, 142, 182 proportionality 67, 77, 88, 91, 168
noun SEE word proposition 94, 97. 102. 105-8. 111. 123,
numeral SEE word 139, 163, 165,167
oblique 153, 159, 184 -, directly observable 154-5
O C C A M , W. 62 - of fact SEE factual truth
de O L A S O , E . 58, 119 -, identical 72-3, 79, 81, 84. 91, 131,
O L D E N B U R G . H. 76 151
onomatopoeia 189 -, primary 83, 91. 147-59
ontological proof 76 - of reason SEE truth of reason
opacity 105-6, 108, 123 prepositional attitude 97. 102. 115
operation 183 SEE ALSO conceptual and proverb 162
empirical psittacisme (parroting) 23. 99. 103
psychologism 89, 91
O T T O , R . 122
psychology 48, 82, 87-8. 128, 148, 156
P A L L A V I C I N O , P.S. 148, 156 psychotechnical function 35. 48, 58
P A R A C E L S U S 179, 186 P Y T H A G O R A S 149. 157
quantification 188 61-5.71.75. 133-4. 136, 178-9, 185

Q U I N E . W.V.O. 122, 179 sensation 39, 101, 122, 155
sense 9, 51, 70, 72-3, 78-9, 81-2, 84-6, 88-
R A M U S . P. 165
91, 100, 122, 142, 147, 155-6, 168, 186
R A S P E . R.E. 190
- data 57
rationalism 130
sensibility 87
reason 70, 78, 85-6. 93-6, 109, 115, 118,
s e n t e n c e . 99-100. 137, 155, 162-3
149, 155-6
S E R R E S , M. 157
- t o believe 108-9, 116
S E R R U S . C . 76,78
reasoning x. 7-115, 13, 16-20, 23, 25, 27, 32,
S H A N N O N . C E . 38
34-5, 37, 42-4, 48-9, 51-3, 56-7, 59, 69,
sign SEE character, nota, symbol
74, 84-5, 149, 154, 168, 176, 181-2, 187
-, sensible 3 2 , 3 4 , 3 9 , 5 1 , 1 6 1
reckoning x, 7-9. 23. 27, 34
- vehicle 31
recoding 38, 40, 44
signature 24-5, 29
R E E V E S . J.W. 35
signification 69, 75-6, 99, 143, 154, 161,
reflection 56, 150
168, 183
religious discourse 93-124
signifié 64, 154
reminiscence 70, 82, 149
signifiant 63, 154
representation 22, 24, 54, 57, 139. 167.
similitude 24
170, 174, 181
skepticism 95, 121, 148
R E S C H E R , N . 184
social function 33
revelation 93,95-6, 109, 114
Socinian 96, 121
rhetoric 26, 66
SOCRATES 82
R I E M A N N , G . F . B . 173
solecism 182
RISSE, J.W. 69
S O P H I E - C H A R L O T T E , Princess 81-88
R O S E N B L O O M . P . 76
Spanish 176
ROSSI. P. 26
SPINOZA, . 70
rule 133, 135, 137-9, 143
STAHL, D. 111-2, 123
-, formation 137, 139-40, 163
structuralism 126-32, 135, 141
-. rewrite 137-8
sufficient reason, principle of 29, 59, 143,
-, transformation 126, 136, 137, 139-
151, 156-8, 164
41, 183
super-nominalism 22, 62
RUSSEL, B. 180
S U P P E S , P . 76
salvation 98-9 syllogism 186
of St. VINCENT, G. 148,156 symbol 40, 53, 66, 69, 72, 78, 84-5, 92, 133,
de S A U S S U R E , F. 21, 68, 77, 143, 179 157, 174. 182-3, 186
scepticism SEE skepticism symbolic animal 18
SCHMIDT, F. 179 - thought SEE thought
S C H U L E N B U R G , S. von der 28-9 symbolism 36-7, 89, 134, 187
scientia media 148,156-7 syntactic SEE definition
self 81 syntax 68. 133. 136
S E A R L E , J.R. 164 synthesis 16, 125, 127, 129-31, 157, 170,
semantic(s) 28, 33, 50, 66-8, 71. 77, 82, 94, 174, 186
100-1, 139, 141, 178
textualism 98-9
semiotic(s) 3, 5. 13. 19, 21, 26, 29, 36, 57,
Theodicy 115-20. 124
INDEX 203
theology 56, 61, 95-6, 113-4, 124, 156-7 validation SEE justification
T H O M A S , St. 6,8 V A N D E R S L I C E . R. 142
thought 13,31, 36, 88-90, 136, 158, 161, verb SEE word
181-8 V E R B U R G , P. 29
-, asymbolic 79 verification 96
-, blind 2 0 , 4 3 . 5 3 , 7 2 . 7 4 . 149, 157 VICK, G.R. 44
- as computation 27
WATKINS. J.W.M. 25
-, confused 98
W E A V E R , W. 38
-, reflective 150
W H I T E H E A D . A.N. 37,42
-, symbolic 20, 43.72, 88-9.91-2
W I L K I N S . J . 29, 189-90
T O L A N D , J. 95. 121
WILSON, M.D. 58
Topics 36, 42, 47, 142
W I S D O M . J. 122
T S C H I R N H A U S , W. 71,76
W I T T G E N S T E I N . L. 21
transformation SEE grammar and rule
word 1, 33, 44,50, 99-100, 144, 148, 155,
transparency 105-6, 123, 185
162, 175, 178
truth 8-10, 29, 41, 53, 61-5, 67-8, 72-3. 77,
adjective 143, 175
99-100, 102, 107, 155, 161, 164, 181-2
adverb 133, 143, 163
-, analytic conception of 75, 122, 164
-, categorematic 164
-, contingent 82, 86-7. 130. 157
conjunction 163, 176
-, factual 82-3, 85-6, 88, 90-1, 147, 155
interjection 163
-, necessary 81-2, 112, 130. 161
noun 134, 143, 175-8, 180
-, primary 83, 142. 186, SEE ALSO
numeral 18,79, 143, 149
primary proposition
particle 50, 139, 163-4, 176
-of reason 81-92, 147. 155
preposition 133, 141,176-7, 179
T W A D D E L L , W.F. 128
-, primary 162-3
U E B E R W E G , F. 7,28 pronoun 50
understanding 15-9, 24-5, 41-3, 53, 81, 87-8 -, syncategorematic 164
unintelligibility 93-6, 98. 101, 106, 109-10, verb 13341, 143, 176
114-15, 117, 121
Y A T E S , E.A. 38,47
universal characteristic SEE 'characterstica
universalis Z A B A R E L L A . J . 68,69,77
universais 62, 66, 77, 178
'uno obtutu' 3 8 , 4 4 , 4 9 , 5 0

Burge-Foundations of Mind

Enviado por

Dados do documento

Título original

Direitos autorais

Formatos disponíveis

Compartilhar este documento

Compartilhar ou incorporar documento

Opções de compartilhamento

Você considera este documento útil?

Este conteúdo é inapropriado?

Direitos autorais:

Formatos disponíveis

Burge-Foundations of Mind

Enviado por

Direitos autorais:

Formatos disponíveis

LEIBNIZ.

LANGUAGE, SIGNS AND THOUGHT

Advisory Editorial Board

Herbert E. Brekle (Regensburg); Geoffrey L. Bursill-Hall (Burnaby, B.C.)

Leibniz. Language, Signs and Thought

JOHN BENJAMINS PUBLISHING COMPANY

A manuscript of Leibniz on the use of characters vii

Appendix: Leibniz's texts on language, signs and thought 145

Leibniz's lifelong concern with language and signs in general is well-

nificant connections can be established between Leibniz's studies on signs

The question of the relationship between signs and thought as conceived

A Simile and its Meaning in 17th Century

The comparison between language and money, between the value of

of communication. It is rather a theoretical, perhaps even philosophical point:

compares words to money, in the Leviathan (I, 4; E. W., III, 25):

tions. "For the errors of definitions multiply themselves according as the

Such theses are restated by Hobbes in the paragraph under considera­

3. Bacon and Hobbes

overridden by deeper and more important differences. Let us sum up these

The first sentence seems to reproduce almost literally Hobbes' state­

frequently discussed in the context of the widespread German linguistic

calls attention in the Unvorgreiffliehe Gedancken, as well as in many other

rechenpfennige, marcken, or wechsel-zeddel. Paradoxically, therefore, the

5. Leibniz and Hobbes

son to person and from generation to generation, of the knowledge necessary

convenient use of signs is a means to overcome the limitation of our STM,

itself. It is essential, on the contrary, that, in this kind of reasoning, our

pointed out by commentators — it seems to me that there has been no recog­

characters. The first movement consists in showing the utility of characters

tuitionism', from leibnizian 'formalism'.

tion of signs, figures and images is to 'accompany' mathematical reasoning, in

A number of features of this argument suggest that it should be inter­

c) Finally, it is a memory or perception without characters, i.e., without cor­

by premiss V, it is in fact against V that the argument is directed.

1 Cf. Dascal 1975b.

perfectly possible to interpret his thesis, out of context, in either of these

The emphasis placed on the semantic dimension, leading to a reduction

condemns as 'logomachy' the attempts of those who, like Nizolius, still

existence as an idea. If such a non contradiction is proved, then one has an

combination of concepts is not self-contradictory? Well, just in case one can

explicative and semantic definitions. Nevertheless, there are some minor

thinks" 44 . But whereas such a conception has no competitors whatsoever for

Why should the formulas of symbolic logic reflect

1. According to Leibniz, truths of reason in general, and logical truths in

observation, measurement, and experiment?

Should we discard all of Leibniz's concern for, and careful investigation

of epistemic concepts in his definitions of logical and ontological concepts (cf.

Certainty thus lies in a peculiar mode of perception of truth, rather than

of an 'irreducible metaphor' would be strictly meaningless (cf. A, VI, i, 337-

correct principles is necessary for salvation. Consequently, the determination

a 'belief in 'nothing' (defined by Leibniz as "that which can be named but

components of the sentence 'Rome is situated on the Tiber'.

troversies will help us to answer this question.

3.6 Let us first consider the sentence:

ge of the proposition expressed by the sentence 'the sacramental bread and

the mysteries. The mysteries are 'revealed' to a small number of prophets

satisfaction of the unintelligibility requirement is too high, to such an extent

4.1 In order to illustrate the application of this strategy, let us consider

bed in the mysteries:

substantiation when it is properly understood... is not opposed to the views

Whereas the solution proposed by Leibniz in the Judge of Controversies

However, he continues, there is no doubt that the objection is victorious in

21 The concept of 'opacity' (and 'transparency'), as defined by Quine is a discrete concept: a

Such theses are restated by Hobbes in the paragraph under considera

The first sentence seems to reproduce almost literally Hobbes' state

pointed out by commentators — it seems to me that there has been no recog

A number of features of this argument suggest that it should be inter

c) Finally, it is a memory or perception without characters, i.e., without cor

surface-case to each of its deep meanings. Moreover, in describing this pro

the mode of formation or composition must be explained: formation of deri

racteristic, because it seemed to me that it was necessary to start from Ele

All human reasoning is performed by means of certain signs or charac

VOR = G. W. Leibniz — Vorausedition zur Reihe VI — Philosophische Schriften. Manus

C a b a ñ a s , L. (1983): "Leibniz' Kritik am cartesischen Wahrheitskriterium". Vorträge der IV. Inter