Download the full version of the ebook at ebookname.

com

Logic Language and Method On Polarities in Human

Experience Philosophical Papers 1st Edition Kuno
Lorenz

https://ebookname.com/product/logic-language-and-method-on-
polarities-in-human-experience-philosophical-papers-1st-
edition-kuno-lorenz/

OR CLICK BUTTON

DOWNLOAD EBOOK

Download more ebook instantly today at https://ebookname.com

Instant digital products (PDF, ePub, MOBI) available
Download now and explore formats that suit you...

Quantifiers in language and logic Peters

https://ebookname.com/product/quantifiers-in-language-and-logic-
peters/

ebookname.com

Logic Without Borders Essays on Set Theory Model Theory

Philosophical Logic and Philosophy of Mathematics 1st
Edition Asa Hirvonen
https://ebookname.com/product/logic-without-borders-essays-on-set-
theory-model-theory-philosophical-logic-and-philosophy-of-
mathematics-1st-edition-asa-hirvonen/
ebookname.com

Philosophical Papers 1st Edition George Edward Moore

https://ebookname.com/product/philosophical-papers-1st-edition-george-
edward-moore/

ebookname.com

PMP Exam In Depth Project Management Professional Study

Guide for the PMP Exam 2nd Edition Paul Sanghera

https://ebookname.com/product/pmp-exam-in-depth-project-management-
professional-study-guide-for-the-pmp-exam-2nd-edition-paul-sanghera/

ebookname.com
Delightful Meadows of the Arameans Vol 1 Selections from
Syriac Literature Syriac Studies Library English and
Syriac Edition Jacques Eugene Manna
https://ebookname.com/product/delightful-meadows-of-the-arameans-
vol-1-selections-from-syriac-literature-syriac-studies-library-
english-and-syriac-edition-jacques-eugene-manna/
ebookname.com

The ESC Textbook of Cardiovascular Medicine 1st Edition A.

John Camm

https://ebookname.com/product/the-esc-textbook-of-cardiovascular-
medicine-1st-edition-a-john-camm/

ebookname.com

Chemical Principles 6th Edition Steven S. Zumdahl

https://ebookname.com/product/chemical-principles-6th-edition-steven-
s-zumdahl/

ebookname.com

Research in Economic History Volume 24 1st Edition

Alexander J Field

https://ebookname.com/product/research-in-economic-history-
volume-24-1st-edition-alexander-j-field/

ebookname.com

The Ultimate Teaching Manual A Route to Success for

Beginning Teachers Gererd Dixie

https://ebookname.com/product/the-ultimate-teaching-manual-a-route-to-
success-for-beginning-teachers-gererd-dixie/

ebookname.com
Integrated Food Safety and Veterinary Public Health First
Edition S. Buncic

https://ebookname.com/product/integrated-food-safety-and-veterinary-
public-health-first-edition-s-buncic/

ebookname.com
 Kuno Lorenz
Logic, Language and Method − On Polarities in Human Experience
Logic, Language and Method −
On Polarities in Human
Experience
Philosophical Papers

by
Kuno Lorenz

De Gruyter
The publication of this book was funded by the Laboratoire d’Histoire des
Sciences et de Philosophie (CNRS), Archives Henri-Poncaré, Nancy, and by
the Department of Philosophy at the Universität des Saarlandes, Saarbrücken.

ISBN 978-3-11-020312-7
e-ISBN 978-3-11-021679-0

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the Library of Congress.

Bibliographic information published by the Deutsche Nationalbibliothek

The Deutsche Nationalbibliothek lists this publication in the Deutsche Nationalbibliografie;
detailed bibliographic data are available in the Internet at http://dnb.d-nb.de.

쑔 2010 Walter de Gruyter GmbH & Co. KG, Berlin/New York

Printing: Hubert & Co. GmbH & Co. KG, Göttingen
⬁ Printed on acid-free paper
Printed in Germany
www.degruyter.com
 Contents

Preface ......................................................................................................VII

Part I Philosophical Logic and Philosophy of Language

1. Rules versus Theorems A new approach for mediation between

intuitionistic and two-valued logic (1973)............................................. 3
2. On the Relation between the Partition of a Whole into Parts and
the Attribution of Properties to an Object (1977)................................. 20
3. Basic Objectives of Dialogic Logic in Historical Perspective
(2001) ................................................................................................... 33
4. Pragmatic and Semiotic Prerequisites for Predication.
A dialogue model (2005) ..................................................................... 42
5. Pragmatics and Semiotics: The Peircean Version of Ontology
and Epistemology (1994) ..................................................................... 56
6. Intentionality and its Language-Dependency (1985) ........................... 62

7. Meaning Postulates and Rules of Argumentation. Remarks

concerning the pragmatic tie between meaning (of terms)
and truth (of propositions) (1987) ........................................................ 71
8. What Do Language Games Measure? (1989) ...................................... 81

9. Features of Indian Logic (2008)........................................................... 92

Part II Methods in Philosophy, in Art, and in Science

1. The Concept of Science. Some remarks on the

methodological issue ‘construction’ versus ‘description’
in the philosophy of science (1979) .................................................. 109
2. Is and Ought Revisited (1987) ........................................................... 124
VIII Contents

3. Competition and Cooperation: Are They Antagonistic or

Complementary? (1994)..................................................................... 140
4. Another Version of Methodological Dualism (1997) ........................ 148

5. The Pre-Established Harmony Between the Two Adams (1993) ...... 162

6. On the Way to Conceptual and Perceptual Knowledge (1993).......... 171

7. Self and Other: Remarks on Human Nature and Human Culture

(2002) ................................................................................................. 186
8. On the Concept of Symmetry (2005) ................................................. 198

9. Procedural Principles of the Erlangen School. On the

interrelation between the principles of method, of dialogue,
and of reason (2008) .......................................................................... 207

Acknowledgments ................................................................................... 219

Index........................................................................................................ 223
 Preface

It is delightful to see a representative sample of one’s papers on various

subjects collected in a volume in one’s own lifetime, let alone when it is a
collection of papers written in a language that is not one’s mother tongue.
I am particularly glad that with the present volume which accompanies
two volumes of papers in German – the one preceding and the other suc-
ceeding this publication – readers who read English but not German and
wish to become acquainted with my treatment of current philosophical
issues will have a chance to uncover ‘family resemblances’ that relate the
papers with one another. In this process the key term ‘polarity’ in the sub-
title may guide the reader’s attention.
Of course, as the papers were written in a period extending over more
than thirty years and owe their origin to very divergent occasions, partly
being commissioned and partly offered, they exhibit different stages of
awareness with respect to both the procedures applied and the terminology
used. If there are any inconsistencies, they may be explained by develop-
mental change. I have deliberately refrained from trying to produce up-to-
date versions as ‘final’ ones. This includes retaining occasional overlap at
places where maintaining self-containedness makes it necessary. Work in
progress should not hide the signs that it is in need of further improvement
or refinement. The reader who wants to know how the latest and most ad-
vanced version up to now looks like, is advised to turn to the last paper
(II.9) and read it first. In addition he will also find there a short exposition
of how my treatment of issues as Dialogical Philosophy is related to the
tenets of the Erlangen School and its philosophical ancestry.
In each of the two parts the papers are divided into two blocks of four
each by an additional paper that occupies the central position. Whereas
within the four blocks chronological order is maintained, the two bisecting
papers (I.5, II.5) are singled out, because they treat Peircean and Leibnizian
issues, respectively, and may thus, through views of two philosopher-
scientists of the past, be particularly well suited to visualize the two main
interests that underly the argumentations in the papers of the first and the
second part. These interests are indicated by the two subtitles, one referring
to questions of logic and language, and the other to questions of method.
Notwithstanding that division, in some way each paper touches at least
one of the countless oppositions that permeate the ways of coping with what
VIII Preface

happens and has happened around us and with us. Be it Doing and Suffering,
Subject and Object, Truth and Meaning, Body and Soul, Particular and Gen-
eral, Practical and Theoretical, Knowing-how and Knowing-that, Thought
and Action, and a multitude of others. Thus, procedural questions are not out
of purview in the first part, and substantial questions do enter the papers of
the second part. The reader will often encounter direct investigations into
some of the oppositions, some others being touched alongside (I.1, I.2, I.3,
I.7, I.9, II.1, II.2, II.3, II.4, II.6), and he equally should cast an eye on how
the use of oppositions in the course of arguing interrelates with their status of
being an object of argumentation as well.
Looking back it appears now that in a way most of the papers may ba-
sically be considered as different steps en route of reducing the conceptual
oppositions that permeate content and set-up of the papers to the funda-
mental one of looking at actions as ‘objects’ and as ‘a means’ in statu
operandi, i.e., ‘from a distance’ and ‘while engaged in doing it’. This is
true, already, of my billet d'entrée into professional philosophy: the dis-
sertation on arithmetic and logic as dialogue games under the supervision
of my late teacher Paul Lorenzen. This way of looking, I come to argue
eventually, arises due to a basic anthropological feature: Humans are or-
ganized dialogically, as I and You. When A does something – A in the role
of I – B (being identical with A in but a special case) ‘sees’ A doing that, B
in the role of You. This simultaneity of two dialogical roles extends to the
level of sign actions: When, in the role of I, A, besides e.g. speaking, ‘says’
something, then B, in the role of You, besides e.g. hearing A, ‘understands’
something (I.4, II.7, II.8). Philosophers are particularly prone to the danger
of presenting their thoughts as if they were elected to represent mankind
each for herself alone in telling how things are ‘really’ and often tend to
forget about their dependence on others, if not their fellow philosophers.
Usually, in science and philosophy we are accustomed to treat issues
from a distance. This is in tune with considering the very verbalization as,
already, a kind of detachment from its subject matter: words and things fall
apart. On the other hand, we are well aware of how verbal activity any-
where and without restriction is the most prominent medium of being en-
gaged with something: thinking and doing coincide. But when activities
themselves, plain or verbal, are articulated as in papers like the present
ones, a stage is reached where matters become quite complicated. What is
at stake, is the relation of one’s individual activity, both plain and verbal,
with the activity of others and with the particular objectives of activities
that are supposed to be intersubjectively identifiable (I.6, I.8).
It is not surprising, therefore, that many of the conceptual oppositions
nourish competing philosophical doctrines and have done that since their
inception with the consequence that scientific theories that avail them-
 Preface IX

selves of such doctrines as their conceptual frame inherit competitiveness

with respect to each other. Sometimes this happens to such a degree that it
becomes difficult to compare such theories adequately, because a common
language of comparison is itself a matter of dispute. As an example, think
of how in the last decades the behavioral sciences have lost ground to the
cognitive sciences while there is no clear account of the reasons why this
has happened. Even looking for reasons has become more difficult as their
conceptual distinction from causes seems to evaporate. This again may be
understood as an offshot of the gradual rise of biology as the paradigm of
science and the decline of physics in that role. This shift has fuelled anew
the age-old attempts to set up a unified account of the social and the natural
sciences aiming to treat cultural features as a more advanced state of
natural features. Language and reasoning, for example, are thus considered
to be a more developed form of animal communication.The boundaries
between the mental and the physical have become permeable, so much so,
that now one often finds philosophy of mind being treated as just a version
of neurobiology.
Theory-building is encroaching upon more and more territory formerly
held by mostly non-verbal and often plain activities. This trend is influential
now, for example, in education, but in the arts as well. Theorizing gradually
supplants practical expertise by having corpora of theoretical knowledge at
one’s disposal that purports to rule over the practice in question. In ever
more fields ‘knowing-that’ acquires priority to ‘knowing-how’ seemingly in
line with the classical heritage that ars (τέχνη) is inferior to scientia (ἐπι-
στήµη). However, in antiquity it was justification that characterized
‘epistemic’ knowledge, a ‘knowing-why’, in contrast to a ‘knowing-that’, a
merely true opinion. Only in modern times up to the present true opinion is
held to be sufficient, if it serves successful guidance of individual and com-
mon practice. Practical knowledge or ‘knowing-how’ as represented by
skills of various kinds and relegated to the sphere of mere ‘technic’ knowl-
edge (artes) in antiquity, is still now, in a world quite different from its
ancient predecessor, waiting to be acknowledged as on a par with theo-
retical knowledge rather than being treated as dependent on theories that
explain how it works.
The growing presence of theories of any kind, or, more generally, of
theorizing in the loose sense of speaking about something rather than
experiencing it in practice, is the result of a well-known modern develop-
ment. We encounter a process where practical experience recedes from
reach in more and more cases for ever more people and where growing
world-wide communication induces apparent knowledge of a rapidly
increasing number of matters beyond any chance of checking it individual-
ly. Thus, in the world we live, it becomes difficult to realize the mutual
X Preface

dependence of verbal and plain activities and likewise of semiotics and

pragmatics, if the two kinds of activities are turned into objects of investi-
gation. It is a world of particulars, subdivided into various categories
depending on the structure of the language used (a fertile source of op-
positions!), such that dealing with them is increasingly supported by
numerous artificial devices, and especially persons including theorists play
roles that disappear when speaking about them instead of with them. The
difficulty of discerning verbal and plain activity in order to get an idea of
their mutual dependency is aggravated even further, because the artificial
devices that support plain activity take on various sign functions by them-
selves; just consider the case of doing something with the aid of computers
even outside their use as a means of communication, if I may disregard the
mere metaphor of ‘communicating with computers’.
Philosophical investigations should make these features visible. They
can do this by means of their reflexive nature that distinguishes them from
scientific investigations, particularly with regard to the question of how the
procedures applied relate to the subject matter treated. If I should have
succeeded in bringing this to the fore at least in some of the papers – and
the reader is the only one who can judge it – the present volume will have
served its purpose.
I should add, this publication would not have been possible without the
efforts of quite a number of people to whom I am deeply grateful. Parti-
cularly, I want to thank my friend and colleague Professor Jürgen Mittel-
straß (Universität Konstanz) and my friends and former students, Professor
Gerhard Heinzmann (Université Nancy II) and Dr. Bernd Michael Scherer
(Haus der Kulturen der Welt/House of World Cultures, Berlin) who en-
couraged me not to give up the whole plan. They took pains to raise finan-
cial support without which a book of this kind would be an unbearable risk
to publish under present economic conditions. For generous financial aid I
am indebted to my department at the Universität des Saarlandes as well as
to the Centre National de la Recherche Scientifique Lorraine (CNRS,
UMR 7117) which supported the present publication at Walter de Gruyter
Publishing House. Special thanks go to Dr. Gertrud Grünkorn at de
Gruyter’s who did everything to edit this volume in a form that shows all
the features for which books published at de Gruyter’s are justly well-
known everywhere.
 Part I
Philosophical Logic and
Philosophy of Language

Philosophical Logic and Philosophy of Language

 Rules versus Theorems
A new approach for mediation between intuitionistic
and two-valued logic
I

Contemporary critics of two-valued logic concentrate on the reasons for

accepting the tertium non datur A ∨ ¬A as a valid propositional schema.
Brouwer explicitly states1 that only by unjustified extrapolation of logical
principles from those which correctly describe the general relations among
propositions on finite domains to those that allegedly regulate propositions
on infinite domains, could it happen that A ∨ ¬A is accepted as valid. He
was the first to observe that value-definite (decidably true or false)
propositions do not generally transfer value-definiteness to their logical
compounds. No better support could be found for the claim that the classical
characterization of propositions as entities that are either true or false is
inadequate. The union of the class of all true propositions and the class of
all false propositions does not contain all logical compounds out of either
true or false propositions; it does not contain, for example, certain as yet
neither proven nor disproven universal propositions of elementary
arithmetic. But nobody has seriously advanced the thesis that such
propositions should not count as propositions at all.2 In fact, it is generally
conceded that the usual way to form finite and infinite logical compounds
makes sense even if nothing can be said about their truth-value. It is
obligatory, then, to look for a better introduction of the term ‘proposition’
than the classical one and, of course, not only a syntactical introduction,
which is trivial, but a semantical one. The validity concept of two-valued
logic being dependent on the value-definiteness of propositions will con-
sequently have to be given up and replaced by a concept of validity that
works without recourse to the truth-value of the propositions in question. It
follows that the classical introduction of logical particles by the (finite or
infinite) truth table method has to be given up as well, or, rather, it has to
____________
1 Brouwer 1925, p. 2.
2 Skolem’s proposal of a strictly finite mathematics without any use of quantifiers is
an exception; its radical implications would deserve special discussion, cf. Skolem
1923.
4 Philosophical Logic and Philosophy of Language

be amended in such a way that the general definition of logical particles

restricted to value-definite propositions yields the well-known classical ones.
Various attempts in this direction have been made, most prominent,
among others, the proof-theoretic interpretation of intuitionistic logic by
Kolmogorov and the operationist interpretation by Lorenzen.3 In these
attempts, the introduction of the junctor ‘if- then’ marks the starting point
of a deviation from classical procedures. Kolmogorov replaces the concept
of truth by the concept of provability and the provability of A → B cor-
respondingly by the provability of B relative to a proof of A that is hyp-
othetically assumed. The concept of proof and a fortiori of provability has
to be taken over from existing unformalized mathematics. Lorenzen replaces
the concept of truth by the concept of (generalized) derivability within some
calculus K, such that derivability of A → B has to be read as admissibility
of the corresponding rule α ⇒ β (with A K α and B K β) relative to K.
Here, the concept of admissibility has to be accepted as intuitively clear.
Actual difficulties of interpretation occur in both cases after iterating the
logical composition, e.g., with ‘if-then’, and no way out is visible if
propositions other than mathematical ones are candidates for logical com-
position. Yet, these attemps have cleared the way to the additional insight
that not only is value-definiteness not hereditary generally to logical com-
pounds, but that it is possible to ascertain the (non-logical) truth of logically
compound propositions without recourse to the truth-value of the subprop-
ositions. There are, for example, true (i.e., provable resp. derivable) and
not logically true subjunctions A → B without any knowledge even about
the value-definiteness of A or B: one may take a suitably chosen admissible
rule α ⇒ β within an undecidable calculus.
A successful criticism of two-valued logic has to be able, therefore, to
balance a wider concept of proposition with a correspondingly wider
concept of logical composition and to add an adequate concept of validity
for propositional schemata, or, alternatively, an adequate concept of
(logical) implication by keeping the meta-equivalence ‘A implies B’ if and
only if ‘(A → B) ε valid’. The usual method of devising formal systems,
i.e., of introducing a syntactical concept of validity for syntactically defined
well formed formulas is, of course, insufficient. Heyting's formalization of
intuitionistic logic did permit precise comparison with other calculi, calculi

____________
3 Cf. Kolmogorov 1932, and Lorenzen 1955. Gödel has shown that an axiomatiza-
tion of the concept ‘beweisbar’ (provable) within classical logic, somewhat dif-
ferent from Kolmogorov’s nonformalized version, can be used as a representation
of intuitionistic logic, cf. Gödel 1933.
 Rules versus Theorems 5

of classical logic as well as of modal logic and others,4 but it could not
answer the initial question of what kind of theory or rather ‘action’ (Denk-
tätigkeit) 5 it actually is that is formalized by this or that formal system of
logic. And intuitionism (in the spirit of Brouwer) consequently never
claimed to be able to represent its logic fully by a formal system.
In order now to gain a better understanding of the actual conflict, it is
necessary to go beyond these introductory remarks by stressing a difference
of points of view between the proponents of classical logic and the
proponents of effective logic, which is so much taken for granted that it is
hardly ever explicitly disputed. Since the time of Leibniz, classical logic is
often referred to as a system of ‘truths’ which hold ‘universally’, in ‘all
possible worlds’, and, therefore, independently of the special facts of the
‘actual world’, i.e., of the natural sciences. And mathematics is, following
the programme of logicism, to be constructed as a special part of this system
of logical truths. In precisely this sense logic, and with it mathematics, came
to be considered as a system of tautologies without factual content. Classical
logic is the formal frame for any scientific investigation, the a priori basis of
empirical science. It makes no essential difference when Quine, expanding
ideas of C. I. Lewis, disputes the distinction ‘a priori-empirical’ and stresses
the uniformity of the whole corpus of scientific truths instead. 6 This corpus
is not uniquely determined by observational facts, it is in need of conceptual
and other theoretical constructions, e.g., mathematical ones, which are
chosen by intrinsic criteria of perspicuity, economy, connectedness et alii of
the system of science as a whole. Thus, it may well obtain that even logic,
one of the central parts of the corpus of truths, has to be changed due to new
observational facts in order to satisfy the aforementioned criteria. Yet, even
then, logic, the system of accepted logical truths, be it in its formalized
version derivable by a classical or by some other calculus, remains the
formal frame of science. Logic may be called ‘relatively universal’, i.e., a
system of universal truths relative to the actual state of science.
On the other hand, effective logic (explicitly in its operationist inter-
pretation), must be looked at as a system of ‘universal’ rules that are accepted
whenever a system of rules of action, e.g., rules for producing proofs or
rules for producing arbitrary strings of signs, has been laid down. In this
case, the field of application for the rules of logic is not the world as the
totality of facts, but rather the world as seen in terms of specific kinds of
scientific human activities. Within mathematics, for example, the rules of
____________
4 Cf. the review of the main results in Kleene 1952, § 81; especially important is the
paper McKinsey/Tarski 1948.
5 Cf. Heyting 1930, pp. 45–46.
6 Cf., e.g., the paper Two dogmas of empiricism in: Quine 1953, pp. 20–46.
6 Philosophical Logic and Philosophy of Language

effective logic may be used without restriction. And this obtains because
mathematics is not viewed as a system of truths, even less logical ones, but
is treated as an independent scientific activity which, together with its
intrinsic rules, may use the rules of logic as additional ‘admissible’ ones.
Effective logic is the material content of any scientific investigation, the
‘empirical core’ even within mathematics. It goes without saying that no
uniqueness claim is added. The set of rules of effective logic may vary from
one scientific activity to another, and are not even strictly determined by
any one of those. It coincides even with the set of rules of classical logic in
the case of strictly finite mathematics, as Brouwer explicitly observed.7
Thus, logic may again be called ‘relatively universal’, i.e., a system of
accepted universal rules relative to the field of investigation.
In the light of these considerations, the basic conflict is a question
rather of the set-up of formal logic itself than of accepting this or that
propositional schema as valid. And, indeed, the competing views, to treat
logic either as a set of rules (‘for correct thinking’) or as a set of theorems
(‘on the general behavior of thought’), trace back to the very beginning
of formal logic, to Aristotle and his interpretation by posterity. The conflict is
known under the rubric: logic – art or science?, the respective Greek terms
being ‘τέχνη’ and ‘ἐπιστήµη’.
The problem, at the beginning of logic in the Greek period, was to set up
a discipline that realizes the possibility of well-founded argumentation
without using these very means of argumentation under pain of begging the
question.
If logic, and in the case of Aristotle this means his syllogistic, would
have to count as a science, it should obey the conditions laid upon a system
of truths by Aristotle in order to have it represent an ἀποδεικτικὴ ἐπιστήµη.
That is, there should exist a set of first true premisses8 out of which all
further truths may be inferred by (apodeictic) syllogisms. But syllogisms
never count as propositions (λόγοι ἀποφαντικοί), nor do perfect syllogisms
count as axioms (ἀρχαί), nor are the reductions of the syllogisms to perfect
ones called ‘proofs’ by Aristotle.9 Aristotle does not treat his syllogistic as a
science. On the other hand, if the set-up of syllogistic would represent an art
in the strong sense of a διαλεκτικὴ τέχνη, there should exist first premisses
accepted for the sake of argument (τόποι), from which those propositions
____________
7 Cf. Brouwer 1925.
8 The other conditions that Aristotle imposes on these first true premisses, i.e., the
axioms or, rather, ‘principles’ (ἀρχαί), as they are now called, are of no concern
for our purposes; cf. An. post. 71b.
9 This has been made a point in the convincing operationist interpretation of Aris-
totle’s syllogistic against the arguments of Łukasiewicz in: Ebbinghaus 1964.
 Rules versus Theorems 7

about which the argument is concerned follow by (dialectic) syllogisms. It is

obvious that the apparent axiomatic treatment of Aristotle’s syllogistic does
not comply with these specifications, either. Syllogisms are used both for the
sciences and for the arts, but they cannot themselves belong to either of
them.10 Consequently, a syllogism which is defined twice, in the Prior
Analytics and in the Topics, as a “linguistic expression (λόγος) in which,
something having been posited, something other than the underlying results
necessarily through the underlying”11 should neither be read as a theorem
nor as a rule, though both possibilities have been adopted alternatively
through the centuries.12
This view gets further support by observing Aristotle’s own argumen-
tation on behalf of his choice for dealing with the objects of the Analytics.
Instead of using the terminology of apodeictic or dialectic reasoning that
would throw some light on Aristotle’s own opinion as to where to place the
Analytics, he uses ‘analytically’ (ἀναλυτικῶς) instead of ‘apodeictically’,
and ‘logically’ (λογικῶς) instead of ‘dialectically’ together with the inter-
esting feature that most of his arguments on a certain point appear twice,
once framed as an analytical one, and then as a logical one.13 This
indefiniteness on the status of the arguments for the set-up of argumen-
tation itself should not really give rise to surprise. A far more detailed in-
vestigation is needed to free the beginnings of logic from the air of cir-
cularity. The reason syllogisms are treated neither as theorems nor as rules
is simply that in a way they are indeed both theorems and rules, depending
on the level of argumentation. They can, any one of them, be considered as
rules of inference14 – the syllogistic method in use is justly called a συλ-
λογιστικὴ τέχνη by Aristotle15 – but as soon as the syllogisms are not
considered with respect to their producing something out of something, but

____________
10 Cf. Aristotle Met. 995a.
11 Top. 100a25–26; cf. An. pr. 24b19–20.
12 For two modern proponents of either possibility, cf. Łukasiewicz 21957, and Scholz
2
1959. Łukasiewicz interprets syllogisms as generalized subjunctions, Scholz reads
them as rules of inference. For example, PaQ, QaR≺PaR (modus barbara) becomes
∧P,Q,R. a(P,Q)∧a(Q,R)→a(P,R). in Łukasiewicz, and PaQ; QaR ⇒ PaR in Scholz.
13 Cf., e.g., An. post. 83b–84b, where there are two ‘proofs’ for the claim that to each
science there must exist first true and undemonstrable principles.
14 This is done successfully in the operationist interpretation of Aristotle’s syllogistic
by Ebbinghaus as mentioned in note 9. In addition, the interchange of terms in PeQ
(ἀντιστροφή), the contradictoriness of PaQ and PoQ, and of PeQ and PiQ, and the
contrariness of PaQ and PeQ, all these formulated verbally by Aristotle, are given
the form of rules; then all other valid syllogisms are ‘provable’ as admissible rules
relative to the initial set of valid rules.
15 Cf. Soph. Elench. 172a36.
8 Philosophical Logic and Philosophy of Language

as entities sui generis, those rules of inference may be transferred into (lo-
gical) implications, i.e. three-place (meta)propositions on propositions, and
thus theorems.16
Hence, syllogistic in the sense of a theory of the valid rules of
inference may be taken as an early anticipation of the position held by the
proponents of effective logic, now in a refined version: effective logic is to
be considered as a theory, i.e., a system of truths, about the universally
admissible rules within arbitrary systems of rules of action.
Naturally, in the course of history, syllogistic has been treated the other
way round, too. For example, according to the most influential diplomatic
vote of scholasticism, which can be found in the Summulae Logicales (ca.
1250 A.D.) of Petrus Hispanus, who later became Pope John XXI, the
definition of logic runs like the following: dialectica (i.e., logic) est ars
artium et scientia scientiarum ad omnium methodorum principia viam
habens;17 and Duns Scotus gives an interpretation of this twofold
determination: logic is a science respectu materiae ex qua constat, and
logic is an art respectu materiae in qua versatur. This distinction may now
be taken as an anticipation of the position held by the proponents of
classical logic, here again in a refined version, insofar as the system of
tautologies can be enumerated by a calculus, i.e., a system of rules. More in
the line of Aristotle, the more radical schoolmen such as Buridan in his
Summa de Dialectica just dropped any mention of logic as a science and
kept only its characterization as ars artium which, therefore, leads again to
the position of the proponents of effective logic.
Hence, classical logic is the result of starting with arbitrary theories
that obey the axiomatic method by concentrating on the forms of truths
within arbitrary domains, and then formalizing this system of formal truths
by means of some calculus, thus getting a praxis on top of the theories.
Effective logic, on the other hand, starts with arbitrary calculi built up by
the constructive, i.e., genetic, method, and proceeds to a theory about the
generally admissible rules within the calculi – a theory which can after-
wards likewise be formalized; here we have a theory on top of the praxis.
Now it looks almost like a matter of taste how one is going to choose the
level for a reasonable beginning of formal logic. Yet, the following
constructions claim that there is an adequate solution of the conflict

____________
16 This is an accord with the characterization of arts and sciences in An. post. 100a8–
10. Arts are concerned with the world of coming-to-be and passing-away, sciences
are concerned with the world of being.
17 There are references to the art-science dispute and its medieval background in the
course of discussing modern operationist logic (Brouwer, Wittgenstein, Kolmo-
gorov, Lorenzen) in: Richter 1965.
 Rules versus Theorems 9

between a logic of rules and a logic of theorems and, more generally, a proper
approach to the problem how praxis and theory interact in the case of logic.

II

The starting point is again very close to the actual origin of logic in
antiquity. With Aristotle, and even more with Plato, logic – or rather
dialectic, the term being a strong hint by itself – had to provide the means
by which sound argumentation could be distinguished from unsound
argumentation.18 This has been a practical necessity in face of the highly
developed sophistic technique to provide proofs for arbitrary theses on
demand. And indeed, if it is granted that any scientific activity, be it on
practical or on theoretical matters, is characterized as scientific by the fact
that there is a justification available for each and every assertion put forth in
the course of this activity (the possible linguistic articulations of non-
linguistic acts included!), there is no other basis for the construction of
logic than to look for a methodical introduction of the linguistic elements of
assertions and from there to proceed to the use of assertions within
argumentations.
Such an introduction of elementary linguistic elements shall be called
primary praxis and will be executed within properly stylized teach-and-learn
situations for these elements. As far as simple singular and simple
general terms are concerned, the details of the procedure do not bear upon
the set-up of formal logic. They have been discussed extensively
elsewhere.19 For our purposes, it is sufficient to remark that introducing
words by means of teach-and-learn situations guarantees their public
understandability. Furthermore, it should be clear that the determination
of a primary praxis in the given sense is a process post hoc, something
man does in order to gain precise knowledge concerning his abilities and
their limits after he has used speech and other acts meaningfully in the
context of life.

____________
18 Cf. the first sentence of the Topics (100a18–20), where the purpose of the treatise
is characterized as “finding a method, by which we shall be able to argue (συλ-
λογίζεσθαι) on any problem set before us starting from accepted premises
(ἔνδοξαι) such that, when sustaining an argument (λόγος), we shall avoid saying
anything self-contradictory”. It was E. Kapp who showed convincingly that the
origin of Aristotle’s syllogistic (still taken to be a theory) is situated in the actual
sophistic discussions on public affairs, cf. Kapp 1942.
19 Cf. the second part in: Lorenz 1970. There will be found special references to
competing proposals in: Quine 1960, and in: Strawson 1959.
10 Philosophical Logic and Philosophy of Language

The introductions in question do not each constitute a creatio ex nihilo,

they are rather ‘recreationes’, that is, a system of methodical reconstructions
of that which has already been said and done. Another feature of the primary
praxis is important: Due to the teach-and-learn situations connected with the
introduction of terms, there is no difference between the situation articulated
by means of the terms, and the situations in which those terms are used. No
use of terms other than introducing terms has as yet been the object of con-
sideration. But this, of course, is a trivial part of human speech. The special
power of linguistic communication becomes apparent only, if the situations
which underlie words, phrases, or sentences are different from the situations
in which these words, phrases, or sentences are used. In that case, under-
standability of the linguistic expressions is not enough, a special link be-
tween the two situations is needed to secure the proper function of language.
This link is provided by the detailed reconstruction – again through teach-
and-learn-situations – of possible uses of linguistic expressions after their
introduction. Any such introduction of a use of linguistic expressions
different from the introduction itself shall belong to the secondary praxis,
e.g., the use of terms as wishes, questions, or propositions. The way this is
done guarantees the public justifiability of linguistic expressions in addition
to their understandability.
The special act of asserting propositions (as distinguished from their
use, e.g., in story-telling) involves a justifying procedure within the
secondary praxis – a procedure that has to be introduced together with the
use of terms as assertions – such that the validity of assertions can be de-
fined by means of this procedure. It is even possible to distinguish words
and sentences along these lines. If the situation articulated by a linguistic
expression coincides with, or is at least part of the situation in which that
expression is used, only its understandability is of concern, and the lin-
guistic expression shall count as a word; but if those two situations are
wholly different, both understandability and justifiability have to be secured
and the linguistic expression shall count as a sentence.
This now is the exact point for characterizing the justifying procedure
of assertions as a dialogue, or an argumentation between two partners. To
assert a proposition makes sense only, if there is someone on the other
side, albeit fictitiously, who either denies or at least doubts the asserted
proposition. But it is not enough merely to argue about propositions, there
must exist precise stipulations on the rules of argumentation, rules which, in
a way, define the exact meaning of the proposition in question.
A proposition shall be called ‘dialogue-definite’ under the condition that
the possible dialogues on this proposition are finished after finitely many
steps according to some previously stipulated and effectively applicable
rules of argumentation, such that, at the end, it can be decided who has
 Rules versus Theorems 11

won and who has lost. Hence, dialogue-definiteness of propositions means

that the relevant concept of a dialogue is decidable. And it is this concept of
dialogue-definiteness that is to replace the age-old value-definiteness as the
characterizing feature for linguistic expressions to be propositions.20
Further considerations will show that the class of value-definite pro-
positions is indeed a proper subclass of the class of dialogue-definite pro-
positions and that, therefore, the justifiability of propositions as introduced
by the dialogue procedure does not coincide with their verifiability. Yet,
‘truth’ and ‘falsehood’ for propositions can now be defined on the basis of
the dialogue game associated with each proposition. Such a definition
marks the beginning of a theory about (primary and secondary) praxis,
insofar as (meta)propositions on the actions within the praxis get intro-
duced. In a certain sense, even the secondary praxis itself contains a theo-
retical element, namely the propositions themselves, which get their
meaning by the rules of argumentation about them. Hence, it might be
appropriate, at least for the systematic purposes of the whole set-up, to
distinguish an object-theory (the class of propositions introduced within
the secondary praxis) from a metatheory (about primary and secondary
praxis), the propositions of which cannot, of course, exist without the same
pragmatic foundation as the propositions on the ground level. At this early
stage, already, the interaction of praxis and theory is far more complicated
than the usual presentation of logical theories permits us to suppose.
As a preparation for defining ‘truth’ and ‘falsehood’ for proposi-
tions, it is useful to observe that win and loss of a dialogue about a given
proposition will in general depend upon an individual play of the game and
will not be a function of the proposition alone. But the strategies of either
player of the game are invariant against the choice of arguments of the
other player. Hence, a proposition A shall be called ‘true’, iff there is a
winning strategy for A; this means that the player who is asserting A – the
proponent P – will be able to win a dialogue on A independently of the
choice of arguments of the opponent O.
Accordingly, a proposition A shall be called ‘false’ iff there is a
winning strategy against A, i.e., the opponent can win a dialogue on A inde-
pendently of the moves of the proponent.21 I have shown elsewhere22 that
____________
20 The concept of dialogue within such a context has originally been introduced in:
Lorenzen 1960; 1961, for the purpose of a better understanding of operationist
logic. Its further explication, especially with respect to a pragmatic foundation of
the calculi of intuitionistic and two-valued logic is due to K. Lorenz; cf. Lorenz
1968; 1978.
21 If, as usual, the validity of the logical principles is presupposed on the meta-
theoretic level, it would be possible from the validity of the saddle-point theorem
for finitary two-person zero-sum-games to infer that propositions are either true or
12 Philosophical Logic and Philosophy of Language

the dialogue on the metaproposition ‘A is true’ coincides with the dialogue

on A itself, which means that the traditional condition of adequacy for any
definition of truth is satisfied: ‘A is true iff A’.23
The next step of the theory about the (primary and secondary)
praxis is concerned with the justification of the rules of argumentation that
constitute the secondary praxis. Again, this is done with a few ac-
companying remarks to the following proposal of a structural rule for
dialogues, because space does not permit extensive elaboration on that
point here.24
(Dl) Dialogues about propositions consist of arguments which are put forth
alternatively by an opponent O and a proponent P. The arguments follow
certain rules of argumentation that belong to the game such that each play
ends up with win or loss for either player.
(D2) With the exception of the improper initial argument, each argument either
attacks prior ones of the partner or defends those of one's own upon such an
attack, but does not act simultaneously in both ways: the proper arguments
split into attacks and defenses.
(D3) Attacks may be put forth at any time during a play of the game (rights!).
(D4) Defenses must be put forth in the order of the corresponding attacks (upon
which the defense answers), yet may be postponed as long as attacks can still
be put forth: always that argument which has been attacked last without
having been defended yet, has to be defended first (duties!).
(D5) Whoever cannot – or will not – put forth an argument any longer, has lost
that play of game; the other one has won it.
(Dl) is obviously not in need of further explanation; (D2) may be accepted
as defining the special dialogue character of the game; and (D5) codifies
equally current rules of win and loss. The only items in need of some
further comments are (D3) and (D4) that regulate rank and order of
attacks and defenses. With respect to the generality of rules, the right to
attack shall not depend on a special position reached during a play of the
game and, hence, shall not become void until the end of each play. On the
other hand, the given order of defenses is a consequence of the stipulation
____________
false, cf. Berge 1957. Now, without begging the question, there is only a practical
meaning of ‘either-or’ on the metalevel available, i.e., decidability of choice, but
that cannot happen, because it is not generally decidable which part of the
alternative holds; it is only decidable who has won a particular play of the game
and who has lost it.
22 Cf. Lorenz 1968, pp. 35–36.
23 Cf. Tarski 1956, pp. 187–188. For a discussion about the danger of semantic
antinomies, if this condition of adequacy is used as a schematic definition of truth,
cf. Lorenz 1970, pp. 44–46.
24 For further details consult again Lorenz 1968, pp. 37–39.
 Rules versus Theorems 13

in (Dl) to argue alternatively together with the rule of win and loss in (D5),
if to both players is guaranteed that neither must defend upon an attack
unless this attack has been defended first upon a counter-attack.
Now, (D1) – (D5) are not sufficient to secure finiteness of the indivi-
dual plays of the game. There is lacking a regulation on the number of attacks
permitted against a single argument during a given play. Yet, since any
choice of bounds would be arbitrary, it might be accepted as reasonable that
this choice should become part of the dialogue game itself. After the initial
argument has been laid down by P, first O shall choose a natural number n
as the maximal number of attacks to be directed against a single argument
of P, then P shall choose a natural number m analogously. Only now the
proper dialogue about the initial argument may start obeying the following
additional stipulation of the structural rule.
(D6 n,m) During a play of the game, any argument may be attacked by the opponent
at most n-times, by the proponent at most m-times.
In order actually to play a dialogue game according to the given rules, the
rules of argumentation in (D1) have to be specified. This can be done by
laying down a schema of attacks and defenses, which shows all possible
attacks against an argument as well as all possible defenses of this argument
upon each of these attacks. And, in general, this specification is possible
only by special reference to the internal structure of the propositions
concerned. The structural rule is purely ‘formal’ in the sense that no special
knowledge about the proposition is needed, whereas the rules of
argumentation are ‘material’ in so far as they have to make use of the
actual set-up of the propositions, their ‘content’ in the terminology of
traditional philosophy.
Yet, there is a possibility of determining special rules of argumentation
that are, in a way, formal, too, namely, those that make use only of the fact
that propositions may be composed out of subpropositions. This leads to
the concept of logical composition that in turn affects the introduction of
further terms into the primary praxis, the so-called logical particles. A
proposition A shall be called ‘logically composed’ out of propositions from
a class K of given dialogue-definite propositions, if the schema of attacks
and defenses associated with A contains only propositions from the class K.
By means of such special rules of argumentation, the particle-rules, any
dialogue about A is reduced to dialogues about the subpropositions of A: A
is dialogue-definite, too.
Easy combinatorial considerations show 25 that for a complete survey it is
sufficient to discuss unary, binary and infinitary logical particles only,

____________
25 Cf. Lorenz 1968, pp. 41–43.
14 Philosophical Logic and Philosophy of Language

under the condition to restrict the schemata in question to those that con-
tain each subproposition just once and that use as further attacks certain
non-assailable orders for defense or doubts, symbolized by ‘?’ with added
indices. Scheme 1 will be self-explanatory. (As notation for plays of the
dialogue game it seemed to be sufficiently suggestive to use two columns
such that the rows are reserved for the consecutive attacks (from top to
bottom with an index of the row number of that argument against which the
attack is placed) together with an entry for the chosen defense – if any –
upon that attack; to recover the order of moves one may enumerate the
arguments, if necessary.)

*A attacks defenses
position ⌐A ? A
negation
¬A A
(not)

A*B attacks defenses

conjunction 1? A
A∧ B
(and) 2? B
adjunction A
A∨ B ?
(or) B
subjunction
A →B A B
(if-then)
A ←B B A
A
A B
? B
abjunction B
A B
(but not) ? A
injunction A
A B
(neither-nor) B

*xA(x) attacks defenses

(all) ∧xA(x) ?n A(n)
(some) ∨xA(x) ? A(n)
(no) xA(x) A(n)

scheme 1
As an example of a dialogue we will discuss the assertion A0
((a→b)→b)→((b→a)→a) for dialogue-definite propositions a and b.
Furthermore, we will make use of one of the main results of the theory of
dialogue games, namely that the class of propositions for which there are
Random documents with unrelated
content Scribd suggests to you:
 Dean.
Not quite as smoothly as we—as you hoped.

Mrs. O’Farrel.
Give me a whisky-and-soda.

Dean.
A whisky——

Mrs. O’Farrel.
And soda.
(The Dean pours out a drop of
whisky.)
Go on....
(The Dean sets the syphon going.)
Nearly full.... When!... And you had better take something as well
—to fortify yourself against what I am going to say.

Dean.
Ah.... A little soda-water. (Helps himself.) So you are going to be
unpleasant, my dear Eileen?

Mrs. O’Farrel.
I am. Those two had been quarrelling just now.

Dean.
That was evident—even to me.
 Mrs. O’Farrel.
They had been quarrelling bitterly—and I can make a shrewd
guess at the cause.

Dean.
I also.

Mrs. O’Farrel.
Indeed. Well, I think it’s high time to speak plainly.

Dean.
I quite agree with you.

Mrs. O’Farrel.
I’m glad to hear it.... Bill had very evidently been taking your
daughter to task for her amazing indiscretions.

Dean.
Amazing indiscretions? Clare’s? Will you kindly be more explicit.

Mrs. O’Farrel.
I mean to be. Perhaps you remember some weeks ago I warned
you that her intimacy with Michael Cosway ought to be stopped?

Dean.
Certainly. And I took leave to disagree with you entirely.
 Mrs. O’Farrel.
Well, you were wrong. You should immediately have put an end to
this intimacy—to use the mildest word for her friendship with
Michael.

Dean.
Mrs. O’Farrel, is it possible you are speaking of my daughter?

Mrs. O’Farrel.
And it’s your duty to put an end to it at once. I only hope that you
may not be too late.

Dean.
This—this—this is beyond anything!... Perhaps you will be so good
——

Mrs. O’Farrel.
Now then, Dean, pray don’t lose your temper. It’s neither wise nor
becoming, and at our age very bad for the heart. Listen to me
quietly for a moment. I refused for a long time to believe any ill of
this—er—friendship. I knew Michael to be infatuated with his wife,
and Clare to be a healthy-minded girl. But last week Emily Fitzgerald
told me she had seen Michael walking in the Stanton Woods with his
arm around Clare’s shoulder. She added that the affair was becoming
quite notorious in the neighbourhood.... You must act, and act at
once.

Dean.
Is that all? So you condescend to listen to the tittle-tattle of a
notorious old gossip like Emily Fitzgerald? Upon my word I’m
ashamed of you!

Mrs. O’Farrel.
Dean! Have you taken leave of your senses?

Dean.
I might well put that question to you, Mrs. O’Farrel. But I refrain
from vulgar tu quoque repartee. I have no more to say except to
warn you that before looking after the morals of my daughter, you
had far better look after those of your son.

Mrs. O’Farrel.
My son?

Dean.
Precisely—your son.

Mrs. O’Farrel.
What do you mean?

Dean.
I and others—unlike yourself, I will not drag in the names of
outsiders—have for some time past watched your son and Lady
Patricia with grief and dismay.

Mrs. O’Farrel.
Patricia!
 Dean.
Just now you believed your son had been impertinently taking
Clare to task for her charming friendship with Michael Cosway. I am
convinced you were mistaken. It was Clare who had been warning
your son that his indiscretions were becoming the talk of the place.

Mrs. O’Farrel.
Bill entangled with Patricia! And Clare—Clare preaching propriety!
It’s too laughable! A boy’s innocent homage for a woman at least ten
years his senior! You’re a very foolish old man.

Dean.
Again I put away from me the tu quoque retort.... Add two and
two together. I don’t for a moment blame her. I can’t find it in my
heart to blame her. The dear and beautiful creature is as God made
her: exquisitely sensitive, sentimental and infinitely affectionate....
But I warn you, Mrs. O’Farrel, I warn you.

Mrs. O’Farrel.
I refuse to hear another word. You ought to be ashamed of
yourself!... And the saddest part of the whole affair is my poor boy’s
undoubted affection for your daughter.

Dean.
Affection for Clare! I don’t believe it!

Mrs. O’Farrel.
Are you his mother?
 Dean.
Certainly not!... But I have watched him—with the result that I am
convinced of his infatuation for Lady Patricia.

Mrs. O’Farrel.
Fiddle-sticks!

Dean.
And I may as well tell you, though you will not believe it, that my
poor girl’s affections are centred on your son.

Mrs. O’Farrel.
Oh, dam’ foolishness!

Dean.
This has gone far enough, Mrs. O’Farrel.

Mrs. O’Farrel.
Quite far enough. I am going home.

Dean.
So am I.
(Followed by the Dean, Mrs.
O’Farrel moves towards the
central ladder. Suddenly he
stops, hurries on tiptoe to the
back, and looks cautiously
 over the railing. He
whispers:)
Eileen!...

Mrs. O’Farrel.
What is it?

Dean.
Hush!... Clare’s coming here with Michael Cosway. I offer you a
chance to substantiate the aspersions you have made against her
character.

Mrs. O’Farrel.
What do you mean?

Dean.
We will conceal ourselves in the summer-house and hear what
they have to say to each other.

Mrs. O’Farrel.
Really, Dean!

Dean.
We may disregard the rules of ordinary morality in a situation like
this. I speak professionally. Quick! (He draws her towards the
summer-house.)

Mrs. O’Farrel.
Well, upon my word!...
(They go into the summer-house,
and sit with the door open,
but invisible in the gloom of
the interior. Voices are heard
beneath. Then Clare enters
on the left, followed by
Michael.)

Clare.
Father!... (She looks around her.) Why, they’ve gone!...

Michael.
They must have returned to the house.

Clare.
We had better go too.

Michael.
Oh, Clare, a moment.... Look at me, dear.... (He takes her hands.)

Clare.
Well?

Michael.
Are you unhappy?

Clare.
 Why should I be?

Michael.
You are no longer the wild and buoyant thing you were. You have
grown so pensive and distrait. And is it my jealous imagination?—so
often lately you have seemed to avoid me....

Clare.
I—I’m sorry....

Michael.
There’s trouble in your eyes, my dearest. Clare, do you chafe at
the restrictions fate has put on our love?

Clare.
Oh, I—I don’t know. I’m all right, Michael—but you—— We’d
better go in now. Father’s waiting for me.

Michael.
Clare.

Clare.
Yes.

Michael.
Kiss me before you go.
 Clare.
Oh, not now....

Michael.
(Bending down to her.) Kiss me, dear.
(She kisses him perfunctorily on
the cheek; he sighs; she
turns and descends the
ladder on the left; he follows
her.)
How sweet it is!...

Clare.
Sweet?

Michael.
Your “pigtail,” dear. The sight of it makes me feel a boy again. I
should like to pull it and run away.
(Clare laughs and they both
descend out of sight. A
pause. The nightingale starts
singing. Mrs. O’Farrel
emerges from the summer-
house. Her step is almost
jaunty with suppressed
triumph, and her manner
elaborately off-hand. The
Dean remains invisible in the
summer-house.)
 Mrs. O’Farrel.
Ah, the nightingale! How charmingly it sings to-night!... I do wish
we had some nightingales at Ashurst. I suppose they prefer low-
lying ground like this.... Do they sing in your garden at the Deanery?
(The Dean comes out of the
summer-house in a very
crestfallen condition.)

Dean.
Eileen——

Mrs. O’Farrel.
(Cheerfully.) Yes?

Dean.
This is dreadful—dreadful....

Mrs. O’Farrel.
On the contrary, I think it’s most delightful! One can hear every
note so perfectly at this elevation.

Dean.
Is it generous of you—is it generous of you, Eileen, to flaunt your
terrible triumph like this? I am heart-broken! I am distracted! What
on earth am I to do?

Mrs. O’Farrel.
(Pouring him out a whisky-and-soda.) Drink this!
 Dean.
(Pettishly.) I don’t care for whisky.

Mrs. O’Farrel.
Oh, you needn’t make such a fuss! It’s perfectly obvious from
what we saw just now that no real harm has been done. The way
she kissed Michael——
(She bursts out laughing.)

Dean.
How can you, Eileen? How can you?

Mrs. O’Farrel.
It reminded me of a child taking castor-oil!... But Michael—the
double-faced hypocrisy of the man! I’m really very sorry for Patricia.

Dean.
I don’t see the necessity for lavishing sympathy on her.

Mrs. O’Farrel.
What do you mean? Doesn’t she believe he returns her devotion?

Dean.
Her devotion doesn’t prevent her philandering with other men, as
I told you just now.

Mrs. O’Farrel.
 Well, upon my word! I wouldn’t have believed it! In spite of this
gross example of your obtuseness, you still have the—the audacity
to stick to your slander against Bill! Really I—— (She stops short,
listens, then hurries to the back and looks over the railing. She turns
to the Dean and speaks in a quiet whisper.) We must hide in the
summer-house....

Dean.
Eh? What?

Mrs. O’Farrel.
At once! Bill and Patricia are returning here. You will see for
yourself there’s nothing more between them than cousinly regard.

Dean.
I refuse to eavesdrop a lady.

Mrs. O’Farrel.
But you deliberately did it a moment ago.

Dean.
Clare is my daughter.

Mrs. O’Farrel.
Fiddlesticks! (Pushes him before her.) Quick now!

Dean.
I submit——
 Mrs. O’Farrel.
Hush!

Dean.
—Under protest....
(She shepherds the Dean into the
summer-house just as Patricia
and Bill come up the central
ladder.)

Lady Patricia.
Cousin Bill and I have discovered that guelder-roses are guelder-
roses after all.... Why, Bill dear, they’re not here!

Bill.
Got impatient, I suppose, and went back to the house. About time
we did the same. It’s getting late.

Lady Patricia.
(Dreamily.) Too late, too late! Ye cannot enter now!

Bill.
What d’you say?

Lady Patricia.
I was quoting Tennyson.

Bill.
Oh....

Lady Patricia.
You know the lines, don’t you? Listen:

Late, late, so late! and dark the night and chill!

Late, late, so late, but we can enter still!
Too late, too late! Ye cannot enter now!

So sweet and sad, are they not? Don’t you love sweet, sad things?

Bill.
Rather.

Lady Patricia.
Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought.

Bill.
Rather.... I say, hadn’t we better be going?

Lady Patricia.
Bill....

Bill.
Yes.

Lady Patricia.
(Her hands on his shoulders.) Do you love me as you used to?
 Bill.
I say, why d’you—you don’t think——

Lady Patricia.
No—no—no—ah, no! I know well enough that your love is deeper
and stronger than it was. But this sacred love—this hopeless love of
ours has swept you suddenly into manhood. You are no longer a
boy; you are graver; you are sadder.... And if sometimes you seem
to avoid me now, it’s due to no cooling of passion, but to the fear
lest the pent-up lava at your heart should overflow and ruin us both.

Bill.
I say, you do put things awfully well!

Lady Patricia.
Petrarch and Laura—Paolo and Francesca—Lancelot and
Guinevere.... Bill—no, William and Patricia.... Ah, my poor boy, put
your arm around me, and say those lines of Lovelace that I taught
you.

Bill.
Oh, I say—really, you know—— On my honour, I’ve forgotten
’em....

Lady Patricia.
No, no! You’re merely shy—bashful—boyish! I love to hear you say
that verse. (She starts him.) Yet this——

Bill.
 Yet this—yet this—— What’s the word?

Lady Patricia.
Yet this inconstancy——

Bill.
(In a self-conscious sing-song.)

Yet this inconstancy is such

As you, too, shall adore;
I could not love thee, dear, so much,
Loved I not honour more.

Lady Patricia.
Loved I not honour more.... Love—duty—honour—— (She sighs
deeply.) Come, dear....
(They go out on the left. A pause.
The Dean comes out of the
summer-house. He barely
conceals his triumph under a
mask of outraged propriety.
Mrs. O’Farrel follows him.)

Dean.
H’m.... Cousinly regard!...

Mrs. O’Farrel.
It’s shocking! Outrageous!
 Dean.
It is indeed.

Mrs. O’Farrel.
—That you shouldn’t even pretend to hide your satisfaction at the
scene we have just witnessed.

Dean.
Satisfaction! I assure you, dear lady, I’m shocked and grieved—
deeply grieved, that your son should prove capable of such
depravity.

Mrs. O’Farrel.
My son! You know as well as I do that the foolish boy has been
bewitched by that unprincipled woman.

Dean.
Come, come, Eileen. In common fairness we should apportion the
blame equally—though, indeed, my experience has generally led me
to the conclusion that the man is more to blame in these cases than
the woman.

Mrs. O’Farrel.
Your experience! Quite so!... I shall give Patricia my plain,
unvarnished opinion of herself and forbid her my house. You will tell
Michael that he’s a scoundrel and a libertine.

Dean.
 No, no, no! Tact, tact, my dear Eileen, tact and diplomacy!... Let
us calmly review the position. Cosway’s and Lady Patricia’s relations
with Clare and your son, though highly culpable, appear to be
blameless of the worst, and considerably more—er—ardent on the
part of the married couple than of the single. So much is—er—
unhappily evident. Now, do you still maintain that your son is—er—
interested in Clare?

Mrs. O’Farrel.
I am certain of it.

Dean.
Incredible! Of course, I know—in spite of appearances—that Clare
feels strongly for your son.

Mrs. O’Farrel.
Fudge!

Dean.
Now, my dear Eileen, pray don’t fall back on contradiction. What
we have both got to do is to bring these young people together——

Mrs. O’Farrel.
Hush! D’you hear? (She goes quickly to the back and looks out. A
pause.) All four of them! Of course, they went up to the house to
look for us.... What shall we do?

Dean.
Ah! (Goes to the railing at the back.) Allow me.... (Calls.) Clare....
 Clare.
(Beneath.) Hullo!...

Mrs. O’Farrel.
(Excitedly.) But are you going to let them know——

Dean.
I beg you, Eileen, to sit down and control yourself.

Mrs. O’Farrel.
Well, but I should like to know——

Dean.
Will you kindly entrust the conduct of the situation entirely to me.
Take your cue from me, and above all, be tactful and dignified. (He
sits down with unction.)

Mrs. O’Farrel.
I really believe you are thoroughly enjoying yourself.

Dean.
Pray don’t be flippant, Eileen. This is a very serious matter.
(He crosses his legs and fixes his
eyeglass as Clare enters up
the central ladder followed by
Lady Patricia, Bill, and
Michael.)
 Clare.
We thought you had gone back to the house.

Dean.
Indeed.

Lady Patricia.
I really believe they went to depreciate the guelder-roses as well!

Mrs. O’Farrel.
We did nothing of the sort, Patricia, and let——

Dean.
Kindly allow me, Mrs. O’Farrel.... No, Lady Patricia, we have not
been to examine the guelder-roses. We have been all the time here.

Lady Patricia, Bill, Michael, Clare.

Here!...

Dean.
We have been all the time—here.

Michael.
But—but I returned a short while ago, and you were certainly not
here then.

Dean.
 Excuse me, sir—we were.

Clare.
But we never saw you....

Dean.
That I can quite believe. We, however, saw you and Mr. Cosway
quite distinctly.

Mrs. O’Farrel.
Most distinctly! And I——

Dean.
Allow me, Mrs. O’Farrel....

Bill.
But, I say——

Dean.
Sir?

Bill.
You can’t have been here a minute or two ago when Patri——
Cousin Patricia and I——

Dean.
Pardon me, sir—we were.
 Bill.
But, I say, you must have hidden yourselves somewhere, because
——

Dean.
Your mother and I were sitting in the summer-house.

Bill, Clare.
Oh ...!

Lady Patricia.
Oh!... O—oh!... (She gropes for a chair, she sits down heavily.)

Michael.
What—what is the matter, dear?

Lady Patricia.
Nothing.... I—I am a little faint——

Michael.
The—the night is certainly oppressive....

Lady Patricia.
I—I’m all right now....
(A pause. The nightingale starts
singing.)
 Dean.
(To Clare.) I think it is high time to go.... Did you see whether the
carriage had arrived?

Clare.
Yes, it’s there.

Mrs. O’Farrel.
Come, Bill, we must be getting home.

Dean.
(Solemnly.) I have several weighty additions to make to my
sermon to-morrow—additions which certain events to-night have
suggested. I trust you will all be at the Cathedral for morning
service. (An awkward silence. The Dean waves his hand towards the
central ladder.) Mrs. O’Farrel.... (Mrs. O’Farrel passes and descends.)
Clare.... (Clare passes him and descends. He says with impressive
unconcern:) The nightingale sings most divinely to-night!
(He goes out, Bill following him
with a hang-dog air. Baldwin
enters on the left just as Lady
Patricia and Michael move to
the central ladder.)

Baldwin.
If you please, sir....

Michael.
What is it, Baldwin? What is it?
 Baldwin.
If you please, sir, will you be using them lanterns agin to-night?

Michael.
No.

Baldwin.
Then I ’ad better take ’em down, sir?

Michael.
Yes, take them down. (To Lady Patricia.) Come, dear.
(Baldwin starts fiddling about with
the strings of the lanterns.)

Lady Patricia.
(Wearily.) Yes, darling.

Baldwin.
(Lowering the first lamp.) Whoa!...

Lady Patricia.
(Speaking in a passionate whisper.) Will you love me, Michael,
always—always—and no matter what may happen?

Michael.
(Taking her hands.) I? How can you ask? But you—could you still
love me if—if——
 Lady Patricia.
If——?

Michael.
If I were unworthy?

Lady Patricia.
You!
(They descend the central ladder.)

Baldwin.
(Lowering the second lantern.) Whoa!... (He blows out the candle
and folds the lamp up. Then he goes leisurely for the next lantern
and lowers it.) Whoa!... (He blows it out, folds it up and goes for the
next lantern and the curtain descends while he is lowering it. When
it rises again, he says:) Whoa!... (And folds it up.)

(End of the Second Act.)

 THE THIRD ACT
Scene:—The Deanery garden. At the back is a wing of the Deanery,
red-bricked, Norman-arched, with mullioned windows and a heavy
door opening on to the lawn. On the right, three-quarters across the
background, the house ends, and an old machicholated wall begins,
with a great brass-studded double gateway in the middle of it, in the
left side of which is a wicket with grating. The door opens on the
Deanery Close and a view of the Cathedral in the distance. The
garden is all lawn, flower-bed, and old trees. From the great door,
and running diagonally across the stage and out to the left in front,
is a stone-flagged path. Another path from the house-door joins it
about the centre of the stage. On the lawn in the foreground stands
a table spread for breakfast, with two chairs beside it. It is a brilliant
Sunday morning in June.
(When the curtain rises, John, the
Dean’s butler and verger of
the Cathedral, and Robert, the
page, are putting finishing
touches to the breakfast-
table. After a moment the
Dean enters and goes to the
table.)

Dean.
What a morning! Fragrant! Exquisite! Ha! (He sniffs the air
appreciatively, fixes his eyeglass and beams around him.) A happy
Whitsun, John.

John.
 Thank you, sir. Same to you, sir.

Dean.
Eh?... Oh, certainly!

John.
Yes, sir. It’s mornings like this, sir, that one feels a inclination to
sing the tedium.

Dean.
To sing the—er——?

John.
The tedium, sir.

Dean.
The Te Deum! Ah, yes, to be sure! To sing the Te Deum. Most
appropriate! (Looks at his watch.) A quarter to ten.

John.
Yes, sir. It’s highly significant to see so many people at early
service this morning, sir. Highly significant.
(Robert goes out.)

Dean.
Ah, yes!... Is Miss Clare in the garden?
 John.
I believe she is, sir.

Dean.
Well, she’ll be here in a minute. I think, as it’s rather late, I had
better begin at once. Is this all you’re giving me to-day, John?

John.
Oh, no, sir. There’s an omelette with asparagus-tops to come.

Dean.
Good. Very good! In the meantime these delicious fruits.
(Sits at the table.)

John.
Yes, sir. If you please, sir, Mr. Cosway’s gardener was here this
morning before you came back from church. As far as I could gather
he had some message from her ladyship which he refused to leave. I
gathered he had instructions to give it to you direct, sir.

Dean.
Oh ... ah ... h’m.... Is he here now?

John.
No, sir; I told him to come back at ten o’clock. He’s gone to the
cemetery to visit the grave of his first wife.

Dean.
Bring him here when he comes.

John.
Very good, sir.