Section IV.--Theory of Definitions

I am quite aware that nowadays men laugh at those who reason on

definitions; the laughers deserve to be laughed at. There is no theory

more fertile in universal and important results; it is the root by which

the whole tree of human science grows and lives. For to define things is

to mark out their nature. To introduce a new idea of definition is to

introduce a new idea of the nature of things; it is to tell us what

beings are, of what they are composed, into what elements they are

capable of being resolved. In this lies the merit of these dry

speculations; the philosopher seems occupied with arranging mere

formulas; the fact is, that in them he encloses the universe.

Take, say logicians, an animal, a plant, a feeling, a geometrical

figure, an object or group of objects of any kind. Doubtless the object

has its properties, but it has also its essence. It is manifested to the

outer world by an indefinite number of effects and qualities; but all

these modes of being are the results or products of its inner nature.

There is within it a certain hidden substratum which alone is primitive

and important, without which it can neither exist nor be conceived, and

which constitutes its being and our notion of it.[402] They call the

propositions which denote this essence definitions, and assert that the

best part of our knowledge consists of such propositions.

On the other hand, Mill says that these kinds of propositions teach us

nothing; they show the mere sense of a word, and are purely verbal.[403]

What do I learn by being told that man is a rational animal, or that a

triangle is a space contained by three lines? The first part of such a

phrase expresses, by an abbreviative word, what the second part

expresses in a developed phrase. You tell me the same thing twice over;

you put the same fact into two different expressions; you do not add one

fact to another, but you go from one fact to its equivalent. Your

proposition is not instructive. You might collect a million such, my

mind would remain entirely void; I should have read a dictionary, but

not have acquired a single piece of knowledge. Instead of saying that

essential propositions are important, and those relating to qualities

merely accessory, you ought to say that the first are accessory, and the

second important. I learn nothing by being told that a circle is a

figure formed by the revolution of a straight line about one of its

points as centre; I do learn something when told that the chords which

subtend equal arcs in the circle are themselves equal, or that three

given points determine the circumference. What we call the nature of a

being is the connected system of facts which constitutes that being. The

nature of a carnivorous mammal consists in the fact that the property of

giving milk, and all its implied peculiarities of structure, are

combined with the possession of sharp teeth, instincts of prey, and the

corresponding faculties. Such are the elements which compose its nature.

They are facts linked together as mesh to mesh in a net. We perceive a

few of them; and we know that beyond our present knowledge and our

future experience, the network extends to infinity its interwoven and

manifold threads. The essence or nature of a being is the indefinite sum

of its properties. Mill says:

"The definition, they say, unfolds the nature of the thing: but no

definition can unfold its whole nature; and every proposition in which

any quality whatever is predicated of the thing, unfolds some part of

its nature. The true state of the case we take to be this: All

definitions are of names, and of names only; but in some definitions it

is clearly apparent, that nothing is intended except to explain the

meaning of the word; while in others, besides explaining the meaning of

the word, it is intended to be implied that there exists a thing,

corresponding to the word."[404]

Abandon, then, the vain hope of eliminating from properties some

primitive and mysterious being, the source and abstract of the whole;

leave entities to Duns Scotus; do not fancy that, by probing your ideas

in the German fashion, by classifying objects according to genera and

species like the schoolmen, by reviving the nominalism of the Middle

Ages or the riddles of Hegelian metaphysics, you will ever supply the

want of experience. There are no definitions of things; if there are

definitions, they only define names. No phrase can tell me what a horse

is; but there are phrases which will inform me what is meant by these

five letters. No phrase can exhaust the inexhaustible sum of qualities

which make up a being; but several phrases may point out the facts

corresponding to a word. In this case definition is possible, because we

can always make an analysis, which will enable us to pass from the

abstract and summary term to the attributes which it represents, and

from these attributes to the inner or concrete feelings which constitute

their foundation. From the term "dog" it enables us to rise to the

attributes "mammiferous, carnivorous," and others which it represents;

and from these attributes to the sensations of sight, of touch, of the

dissecting knife, on which they are founded. It reduces the compound to

the simple, the derived to the primitive. It brings back our knowledge

to its origin. It transforms words into facts. If some definitions, such

as those of geometry, seem capable of giving rise to long sequences of

new truths,[405] it is because, in addition to the explanation of a

word, they contain the affirmation of a thing. In the definition of a

triangle there are two distinct propositions--the one stating that

"there may exist a figure bounded by three straight lines"; the other,

that "such a figure may be termed a triangle." The first is a postulate,

the second a definition. The first is hidden, the second evident; the

first may be true or false, the second can be neither. The first is the

source of all possible theorems as to triangles, the second only resumes

in a word the facts contained in the other. The first is a truth, the

second is a convention; the first is a part of science, the second an

expedient of language. The first expresses a possible relation between

three straight lines, the second gives a name to this relation. The

first alone is fruitful, because it alone conforms to the nature of

every fruitful proposition, and connects two facts. Let us, then,

understand exactly the nature of our knowledge: it relates either to

words or to things, or to both at once. If it is a matter of words, as

in the definition of names, it attempts to refer words to our primitive

feelings: that is to say, to the facts which form their elements. If it

relates to beings, as in propositions about things, its whole effort is

to link fact to fact, in order to connect the finite number of known

properties with the infinite number to be known. If both are involved,

as in the definitions of names which conceal a proposition relating to

things, it attempts to do both. Everywhere its operation is the same.

The whole matter, in any case, is to understand each other--that is, to

revert to facts, or to learn--that is, to add facts to facts.

History of English Literature Volume 3 (of 3) · 第 4 / 12 章