No difficulty is unsurmountable, if words be allowed to pass
without meaning.--Lord Kames.
As every proposition consists of two names, and as every proposition
affirms or denies one of these names of the other, the value of
definition, which fixes the import of names, is apparent.
'A _name_ is a word taken at pleasure to serve for a mark, which may
raise in our mind a thought like to some thought we had before, and
which being pronounced to others, may be to them a sign of what thought
the speaker had before in his mind [Hobbes]. This simple definition of
a name, as a word (or set of words) serving the double purpose of a mark
to recall to ourselves the likeness of a former thought, and a sign to
make it known to others, appears unexceptionable.'*
Definition originates in accurate and comprehensive observation. 'There
cannot be,' says Mill, 'agreement about the definition of a thing, until
there is agreement about the thing itself. _To define a thing is to
select from among the whole of its properties those which shall
be understood to be designated and declared by its name_; and the
properties must be very well known to us before we can be competent to
determine which of them are fittest to be chosen for this purpose.'**
'The simplest and most correct notion of a definition is, a proposition
declaratory of the meaning of a word; namely, either the meaning which
it bears in common acceptation, or that which the speaker or writer, for
the particular purposes of his discourse, intends to annex to it.'***
* J. Stuart Mill: System of Logic, 2nd ed., chap. 11, sec.
I. p. 27.
** Introduction to Logic, p. 1.
*** Mill's Logic, p. 183, vol. 1.
But with most persons the object of a definition is merely to guide them
to the correct use of a term as a protection against applying it in a
manner inconsistent with custom and convention. Anything, therefore, is
to them a sufficient definition of a term which will serve as a correct
index to what the term denotes; although not embracing the whole, and
sometimes perhaps not even any part of what it connotes.
Definitions are sometimes explained as being of two kinds--of things and
words.
The definition of _words_ is the explanation of the sense in which they
are used.
The definition of _things_ is an explanation of the specific properties
by which they differ from all other things.
To define a thing, says Dr. Watts, we must ascertain with what it
agrees, then note the most remarkable attribute of difference, and join
the two together.
Probity--the disposition to acknowledge the rights of mankind.
Justice--the disposition to maintain the rights of mankind.
Benevolence--the disposition to improve the rights of mankind.
Deceit--the concealed violation of the rights of mankind.
Injustice--the open violation of the rights of mankind.
Malevolence--hatred of the rights of mankind.
In defining a word we seek some class to which to refer it, that we may
identify it, and fix attention upon that peculiarity by which we
can distinguish it from all other things. 'Probity and 'justice' are
referred to 'disposition,' with reference to the 'rights of mankind' as
their sphere of existence: and _acknowledgment, and maintenance_, are
mentioned as the distinguishing features.
Distinctions must not be made without differences. The definition should
be plainer than the thing defined. Aristotle's definition of motion is
considered defective in this respect:--'Motion--an act of a being in
power, so far forth as it is in power.' Tautological definitions cause
more to be supposed than is true--the too terse explanation leaves some
necessary thing unmentioned. A perfect definition requires the union of
the concise, the clear, and the adequate. Some persons are so
unskilful in the analysis of terms as to occasion the advice _Nil
explicare_--never explain yourself if you wish to be understood.
Double meanings should be avoided. The writer may himself alternate in
their use, and the reader may take the word in the unintended meaning.
All men have not the strong sense of Johnson. When Caleb Whiteford
inquired seriously of the Doctor, whether he really considered that a
man ought to be transported, like Barrington, the pickpocket, for being
guilty of a double meaning. 'Sir,' said Johnson, 'if a man means well,
the more he means the better'--which, whether real or fictitious, is one
of the happiest answers that ever crushed a quibble.*
* Hood's Own.
I have frequently put the question--What is consciousness? to persons
who have been conscious for twenty or thirty years, but who were yet
unable to reply. Had any one deprived these persons of consciousness, a
judge would have hanged him for the offence; yet, could they themselves
have been interrogated as to what harm they had suffered, they could
not have told what they had lost. And upon the principle, that he not
knowing what he has lost, is no loser, these persons, though murdered,
had suffered no harm.
The various definitions of the same subject which prevail, originate in
the caprice, or partial, or profound knowledge the definer may have of
his subject. It seems to be admitted by logicians, that an author has a
right to give whatever provisional definition he pleases of his terms.
But having once given them, perspicuity requires that he should adhere
to them. Any new sense in which a term is employed should be specially
defined. In discoursing on an ordinary subject, as the right of public
assembly,--such words as perception, conception, apprehension, might be
used reciprocally, but in a dissertation on metaphysics each requires
restriction in use and precision in purport.
Often genius strikes out new relations of words. In recent political
debates, Mr. Cobden resorted with new force and point to a charge of
rashness against ministers: he showed that rashness consisted more
frequently in inaction than action. He is rash who stands surrounded
by the elements of danger without taking; any precaution against the
contingencies of peril; he is rash who does not take advantage of the
calm, to repair his shattered rigging; he is rash who looks not out for
a proper supply of water until the conflagration is raging around
him; and more rash than all is he who exercises no provident care for
supplying a nation with food, but waits for the pressure of famine and
the perils of starvation.
At the last soiree of the Leeds Mechanics' Institution, Mr. Dickens
referred to ignorance, commonly considered as a passive negation, and
placed it in the light of a power. 'Look where we will, do we not find
ignorance powerful for every kind of wrong and evil? Powerful to take
its enemies to its heart and strike its best friends down--powerful
to fill the prisons, the hospitals, and the graves--powerful for blind
violence, prejudice, and error in all their destructive shapes.'
The variations which not only common but technical terms undergo, is
a considerable source of perplexity in reasoning. Mr. Mill cites the
instance of the term felony. No lawyer will undertake to tell what a
felony is otherwise than by enumerating the various kinds of offences
which are so called. Originally, felony denoted all offences, the
penalty of which included forfeiture of goods; but, subsequent Acts
of Parliament have declared various offences to be felonies without
enjoining that penalty, and have taken away the penalty from others
which continue still to be called felonies, insomuch that the acts
so called have now no property whatever in common, save that of being
unlawful and punishable. This inattention to precision in terms has
arisen not among the vulgar, but among educated English lawyers.
'Language,' says Mr. Mill, borrowing a political simile from Sir James
Mackintosh, '"is not made, but grows." A name not unfrequently passes
by successive links of resemblance from one object to another, until it
becomes applied to things having nothing in common with the first things
to which the name was given; which, however, do not, for that reason,
drop the name; so that it at last denotes a confused huddle of objects,
having nothing whatever in common; and connotes nothing, not even a
vague and general resemblance. When a name has fallen into this state,
in which by predicating it of any object we assert literally nothing
about the object, it has become unfit for the purposes either of thought
or of the communication of thought; and can only be made serviceable by
stripping it of some part of its multifarious denotation, and confining
it to objects possessed of some attributes in common, which it may be
made to connote. Such are the inconveniences of a language which "is not
made, but grows." like a road which is not made, but has made itself, it
requires continual mending in order to be passable.'*
* Logic, p. 207.
It is well observed, that the spontaneous growth of language is of
the utmost importance to the thinker. There seems to be so palpable a
substratum of right sense, in the rude classifications of the multitude,
that the logician has little else to do, in many cases, than to retouch
them and give them precision. Guizot observes, there is frequently more
truth in common acceptations of general terms than in the more precise
definitions of science. Common sense gives to words their ordinary
signification. The leading terms of philosophy are clothed in
innumerable shades of meaning acquired in their transitional use, and
immense is the knowledge of _thing:_ requisite to enable a man to affirm
that any given argument turns wholly on _words_. The study of terms,
for which logicians have provided multiplied means, is one of the most
interesting and profitable upon which men can enter. If it be worth
while to speak at all, it is worth while to know certainly what we speak
about.
Philanthropic genius has pointed out a perversion of power, arising
through definitional incapacity, which makes it a moral duty to study
analysis of terms, and exactitude of expression.
'All battle,' says Carlyle, 'is _misunderstanding_--did the parties know
one another, the battle would cease. No man at bottom means injustice;
he contends for some distorted image of right. _Clear_, undeniable
right--_clear_, undeniable might--either of these, once ascertained,
puts an end to battle. Battle is a confused experiment to ascertain
these.'
Of the power of names to impose on the multitude, history furnishes too
many examples. Strength to forefend us against they delusion ability to
see that the meaning governs the term, and not the term the meaning--are
species of intellectual self-defence.
'Augustus,' says Gibbon, 'was sensible that mankind is governed by
names; nor was he deceived in his expectation that the senate and people
would submit to slavery provided that they were respectably assured that
they still enjoyed their ancient freedom.'
'Never,' adjures W. J. Fox, 'be deceived by words. Always try to
penetrate to realities. Have your wits sharpened, your senses exercised
to discern good and evil. Be not imposed upon by pompous manners. Many a
solemnly-uttered sentence is often a sheer inanity, which will not
bear the scrutiny of an observant intellect. Be not frightened by
denunciations; by being told that you are not a good subject or a good
Christian, if you do not believe, or say that you believe this or
that. Be not led astray by iteration--mistake not the familiar for the
intelligible. Ascertain what words are meant to convey, and what they
actually do convey. Go to the substance and soul of whatever is
propounded. Be on your guard against bold assumptions, nor let them bear
you away against the dictates of your own understanding.
Look at phrases as counters, or paper money, that may pass for much or
little according to circumstances. Endeavour to arrive at truth, and
make that your treasure. Be ever wide awake to see through any veil
of sophistry and cant; nor by the agency of words be made the dupe of
critic or lawyer, of priest of politician.'*
* Lectures to the Working Classes, p. 70, vol. 2.