Kant and a Philosophical History of Logic

Author(s):  
Huaping Lu-Adler

This chapter discusses certain exegetical challenges posed by Kant’s logic corpus, which comprises the Logic compiled by Jäsche, Kant’s notes on logic, transcripts of his logic lectures, and remarks about logic in his own publications. It argues for a “history of philosophical problems” method by which to reconstruct a Kantian theory of logic that is maximally coherent, philosophically interesting, and historically significant. To ensure a principled application of this method, the chapter considers Kant’s conception of history against the background of the controversy between eclecticism and systematic philosophy that shaped the German philosophical discourse during the early eighteenth century. It thereby looks for an angle to make educated decisions about how to select materials from each of the periods considered in the book and builds a historical narrative that can best inform our understanding of Kant’s theory of logic.

Author(s):  
Mark Migotti

In this chapter, the author attempts to establish what is philosophically living and what is philosophically dead in Schopenhauer’s pessimism. Against the background of the intriguing the history of the terms “optimism” and “pessimism”—in debates about Leibniz’s theodicy in the early eighteenth century and the popularity of Schopenhauer in the late nineteenth century, respectively—the author points up the distinction between affirming life, which all living beings do naturally, and subscribing to philosophical optimism (or pessimism), which is possible only for reflective beings like us. Next, the author notes the significance of Schopenhauer’s claim that optimism is a necessary condition of theism and explains its bearing on his pessimistic argument for the moral unacceptability of suicide. The chapter concludes that Schopenhauer’s case for pessimism is not conclusive, but instructive; his dim view of the prospects for leading a truly rewarding, worthwhile human life draws vivid attention to important questions about how and to what degree an atheistic world can nevertheless be conducive to human flourishing.


1978 ◽  
Vol 15 ◽  
pp. 289-304 ◽  
Author(s):  
Eamon Duffy

Through the stormy and divided history of religion in seventeenth and early eighteenth-century England runs one constant and unvarying stream—hatred and fear of popery. That ‘gross and cruel superstition’ haunted the protestant imagination. The murderous paranoia of the popish plot was the last occasion on which catholic blood was spilled in the service of the national obsession, but the need to preserve ‘our Country from Papal Tyranny; our Laws, our Estates, our Liberties from Papal Invasion; our Lives from Papal Persecution; and our Souls from Papal Superstition . . .’ continued to exercise men of every shade of churchmanship, and of none. Throughout the early eighteenth century zealous churchmen sought to keep alive ‘the Spirit of Aversion to Popery whereby the Protestant Religion hath been chiefly supported among us’, and publications poured from the press reminding men of the barbarities of the papists, ancient and modern, the fires of Smithfield and the headman’s axe of Thorn. Catholicism was bloody, tyrannical, enslaving, and cant phrases rolled pat from tongue and pen—popery and arbitrary government, popery and wooden shoes. The tradition was universal, as integral a part of the nation’s self-awareness as beer and roast-beef, and equally above reason. There were, observed Daniel Defoe, ‘ten thousand stout fellows that would spend the last drop of their blood against Popery that do not know whether it be a man or a horse’.


2018 ◽  
Vol 42 (2) ◽  
pp. 261-274
Author(s):  
Elizabeth Key Fowden

What made Athens different from other multi-layered cities absorbed into the Ottoman Empire was the strength of its ancient reputation for learning that echoed across the Arabic and Ottoman worlds. But not only sages were remembered and Islamized in Athens; sometimes political figures were too. In the early eighteenth century a mufti of Athens, Mahmud Efendi, wrote a rarely studiedHistory of the City of Sages (Tarih-i Medinetü’l-Hukema)in which he transformed Pericles into a wise leader on a par with the Qur'anic King Solomon and linked the Parthenon mosque to Solomon's temple in Jerusalem.


Author(s):  
Roni Cohen

Abstract This article examines an unknown collection of 16 letters written by the 14-year-old Moses Samuel ben Asher Anshel of Gendringen found in a small booklet for Purim that he copied in Amsterdam in 1713. In the letters, written in Hebrew and Yiddish and decorated with illustrated frames, Samuel (as he calls himself) writes to his parents about his studies and ambition to become a professional scribe. This article discusses Samuel’s letters as sources for the history of Jewish book culture in Early Modern Amsterdam, and for the history of professional Jewish scribes and copyists in the late seventeenth and early eighteenth centuries. It does so by offering an analysis of Samuel’s descriptions of his studies and his own self-perception, and of the letters in context of their presence in Samuel’s booklet.


2016 ◽  
Vol 12 (1) ◽  
Author(s):  
Andreas H. Jucker

AbstractFictional texts constitute complex communicative acts between an author and an audience, and they regularly depict interactions between characters. Both levels are susceptible to an analysis of politeness. This is particularly true for early eighteenth-century drama, which – in the context of the age of politeness – established new dramatic genres to educate and edify their audiences. Characters were used to demonstrate good or bad behaviour as examples to be followed or avoided. Early eighteenth-century drama was a reaction against what was considered to be the immorality and profanity of Restoration drama of the seventeenth century. Two plays serve as illustrations and a testing ground for an analysis of fictional politeness that considers both communicative levels; the play itself and the interactions within the play. Richard Steele’s sentimental comedy “The Conscious Lovers” (1722) gives an example of good behaviour by being exceedingly polite to the audience in the theatre through characters that are exceedingly polite to each other; and George Lillo’s domestic tragedy “The London Merchant, or the History of George Barnwell” (1731) shows the “private woe” of everyday characters in order to warn the younger generation against wrongdoing and to propagate middle-class virtues and moral values.


1998 ◽  
Vol 78 ◽  
pp. 111-176
Author(s):  
J. Philip McAleer

Since the early eighteenth century, on the basis of no particular evidence, the tower standing uncomfortably close to the north choir aisle at Rochester has been attributed to Bishop Gundulf, the builder of the first Romanesque cathedral church begun c.1080. Recently, it has been suggested that the tower dates to the mid-twelfth century and was erected as a bell tower. This paper assembles the documented history of the tower, speculates about its original form, and presents comparative material. Early post-Conquest towers of a possible defensive function and the few known examples of free-standing bell towers in twelfth-century England are considered in an attempt to establish a date and function for the tower. On the basis of this evidence, it may be suggested that an early post-Conquest – and pre-Gundulf – date is more likely than one in the mid-twelfth century, and that it was more probably erected for defensive purposes rather than as a bell tower.


2004 ◽  
Vol 47 ◽  
pp. 127-138
Author(s):  
Tanis Hinchcliffe

Recent research into the history of science has alerted us to the rich cultural contribution a growing awareness of science made to eighteenth-century society in general and to the literate classes in particular. The boundaries of art and science, it has become apparent, were less stringently defined than today, and a growing literature is revealing the crossover from the visual arts to science, especially to medicine, optics, and the applied science of mechanics. It might be asked how far architecture, so close to the physical world in its materials and in its ambition, connected with science during the eighteenth century.


Author(s):  
Matthew Cron

This chapter provides an eighteenth-century context for Johann Sebastian Bach’s cantatas with obbligato organ by showing how their various components engage in a larger discourse about the German Baroque organ: namely, its intimation of Heaven. There are almost 200 surviving church cantatas by Bach, eighteen of which contain movements where the organist transitions from a continuo player to a concertist. Modern scholarship has considered such compositions primarily from two perspectives: a historiographical perspective, which places them in the larger context of the history of the keyboard concerto; and a compositional perspective, which considers them as examples of the arrangement and reworking of previous musical material. This chapters examines how a particular yet widespread way of thinking about the organ gave rise to a fruitful context for the obbligato organ cantata in the early eighteenth century by analyzing Bach’s works from the perspective of an original listener—that is, as a member of the congregation. It argues that Bach’s libretto guided his instrumentation and that he often took advantage of the longstanding identification of the organ with Heaven.


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