In recent years, a particular doctrine about forms of life has come to be associated with Wittgenstein's name by followers and critics of his philosophy alike. It is not a doctrine which Wittgenstein espoused or even, given his understanding of philosophy, one which he could have accepted; nor is it worthy of acceptance on its own merits. I shall here outline the standard interpretation of Wittgenstein's remarks on forms of life, consider the textual basis for such a reading of Wittgenstein, present a more consistent reading of the texts, place the problem of forms of life within a wider philosophical context, and show the ways in which it is indeed possible to say that a form of life is wrong. In the process, I shall note some important similarities between Wittgenstein's actual position, Quine's analysis of scientific knowledge, and Hans-Georg Gadamer's claims about the fusion of horizons.

1. Nowadays, I am told, many popular novels have anti-heroes not heroes. So perhaps it accords with the spirit of the times for my sermon to have not a text but an anti-text. This is taken from the first chapter of Our Knowledge of the External World by Bertrand Russell. It reads: ‘All the questions which have what is called a human interest—such, for example, as the question of a future life—belong, at least in theory, to special sciences and are capable, at least in theory, of being decided by empirical evidence … a genuinely scientific philosophy cannot hope to appeal to any except those who have the wish to understand, to escape from intellectual bewilderment … it does not offer, or attempt to offer, a solution to the problem of human destiny, or of the destiny of the Universe’..

The most important, or at least the most central, part of Ferdinand de Saussure's Course in General Linguistics is found in the first six chaptersof Part Two. Here, Saussure formulates one of the basic principles of Structuralism. Yet the text is in some ways oddly impenetrable. It is dear enough on a quick reading, but closer attention discovers doubtful meanings, ambiguity, the beginnings even of contradictions. These defects may, of course, be inevitable in a reconstructed text. Or they may testify to some profound erroneousness in the thought, to a theory whose natal difficulties are symptoms, not of the elusiveness of truth, but of a miscarriage. It is mypurpose here to argue the latter.

Suppose I have a friend (whose good sense on most matters I respect) who takes seriously the possibility that some at least of the miracle storiesassociated with the origin of the Christian religion are substantially true. He does not say that he knows them to be true, but given his belief in the existence of an almighty, all loving creator-god, he sees no reason to think it impossible that they are, and considerable reason for thinking one or two of them highly probable. He regards those who claim that (say) the resurrection of Jesus could not have happened as being unreasonably dogmatic, and as displaying an attitude of mind more appropriate to the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries than the latter half of the twentieth century. To rule out the very possibility of the truth of such stories on a priori grounds seems to him to manifest a simplistic philosophical faith which is at least as naive and arbitrary, and perhaps considerably more arrogant,than his own religious faith. Could he be right?

Locke, in writing about ‘Trifling Propositions’ which bring no increase to our knowledge, remarked ‘When we affirm the said truth of itself, it shows us nothing but what we must certainly know before. What is this more than trifling with words? It is but like a monkey shifting his oyster from one hand to the other, and had he but words might no doubt have said “Oyster in right hand is subject and oyster in left hand is predicate”, and so might have made a selfevident proposition of oyster, i.e. oyster is oyster’.

Many philosophers have believed that colours and the other qualia ofexperience are simples and that colour terms are unanalysable. Colour termsare unanalysable because colours are simples, colours are known to be simple because colour terms are unanalysable. I shall try to show that things are not as simple as this. Nothing in the paper will depend on the general Wittgensteinian thesis of the relativity of simplicity. The thought I shallpursue is the more specific one that the philosophers who have believed in the simplicity of colours have been the victims of certain false images of what the relevant kind of simplicity is like, and that when these images are destroyed the belief is clearly false. Most importantly they have confused logical simplicity with visual uniformity, the kind of simplicity which could intelligibly be attributed to coloured patches or expanses of colour andthe kind of simplicity which can be attributed to colours. So the paper is concerned with the destruction of spatial and material images which distort our understanding of concepts which are neither spatial nor material ones.The wider epistemological implications of the non-existence of simple ideas of colours will not be discussed.

Copi, Quine and van Heijenoort have each claimed that there are two fundamentally different kinds of logical paradox; namely, genuine paradoxes like Russell's and pseudo-paradoxes like the Barber of Seville. I want to contest this claim and will present my case in three stages. Firstly, I will characterize the logical paradoxes; state standard versions of three of them; and demonstrate that a symbolic formulation of each leads to a formal contradiction. Secondly, I will discuss the reasons Copi, Quine and van Heijenoort have given for the distinction between genuine and pseudo-paradoxes. Thirdly, I will attempt to explain why there is no such class as the class of all and only those classes which are not members of themselves.

James Frederick Ferrier was born in Edinburgh on June 16th, 1808. He was educated privately and at the Royal High School, Edinburgh. After spending two sessions at Edinburgh University, he entered Magdalen College, Oxford, where he graduated in 1831. Returning to Edinburgh, he qualified as an advocate in 1832, but devoted himself to philosophical studies, largely as a result of his close friendship with Sir William Hamilton. In 1838-9, he published An Introduction to the Philosophy of Consciousness in Blackwood's Magazine. This was followed by a number of interesting articles and reviews, chiefly on sense-perception. In 1844, Ferrier deputised for SirWilliam Hamilton in the Chair of Logic and Metaphysics at Edinburgh, and, in the following year, he became Professor of Moral Philosophy and Politica Economy in St Andrews. In 1854, he published The Institutes of Metaphysics. He died in 1864, leaving behind him a valuable course of Lectures on Greek Philosophy, which was published posthumously.

Kant's system of Transcendental Idealism may be regarded, in the contemporary philosophical perspective, as concerned with the problem whether any linguistic or conceptual system can be regarded as adequately explained in terms of the facts which the system organises. ‘Transcendental’ may be understood as what is ‘non-reducible’. Kant seems to hold that a linguistic scheme cannot be reduced to the facts which fall within the scheme, and thus it is transcendental to those facts. Formulated in such terms, the Kantian doctrine does not, apparently, propound anything which is new; that facts are tailored to a linguistic scheme is pretty much a well-known doctrine these days. But then, as we shall see, it does say something new; and when we extract that novel element in it, we shall discover also the positive import in the Kantian term, ‘Transcendental’.

Perhaps it is unfortunate that, no matter what problems a psychological investigator elects to attempt to discuss, he is almost always confronted by a number of different and often conflicting points of view. The twisting paths revealed by these may one day be found to unite into a broad road, but most of them have as yet been insufficiently explored. Certainly problems in the psychology of temporal perception seem to lie in many different directions, according to the ways in which they are approached. It would be possible, for instance, to take the mass of experimental work, always patient, sometimes brilliant, which has had a fairly continuous history since Czermak, in 1857, building upon Weber's researches into space perception, planned and began to carry out a programme for an investigation of the estimation of short time intervals.

All candid philosophers, in setting out on their great task of coordinating and criticizing the whole range of human thought, must often feel embarrassed by the limitations of their own knowledge. Their difficulties in dealing with scientific thought have increased very greatly during the last thirty years. For, while science has been rapidly growing more complex and abstruse, philosophers have been tending to require a more intimate knowledge of it. They are no longer interested only in scientific methods (which, it is often assumed, can be studied apart from their applications); they are beginning to find significance in particular propositions and principles. Some of these cannot be comprehended in their entirety by anyone who has not submitted himself to a training so specialized and so severe as to be almost incompatible with the width of outlook that makes the philosopher. Accordingly, philosophers have abandoned all attempts to acquire their knowledge of certain branches of science (particularly physics) from the original memoirs and expository treatises addressed to scientists; they have recourse to interpreters.

IN delivering this lecture I am to speak on some aspect of truth. The practice of examining the various contexts in which a word may be used, in order to disclose what its usages have in common as a clue to its meaning, is of respectable antiquity. If I indulge this practice I find an “embarras de richesse” in modern philosophical literature under two headings, the truth of analytic propositions and the truth of synthetic propositions: the first deals with criteria of consistency and the second with criteria of verifiability.

In his 1836 lectures to the Royal Institute, the great landscape painter John Constable stated that ‘Painting is a science, and should be pursued as an inquiry into the laws of nature.’ Landscape, he went on to say, should ‘be considered a branch of natural philosophy, of which pictures are but the experiments.’1 Constable makes two claims in this striking passage. The first is that painting is a form of inquiry. This is, by itself, a bold claim, but Constable goes on to state that painters and scientists inquire in the same way. As controversial as these views are, both of them have been sympathetically entertained in recent years by several philosophers. In particular, Nelson Goodman and Catherine Elgin have maintained that painting, and the other arts, are forms of inquiry, and that they are akin to the sciences in important respects.2 I think, however, that Constable is only half right. Although I agree that the arts are forms of inquiry, I will argue that the arts and the sciences employ radically different methods. That the arts and the sciences are very different forms of inquiry might seem to be a point so obvious as to be scarcely worth making. We can, however, appreciate more clearly how the arts can contribute to our knowledge by contrasting its methods with those of science.

Conflicting Systems in the History of Philosophy. Hegel's logic consists, as is well known, in a chain of categories, connected by a relation of dialectic, which proceeded from the featureless Being, Nothing, and Becoming through more important ones such as Substance, Cause, and Reciprocity to the highest category of all, the Absolute Idea. Now Hegel also pointed to an interesting correlation between the categories of his logic and the dominant concepts of those philosophies that preceded his own: that is to say, the logical order of categories given by him corresponded to the temporal order of the history of philosophy. Such connexion was not, however, to be regarded as an accident but as a necessary truth: for the Absolute manifested itself temporally in the form of the history of philosophy. Seeing that this contention probably contains some psychological truth and is probably assumed in Marxian interpretations of Hegel, it may be of some interest to see how far it can be substantiated.