Chapter X: Section I: Smell (5)

Still, we cannot overlook the deeper circumstance that in contrast there is _relation_, and therefore mutual implication, so that the two members must always be virtually present, although they are not equally attended to. Heat has no meaning, no existence, but as a change from cold; the north implicates the south. We have two modes of regarding these relationships, which are distinguished by language, as if we {125} could abstract the one side from the other; that is, we think of heat apart from cold, and of the north apart from the south. But if one side is present, both must be present, and nothing is wanted but a motive, to make us reverse the conception, and bring into prominence the side that was in abeyance, cold instead of heat, south instead of north.

This view of Contrast is variously expressed by Hamilton. (Reid, Note D * * *).

Contrast, therefore, as an associating link, would draw from three sources, Relativity, Contiguity, and Similarity. It would also be heightened, in many instances, by the presence of strong feelings or emotions, as in the contemplation of startling changes, and the vicissitudes of things. Being one of the effects habitually introduced in Art and in Oratory, we are more than ordinarily impressed by the things so made use of--infancy beside old age, squalor following on splendour, abasement succeeding to elevation.

The associating principle of Contrast cannot be put forward as a basis of distinction in intellectual character. There is no such a thing as a special aptitude for Contrasts. There may be, in certain minds given to emotion, a fondness for the impressive or emotional contrasts; but there is no intellectual gift, subsisting apart from other powers and rising and falling independently, for the mutual recall of contrasting qualities. Whenever we feel a difference we make a contrast; the two differing things, are contrasting things, and are both known in one indivisible act of thought. To be unable to bring up the contrast of a subject present to the view, is not to know the subject; we cannot possess intelligently the conception of "up," and be oblivious to, or incapable of remembering, "down." Forgetfulness in this department is not the snapping of a link, as in Contiguity, or the dulness that cannot reach a similitude; it is the entire blank of conception or knowledge. The north pole of a magnet cannot be in the view, and the south pole in oblivion.--_B._]

[Editor's footnote 39: The author and Mr. Bain agree in rejecting Contrast as an independent principle of association. I think they might {126} have gone further, and denied it even as a derivative one. All the cases considered as examples of it seem to me to depend on something else. I greatly doubt if the sight or thought of a dwarf has intrinsically any tendency to recall the idea of a giant. Things certainly do remind us of their own absence, because (as pointed out by Mr. Bain) we are only conscious of their presence by comparison with their absence; and for a further reason, arising out of the former, viz. that, in our practical judgments, we are led to think of the case of their presence and the case of their absence by one and the same act of thought, having commonly to choose between the two. But it does not seem to me that things have any special tendency to remind us of their positive opposites. Black does not remind us of white more than of red or green. If light reminds us of darkness, it is because darkness is the mere negation, or absence, of light. The case of heat and cold is more complex. The sensation of heat recalls to us the absence of that sensation: if the sensation amounts to pain, it calls up the idea of relief from it; that is, of its absence, associated by contiguity with the pleasant feeling which accompanies the change. But cold is not the mere absence of heat; it is itself a positive sensation. If heat suggests to us the idea of the sensation of cold, it is not because of the contrast, but because the close connection which exists between the outward conditions of both, and the consequent identity of the means we employ for regulating them, cause the thought of cold and that of heat to be frequently presented to us in contiguity.--_Ed._]

{127} CHAPTER IV.

NAMING.

"I endeavour, as much as I can, to deliver myself from those fallacies which we are apt to put upon ourselves, by taking words for things. It helps not our ignorance to feign a knowledge where we have none, by making a noise with sounds without clear and distinct significations. Names made at pleasure, neither alter the nature of things, nor make us understand them, but as they are signs of, and stand for, determined ideas."--_Locke, Hum. Und._ b. ii. ch. 13, § 18.

WE have now surveyed the more simple and obvious phenomena of the human mind. We have seen, first, that we have SENSATIONS; secondly, that we have IDEAS, the copies of those sensations; thirdly, that those ideas are sometimes SIMPLE, the copies of one sensation; sometimes COMPLEX, the copies of several sensations so combined as to appear not several ideas, but one idea; and, fourthly, that we have TRAINS of those ideas, or one succeeding another without end.

These are simple facts of our nature, attested by experience; and my chief object in fixing upon them the attention of the reader has been, to convey to him that accurate and steady conception of them, which is requisite for the successful prosecution of the subsequent inquiries.

{128} After delineating the simple and elementary states of consciousness, it follows, in order, that we should endeavour to show what is contained in those that are complex. But in all the more complicated cases of human consciousness something of the process of Naming is involved. These cases, of course, cannot be unfolded, till the artifice of Naming is made known. This, therefore, is necessarily an intermediate inquiry; and one to which it is necessary that we should devote a particular degree of attention.

There are two purposes, both of great importance, for which marks of our ideas, and sensations; or signs by which they may be denoted; are necessary. One of these purposes is, That we maybe able to make known to others what passes within us. The other is, That we may secure to ourselves the knowledge of what at any preceding time has passed in our minds.

The sensations and ideas of one man are hidden from all other men; unless they have recourse to some expedient for disclosing them. We cannot convey to another man our sensations and ideas directly. Our means of intercourse with other men are through their senses exclusively. We must therefore choose some SENSIBLE OBJECTS, as SIGNS of our inward feelings. If two men agree, that each shall use a certain sensible sign, when one of them means to make known to the other that he has a certain sensation, or idea, they, in this, and in no other way, can communicate a knowledge of those feelings to one another.

Almost all the advantages, which man possesses above the inferior animals, arise from his power of acting in combination with his fellows; and of accomplishing, by the united efforts of numbers, what could {129} not be accomplished by the detached efforts of individuals. Without the power of communicating to one another their sensations and ideas, this co-operation would be impossible. The importance, therefore, of the invention of signs, or marks, by which alone that communication can be effected, is obvious.

Among sensible objects, those alone which are addressed to the senses of seeing and hearing have sufficient precision and variety to be adapted to this end. The language of Action, as it has been called, that is, certain gesticulations and motions, has very generally, especially among rude people, whose spoken language is scanty, been found in use to indicate certain states, generally complicated states, of mind. But, for precision, variety, and rapidity, the flexibility of the voice presented such obvious advantages, not to mention that visible signs must be altogether useless in the dark, that sounds, among all the varieties of our species, have been assumed as the principal medium by which their sensations and ideas were made known to one another.

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?