There can be little doubt that, of the two uses of marks,

Communicating our thoughts, and Recording them, the advantage of the

first would be the earliest felt; and that signs for Communicating

would be long invented, before any person would see the advantage of

Recording his thoughts. After the use of signs for Communication had

become familiar, it would not fail, in time, to appear that signs

might be employed for Recordation also; and that, from this use of

them, the highest advantages might be derived.

In respect to those advantages, the following particulars are to be

observed.

{130} 1. We cannot recall any idea, or train of ideas, at will.

Thoughts come into the mind unbidden. If they did not come unbidden,

they must have been in the mind before they came into it; which is a

contradiction. You cannot bid a thought come into the mind, without

knowing that which you bid; but to know a thought is to have the

thought: the knowledge of the thought, and the thought's being in

the mind, are not two things but one and the same thing, under

different names.

If we cannot recall at pleasure a single idea, we are not less

unable to recall a train. Every person knows how evanescent his

thoughts are, and how impossible it is for him to begin at the

beginning of a past train, if it is not a train of the individual

objects familiar to his senses, and go on to the end, neither

leaving out any of the items which composed it, nor allowing any

which did not belong to it, to enter in.

2. It is most obvious that, by ideas alone, the events which are

passed, are to us any thing. If the objects which we have seen,

heard, smelt, tasted, and touched, left no traces of themselves; if

the immediate sensation were every thing, and a blank ensued when

the sensation ended, the past would be to us as if it had never

been. Yesterday would be as unknown as the months we passed in the

womb, or the myriads of years before we were born.

3. It is only by our ideas of the past, that we have any power of

anticipating the future. And if we had no power of anticipating the

future, we should have no principle of action, but the physical

impulses, which we have in common with the brutes. This great law of

our nature, the anticipation of the future from the {131} past, will

be fully illustrated in a subsequent part of this inquiry: at

present, all that is required is, the admission, which will probably

not be refused, of this general truth: That the order, in which

events have been observed to take place, is the order in which they

are expected to take place; that the order in which they have taken

place is testified to us only by our ideas; and that upon the

correctness, with which they are so testified, depends the faculty

we possess of converting the powers of nature into the instruments

of our will; and of bringing to pass the events which we desire.

4. But all this power depends upon the order of our ideas. The

importance, therefore, is unspeakable, of being able to insure the

order of our ideas; to make, in other words, the order of a train of

ideas correspond unerringly with a train of past sensations. We have

not, however, a direct command over the train of our ideas. A train

of ideas may have passed in our minds corresponding to events of

great importance; but that train will not pass again, unvaried,

except in very simple cases, without the use of _expedients_.

5. The difference between the occasions of our IDEAS, and the

occasions of our SENSATIONS, affords a resource for this purpose.

Over the occasions of our sensations; we have an extensive power. We

can command the smell of a rose, the hearing of a bell, the sight of

a tree, the sensation of heat or of cold, and so on. Over the

occasions of our ideas we have little or no direct power. Our ideas

come and go. There is a perpetual train of them, one succeeding

another; but we cannot will any link in that chain of ideas; each

link is determined by the foregoing; and every man knows, how

impossible {132} it is, by mere willing, to make such a train as he

desires. Thoughts obtrude themselves without his bidding; and

thoughts which he is in quest of will not arise.

By the power, however, which we have over the occasions of our

sensations, we can make sure of having a train of sensations exactly

the same as we have had before. This affords us the means of having

a train of ideas exactly the same as we have had before. If we

choose a number of sensible objects, and make use of them as marks

of our ideas, we can ensure any succession which we please of the

sensible objects; and, by the association between them and the

ideas, a corresponding succession of the ideas.

6. To one of the two sets of occasions, upon which Signs are thus

useful, _evanescent_ Signs are the best adapted; _permanent_ signs

are absolutely necessary for the other. For the purposes of speech,

or immediate communication, sounds are the most convenient marks.

Sounds, however, perish in the making. But for the purpose of

retracing a train of ideas, which we have formerly had, it is

necessary we should have marks which do not perish. Marks, addressed

to the sight, or the touch, have the requisite permanence; and, of

the two, those addressed to the eye have the advantage. Of marks

addressed to the eye, two kinds have been adopted; either marks

immediately of the ideas intended to be recalled; such as the

picture-writing, or hieroglyphics, of some nations: or, visible

marks, by letters, of the audible marks employed in oral

communication. This latter kind has been found the most convenient,

and in use among the largest, and most intelligent portion of our

species.

{133} According to this scheme, spoken language is the use of

immediate marks of the ideas; written language, is the use of

secondary marks of the ideas. The written marks are only signs of

the audible marks; the audible marks, are signs of the ideas.[40]

[Editor's footnote 40: This exposition of Naming in its most general

aspect, needs neither explanation nor comment. It is one of those

specimens of clear and vigorous statement, going straight to the

heart of the matter, and dwelling on it just long enough and no

longer than necessary, in which the Analysis abounds.--_Ed._]

{134} SECTION I.

NOUNS SUBSTANTIVE.

The power of Language essentially consists, in two things; first, in

our having marks of our SENSATIONS, and IDEAS: and, secondly, in so

arranging them, that they may correctly denote a TRAIN of those

mental states or feelings. It is evident, that if we convey to

others the ideas which pass in our own minds, and also convey them

in the order in which they pass, the business of COMMUNICATION is

completed. And, if we establish the means of reviving the ideas

which we have formerly had, and also of reviving them in the order

in which we formerly had them, the business of RECORDATION is

completed. We now proceed to show, by what contrivances, the

expedient of Marking is rendered efficient to those several ends.

The primary importance to men, of being able to make known to one

another their SENSATIONS, made them in all probability begin with

inventing marks for that purpose; in other words, making Names for

their SENSATIONS. Two modes presented themselves. One was to give a

name to each single sensation. Another was to bestow a name on a

cluster of sensations, whenever they were such as occur in a

cluster. Of this latter class, are all names of what are called

External Objects; rose, water, stone, and so on. Each of these names

is the mark of as many sensations (sight, touch, smell, taste,

sound) as we are said to derive from those objects. The name rose,

is the {135} mark of a sensation of colour, a sensation of shape, a

sensation of touch, a sensation of smell, all in conjunction. The

name water, is the mark of a sensation of colour, a sensation of

touch, a sensation of taste, and other sensations, regarded not

separately, but as a compound.[41]

[Findlater's footnote 41: It is not intended to be understood that

all this complex meaning entered into the names as originally given.

The process of naming seems to have been this: Each object was

designated by a term expressive of some one prominent quality, and

of that only. Thus _rose_ is referred with every probability to the

same root as the adjective _red_ (compare Greek [Greek: r(o/don], a

rose, [Greek: e(ruthro\s] red, German _roth_, Latin _rutilus_), and

thus meant "the ruddy" (flower). Other objects would doubtless also

be called "ruddy," and would dispute the epithet with the rose; but

by a process of natural selection, each would settle down in

possession of the term found best suited to distinguish it; which

would thus cease to be an attributive, and become a name substantive

with a complex connotation derived from association. All names of

objects whose origin can be traced are found to be thus simple in

their primary signification. The stars (Sans. _staras_) were so

called because they were "strewers" (of light).--_F._]

There is a convenience in giving a single mark to any number of

sensations, which we thus have in clusters; because there is hence a

great saving of marks. The sensations of sight, of touch, of smell,

and so on, derived from a rose, might have received marks, and have

been enumerated, one by one; but the term rose, performs all this

much more expeditiously, and also more certainly.

The occasions, however, are perpetual, on which we need marks for

sensations, not in clusters, but taken separately. And language is

supplied with {136} names of this description. We have the terms,

red, green, hot, cold, sweet, bitter, hard, soft, noise, stench,

composing in the whole a numerous class. For many sensations,

however, we have not names in one word; but make a name out of two

or more words: thus, for the sensation of hearing, derived from a

trumpet, we have only the name, "sound of a trumpet;" in the same

manner, we have "smell of a rose," "taste of an apple," "sight of a

tree," "feeling of velvet."

Of those names which denote clusters of sensations, it is obvious

(but still very necessary) to remark, that some include a greater,

some a lesser number of sensations. Thus, stone includes only

sensations of touch, and sight. Apple, beside sensations of touch

and sight, includes sensations of smell and taste.

We not only give names to clusters of sensations, but to clusters of

clusters; that is, to a number of minor clusters, united into a

greater cluster. Thus we give the name wood to a particular cluster

of sensations, the name canvas to another, the name rope to another.

To these clusters, and many others, joined together in one great

cluster, we give the name ship. To a number of these great clusters

united into one, we give the name fleet, and so on. How great a

number of clusters are united in the term House? And how many more

in the term City?

Sensations being infinitely numerous, all cannot receive marks or

signs. A selection must be made. Only those which are the most

important are named.

Names, to be useful, cannot exceed a certain number. They could not

otherwise be remembered. It is, therefore, of the greatest

importance that each name should accomplish as much as possible. To

this end, {137} the greater number of names stand, not for

individuals only, but classes. Thus the terms red, sweet, hot, loud,

are names, not of one sensation only, but of classes of sensations;

that is, every sensation of a particular kind. Thus also the term,

rose, is not the name of one single cluster, but of every cluster

coming under a certain description. As rose denotes one class, stone

denotes another, iron another, ox another, and so on.[42]

[Editor's footnote 42: Economy in the use of names is a very small

part of the motive leading to the creation of names of classes. If

we had a name for every individual object which exists in the

universe, and could remember all those names, we should still

require names for what those objects or some of them have in common;

in other words, we should require classification, and class names.

This will be obvious if it is considered that had we no names but

names of individuals, we should not have the means of making any

affirmation respecting any object; we could not predicate of it any

qualities. But of this more largely in a future note.--_Ed._]

As we need marks for SENSATIONS, we need marks also for IDEAS.

The Ideas which we have occasion to name, are first, Simple Ideas,

the copies of simple sensations; secondly, Complex Ideas, the copies

of several sensations, combined. Of those complex ideas, also,

there is one species, those copied directly from sensations, in the

formation of which the mind has exercised but little control; as the

ideas of rose, horse, stone, and of what are called the objects of

sense in general. There is another species of complex ideas which,

though derived also from the senses, are put together in a great

degree at our discretion, as the ideas of a {138} centaur, a

mountain of gold, of comfort, of meanness; all that class of ideas

in short which Mr. Locke has called mixed modes.

We may thus distinguish three classes of ideas, which we have

occasion to name: 1, simple ideas, the copies of single sensations:

2, complex ideas, copied directly from sensations: 3, complex ideas,

derived indeed from the senses, but put together in arbitrary

combinations. The two former classes may be called Sensible, the

last Mental Ideas.

With respect to ideas, of the first two classes, those which are the

direct copies of our sensations, either singly, or in groups; it is

of great importance to observe, and also to remember, that, for the

most part, the words, which are employed as marks of the Sensations,

are made to serve the further purpose of being marks also of the

Ideas. The same word is at once the name of the sensations, and the

ideas.

If any person were asked, whether the word BEING is the name of a

Sensation, or of an Idea; he would immediately reply, that it is the

name of an Idea. In like manner, if he were asked, whether the word

ANIMAL is the mark of a cluster of Sensations, or of a cluster of

Ideas; he would with equal readiness say, of a cluster of Ideas. But

if we were to ask, whether the name Sheep is the name of a cluster

of Sensations, or of a cluster of Ideas; he would probably say, that

Sheep is the name of Sensations; in the same manner as rose, or

apple. Yet, what is the difference? Only this, that ANIMAL is the

more general name, and includes sheep along with other species; and

that BEING is still more general, and includes animal along with

vegetable, mineral, and other {139} _genera_. If sheep, therefore,

or stone, be a name of sensations, so is animal or being; and if

animal, or being, be a name of ideas, so is sheep or stone a name of

ideas. The fact is, they are all names of both. They are names of

the Sensations, primarily; but are afterwards employed as names also

of the Ideas or copies of those sensations.

It thus appears, that the names generally of what are called the

objects of sense are equivocal; and whereas it would have been a

security against confusion to have been provided with appropriate

names, one, in each instance, for the Sensation, and one for the

Idea, the same name has been made to serve as the mark for both. The

term horse is not only made to stand for the sensations of sight, of

hearing, of touch, and even of smell, which give me occasion for the

use of the term horse; but it stands also for the ideas of those

sensations, as often as I have occasion to speak of that cluster of

ideas which compose my notion of a horse. The term tree denotes

undoubtedly the Idea in my mind, when I mean to convey the idea tree

into the mind of another man; but it also stands for the sensations

whence I have derived my idea of a tree.

Thus, too, if I mean to name my simple ideas; those, for example, of

sight; I have no other names than red, blue, violet, &c.; but all

these are names of the sensations. When forced to distinguish them,

I must use the awkward expressions, my sensation of red, my idea of

red. Again; sound of a trumpet, is the name, as well of the

sensation, as the idea; flight of a bird, the name, as well of the

sensation, as the idea; light the name as well of the sensation as

the idea; pain {140} the name as well of the sensation as the idea;

heat the name as well of the sensation as the idea.[43]

[Editor's footnote 43: In strict propriety of language all these are

names only of sensations, or clusters of sensations; not of ideas. A

person studious of precision would not, I think, say heat, meaning

the idea of heat, or a tree, when he meant the idea of a tree. He

would use heat as the name only of the sensation of heat, and tree

as the name of the outward object, or cluster of sensations; and if

he had occasion to speak of the idea, he would say, my idea (or the

idea) of heat; my idea (or the idea) of a tree.--_Ed._]

As we have remarked, in regard to SENSATIONS, singly, or in

clusters, that they are too numerous to receive names but in

classes, that is names common to every individual of a class, the

same is obviously true of the IDEAS. The greater number of names of

Sensible Ideas are names of classes: man is the name of a class;

lion, horse, eagle, serpent, and so on, are names of classes.

Ideas, of the third class, those which the mind forms arbitrarily,

are innumerable; because the combinations capable of being formed of

the numerous elements which compose them, exceed computation. All

these combinations cannot receive names. The memory can manage but a

moderate number. Of possible combinations, therefore, a small

proportion must be selected for naming. These, of course, are the

combinations which are suggested by the occasions of life, and

conduce to the ends which we pursue.

We arrange those ideas, also, in classes; to the end that every name

may serve the purpose of marking, as extensively as possible. Thus

the term fear is {141} applicable to a state of mind, of which the

instances form a class. In like manner, courage is the name of a

class; temperance, ignorance, piety, and so on, names of classes.

Republic, aristocracy, monarchy, are names, each of them, not of an

individual government, a government at one time and place, but of a

class, a sort of government, at any time and place.

The names of the ideas which are thus mentally clustered, are exempt

from that ambiguity which we saw belonged to the names of both

classes of sensible ideas. The names of sensible ideas generally

stand for the sensations as well as the ideas. The names of the

mental ideas are not transferable to sensations. But they are

subject to another uncertainty, still more fertile in confusion, and

embarrassment.

As the combinations are formed arbitrarily, or in other words, as

the ideas of which they are composed, are more or less numerous,

according to pleasure, and each man of necessity forms his own

combination, it very often happens, that one man includes something

more or something less than another man in the combination to which

they both give the same name. Using the same words, they have not

exactly the same ideas. In the term piety, for example, a good

catholic includes many things which are not included in it by a good

protestant. In the term good manners, an Englishman of the present

day does not include the same ideas which were included in it by an

Englishman two centuries ago; still less those which are included in

it by foreigners of habits and usages dissimilar to our own.

Prudence, in the mind of a man of rank and fortune, has a very

different meaning from what it bears in the minds of the {142}

frugal and industrious poor. Under this uncertainty in language, it

not only happens that men are often using the same expressions when

they have different ideas; but different, when they have the same

ideas.[44]

[Editor's footnote 44: There is some need for additional elucidation

of the class of complex ideas distinguished (under the name of Mixed

Modes) by Locke, and recognised by the author of the Analysis, as

"put together in a great degree at our discretion;" as "those which

the mind forms arbitrarily," so that "the ideas of which they are

composed are more or less numerous according to pleasure, and each

man of necessity forms his own combination." From these and similar

phrases, interpreted literally, it might be supposed that in the

instances given, a centaur, a mountain of gold, comfort, meanness,

fear, courage, temperance, ignorance, republic, aristocracy,

monarchy, piety, good manners, prudence--the elements which

constitute these several complex ideas are put together

premeditatedly, by an act of will, which each individual performs

for himself, and of which he is conscious. This, however, happens

only in cases of invention, or of what is called creative

imagination. A centaur and a mountain of gold are inventions:

combinations intentionally made, at least on the part of the first

inventor; and are not copies or likenesses of any combination of

impressions received by the senses, nor are supposed to have any

such outward phenomena corresponding to them. But the other ideas

mentioned in the text, those of courage, temperance, aristocracy,

monarchy, &c., are supposed to have real originals outside our

thoughts. These ideas, just as much as those of a horse and a tree,

are products of generalization and abstraction: they are believed to

be ideas of certain points or features in which a number of the

clusters of sensations which we call real objects agree: and instead

of being formed by intentionally putting together simple ideas, they

are formed by stripping off, or rather, by not attending to, such of

the simple sensations or ideas entering into the {143} clusters as

are peculiar to any of them, and establishing an extremely close

association among those which are common to them all. These complex

ideas, therefore, are not, in reality, like the creations of mere

imagination, put together at discretion, any more than the complex

ideas, compounded of the obvious sensible qualities of objects,

which we call our ideas of the objects. They are formed in the same

manner as these, only not so rapidly or so easily, since the

particulars of which they are composed do not obtrude themselves

upon the senses, but suppose a perception of qualities and sequences

not immediately obvious. From this circumstance results the

consequence noticed by the author, that this class of complex ideas

are often of different composition in different persons. For, in the

first place, different persons abstract their ideas of this sort

from different individual instances; and secondly, some persons

abstract much better than others; that is, take more accurate notice

of the obscurer features of instances, and discern more correctly

what are those in which all the instances agree. This important

subject will be more fully entered into when we reach that part of

the present work which treats of the ideas connected with General

Terms.--_Ed._]

{144} SECTION II.

NOUNS ADJECTIVE.

As the purpose of language is to denote sensations and ideas; to

mark them for our own use, or to give indication of them to our

fellow men; it is obvious that the names of sensations and ideas are

the fundamental parts of language. But as ideas are very numerous,

and the limits of the human memory admit the use of only a limited

number of marks or names, various contrivances are employed to make

one name serve as many purposes as possible.

Of the contrivances for making the use of each word as extensive as

possible, we have already adverted to one of great importance; that

of arranging ideas in classes, and making one name stand for each

individual of the class. When the classes are large, one word or

mark serves to name or indicate many individuals.

But when, for the sake of economizing names, those classes have been

made as large as possible, we often find occasion for breaking them

down into smaller parcels, or sub-classes, and speaking of these

sub-classes by themselves.

An example will render what is here expressed sufficiently plain.

The term sound, is the name of a large class of ideas or sensations;

for it is equally the name of both; the sound of thunder, the sound

of a cannon, the whistling of the wind, the voice of a man, the

howling of a dog, and so on.

{145} Among these sounds I perceive differences; some affect me in

one way, and I wish to mark them as doing so; some affect me in

another way, and I wish to mark them as affecting me in that

particular way.

It is obvious that names might be invented for these subordinate

classes, to mark such of them as we have occasion to mark; and the

cases are numerous, in which this is the expedient adopted. Thus the

term animal is the name of a large class. But we have occasion to

speak apart of various portions of this class, to all the more

important of which portions, we have given particular names. Horse

is the name of one portion, man of another, sheep of another, and so

of the rest.

There is, however, another mode of naming subordinate classes; a

mode by which the use of names is greatly economized, and of which

the utility is therefore conspicuous.

The subordinate class is distinguished from they rest of the greater

class by some peculiarity, something in which the individuals of it

agree with one another, and do not agree with the rest. Thus to

recur to the example of sound. One set of sounds affect me in a

certain way, a way peculiar to that set. Wishing to distinguish

these sounds from others by a mark, I call them _loud_. Another set

of sounds affect me in another way, and I call them _low_; a third

set in another way, and I call them _harsh_; a fourth in another

way, and I call them _sweet_. By means of those adjectives applied

as marks upon the mark of the great class, I have the names of four

species, or sub-classes; 1, loud sounds; 2, low sounds; 3, harsh

sounds; 4, {146} sweet sounds; and the number might be greatly

enlarged.

It thus appears that, as nouns substantive are marks of ideas, or

sensations, nouns adjective are marks put upon nouns substantive, or

marks upon marks; in order to limit the signification of the noun

substantive; and instead of its marking a large class, to make it

mark a subdivision of that class. Thus the word, rose, is the mark

of a large class: apply to it the adjective _yellow_, that is, put

the mark yellow upon the mark rose, and you have the name, yellow

rose, which is a sub-division, or species, of the class Rose.

This peculiarity of naming, this putting of marks upon marks, in

order to modify the meaning of a certain mark, is a contrivance

which deserves the greatest attention. It is one of the principal

expedients for the great purpose of economizing names, and

performing the business of marking with the smallest number of

marks; but, like the rest of the contrivances for this purpose, it

contributes to obscure the simple process of naming; and when not

distinctly known and attended to, operates as a source of confusion

and error.

The use of adjectives, in economizing names, is most conspicuous, in

the case of those subdivisions which apply to the greatest number of

classes. There is one distinction which applies to most classes; the

distinction between what pleases, and what does not please us, no

matter on what account. The first we call good, the second evil.

These two terms serve to mark a very great number of subordinate

classes, and, of course, save, to a great extent, the multiplication

of names.

{147} Thus, in the case of the senses, we have the word taste, the

mark of one great class of sensations. Tastes we divide into

sub-classes by the words good and evil; good tastes being one class,

bad tastes another. If we had invented separate marks for each of

these two classes, we should have had three names, to mark the class

taste with these its two primary subdivisions; and we should have

had occasion for the same number of names in the case of each of the

five senses; or, fifteen different names. But the adjectives, good,

and evil, they being applicable to all the senses, save us the

invention of names for the sub-classes of the other four senses; as

we say good smells, bad smells, in the same manner as good tastes,

and bad tastes. They save, therefore, eight names out of fifteen, or

more than one-half.

The economizing power of adjectives is still more remarkable, when

we depart from simple sensations and ideas, and apply them as marks

upon the names of the complex, which are far more numerous. Thus,

the term horse is the mark of a complex idea, and the name of a

class of objects. We say good horse and bad horse, good dog and bad

dog, good house and bad house, and so in cases without number; in

each of which, the repetition of the two adjectives, good, and bad,

saves us the use and embarrassment of separate names.

It deserves to be remarked, that the terms good and evil apply much

more generally to that class of complex ideas, in the formation of

which the mind has but little control; namely, those of external

objects; than they do to the other class of complex ideas which the

mind makes up in an arbitrary {148} manner to suit its own

convenience. Ideas of the latter description are very often made up

according to the distinction of good and evil. Thus, the idea glory,

is composed of ingredients all of which belong to the classes, good;

and the idea good, is multifariously included in the name. After the

same manner, the idea of evil is multifariously included in the

complex idea disgrace. Good is implied in the term virtue, evil in

the term vice; good is implied in the term wealth, evil in the term

poverty; good is implied in the term power, evil in the term

weakness. In some cases, the ideas of this class are so general,

that good and evil are both included; and, in such cases, adjectives

are necessary to mark the subdivisions or species. Thus, we say good

manners, bad manners; good sense, bad sense; good conduct, bad

conduct; and so on.

Next to the adjectives which form the numerous sub-classes of good

and evil, those which mark degrees are of the most extensive

application, and in the operation of sub-marking save the greatest

number of names. Thus the terms, great, and little, are applicable

to a great proportion of the marks of complex ideas of both

formations. We say a great tree, a little tree; a great man, a

little man; a great crime, a small crime; great blame, little blame;

great honour, little honour; great value, little value; great

weight, little weight; great strength, little strength, and so on.

Different adjectives differ in the number of classes to the

subdivision of which they are subservient. Thus hot and cold are

only applicable where diversities of temperature are included;

round, square, and {149} so on, where figure is included; white or

black, where colour; and so on.

Beside the use of adjectives, in dividing great classes into smaller

ones, without multiplication of names; they sometimes answer another

purpose. It often happens that, in the cluster of sensations or

ideas which have one name; we have occasion to call attention

particularly to some one ingredient of the cluster. Adjectives render

this service, as well as that of marking a class. This rose, I say,

is red; that rose is yellow: this stone is hot, that stone is cold.

The term, red rose, or yellow rose, is the name of a class. But when

I say, this rose is red, where an individual is named, I mark

emphatically the specific difference; namely, red, or yellow; which

constitutes that subdivision of the genus rose, to which the

individual belongs.[45]

[Editor's footnote 45: In the concluding paragraph we find the first

recognition by the author that class names serve any purpose, or are

introduced for any reason, except to save multiplication of names.

Adjectives, it is here said, answer also the purpose of calling

attention to some one ingredient of the cluster of sensations

combined under one name. That is to say, they enable us to affirm

that the cluster contains that ingredient: for they do not merely

call attention to the ingredient, or remind the hearer of it: the

hearer, very often, did not know that the cluster contained

the ingredient, until he was apprised by the proposition.

But surely it is not only adjectives which fulfil either office,

whether of giving information of an ingredient, or merely fixing the

attention upon it. All general names do so, when used as predicates.

When I say that a distant object which I am pointing at is a tree,

or a building, I just as much call attention to certain ingredients

in the cluster of sensations constituting the object, as I do when I

say, This rose is red. So {150} far is it from being true that

adjectives are distinguished from substantives by having this

function in addition to that of economizing names, that it is, on

the contrary, much more nearly true of adjectives than of the

class-names which are nouns substantive, that the economizing of

names is the principal motive for their institution. For though

general names of some sort are indispensable to predication,

adjectives are not. As is well shewn in the text, the peculiarity,

which really distinguishes adjectives from other general names, is

that they mark cross divisions. All nature having first been marked

out into classes by means of nouns substantive, we might go on by

the same means subdividing each class. We might call the large

individuals of a class by one noun substantive and the small ones by

another, and these substantives would serve all purposes of

predication; but to do this we should need just twice as many

additional nouns substantive as there are classes of objects. Since,

however, the distinction of large and small applies to all classes

alike, one pair of names will suffice to designate it. Instead

therefore of dividing every class into sub-classes, each with its

own name, we draw a line across all the classes, dividing all nature

into large things and small, and by using these two words as

adjectives, that is, by adding one or other of them as the occasion

requires to every noun substantive which is the name of a class, we

are able to mark universally the distinction of large and small by

two names only, instead of many millions.--_Ed._]

{151} SECTION III.

VERBS.

1. There is one class of complex ideas, of so particular a nature,

and of which we have so frequent occasion to speak, that the means

of sub-dividing them require additional contrivances. Marks put upon

marks are still the instrument. But the instrument, to render it

more effectual to this particular purpose, is fashioned in a

particular way. I allude to the class of words denominated Verbs:

which are, in their essence, adjectives, and applied as marks upon

marks; but receive a particular form, in order to render them, at

the same time, subservient to other purposes.

The mode of their marking, and the peculiarity of their marking

power may easily, I hope, be thus conceived.

A billiard-ball affects my senses, in a particular manner. On

account of this, I call it round; and the term round is ever after a

mark to me of a portion of the sensations which I derive from it. It

affects me in another manner. I call it on that account white, and

the term white is to me a mark of this other mode in which it

affects me: and in the same manner as I call it white, round, on

account of such and such sensations, I call it Moving, on account of

certain other sensations, of which the term Moving is to me a

perpetual mark.

{152} The manner of affecting me on account of which I call it

moving, I learn from experience to be peculiarly entitled to my

regard. I find that it is a mode of affecting me, which belongs to

almost all bodies; and I find that upon this attribute of theirs the

greatest part of my interesting sensations depend. I am therefore

deeply concerned in the knowledge of motions; and have the strongest

inducement to divide them into such classes as may in the highest

degree facilitate that knowledge.

Motions are divided in a great variety of ways for a variety of

purposes. Sometimes we divide them according to their subjects.

Thus, the motion of a bird is one class of motions; the motion of a

horse another; so the motion of a serpent, the motion of an arrow,

the motion of a wheel. At other times we form classes of motions

according to the manner. Thus we have running, flying, rolling,

leaping, staggering, throwing, striking, and so on.

Of all the classifications of motions, however, that which deserves

the greatest attention is the distinction of them into the motions

which originate within the moving body, and those which originate

without it. Of the motions which originate within the moving body,

the principal are the living motions of animals. We find, also, that

of all the motions of animals, those of men are the most important

to men. The motions of men are divided into a great number of

classes. On account of one set of motions we call a man walking; on

account of another sort we call him running; another, writing;

another, dancing; another, fencing; another, boxing; another,

building; and so on. We have also frequent occasion for a name which

shall {153} embrace all these motions of men. For this purpose the

word Acting is employed: and the term Action denotes any of the

motions, which originate within a man as the moving body. It is no

objection to this account of the use of the word action, that it is

sometimes employed in cases in which the motion is not the principal

object of attention; as in the act of singing, or that of speaking.

Here, though it is not the motion, but the effect of the motion,

which is the object of attention to the hearer, the act of the

singer or speaker is not the less truly a motion.

The word action, when thus invented, and used, is afterwards applied

metaphorically to motions which do not originate in the moving body,

as when we say the action of a sword; and also to certain processes

of the mind, which, as they are accompanied with the feeling we call

effort, resembling that which accompanies the voluntary motions, are

sometimes classed along with them, and, by an extension of the

meaning of the word, receive the name of actions. In this manner,

remembering, computing, comparing, even hearing, and seeing, are

denominated actions.

2. In applying the term Acting, or the terms expressive of the

several kinds of acting, the Time the action is a material

circumstance. The grand divisions of time are the Past, the Present,

and the Future. There is great utility in a short method of marking

these divisions of time in conjunction with the mark of the action.

This is effected by the Tenses of Verbs.

3. When the name of an act is applied to an agent the agent is

either the person speaking, the person spoken to, or some other

person. The word denoting {154} the action is, by what are called

the Persons of the verb, made to connote these diversities. Thus

_amo_ notes the act, and connotes the person speaking as the actor;

_amas_ notes the act, and connotes the person spoken to, as the

actor; _amat_ notes the act, and connotes some person, as the actor,

who is neither the person speaking, nor the person spoken to.[46]

[Editor's footnote 46: There is here a fresh instance of the

oversight already pointed out, that of not including in the function

for which general names are required, their employment in

Predication. Amo, amas, and amamus, cannot, I conceive, with any

propriety be called names of actions, or names at all. They are

entire predications. It is one of the properties of the kind of

general names called verbs, that they cannot be used except in a

Proposition or Predication, and indeed only as the predicate of it:

(for the infinitive is not a verb, but the abstract of a verb). What

else there is to distinguish verbs from other general names will be

more particularly considered further on.--_Ed._]

4. When the names of actions are applied to agents, they are applied

to one or a greater number. A short method of connoting this grand

distinction of numbers is effected by the marks of the Singular and

Plural number. Thus _amo_ notes the act, and connotes one actor;

_amamus_ notes the act, and connotes more than one actor.

5. In applying the names of actions to the proper subjects of them,

there are three Modes of the action, one or other of which is always

implied. The first is, when the action has no reference to any thing

previously spoken of. The second is, when it has a reference to

something previously spoken of. The third is, when it has a

reference to some state of the will of {155} the speaker or person

spoken of. These diversities of mode are connoted by the Moods of

the verb. The Indicative is used when no reference is made to any

thing which precedes: the Subjunctive, when a reference is made to

something which precedes: and the Optative, and Imperative, when the

reference is to the state of the will of the speaker or the person

spoken of.

Such are the contrivances to make the marks or names of action, by

their connotative powers, a more and more effectual instrument of

notation. Accurately speaking, they are adjectives, so fashioned as

to connote, a threefold distinction of agents, with a twofold

distinction of their number, a threefold distinction of the manner

of the action, and a threefold distinction of its time; and, along

with all this another important particular, about to be explained,

namely, the COPULA in PREDICATION.[47]

[Editor's footnote 47: The imperfection of this theory of Verbs is

sufficiently apparent. They are, says the author, a particular kind

of Adjectives. Adjectives, according to the preceding Section, are

words employed to enable us, without inconvenient multiplication of

names, to subdivide great classes into smaller ones. Can it be said,

or would it have been said by the author, that the only, or the

principal reason for having Verbs, is to enable us to subdivide

classes of objects with the greatest economy of names?

Neither is it strictly accurate to say that Verbs are always marks

of motion, or of action, even including, as the author does, by an

extension of the meaning of those terms, every process which is

attended with a feeling of effort. Many verbs, of the kind which

grammarians call neuter or intransitive verbs, express rest, or

inaction: as sit, lie, and in some cases, stand. It is true however

that the verbs first invented, as far as we know anything of them,

expressed forms of motion, and the principal function of verbs still

is to affirm or deny action. Or, to speak yet more generally, it is

by means of verbs that we predicate events. Events, or changes, are

the most important facts, to us, in the surrounding world. Verbs are

the resource which language affords for predicating events. They are

not the names of events; all names of events are substantives, as

sunrise, disaster, or *infinitives, as _to rise_, and infinitives

are logically substantives. But it is by means of verbs that we

assert, or give information of, events; as, The sun rises, or,

Disaster has occurred. There is, however, a class of neuter verbs

already referred to, which do not predicate events, but states

of an unchanging object, as lie, sit, remain, exist. It would be

incorrect, therefore, to give a definition of Verbs which should

limit them to the expression of events. I am inclined to think that

the distinction between nouns and verbs is not logical, but merely

grammatical, and that every word, whatever be its meaning, must be

reputed a verb, which is so constructed grammatically that it can

only be used as the predicate of a proposition. Any meaning whatever

is, in strictness, capable of being thrown into this form: but it is

only certain meanings, chiefly actions or events, which there is, in

general, any motive for putting into this particular shape.--_Ed._]

{156} 6. We have, last of all, under this head, to consider the

marking power of a very peculiar, and most comprehensive word, the

SUBSTANTIVE VERB, as it has been called by grammarians, or the word

expressive of BEING. The steps, which we have already traced, in the

process of naming, will aid us in obtaining a true conception of

this, which is one of the most important steps, in that process.

We have seen that, beside the names of particular species of

motions, as walking, running, flying, there was occasion for a

general name which might include {157} the whole of those motions.

For this purpose, the names Action and Acting were employed. It is

now to be remembered, that those sensations which we mark by the

names of action, as walking, running, &c., are but part of the

sensations which we derive from objects; that we have other

sensations, and clusters of sensations, from them, on account of

which we apply to them other names; as when we call a man tall, on

account of certain sensations; dark, on account of certain other

sensations, and so on. Now, as we had occasion for a name to include

the separate clusters, called walking, running, flying, rolling,

falling, and so on, and for that purpose adopted the name Acting;

so, having from objects other sensations than those marked by the

word acting, we have occasion for a name which shall include both

those sensations, and those comprehended in the word acting along

with them: in short, a word that shall embrace all sensations, of

whatever kind, which any object is capable of exciting in us. This

purpose is effected by the word affirmative of Existence. When we

affirm of any thing that it EXISTS, that it IS: what we mean, is,

that we may have sensations from it; nothing, without ourselves,

being known to us, or capable of being known, but through the medium

of our senses.

There is the same occasion for making the Substantive Verb connote

the three distinctions of TIME PAST, TIME PRESENT, and TIME FUTURE,

as in the case of other verbs; also to connote the distinctions of

PERSONS and NUMBERS; and, lastly, to connote the THREE MODES, that

in which there is no reference to any thing preceding, that in which

there is a reference to something preceding, and that in which

reference {158} is made to the will of one of the PERSONS.

Accordingly the Substantive Verb has TENSES, MOODS, NUMBERS, and

PERSONS, like any other verb.

Such is the nature and object of the Substantive Verb. It is the

most GENERICAL of all the words, which we have characterized, as

marks upon marks. These are the words usually called ATTRIBUTIVES.

According to the view which we have given of them, they may be more

appropriately denominated, SECONDARY MARKS. The names of the larger

classes, as tree, horse, strength, we may call PRIMARY MARKS. The

subsidiary names by which smaller classes are marked out of the

larger; as when we say, tall tree, great strength, running horse,

walking man; that is, all attributives, or marks applied upon marks;

we may call SECONDARY MARKS.

{159} SECTION IV.

PREDICATION.

The purposes of language are two. We have occasion to mark

sensations or ideas singly; and we have occasion to mark them in

trains; in other words, we have need of contrivances to mark not

only sensations and ideas; but also the order of them. The

contrivances which are necessary to mark this order are the main

cause of the complexity of language.

If all names were names of one sort, there would be no difficulty in

marking a train of the feelings which they serve to denote. Thus, if

all names were names of individuals, as John, James, Peter, we

should have no difficulty in marking a train of the ideas of these

individuals; all that would be necessary would be to set down the

marks, one after another, in the same order in which, one after

another, the ideas occurred.

If all names were names of Species, as man, horse, eagle, the

facility of marking the order of the ideas which they represent

would be the same. If the idea man occurred first, the idea horse

second, the idea eagle third; all that would be necessary would be

to put down the name or mark man the first, the name or mark horse

the second, and the order of marks would represent the order of

ideas.

But we have already seen, that the facility of communication

requires names of different degrees of {160} comprehensiveness;

names of individuals, names of classes, and names both of the larger

and the smaller classes. For the younger and less instructed part of

my readers, it may be necessary to mention, that the names of the

smaller classes, are called names of Species, or specific names; the

names of the larger classes, names of Genera, or generic names.

Thus, the term animal, denotes a large class; a class which contains

the smaller classes, man, horse, dog, &c. The name animal,

therefore, is called a Genus, or a generic name; the name man, a

Species, or a specific name.

In using names of these different kinds; names of individuals when

the idea is restricted to one individual; and, for brevity, the

names of classes; the names of the less when necessary, of the large

when practicable; there is perpetual need of the substitution of one

name for another. When I have used the names, James and John, Thomas

and William, and many more, having to speak of such peculiarities of

each, as distinguish him from every other, I may proceed to speak of

them in general, as included in a class. When this happens, I have

occasion for the name of the class, and to substitute the name of

the class, for the names of the individuals. By what contrivance is

this performed? I have the name of the individual, _John_; and the

name of the class _man_; and I can set down my two names; _John_,

_man_; in juxta-position. But this is not sufficient to effect the

communication I desire; namely, that the word man is a mark of the

same idea of which John is a mark, and a mark of other ideas along

with it, those to wit, of which James, Thomas, &c. are marks. To

complete my contrivance, I invent a mark, which, placed between my

marks, {161} _John_ and _man_, fixes the idea I mean to convey, that

_man_, is another mark to that idea of which _John_ is a mark, while

it is a mark of the other ideas, of which _James_, _Thomas_, &c.,

are marks. For this purpose, we use in English, the mark "is." By

help of this, my object is immediately attained. I say, _John_ "is"

a _man_. I, then, use the word _man_, instead of the word _John_,

with many advantages; because every thing which I can affirm of the

word _man_, is true not only of _John_, but of _James_, and _Peter_,

and every other individual of the class.

The joining of two names by this peculiar mark is the act which has

been denominated, PREDICATION; and it is the grand contrivance by

which the marks of sensations and ideas are so ordered in discourse,

as to mark the order of the trains, which it is our purpose to

communicate, or to record.

The form of expression, "John is a man," is called a Proposition. It

consists of three marks. Of these, "John," is denominated the

SUBJECT; "man," the PREDICATE; and "is," the COPULA. To speak

generally, and in the language of the grammarians, the nominative of

the verb is the _subject_ of the proposition; the substantive, or

adjective, which agrees with the nominative, is the _predicate_, and

the verb is the _copula_.

By a few simple examples, the reader may render familiar to himself

the use of PREDICATION, as the grand expedient, by which language is

enabled to mark not only sensations and ideas, but also the order of

them.[48]

[Editor's footnote 48: The theory of Predication here set forth,

stands in need of further elucidation, and perhaps of some

correction and addition.

The account which the author gives of a Predication, or Proposition,

is, first, that it is a mode of so putting together the marks of

sensations and ideas, as to mark the order of them. Secondly, that

it consists in substituting one name for another, so as to signify

that a certain name (called the predicate), is a mark of the same

idea which another name (called the subject) is a mark of.

It must be allowed that a predication, or proposition, is intended

to mark some portion of the order either of our sensations or of our

ideas, _i.e._, some part of the coexistences or sequences which take

place either in our minds, or in what we term the external world.

But what sort of order is it that a predication marks? An order

supposed to be believed in. When _John_, or _man_, are said to be

marks of an individual object, all there is in the matter is that

these words, being associated with the idea of the object, are

intended to raise that idea in the mind of the person who hears or

reads them. But when we say, John is a man, or, John is an old man,

we intend to do more than call up in the hearer's mind the images of

John, of a man, and of an old man. We intend to do more than inform

him that we have thought of, or even seen, John and a man, or John

and an old man, together. We inform him of a fact respecting John,

namely, that he _is_ an old man, or at all events, of our belief

that this is a fact. The characteristic difference between a

predication and any other form of speech, is, that it does not

merely bring to mind a certain object (which is the only function of

a mark, merely as such); it asserts something respecting it. Now it

may be true, and I think it is true, that every assertion, every

object of Belief,--everything that can be true or false--that can be

an object of assent or dissent--is some order of sensations or of

ideas: some coexistence or succession of sensations or ideas

actually experienced, or supposed capable of being experienced. And

thus it may appear in the end that in expressing a belief, we are

after all only declaring the order of a group or series of

sensations or ideas. But the order which we declare is not an

imaginary order; it is an order believed to be real. Whatever view

we adopt of the psychological nature of Belief, it is necessary to

distinguish between the mere suggestion, to the mind of a certain

order among sensations or ideas such as takes place when we think of

the alphabet, or the numeration table and the indication that this

order is an actual fact, which is occurring, or which has occurred

once or oftener, or which, in certain definite circumstances, always

occurs; which are the things indicated as true by an affirmative

predication, and as false by a negative one.

That a predication differs from a name in doing more than merely

calling up an idea, is admitted in what I have noted as the second

half of the author's theory of Predication. That second half points

out that every predication is a communication, intended to act, not

on the mere ideas of the listener, but on his persuasion or belief:

and what he is intended to believe, according to the author, is,

that of the two names which are conjoined in the predication, one is

a mark of the same idea (or let me add, of the same sensation or

cluster of sensations) of which the other is a mark. This is a

doctrine of Hobbes, the one which caused him to be termed by

Leibnitz, in words which have been often quoted, "plus quam

nominalis." It is quite true that when we predicate B of A--when we

assert of A that it is a B--B must, if the assertion is true, be a

name of A, _i.e._, a name applicable to A; one of the innumerable

names which, in virtue of their signification, can be used as

descriptive of A: but is this the information which we want to

convey to the hearer? It is so when we are speaking only of names

and their meaning, as when we enunciate a definition. In every other

case, what we want to convey is a matter of fact, of which this

relation between the names is but an incidental consequence. When we

say, John walked out this morning, it is not a correct expression of

the communication we desire to make, that "having walked out this

morning" or "a person who has walked out this morning" are two of

the innumerable names of John. They are only accidentally and

momentarily names of John by reason of a certain event, and the

information we mean to give is, that this event has happened. The

event is not resolvable into an identity of meaning between names,

but into an actual series of sensations that occurred to John, and a

belief that any one who had been present and using his eyes would

have had another series of sensations, which we call seeing John in

the act of walking out. Again, when we say, Negroes are

woolly-haired, we mean to make known to the hearer, not that

woolly-haired is a name of every negro, but that wherever the

cluster of sensations signified by the word negro, are experienced,

the sensations signified by the word woolly-haired will be found

either among them or conjoined with them. This is an order of

sensations: and it is only in consequence of it that the name

woolly-haired comes to be applicable to every individual of whom the

term negro is a name.

There is nothing positively opposed to all this in the author's

text: indeed he must be considered to have meant this, when he said,

that by means of substituting one name for another, a predication

marks the order of our sensations and ideas. The omission consists

in not remarking that what is distinctively signified by a

predication, as such, is Belief in a certain order of sensations or

ideas. And when this has been said, the Hobbian addition, that it

does so by declaring the predicate to be a name of everything of

which the subject is a name, may be omitted as surplusage, and as

diverting the mind from the essential features of the case.

Predication may thus be defined, a form of speech which expresses a

belief that a certain coexistence or sequence of sensations or

ideas, did, does, or, under certain conditions, would take place:

and the reverse of this when the predication is negative.--_Ed._]

{162} For the more complete elucidation of this important part of

the business of Naming, it is necessary to {163} remark, that

Logicians have classed Predications, under five heads; 1st, when the

_Genus_ is predicated, {164} of any subject; 2dly, when the

_Species_ is predicated; 3dly, when the _Specific Difference_ is

predicated; 4thly, {165} when a _Property_ is predicated; 5thly,

when an _Accident_ is predicated. These five classes of names, the

things capable of being predicated, are named PREDICABLES. The five

Predicables, in Latin, the language in which they are commonly

expressed, are named _Genus_, _Species_, _Differentia_, _Proprium_,

_Accidens_.

We have already seen, perhaps at sufficient length, the manner in

which, and the end for which, the Genus, and the Species are

predicated of any subject. It is, that the more comprehensive name,

may be substituted for the less comprehensive; so that each of our

marks may answer the purpose of marking, to as great an extent as

possible. In this manner we substitute the word _man_, for example,

for the word _Thomas_, when we predicate the Species of the

individual, in the proposition, "Thomas is a man;" the word

_animal_, for the word _man_, when we predicate the Genus of the

Species, in the proposition, "man, is an animal."[49]

[Editor's footnote 49: If what has been said in the preceding note

is correct, it is a very inadequate view of the purpose for which a

generic or specific name is predicated of any subject, to say that

it is in order that "the more comprehensive name may be substituted

for the less comprehensive, so that each of our marks may answer the

purpose of marking to as great an extent as possible." The more

comprehensive and the less comprehensive name have each their uses,

and the function of each not only could not be discharged with equal

convenience by the other, but could not be discharged by it at all.

The purpose, in predicating of anything the name of a class to which

it belongs, is not to obtain a better or more commodious name for

it, but to make known the fact of its possessing the attributes

which constitute the class, and which are therefore signified by the

class-name. It is evident that the name of one class cannot possibly

perform this office vicariously for the name of another.--_Ed._]

{166} We have already, also, taken notice of the artifice, by which

smaller classes are formed out of larger, by the help of secondary

marks. Of these secondary marks, the principal classes are

designated by the terms _Differentia_, _Proprium_, _Accidens_. No

very distinct boundaries, are, indeed, marked by these terms; nor do

they effect a scientific division; but, for the present purpose, the

elucidation of the end to which Predication is subservient, they are

sufficient.

_Differentia_ is always an Attributive, applicable to a Genus, and

which, when combined with it, marks out a Species; as the word

_rational_, which is applicable to the Genus _animal_, and when

applied to it, in the phrase "rational animal," marks out a Species,

and is synonymous with the word _man_. In a similar manner the word

_sensitive_ is applicable to _body_, and marks out the subordinate

Genus, _animal_.

_Proprium_ is also an Attributive, and the Attributives classed

under this title differ from those classed under the title

_differentia_, chiefly in this; That those classed under

_differentia_, are regarded as more expressly involved in the

definition of the Species which they seem to cut out from the Genus.

Thus, both _rational_, and _risible_, when applied to _animal_, cut

out of it the class Man; but _rational_ is called DIFFERENTIA,

_risible_ PROPRIUM, because _rational_, is strictly involved in the

definition of _man_; _risible_ is not. Some Attributives are classed

under the title _proprium_, which, when applied to the genus, do not

constitute the same Species, constituted by the _differentia_, but a

different Species; as _bipes_, two-footed animal, is the name of a

class including at least the two classes of men, and birds;

_hot-blooded animal_, is the name of a class so {167} large as to

include man, horse, lion, dog, and the greater part of the more

perfectly organized Species. There are some Attributives, classed

under the title _proprium_, which cut out of the Genus a class even

less than that which is cut by the _differentia_; as, for example,

the word _grammatical_. This word grammatical, applied to the word

animal, in the term "grammatical animal," separates a class so

small, as to include only part of the Species man, those who are

called Grammarians. Such Attributives, for an obvious reason, are

applicable, as well to the name of the Species, as to that of the

Genus. Thus, we say, "a grammatical man," as well as "a grammatical

animal," and that with greater propriety, as cutting out the

sub-species from the Species more immediately.

The Attributives, classed under the title _accidens_, are regarded,

like those classed under _differentia_, and _proprium_, as

applicable to the class cut out by the _differentia_, but applicable

to it rather fortuitously than by any fixed connection. The term

_lame_ is an example of such Attributives. The term _lame_, however,

applied to the name of the Species, does not the less take out of it

a sub-species, as "lame man," "lame horse."

With respect to these classes of Attributives (_Differentia_,

_Proprium_, _Accidens_) this is necessary to be observed, and

remembered; that they differ from one another only by the accident

of their application. Thus, when _rational_, applied to the Genus

_animal_, constitutes the Species man, all other Attributives

applied to that Species are either _accidens_, or _proprium_; but

these Attributives themselves may be the _differentia_ in the case

of other classes. Thus, _warm-blooded_, applied to _man_, stands

under the class _proprium_; but {168} when applied to the animals

which stand distinguished from the cold-blooded, as constituting a

class, it becomes the _differentia_, and _rational_, with respect to

this comprehensive class, is only an _accidens_.[50]

[Editor's footnote 50: The author says, that no very distinct

boundaries are marked by the three terms, Differentia, Proprium, and

Accidens, nor do they effect a scientific division. As used,

however, by the more accurate of the school logicians, they do mark

out distinct boundaries, and do effect a scientific division.

Of the attributes common to a class, some have been taken into

consideration in forming the class, and are included in the

signification of its name. Such, in the case of man, are

rationality, and the outward form which we call the human. These

attributes are its Differentiæ; the fundamental differences which

distinguish that class from the others most nearly allied to it. The

school logicians were contented with one Differentia, whenever one

was sufficient completely to circumscribe the class. But this was an

error, because one attribute may be sufficient for distinction, and

yet may not exhaust the signification of the class-name. All

attributes, then, which are part of that signification, are set

apart as Differentiæ. Other attributes, though not included among

those which constitute the class, and which are directly signified

by its name, are consequences of some of those which constitute the

class, and always found along with them. These attributes of the

class are its Propria. Thus, to be bounded by three straight lines

is the Differentia of a triangle: to have the sum of its three

angles equal to two right angles, being a consequence of its

Differentia, is a Proprium of it. Rationality is a Differentia of

the class Man: to be able to build cities is a Proprium, being a

consequence of rationality, but not, as that is, included in the

meaning of the word Man. All other attributes of the class, which

are neither included in the meaning of the name, nor are

consequences of any which are included, are Accidents, however

universally and constantly they may be true of the class; as

blackness, of crows.

The author's remark, that these three classes of Attributives differ

from one another only in the accident of their application, is most

just. There are not some attributes which are always Differentiæ,

and others which are always Propria, or always Accidents. The same

attribute which is a Differentia of one genus or species, may be,

and often is, a Proprium or an Accidens of others, and so

on.--_Ed._]

{169} We now arrive at a very important conclusion; for it thus

appears, that all Predication, is Predication of Genus or Species,

since the Attributives classed under the titles of _Differentia_,

_Proprium_, _Accidens_, cannot be used but as part of the name of a

Species. But we have seen, above, that Predication by Genus and

Species is merely the substitution of one name for another, the more

general for the less general; the fact of the substitution being

marked by the _Copula_. It follows, if all Predication is by Genus

and Species, that all Predication is the substitution of one name

for another, the more for the less general.

It will be easy for the learner to make this material fact familiar

to himself, by attending to a few instances. Thus, when it is said

that man is rational, the term rational is evidently elliptical, and

the word animal is understood. The word rational, according to

grammatical language, is an adjective, and is significant only in

conjunction with a substantive. According to logical language, it is

a connotative term, and is without a meaning when disjoined from the

object, the property or properties of which it connotes.[51]

[Editor's footnote 51: I am unable to feel the force of this remark.

Every predication ascribes an attribute to a subject. Differentiae,

Propria, and Accidents, agree with generic and specific names in

expressing attributes, and the attributes they express are the whole

of their meaning. I therefore cannot see why there should not be

Predication of any of these, as well as of Genus and Species. These

three Predicables, the author says, cannot be used but as part of

the name of a genus or species: they are adjectives, and cannot be

employed without a substantive understood. Allowing this to be

logically, as it is grammatically, true, still the comprehensive and

almost insignificant substantive, "thing" or "being," fully answers

the purpose; and the entire meaning of the predication is contained

in the adjective. These adjectives, as the author remarks, are

connotative terms; but so, on his own shewing elsewhere, are all

concrete substantives, except proper names. Why, when it is said

that man is rational, must "the word animal" be "understood?"

Nothing is understood but that the being, Man, has the attribute of

reason. If we say, God is rational, is animal understood? It was

only the Greeks who classed their gods as [Greek: zô=a a)tha/nata].

The exclusion of the three latter Predicables from predication

probably recommended itself to the author as a support to his

doctrine that all Predication is the substitution of one name for

another, which he considered himself to have already demonstrated so

far as regards Genus and Species. But proofs have just been given

that in the predication of Genus and Species no more than in that of

Differentia, Proprium, or Accidens, is anything which turns upon

names the main consideration. Except in the case of definitions, and

other merely verbal propositions, every proposition is intended to

communicate a matter of fact: This subject has that attribute--This

cluster of sensations is always accompanied by that sensation.

Let me remark by the way, that the word _connote_ is here used by

the author in what I consider its legitimate sense--that in which a

name is said to connote a property or properties belonging to the

object it is predicated of. He afterwards casts off this use of the

term, and introduces one the exact reverse: but of this

hereafter.--_Ed._]

{170} With respect, however, to such examples as this last, namely,

all those in which the predicate consists {171} of the genus and

differentia, the proposition is a mere definition; and the

predicate, and the subject, are precisely equivalent. Thus,

"rational animal" is precisely the same class as "man;" and they are

only two names for the same thing; the one a simple, or

single-worded name; the other a complex, or double-worded, name.

Such propositions therefore are, properly speaking, not Predications

at all. When they are used for any other purpose than to make known,

or to fix, the meaning of a term, they are useless, and are

denominated identical propositions.[52]

[Editor's footnote 52: In this passage the author virtually gives up

the part of his theory of Predication which is borrowed from Hobbes.

According to his doctrine in this place, whenever the predicate and

the subject are exactly equivalent, and "are only two names for the

same thing," the predication serves only "to make known, or to fix,

the meaning of a term," and "such propositions are, properly

speaking, not Predications at all."--_Ed._]

The preceding expositions have shown the peculiar use of the

_Copula_. The Predication consists, essentially, of two marks,

whereof the first is called the Subject, the latter the Predicate;

the Predicate being set down as a name to be used for every thing of

which the Subject is a name; and the _Copula_ is merely a mark

necessary to shew that the Predicate is to be taken and used as a

substitute for the Subject.

There is a great convenience in giving to the _Copula_ the same

powers of connotation, in respect of Time, {172} Manner, Person, and

Number, as we have seen to be usefully annexed to the Verb.

It is necessary to explain a little this convenience; and the

explanation will have another advantage, that it will still farther

illustrate the manner in which Predication serves the great purpose

of marking the Order of ideas in a Train.

If the sensations or ideas in a train were to be marked as merely so

many independent items, the mode of marking the order of them would

be simple; the order of the marks itself might suffice. If this, for

example, were the train; smell of a rose, sight of a rat, sound of a

trumpet, touch of velvet, prick of a pin, these names placed in

order might denote the order of the sensations.

In the greater number of instances, however, it is necessary to mark

the train as the train of somebody; and for this purpose additional

machinery is required. Suppose that the train I have to mark is the

train of John, a train of the sensations of John; what are the marks

for which I shall have occasion? It is first of all evident that I

must have a mark for John, and a mark for each of the sensations.

Suppose it is my purpose to represent John as having a sensation by

each of his senses, sight, smell, &c., how must I proceed? I have

first the word John, for the mark of the person; and I have the word

seeing, for the mark of the sensation. But beside the marks, "John,"

"seeing," I have occasion for a mark to show that I mean the mark

"seeing" to be applied to the mark "John," and not to any other. For

that purpose I use the word "is." I say "John is seeing," and the

first sensation of John's train is now sufficiently {173} denoted.

In the same manner I proceed with the rest; John is smelling, John

is tasting, John is hearing, John is touching.

But I have often occasion to speak not only of John's present

sensations, but of his past or his future sensations; not of John as

merely now seeing, hearing, &c., but as having been, or as going to

be, the subject of these sensations. The _Copula_ may be so

contrived as most commodiously to connote the main distinctions of

Time: not merely to mark the connection between the two marks which

form the subject and the predicate of the proposition, but to mark,

along with this, either past, or present, or future, Time. Thus, if

I say John is seeing, the copula marks present time along with the

peculiar connection between the predicate and the subject; if I say

John was seeing, it connotes past time; if I say John will be

seeing, it connotes future time.

As, in explaining the functions of verbs, there appeared a

convenience in the contrivance by which they were made to connote

three Manners; first, when no reference is made to any thing which

is previously spoken of; secondly, when a reference is made to

something which is previously spoken of; thirdly, when a reference

is made to the will of one of the PERSONS; it will now be seen that

there is the same convenience in making the _Copula_ connote these

references by a similar contrivance. Thus, when we speak of a man

having sensations, we may speak of him as having them or as not

having them, in consequence of something previously spoken of; or we

may speak of him as having them in consequence of our will. It is,

therefore, useful, that the _Copula_ should {174} have moods as well

as tenses. The same thing may be said of persons and numbers; of

which no illustration seems to be required.

We come next to an observation respecting the _Copula_, to which the

greatest attention is due. In all Languages, the Verb which denotes

EXISTENCE has been employed to answer the additional purpose of the

_Copula_ in Predication. The consequences of this have been most

lamentable. There is thus a double meaning in the _Copula_, which

has produced a most unfortunate mixture and confusion of ideas. It

has involved in mystery the whole business of Predication; the grand

contrivance by which language is rendered competent to its end. By

darkening Predication, it has spread such a veil over the phenomena

of mind, as concealed them from ordinary eyes, and allowed them to

be but imperfectly seen by those which were the most discerning.

In our own language, the verb, TO BE, is the important word which is

employed to connote, along with its Subject, whatever it be, the

grand idea of EXISTENCE. Thus, if I use the first person singular of

its indicative mood, and say, "I am," I affirm EXISTENCE of myself.

"I am," is the equivalent of "I am EXISTING." In the first of these

expressions, "I am," the mark "am" involves in it the force of two

marks; it involves the meaning of the word "existing," and the

marking power or meaning of the _Copula_. In the second expression

"I am existing," the word "am" ought to serve the purpose of the

_Copula_ only. But in reality its connotation of EXISTENCE still

adheres to it; and whereas the expression ought to consist of the

three established parts of a Predication; 1, the _subject_ {175}

"I;" 2, the _predicate_ EXISTING; and 3, the _copula_; it in reality

consists of, 1, the subject "I;" 2, the predicate EXISTING; 3, the

_Copula_; which signifies, 4, EXISTING, over again.

Let us take, as another case, that in which the subject and

predicate of my intended proposition are, the word "I" and

"reading." I want for the purpose of predication only a _Copula_ to

signify nakedly that the mark "reading" is applied to the mark "I;"

but instead of this I am obliged to use a word which connotes

EXISTENCE, along with the force of the _Copula_; and when I say

"I am reading," not only _reading_ is predicated of me, but EXISTING

also. Suppose, again, my subject is "John," my predicate "dead,"

I am obliged to use for my _Copula_ the word "is," which connotes

EXISTENCE, and I thus predicate of John both _existence_ and

_death_.

It may be easily collected, from this one example, what

heterogeneous and inconsistent ideas may be forced into connection

by the use of the Substantive Verb as the _Copula_ in Predication;

and what confusion in the mental processes it tends to produce. It

is in the case, however, of the higher abstractions, and the various

combinations of ideas which the mind, in the processes of enquiring

and marking, forms for its own convenience, to obtain a greater

command over its stores and greater facility in communicating them,

that the use of the verb which conjoins the Predication of EXISTENCE

with every other Predication, has produced the wildest confusion,

and been the most deeply injurious. Is it any wonder, for example,

that _Chance_, and _Fate_, and _Nature_, have been personified, and

have had an EXISTENCE ascribed {176} to them, as objects, when we

have no means of predicating anything whatsoever of them, without

predicating such EXISTENCE at the same time. If we say that "chance

is nothing;" we predicate of it, by the word "is," both _existence_

and _nothingness_.

When this is the case, it is by no means to be wondered at, that

philosophers should so long have inquired what those EXISTENCES are

which abstract terms were employed to express; and should have lost

themselves in fruitless speculations about the nature of entity, and

quiddity, substance, and quality, space, time, necessity, eternity,

and so on.

It is necessary here to take notice of a part of the marking power

of Verbs, which could not be explained till the nature of the

_copula_ was understood.

Every Verb involves in it the force of the _copula_. It combines the

marking powers of an _adjective_, and of the _copula_; and all Verbs

may be resolved into those elements. Thus, "John walks," is the same

with "John is walking." Verbs, therefore, are attributives, of the

same nature as adjectives, only with additional connotative powers;

and they cut smaller classes out of larger, in the manner of

adjectives. Thus "John walks," is an expression, the same in import

as the Predication "John is a walking man;" and, walking men,

standing men, running men, lying men, are all sub-species of the

Species Man.

The same unhappy duplicity of meaning, which is incurred by using

the _Substantive_ Verb as the _copula_ in Predication, is inflicted

on _other_ Verbs, in that part of their marking power by which they

exhibit the connection between the two terms of a Predication.

The _copula_, included in Verbs, is not the PURE _copula_, {177} but

the ACTUAL _copula_; the _copula_ familiar and in constant use;

namely, the Substantive Verb. From this it results, that whatever

the peculiar attribute, which is predicated by means of any verb,

EXISTENCE is always predicated along with it. Thus, when I say "John

walks," which is equivalent to "John is walking," I predicate both

existence, and walking, of John. When I say, "Caliban existed not,"

which is the same as "Caliban was not existing," I predicate both

existence, and non-existence, of the imaginary being Caliban. By the

two first words of the Predication, "Caliban was," existence is

predicated of him; by the addition of the compound term "not

existing," the opposite is predicated of him.

The instances, in which the more complicated formations of the mind

are the subjects of this double Predication, are those which, from

the importance of their consequences, deserve the greatest degree of

attention. Thus, when we say "virtue exalts," both _existing_, and

_exalting_, are predicated of virtue. When we say that "passion

impels," both _existence_, and _impulsion_, are predicated of

passion. When we say that "Time generates," and "Space contains all

things," we affirm _existence_ of space and time, by the same

expression by which we affirm of the one, that it generates; of the

other, that it contains. This constancy of Predication, forcing the

same constancy in the junction of the ideas, furnishes a remarkable

instance of that important case of association, of which we took

notice above, where, by frequency of association, two ideas become

so joined, that the one constantly rises, and cannot be prevented

from rising, in combination with the other. Thus it is, {178} that

Time forces itself upon us as an _object_. So it is with Space. We

cannot think of Space, we cannot think of Time, without thinking of

them as existent. With the ideas of space and time, the idea of

EXISTENCE, as it is predicated of objects, is so associated, by the

use of the Substantive Verb as the _copula_ in predication, that we

cannot disjoin them. The same would have been the case with Chance,

and Fate, and Nature; if our religious education did not counteract

the association. It was precisely the same, among the Greeks and

Romans, whose religious education had not that effect.[53] [54]

[Findlater's footnote 53: The account of predication above given is

in conformity with the phenomena of the family of languages known as

the Indo-European. Logicians, in fact, in treating of this subject

have had almost exclusive regard to Greek and Latin and the literary

languages of modern Europe, which are all of one type. It might

therefore be presumed that the theory thus formed would be found not

to fit in all its parts when applied to languages of an altogether

different structure. The mental process must doubtless be the same

in all; but the words that express the several parts may be used in

new and unprecedented ways. Were naturalists to construct a scheme

of the animal organism without ever having seen any other animals

than those of the vertebrate type, the theory would certainly fail

in generality; certain organs or functions would be set down as

essential to animal existence which acquaintance with other classes

of creatures shows can be quite well dispensed with. Similarly, the

current theory of predication, when viewed in the light of a wider

and deeper knowledge of the organism of speech, seems to attach an

exaggerated importance to the peculiar predicative power presumed to

be inherent in verbs, and especially in the verb of existence. It is

now a well known fact that in the monosyllabic class of languages,

in which a third part of the human race express their thoughts,

there is no distinction among the parts of speech. In Chinese, for

example, the word _ta_ expresses indifferently great, greatness, to

be great, to make great or magnify, greatly. It is only position

that determines in each case how the word is to be understood; thus

traditional convention assigns to _ta fu_ the meaning of "a great

man," and to _fu ta_ that of "the man is great." Being habituated to

the constant use of the verb _is_ in such a case as the latter, we

are apt to suppose that the expression derives its predicative force

from its suggesting the verb of existence, which the mind

instinctively and necessarily supplies for itself. How little ground

there is for this presumed necessity, has been conclusively shown by

the late Mr. Garnett, in his profound and exhaustive essay on the

Nature and Analysis of the Verb. Speaking of the theory that makes

the essential difference between the verb and other parts of speech

to reside in the verb substantive, which is to be supplied by the

mind in all cases where the functions of the verb proper are to be

called into requisition, he observes: "This theory presupposes the

existence of a verb substantive in the languages in question, and

consciousness of that existence and of the force and capabilities of

the element in those who speak them. Unfortunately the Spanish

grammarians, to whom we are indebted for what knowledge we possess

of the Philippine dialects, unanimously concur in stating that there

is no verb substantive either in Tagalá, Pampanga, or Bisaya, nor

any means of supplying the place of one, except the employment of

pronouns and particles. Mariner makes a similar remark respecting

the Tonga language; and we may venture to affirm that there is not

such a thing as a true verb substantive in any one member of the

great Polynesian family.

"It is true that the Malayan, Javanese and Malagassy grammarians

talk of words signifying _to be_; but an attentive comparison of the

elements which they profess to give as such, shows clearly that they

are no verbs at all, but simply pronouns or indeclinable particles,

commonly indicating the time, place or manner of the specified

action or relation. It is not therefore easy to conceive how the

mind of a Philippine islander, or of any other person, can supply a

word totally unknown to it, and which there is not a particle of

evidence to show that it ever thought of."

Of the substitutes put in place of the substantive verb, by far the

most common are pronouns, and particles indicating position. Thus in

Coptic, the descendant of the ancient Egyptian, the demonstrative

_pe_, "this," after a noun singular masculine, or _te_ when the noun

is feminine, is equivalent to _is_; and _ne_, "these," after a

plural, to _are_. In the ancient hieroglyphic monuments the function

of the substantive verb is performed by the same means. Even in the

Semitic languages, which have substantive verbs, pronouns are

habitually used instead of them; so that _I I_, or _I he_, stands

for _I am_, and _we we_ or _we they_, for _we are_. "Thou art my

King" (Ps. 44, 5) is in the Hebrew "Thou _he_ my King;" "We are the

servants of the God of heaven" (Ezra 5, 11) is in Chaldee "We _they_

servants of the God of heaven;" "I am the light of the world," is in

Arabic "I _he_ the light of the world."

Although such modes of expression are foreign to the Indo-European

languages, even they furnish abundant evidence of the predicative

power of pronouns and particles. If any word required to have

inherent in it the peculiar affirmative power attributed to verbs,

it is the word _yes_. Accordingly Tooke derives it from the French

imperative _a-yez_: forgetting, or not knowing, that the Anglo-Saxon

_gese_ or _yea_ (cognate with the Sanscrit pronoun _ya_) was in

existence long before the French _ayez_. The fact is that Eng.

_yes_, Ger. _ja_, and the corresponding words in the other European

languages are oblique cases of demonstrative pronouns, and mean

simply "in this (manner)," or "thus." The Italian _si_ (yes) is from

Lat. _sic_, (thus); the Provençal _oc_ is from Lat. _hoc_; and the

modern Fr. _oui_ was originally a combination of _hoc illo_, and

passed through the stages of _ocil_ and _oil_ into its present form.

The consideration of these and a multitude of similar phenomena

suggests, that the Sanscrit _as-mi_, Gr. _ei-mi_, Lat. _s-um_ (for

_es-um_), Eng. _a-m_, may have had for its root the demonstrative

pronoun _sa_, and meant primarily "that (or there) as to me." Be

that as it may, all philologists are agreed that the verbs now used

to express _being_ in the abstract, expressed originally something

physical and palpable. Thus Ital. _stato_, Fr. _été_, _been_, are

from the Lat. _statum_, the participle of _sto_, "to stand;" and

_exist_ itself meant "to stand out or be prominent." Eng. _be_, Lat.

_fu-_ is identical with Gr. _phy-_ "to grow;" and, according to Max

Müller, as the root of _as-mi_ meant "breath" or "breathing." It may

then be safely affirmed that no word had for its primary function to

express mere existence; it seems enough for the purpose of

predication that existence be implied.

With regard to ordinary verbs, the analytic processes of comparative

grammar show no traces of a substantive verb entering into their

structure. It is now an accepted doctrine of philology that, as a

rule, the root of a verb is of the nature of an abstract noun; and

that it became a verb simply by the addition of a pronominal

affix--as in the Greek [Greek: di/-dô-mi, di/-dô-s, di/-dô-si], in

which the terminations were originally [Greek: -mi, -si, -ti]. The

habits of thought arising out of the present analytic state of the

Indo-European languages naturally lead us to conceive these

pronominal affixes as nominatives. But _gift I_ does not seem a very

natural way of getting at the meaning "I give;" and therefore Mr.

Garnett maintains that the affixes were originally in an oblique

case--the genitive or the instrumental--so that the literal meaning

was "gift of me," or "giving by me." That this is the nature of the

verb in the agglutinate languages--by far the most numerous

class--it seems hardly possible to dispute; for in these the affixes

remain rigidly distinct and little disguised. Thus, according to

Garnett, the Wotiak, in order to express "my son," "thy son," &c.,

joins oblique cases of the personal pronouns to the noun _pi_ in the

following way:--

pi-[)i] .... son of me

pi-ed . . . son of thee

pi-ez . . . son of him

pi-mi . . . son of us

pi-dy . . . son of you

pi-zy . . . son of them

In an exactly similar way the preterite of the verb to speak stands

thus--

bera-i . . . speech of me == I spoke

bera-d . . . speech of thee

bera-z . . . speech of him

bera-my . . speech of us

bera-dy . . speech of you

bera-zy . . speech of them

In the Fiji language _loma_ means "heart" or "will;" and _loma-qu_

(heart of me) may, according to the connection, signify either "my

heart or will," or "I will."

In the inflected languages the affixes are so amalgamated with the

root and otherwise obliterated that there is no such direct evidence

of their nature; but a great many facts tend to show that the

structure of the verb was originally the same as in the agglutinate

family.

If this analysis of the verb is correct, the affirmation of

existence found no expression in the early stages of language; _the

real copula connecting the subject with the predicate was the

proposition contained in the oblique case of the pronominal

affix_.--_F._]

[Editor's footnote 54: The interesting and important philological

facts adduced by Mr. Findlater, confirm and illustrate in a very

striking manner the doctrine in the text, of the radical distinction

between the functions of the copula in predication, and those of the

substantive verb; by shewing that many languages have no substantive

verb, no verb expressive of mere *existence, and yet signify their

predications by other means; and that probably all languages began

without a substantive verb, though they must always have had

predications.

The confusion between these two different functions in the European

languages, and the ambiguity of the verb To Be, which fulfils them

both, are among the most important of the minor philosophical truths

to which attention has been called by the author of the Analysis. As

in the case of many other luminous thoughts, an approach is found to

have been made to it by previous thinkers. Hobbes, though he did not

reach it, came very close to it, and it was still more distinctly

anticipated by Laromiguière, though without any sufficient

perception of its value. It occurs in a criticism on a passage of

Pascal, and in the following words. "Quand on dit, l'être est,

_etc._ le mot _est_, ou le verbe, n'exprime pas la même chose que le

mot être, sujet de la définition. Si j'énonce la proposition

suivante: Dieu est existant, je ne voudrais pas dire assurément,

Dieu existe existant: cela ne ferait pas un sens; de même, si je

dis que Virgile est poëte, je ne veux pas donner à entendre que

Virgile existe. Le verbe _est_, dans la proposition, n'exprime donc

pas l'existence réelle; il n'exprime qu'un rapport spécial entre le

sujet et l'attribut, le rapport du contenant au contenu," &c.

(Leçons de Philosophie, 7^{me} ed. vol. i. p. 307.) Having thus hit

upon an unobvious truth in the course of an argument directed to

another purpose, he passes on and takes no further notice of it.

It may seem strange that the verb which signifies existence should

have been employed in so many different languages as the sign of

predication, if there is no real connection between the two

meanings. But languages have been built up by the extension of an

originally small number of words, with or without alterations of

form, to express new meanings, the choice of the word being often

determined by very distant analogies. In the present case, the

analogy is not distant. All our predications are intended to declare

the manner in which something affects, or would affect, ourselves or

others. Our idea of existence is simply the idea of something which

affects or would affect us somehow, without distinction of mode.

Everything, therefore, which we can have occasion to assert of an

existing thing, may be looked upon as a particular mode of its

existence. Since snow is white, and since snow exists, it may be

said to exist white; and if a sign was wanted by which to predicate

white of snow, the word exists would be very likely to present

itself. But most of our predications do relate to existing things:

and this being so, it is in the ordinary course of the human mind

that the same sign should be adhered to when we are predicating

something of a merely imaginary thing (an abstraction, for instance)

and that, being so used, it should create an association between the

abstraction and the notion of real existence.--_Ed._]

{179} We have now observed, wherein Predication consists, and the

instruments by which it is performed. {180} We have also, in part,

contemplated the End which it is destined to fulfil; that is, to

mark the order in which sensations and ideas follow one another in a

{181} train. On this last part of the subject, however, the

following observations are still required.

The trains, the order of which we have occasion to {182} mark, may

for the elucidation of the present subject, be divided into two

classes. We have occasion to {183} mark, either, first, The series

of the objects we have seen, heard, or otherwise perceived by our

senses; or, {184} secondly, A train of thoughts which may have

passed in our minds.

1. When we come to record a train of the objects we have perceived,

that is, a train of sensations, the sensations have become ideas;

for the objects are not now acting on our senses, and the sensations

are at an end.

The order of the objects of our senses, is either the order of time,

or the order of place. The first is the order of SUCCESSION; when

one object comes first, another next, and so on. The second is the

order of POSITION; when the objects are considered as simultaneous,

but different in distance and direction from a particular point.

Let us observe in what manner the artifice of {185} Predication is

adapted to the marking of a train in either of those orders: and

first, with respect to a train in the order of Time.

Of this the following may be taken as a simple example. "The sun

rises; clouds form; clouds cover the sky; lightning flashes; thunder

roars." It is easy in these expressions to observe, what were the

sensations, and in what order they succeeded one another. It is also

observable, that the order is denoted by so many Predications; and

that Predication is our only expedient for denoting their order.

First sensation, "sight of the sun;" second sensation, "rising of

the sun;" these two denoted shortly and in their order by the

Predication, "the sun rises." Third sensation, "sight of clouds;"

fourth sensation, "forming of clouds;" these two again shortly

denoted in their order by the Predication, "clouds form." The next,

"clouds cover the sky," needs no further explanation; but there is a

peculiar artifice of language in the two following Predications;

"lightning flashes," "thunder roars," which deserves to be well

understood. "Lightning flashes;" here there is but one sensation,

the sensation of sight, which we call a flash. But there are various

kinds of flashes; this is a peculiar one, and I want to mark

peculiarly what it is. It is not a flash on the earth, but a flash

in the sky; it will not, however, sufficiently distinguish the flash

in question, to say, the sky flashes, because other flashes come

from the sky. What then is my contrivance? I form the fancy of a

cause of this particular flash, though I know nothing concerning it,

and for this unknown cause I invent a name, and call it lightning. I

have then an expression which always accurately {186} marks the

sensation I mean to denote: I say, "the lightning flashes," "a flash

of lightning," and so on. "Thunder roars," is another case of the

same artifice. The noise here is the only sensation; but in order to

distinguish it from all other noises, I invent a name for its

unknown cause, and by its means can mark the sensation with perfect

precision.

The Fictions, after this manner resorted to, for the purpose of

marking; though important among the artifices of naming; have

contributed largely to the misdirection of thought.

By the unfortunate ambiguity of the _Copula_, EXISTENCE is affirmed

of them in every Predication into which they enter. The idea of

EXISTENCE becomes, by this means, inseparable from them; and their

true nature, as Creatures of the mind, and nothing more, is rarely,

and not without difficulty, perceived.

The mode in which a train, in the order of place, is marked by the

artifice of Predication, may be thus exemplified: "The house is on a

hill; a lawn is in front; a stable is on the left hand; a garden is

on the right; a wood is behind." It is not necessary, after the

exposition of the preceding example, to exhibit the detail of the

marking performed by these Predications. The reader can trace the

sensations, the order of them, and the mode of the marking,

according to the specimen which has just been exhibited.

2. The trains of thought which pass in our minds, are sequences, the

items of which are connected in three principal ways: 1st, as cause

and effect; 2dly, as resembling; 3dly, as included under the same

name. A short illustration of each of these cases will {187}

complete the account of predication, as a contrivance for marking

the order of ideas.

To illustrate a sequence, connected as Cause and Effect, let me

suppose that I have a flint and steel in my hand, which I am about

to strike, one against the other, but at that instant perceive a

barrel of gunpowder open, close before me. I withhold the stroke in

consequence of the train of thought which suggests to me the

ultimate effect. If I have occasion to mark the train, I can only do

it by a series of Predications, each of which marks a sequence in

the train of causes and effects. "I strike the flint on the steel,"

first sequence. "The stroke produces a spark," second sequence. "The

spark falls on gunpowder," third sequence. "The spark ignites the

gunpowder," fourth sequence. "The gunpowder ignited makes an

explosion," fifth sequence. The ideas contained in these

propositions must all have passed through my mind, and this is the

only mode in which language enables me to mark them in their

order.[55]

[Editor's footnote 55: It is necessary again to notice the

consistent omission, throughout the author's theory of Predication,

of the element Belief. In the case supposed, the ideas contained in

all the propositions might have passed through the mind, without our

being led to assert the propositions. I might have thought of every

step in the series of phenomena mentioned, might have pictured all

of them in my imagination, and have come to the conclusion that they

would not happen. I therefore should not have made, either in words

or in thought, the predication, This gunpowder will explode if I

strike the flint against the steel. Yet the same ideas would have

passed through my mind in the same order, in which they stand in the

text. The only deficient link would have been the final one, the

Belief.--_Ed._]

{188} The sequences of which the items are connected by Resemblance

will not require much illustration. I see A, who suggests B to me by

his stature. B suggests C by the length of his nose. C suggests D by

the similarity of their profession, and so on. The series of my

thoughts is sufficiently obvious. How do I proceed when I have

occasion to mark it? I use a series of predications. "I see A;" this

predication marks the first item, my sight of A. "A is tall," the

second. "A man of like tallness is B," the third; and so on.

The mode in which thoughts are united in a Syllogism, is the leading

example of the third case. Let us consider the following very

familiar instance. "Every tree is a vegetable: every oak is a tree:

therefore, every oak is a vegetable." This is evidently a process of

naming. The primary idea is that of the object called an oak; from

the name oak, I proceed to the name tree, finding that the name oak,

is included in the name tree; and from the name tree, I proceed to

the name vegetable, finding that the name tree is included in the

name vegetable, and by consequence the name oak. This is the series

of thoughts, which is marked in order, by the three propositions or

predications of the syllogism.[56]

[Editor's footnote 56: For the present I shall only remark on this

theory of the syllogism, that it must stand or fall with the theory

of Predication of which it is the sequel. If, as I have maintained,

the propositions which are the premises of the syllogism are not

correctly described as mere processes of naming, neither is the

formula by which a third proposition is elicited from these two a

process of mere naming. What it is, will be considered

hereafter.--_Ed._]

{189} The Predications of Arithmetic are another instance of the

same thing. "One and one are two." This again is a mere process of

naming. What I call one and one, in numbering things, are objects,

sensations, or clusters of sensations; suppose, the striking of the

clock. The same sounds which I call one and one, I call also two; I

have for these sensations, therefore, two names which are exactly

equivalent: so when I say, one and one and one are three: or when I

say, two and two are four: ten and ten are twenty: and the same when

I put together any two numbers whatsoever. The series of thoughts in

these instances is merely a series of names applicable to the same

thing, and meaning the same thing.

Beside the two purposes of language, of which I took notice at the

beginning of this inquiry; the recording of a man's thoughts for his

own use, and the communication of them to others; there is a use, to

which language is subservient, of which some account is yet to be

given. There are complex sensations, and complex ideas, made up of

so many items, that one is not distinguishable from another. Thus, a

figure of one hundred sides, is not distinguishable from one of

ninety-nine sides. A thousand men in a crowd are not distinguishable

from nine hundred and ninety-nine. But in all cases, in which the

complexity of the idea arises from the repetition of the same idea,

names can be invented upon a plan, which shall render them distinct,

up to the very highest degree of complication. Numbers are a set of

names contrived upon this plan, and for this very purpose. Ten and

the numbers below ten, are the repetition of so many ones: twenty,

thirty, forty, &c., up to a hundred, are {190} the repetition of so

many tens: two hundred, three hundred, &c., the repetition of so

many hundreds; and so on. These are names, which afford an immediate

reference to the ones or units, of which they are composed; and the

highest numbers are as easily distinguished by the difference of a

unit as the lowest. All the processes of Arithmetic are only so many

contrivances to substitute a distinct name for an indistinct one.

What, for example, is the purpose of addition? Suppose I have six

numbers, of which I desire to take the sum, 18, 14, 9, 25, 19, 15;

these names, eighteen, and fourteen, and nine, &c., form a compound

name; but a name which is not distinct. By summing them up, I get

another name, exactly equivalent, one hundred, which is in the

highest degree distinct, and gives me an immediate reference to the

units or items of which it is composed; and this is of the highest

utility.

That the Predications of Geometry are of the same nature with those

of Arithmetic, is a truth of the greatest importance, and capable of

being established by very obvious reasoning. It is well known, that

all reasoning about quantity can be expressed in the form of

algebraic equations. But the two sides of an algebraic equation are

of necessity two marks or two names for the same thing; of which the

one on the right-hand side is more distinct, at least to the present

purpose of the inquirer, than the one on the left-hand side; and the

whole purpose of an algebraic investigation, which is a mere series

of changes of names, is to obtain, at last, a distinct name, a name

the marking power of which is perfectly known to us, on the

right-hand side of the equation. The language of geometry {191}

itself, in the more simple cases, makes manifest the same

observation. The amount of the three angles of a triangle, is twice

a right angle. I arrive at this conclusion, as it is called, by a

process of reasoning: that is to say, I find out a name "twice a

right angle," which much more distinctly points out to me a certain

quantity, than my first name, "amount of the three angles of a

triangle;" and the process by which I arrive at this name is a

successive change of names, and nothing more; as any one may prove

to himself by merely observing the steps of the demonstration.[57]

[Editor's footnote 57: I cannot see any propriety in the expression

that when we infer the sum of the three angles of a triangle to be

twice a right angle, the operation consists in finding a second name

which more distinctly points out the quantity than the first name.

When we assent to the proof of this theorem, we do much more than

obtain a new and more expressive name for a known fact; we learn a

fact previously unknown. It is true that one result of our knowledge

of this theorem is to give us a name for the sum of the three

angles, "the marking power of which is perfectly known to us:" but

it was not for want of knowing the marking power of the phrase "sum

of the three angles of a triangle" that we did not know what that

sum amounted to. We knew perfectly what the expression "sum of the

three angles" was appointed to mark. What we have obtained, that we

did not previously possess, is not a better mark for the same thing,

but an additional fact to mark the fact which is marked by

predicating of that sum, the phrase "twice a right angle."--_Ed._]

There is one important class of words, the NAMES of NAMES; of which

we shall have occasion to take account more particularly hereafter,

and of which it is necessary here to speak only as they form a

variety of Predication. A few examples will make the case {192}

intelligible. WORD is a generical name for all Names. It is not the

name of a Thing, as chair is the name of a thing, or watch, or

picture. But word is a _name_ for these several _names_; chair is a

word, watch is a word, picture is a word, and so of all other names.

Thus grammatical and logical terms are names of names. The word

_noun_, is the name of one class of words, _verb_ of another,

_preposition_ of another, and so on. The word _sentence_, is the

name of a series of words put together for a certain purpose; the

word _paragraph_ the same; and so _oration_, _discourse_, _essay_,

_treatise_, &c. The words _genus_ and _species_, are not names of

things, but of names. Genus is not the name of any thing called

animal or any thing called body; it is a name of the _names_ animal,

body, and so on; the _name_ animal is a _genus_, the name _body_ is

a _genus_; and in like manner is the _name_ man a _species_, the

_name_ horse, the name crow, and so on. The name _proposition_, the

name _syllogism_, are names of a series of words put together for a

particular purpose; and so is the term _definition_; and the term

_argument_. It will be easily seen that these words enter into

Predication precisely on the same principles as other words. Either

the more distinct is predicated of the less distinct, its

equivalent; or the more comprehensive of the less comprehensive.

Thus we say, that nouns and verbs are declinables; preposition and

adverb indeclinables; where the more comprehensive terms are

predicated of the less. Thus we say, that adjectives and verbs are

attributes; where the more distinct is predicated of the less.[58]

[Editor's footnote 58: This exposition of the class of words which

are properly names of names, belongs originally to Hobbes, and is

highly {193} important. They are a kind of names, the signification

of which is very often misunderstood, and has given occasion to much

hazy speculation. It should however be remarked that the words genus

and species are not solely names of names; they are ambiguous. A

genus never indeed means (as many of the schoolmen supposed) an

abstract entity, distinct from all the individuals composing the

class; but it often means the sum of those individuals taken

collectively; the class as a whole, distinguished on the one hand

from the single objects comprising it, and on the other hand from

the class name.--_Ed._]

{194} SECTION V.

PRONOUNS.

The principal part of the artifice of Naming is now explained. We

have considered the nature of the more necessary marks, and the

manner in which they are combined so as to represent the order of a

train. Beside those marks, which are the fundamental part of

language, there are several classes of auxiliary words or marks, the

use of which is, to abbreviate expression, and to render it, what is

of great importance, a more rapid vehicle of thought. These are

usually comprehended under the titles of pronoun, adverb,

preposition, and conjunction; a classification which, for our

present purpose, has the best recommendation, that of being

familiarly known.

It is to be distinctly understood, that in the account which is here

to be given of the subsidiary parts of speech, it is but one part of

the explanation of them which will be attempted. The ideas, which

many of them stand for, are of the most complicated kind, and have

not yet been expounded. We are, therefore, not yet prepared to point

out the items which they mark. Our present business is only to

indicate the mode in which they are used in Predication, as part of

the great contrivance for marking the order of a train of ideas, and

for economizing the number of words.

It is also necessary to observe, that I have limited myself, in this

part, to brief indications, without {195} going into minute

development, the length of which, it appeared to me, would not be

compensated by the advantage.

In all speech *there is a _speaker_; there is some _person spoken

to_; and there is some _person_ or _thing spoken of_. These

objects constitute three Classes, marks of which are perpetually

required. Any artifice, therefore, to abridge the use of marks, of

such frequent recurrence, was highly to be desired. One expedient

offered itself obviously, as likely to prove of the highest utility.

Speakers constituted one class, with numerous names; persons spoken

to, a second class; persons and things spoken of, a third. A

generical name might be invented for each class; a name, which would

include all of a class, and which singly might be used as the

substitute of many. For this end were the Personal Pronouns invented

and such is their character and office. "I," is the generical mark

which includes all marks of the class, _speakers_. "Thou," is a

generical mark, which includes all marks of the class, _persons

spoken to_. "He," "she," "it," are marks, which include all marks of

the class, _persons_ or _things spoken of_.

By forming Adjectives from certain kinds of Nouns we obtain a useful

class of specific names. From wool we make woollen; and woollen,

attached to various generic names, furnishes us with specific names;

thus we say woollen cloth, which is a species of cloth; woollen

yarn, which is a species of yarn; woollen garment, which is a

species of garment. So, from the word gold we make golden, which

furnishes us with a greater number of specific names; from wood

wooden, which furnishes us with a still greater number. Adjectives

are {196} formed in like manner from the personal pronouns: from I,

my or mine; from Thou, thy or thine; from He, She, It, his, hers,

its; also from the plurals of them, ours, yours, theirs. These

adjectives answer a purpose of very frequent recurrence; that of

singling out, from any class of objects, a sub-class, or an

individual, bearing a peculiar relation, to the _person speaking_,

the _person spoken to_, or the _person_ or _thing spoken of_. Thus,

when I say, my sheep or my oxen, I denote a sub-class of those

animals, those which stand in the relation of property to the

speaker; when I say thy sheep or oxen, I denote a sub-class in the

same relation to the person spoken to; and when I say his sheep or

oxen, a sub-class, standing in that relation to the person spoken

of. When I say my son, thy wife, his father, I single out

individuals having that relation.

The Demonstrative Pronouns, This and That, are of great utility.

They serve to individualize any thing in a class. One of these marks

put upon a specific mark, makes it an individual mark. Thus, the

mark "man," is the name of a class: put upon it the mark this, or

that; this man, and that man, are marks, signs, or names, of

individuals. In this manner innumerable individual names can be

made, without adding a single word to the cumbrous materials of

language.

The nature of the Relative Pronoun is not difficult to understand.

It supplies the place of a personal pronoun and a conjunction, in

connecting a Predication with the subject, or predicate of another

proposition. Thus, "John received a wound, which occasioned his

death," is of the same import as "John received a wound, _and it_

occasioned his death." This {197} is a case in which the Relative

connects a subsequent predication with the _predicate_ of an

antecedent predication. The following are cases in which it connects

a subordinate predication with the _subject_ of the principal one:

"Erasmus, _who_ was a lover of truth, but of a timid character,

hesitated between the new and the old religion." Erasmus, _and he_

was a lover of truth, &c. "The man _who_ spoke to you is my father."

"The man spoke to you, _and he_ is my father."[59]

[Findlater's footnote 59: There is really no well marked distinction

between relative pronouns and demonstrative pronouns, either in

their origin or in their use. Of the demonstrative roots _ka_, _sa_,

_ta_, _ja_, derivatives from the *guttural _ka_ prevail as relatives

in Latin and its modern descendants (Lat. _qui_, It. _che_, Fr.

_qui_), and in the Teutonic languages (Goth. _hva_, Eng. _who_, Ger.

_wer_, _welch_), but by no means exclusively. In Greek the relative

differs little from the article, which is also used as a

demonstrative and a personal pronoun. Modern Italian uses as a

demonstrative a compound of the Latin _qui_ with _iste_ and

_illa_--_questo_, _quella_. In German the relative proper, viz.

_welch_, is comparatively little used, its place being supplied by

the article _der_, which is merely an unemphatic demonstrative; and

in English _that_ is perhaps as often used as who or which.

The relative serves for two purposes, which it is useful to

distinguish. (1) It may add on either a clause containing an

independent proposition, as in the example in the text, "John

received a wound, which occasioned his death;" or a clause dependent

in some way upon the preceding--_e.g._ assigning the reason of it,

as, "It was unjust to punish the servant, who only did what he was

ordered." (2) The clause introduced by the relative may serve simply

to limit or define a noun, in the way that an adjective or another

noun in apposition does, as "The man who spoke to you is my father."

It is in this latter use of the relative, and in no other, that it

is permissible in English to use _that_; to substitute _that_ for

_which_ in the first of the other two sentences, or for _who_ in the

second, would give a different meaning. Now it is only in the cases

in which _that_ could not be substituted for who or which that the

relative involves the force of a conjunction; and it is not always

_and_ that is the conjunction involved. The conjunction has no

verbal expression, and never had; it is only suggested, and the mind

supplies that which best suits the logical connection. When the

predication of the relative clause is co-ordinate with the

preceding, as in the first example, _and_ is the proper conjunction

to supply. In the sentence about the punishment of the servant,

_who_ is equivalent to _for he_; and in that about Erasmus, in the

text, to _inasmuch as he_. When the relative clause merely defines,

no conjunction of any kind is even implied. In such a sentence as

"He rewarded the man that rescued him," the relative clause is the

answer to a question naturally suggested by "He rewarded the

man"--what man? "The or that (man) rescued him;" which is equivalent

to, "his rescuer." To resolve it into "And that man rescued him,"

gives quite a different meaning; namely, that he rewarded some man

(otherwise known to the hearers) for something (likewise known to

them), and that this man now rescued him.--_F._]