CHAPTER IX. ABSTRACTION.
“I think, too, that he (Mr. Locke) would have seen
the ad vantage of ‘thoroughly weighing,’ not only (as he says) the imperfections of Language; but its perfections also: For the perfections of
Language, not properly understood, have been one of the chief causes of the
imperfections of our knowledge.” Diversions
of Purley, by John Home Tooke, A.M., i. 37.
THE two cases of Consciousness, CLASSIFICATION, and
ABSTRACTION, have not, generally, been well distinguished.
According to the common accounts of Classification,
ABSTRACTION was included in it. When it is said, that, in order to classify, we
leave out of view all the circumstances in which individuals differ, and retain
only those in which they agree; this separating one portion of what is
contained in a complex idea, and making it an object of consideration by
itself, is the process which is named Abstraction, at least a main part of that
process.
It is necessary now to inquire what are the purposes
to which this separating of the parts of a complex idea, and considering and
naming the separated parts by themselves, is subservient.
We have already observed the following remarkable
things in the process of naming: 1, Assigning names of those clusters of ideas
called objects; as man, fish; 2, Generalizing those names, so as to make them
re present a class; 3, Framing adjectives by which minor classes are cut out of
larger.
Those adjectives are all names, of some separate
portion of a cluster, and are, therefore, all instruments of abstraction, or of
that separating one or more of the ingredients of a complex idea from the rest,
which has received the name of Abstraction. One purpose of Abstraction,
therefore, is the formation of those subspecies,
the formation of which is required for certain purposes of speech.
These observations will be rendered familiar by
examples. We say, tall man, red flower, race horse. In my complex idea of a
man, or the cluster of ideas of sense to which I affix that mark, are included,
certain ideas of colour, of figure, size, and so on. By the word tall, I single
out a portion of those ideas, namely, the part relating to size, or rather size
in one direction, and mark the separation by the sign or name. In my complex
idea of a flower, colour is always one of the ingredients. By applying the
adjective red, I single out this one from the rest, and point it out for peculiar
consideration. The explanation is obvious, and need not be pursued in a greater
number of instances.
Words of this description all denote differences;
either such as mark out species from genera, or such as mark out individuals
from species. Of this latter sort the number is very small; of which the reason
is obvious; individual differences are too numerous to receive names, and are
marked by contrivances of abridgment which will be spoken of hereafter.
To explain this notation of differences; the same
examples will suffice. In the phrase “tall man,” the adjective “tall” marks the
difference between such a man, and “short man,” or “middle-sized man.” Of the
genus man, tall men are one species; and the difference between them and the
rest of the genus is marked by the word tall. Of the genus flower, red flowers
form a species, and the difference between them and the rest of the genus is
marked by the adjective red. Of the genus horse, race horse forms a species,
and the difference between this species and the rest of the genus is marked by
the word race.
It is of importance further to observe, that adjectives
singling out ideas which are not differences, that is, ideas common to the
whole class, are useless: as, tangible wood; coloured man; sentient animal.
Such epithets express no more than what is expressed by the name without them.
Another thing requiring the attention of the student
is the mode in which these differential adjectives are generalized. As the word
man, applied first to one individual, then to another, becomes associated with
every individual, and every variety of the species, and calls them all up in
one very complex idea; so are these adjectives applied to one class after
another, and by that means at last call up a very complicated idea. Let us take
the word “black” for an example; and let us suppose that we apply this
adjective first to the word man. We say “black man.” But we speedily see that
for the same reason for which we say black man we may say black horse, black
cow, black coat, and so on. The word black is thus associated with innumerable
modifications of the sensation black. By frequent repetition, and the gradual
strengthening of the association, these modifications are at last called up in
such rapid succession that they appear commingled, and no longer many ideas,
but one. Black is therefore no longer an individual but a general name. It
marks not the particular black of a particular individual; but the black of
every individual, and of all individuals. (81) The same is the case with all
other words of the same class. Thus I apply the word sweet, first to the lump
of sugar in my mouth, next to honey, next to grapes, and so on. It thus becomes
associated with numerous modifications of the sensation sweet; and when the
association is sufficiently strengthened by repetition, calls them up in such
close succession, that they are converted into one complex idea. We are also to
remember, that the idea and the name have a mutual power over one another. As
the word black calls up the complex idea, so every modification of black calls
up the name; and in this, as in other cases, the name actually forms a part of
the complex idea.
[81 The example which the author has here selected of
a general name, sets in a strong light the imperfection of the theory of
general names, laid down by him in the preceding chapter. A name like “black,”
which marks a simple sensation, is an extreme case of the inapplicability of
the theory. Can it be maintained that the idea called up in our minds by the
word black, is an idea compounded of ideas of black men, black horses, black
cows, black coats, and the like? If I can trust my own consciousness, the word
need not, and generally does not, call up any idea but that of a single black
surface. It is still not an abstract idea, but the idea of an individual
object. It is not a mere idea of colour; it is that, combined with ideas of
extension and figure, always present but extremely vague, because varying, even
from one moment to the next. These vague ideas of an uncertain extension and
figure, combined with the perfectly definite idea of a single sensation of
colour, are, to my consciousness, the sole components of the complex idea
associated with the word black. I am unable to find in that complex idea the
ideas of black men, horses, or other definite things, though such ideas may of
course be recalled by it.
In such a case as this, the idea of a black colour
fills by itself the place of the inner nucleus of ideas knit together by a
closer association, which I have described as forming the permanent part of our
ideas of classes of objects, and the meaning of the class-names. Ed.]
The next thing, which I shall observe, deserves in a
high degree, the attention of the learner. In the various applications of that
species of marks which we are now considering, they are associated with two
distinguishable things; but with the one much more than the other. Thus, when
we say black man, black horse, black coat, and so of all other black things,
the word black is associated with the cluster, man, as often as black man is
the expression; with the cluster horse, as often as black horse is the
expression, and so on with infinite variety: but at the same time that it is associated
with each of those various clusters, it is also associated with the peculiar
sensation of colour which it is intended to mark. The CLUSTERS, therefore, with
which it is associated, are variable; the PECULIAR SENSATION with which it is
associated is invariable. It is much more constantly, and there fore much more
strongly associated with the SENSATION than with any of the CLUSTERS. It is at
once a name of the clusters, and a name of the sensation; but it is more
peculiarly a name of the SENSATION.
We have, in a preceding note, observed, that such
words have been called connotative;
and I shall find much convenience in using the term NOTATION to point out the
sensation or sensations which are peculiarly marked by such words, the term
CONNOTATION to point out the clusters which they mark along with] this their
principal meaning.
Thus the word, black, NOTES that of which black is
more peculiarly the name, a particular colour; it CONNOTES the clusters with
the names of which it is joined: in the expression, black man, it connotes man;
black horse, it connotes horse; and so of all other cases. The ancient
Logicians used these terms, in the inverse order; very absurdly, in my opinion.
(82)
[82 The word Connote, with its substantive
Connotation, was used by the old logicians in two senses; a wider, and a narrower
sense. The wider is that in which, up to this place, the author of the Analysis
has almost invariably used it; and is the sense in which he defined it, in a
note to section 6 of his first chapter. “There is a large class of words which
denote two things both together; but the one perfectly distinguishable from the
other. Of these two things, also, it is observable, that such words express the
one primarily as it were; the other in a way which may be called secondary.
Thus white, in the phrase white horse, denotes two things, the colour and the
horse; but it denotes the colour primarily, the horse secondarily. We shall
find it very convenient to say, therefore, that it notes the primary, connotes
the secondary signification.”
This use of terms is attended with the difficulty,
that it may often be disputed which of the significations is primary and which
secondary. In the example given, most people would agree with the author that
the colour is the primary signification; the word being associated with the
objects, only through its previous association with the colour. But take the
other of the two words, horse. That too is connotative, and in the same manner.
It signifies any and every individual horse, and it also signifies those
attributes common to horses, which led to their being classed together and
receiving that common name. Which, in this case, is the primary, and which the
secondary signification? The author would probably say, that in this case,
unlike the other, horse is the primary signification, the attributes the
secondary. Yet in this Equally with the former case, the attributes are the
foundation of the meaning: a thing is called a horse to express its resemblance
to other horses; and the resemblance consists of the common attributes. The
question might be discussed, pro and con, by many arguments, without any
conclusive result. The difference between primary and secondary acceptations is
too uncertain, and at best too superficial, to be adopted as the logical
foundation of the distinction between the two modes of signification.
The author, however, has, throughout the preceding
chapters, regarded words as connoting
any number of things which though included in their signification, are not, in
his judgment, what they primarily signify. He said, for example, that a verb
notes an action, and connotes the agent (as either me, thee, or some third
person), the number of agents (as one or more), the time (as past, present, or
future), and three modes, that in which there is no reference to anything
preceding, that in which there is a reference to something preceding, and “that
in which reference is made to the will of one of the Persons.” I cite this
complicated case, to shew by a striking example the great latitude with which
the author uses the word Connote.
But in the present chapter he follows the example of
some of the old logicians in adopting a second and more restricted meaning,
expressive of the peculiar connotation which belongs to all concrete general
names; viz. that twofold manner of signification, by which every name of a
class signifies, on the one hand, all and each of the individual things
composing the class, and on the other hand the common attributes, in consideration
of which the class is formed and the name given, and which we intend to affirm
of every object to which we apply the name. It is difficult to overrate the
importance of keeping in view this distinction, or the danger of overlooking it
when not made prominent by an appropriate phrase. The word Connote, which had
been employed for this purpose, had fallen into disuse. But, though agreeing
with the old logicians in using the word Connote to express this distinction,
the author exactly reverses their employment of it. In their phraseology, the
class-name connotes the attributes: in his, it notes the attributes, and
connotes the objects. And he declares that in his opinion, their mode of
employing the term is very absurd.
We have now to consider which of these two modes of
employing it is really the most appropriate.
A concrete general name may be correctly said to be a
mark, in a certain way, both for the objects and for their common attributes.
But which of the two is it conformable to usage to say that it is the name of?
Assuredly, the objects. It is they that are called by the name. I am asked,
what is this object called? and I answer, a horse. I should not make this answer
if I were asked what are these attributes called. Again, I am asked, what is it
that is called a horse? and I answer, the object which you see; not the
qualities which you see. Let us now suppose that I am asked, what is it that is
called black; I answer, all things
that have this particular colour. Black is a name of all black things. The name
of the colour is not black, but blackness. The name of a thing must be the name
which is predicated of the thing, as a proper name is predicated of the person
or place it belongs to. It is scarcely possible to speak with precision, and
adhere consistently to the same mode of speech, if we call a word the name of
any thing but that which it is predicated of. Accordingly the old logicians,
who had not yet departed widely from the custom of common speech, considered all
concrete names as the names of objects, and called nothing the name of an
attribute but abstract names.
Now there is considerable incongruity in saying that
a word connotes, that is, signifies secondarily, the very thing which it is a
name of. To connote, is to mark something along with, or in addition to,
something else. A name can hardly be said to mark the thing which it is a name
of in addition to some other thing. If it marks any other thing it marks it in
addition to the thing of which it is itself the name. In the present case, what
is marked in addition, is that which is the cause of giving the name; the
attributes, the possession of which by a thing entitles it to that name. It
therefore seems more con formable to the original acceptation of the word
Connote, that we should say of names like man or black that they connote
humanity or blackness, and denote, or
are names of, men and black objects; rather than, with the author of the
Analysis, that they note the attributes, and connote the things which possess
the attributes.
If this mode of using the terms is more consonant to
propriety of language, so also is it more scientifically convenient. It is of
extreme importance to have a technical expression exclusively consecrated to
signify the peculiar mode in which the name of a class marks the attributes in
virtue of which it is a class, and is called by the name. The verb “to note,”
employed by the author of the Analysis as the correlative of “to connote,” is
far too general to be confined to so specific a use, nor does the author intend
so to confine it. “To connote,” on the contrary, is a phrase which has been
handed down to us in this restricted acceptation, and is perfectly fitted to be
used as a technical term. There is no more important use of a term than that of
fixing attention upon something which is in danger of not being sufficiently
taken notice of. This is emphatically the case with the attribute-signification
of the names of objects. That signification has not been seen clearly, and what
has been seen of it confusedly has bewildered or misled some of the most
distinguished philosophers. From Hobbes to Hamilton, those who have attempted
to penetrate the secret of the higher logical operations of the intellect have
continually missed the mark for want of the light which a clear conception of
the connotation of general names spreads over the subject. There is no fact in
psychology which more requires a technical name; and it seems eminently
desirable that the words Connote and Connotative should be exclusively employed
for this purpose; and it is for this purpose that I have myself invariably employed
them.
In studying the Analysis, it is of course necessary
to bear in mind that the author does not use the words in this sense, but
sometimes in a sense much more vague and indefinite, and, when definite, in a
sense the reverse of this. It may seem an almost desperate undertaking, in the
case of an unfamiliar term, to attempt to rectify the usage introduced by the
actual reviver of the word: and nothing could have induced me to attempt it,
but a deliberate conviction that such a technical expression is indispensable
to philosophy, and that the author’s mode of employing these words unfits them
for the purpose for which they are needed, and for which they are well adapted.
I fear, however, that I have rarely succeeded in associating the words with
their precise meaning, anywhere but in my own writings. The word Connote, not
unfrequently meets us of late in philosophical speculations, but almost always
in a sense more lax than the laxest in which it is employed in the Analysis,
meaning no more than to imply. To such an extent is this the case, that able
thinkers and writers do not always even confine the expression to names, but
actually speak of Things as connoting whatever, in their opinion, the existence
of the Things implies or presupposes. Ed.]
In using these connotative names, it is often highly convenient
to drop the connotation; that is, to leave out the connoted cluster.
A mark is needed, to shew when it is meant that the
connotation is dropped. A slight mark put upon the connotative term answers the
purpose; and shews when it is not meant that anything should be connoted. In
regard to the word black, for example, we merely annex to it the syllable ness; and it is immediately indicated
that all connotation is dropped: so, in sweet ness; hardness; dryness;
lightness. The new words, so formed, are the words which have been denominated ABSTRACT;
as the connotative terms from which they are formed have been denominated
CONCRETE; and, as these terms are in frequent use, it is necessary that the
meaning of them should be well remembered.
It is now also manifest what is the real nature of
ABSTRACT terms; a subject which has in general presented such an appearance of
mystery. They are simply the CONCRETE terms with, the connotation dropped. And
this has in it, surely, no mystery at all. (83)
[83 After having said that a concrete general name
notes an attribute, that this, one of the sensations in a cluster, and connotes
the objects which have the attribute, i.e. the clusters of which that sensation
forms a part; the author proceeds to say that an abstract name is the concrete
name with the connotation dropped.
This seems a very indirect and circuitous mode of
making us understand what an abstract name signifies. Instead of aiming
directly at the mark, it goes round it. It tells us that one name signifies a
part of what another name signifies, leaving us to infer what part. A
connotative name with the connotation dropped, is a phrase requiring to be
completed by specifying what is the portion of signification left. The concrete
name with its connotation signifies an attribute, and also the objects which
have the attribute. We are now instructed to drop the latter half of the
signification, the objects. What then remains? The attribute. Why not then say
at once that the abstract name is the name of the attribute? Why tell us that x is a
plus b with b dropped, when it was as easy to tell us that x is a?
The noticeable thing however is that if a stands merely for the sensation, x really is a little more than a: the connotation (in the author’s
sense of the term) of the concrete name is not wholly dropped in the abstract name. The term black ness, and every
other abstract term, includes in its signification the existence of a black
object, though without declaring what it is. That is indeed the distinction
between the name of an attribute, and the name of a kind or type of sensation.
Names of sensations by themselves are not abstract but concrete names. They
mark the type of the sensation, but they do not mark it as emanating from any
object. “The sensation of black” is a concrete name, which expresses the
sensation apart from all reference to an object. “Blackness” expresses the same
sensation with reference to an object, by which the sensation is supposed to be
excited. Abstract names thus still retain a limited amount of connotation in
both the author’s senses of the term – the vaguer and the more specific sense.
It is only in the sense to which I am anxious to restrict the term, that any
abstract name is without connotation.
An abstract name, then, may be defined as the name of
an attribute; and, in the ultimate analysis, as the name of one or more of the
sensations of a cluster; not by themselves, but considered as part of any or
all of the various clusters, into which that type of sensations enters as a
component part. Ed.]
It hence, also, appears that there can be no ABSTRACT
term without an implied CONCRETE, though cases are not wanting, in which there
is much occasion for the ABSTRACT term but not much for the CONCRETE; in which,
therefore, the concrete is not in use, or is supplied by another form of
expression.
In irregular and capricious languages, as our own,
the dropping of the connotation of the concrete terms is not marked in a
uniform manner; and this requires some illustration. Thus, heavy is a concrete
term, and we shew the dropping of the connotation, by the same mark as in the
instances above, saying heaviness; but we have another term which is exactly
the equivalent of heaviness, and frequently used as the abstract of heavy; that
is, weight. Friend is a concrete, connotative term, in the substantive form.
Its connotation is dropped by another mark, the syllable ship; thus,
friendship; in like manner, generalship; brothership; cousinship. The syllable
age is another of the marks we use for the same purpose; pilotage, parsonage,
stowage.
Among concrete connotative words, we have already had
full opportunity of observing that verbs constitute a principal class. Those
words all NOTE some motion or action and CONNOTE an actor. There is the same frequency of
occasion to leave out the connotation in the case of this class of connotative
words, as in other classes. Accordingly ABSTRACT terms are formed from them, as
from the connotative adjectives and substantives. The infinitive mood is such
an abstract term; with this peculiarity, that, though it leaves out the con
notation of the actor, it retains the connotation of time. (84) It is
convenient, however, to have abstract terms from the verbs, which leave out also
the connotation of time; such are the substantive amor from amo, timor from timeo, and so on.
[84 The infinitive mood does not always express time.
At least, it often expresses it aoristically, without distinction of tense. “To
love” is as abstract a name as “love,” “to fear,” as “fear”: they are applied
equally to past, present, and future. The infinitives of the past and future,
as amavisse, amaturus esse, do,
however, include in their signification a particular time. Ed.]
Verbs have not only an active but a passive form In
the passive form, it is not the action,
but the bearing of the action, which
is NOTED; and not the actor, but the bearer of the action, that is CONNOTED.
In this case, also, there is not less frequent occasion to drop the connotation.
By the simple contrivance of a slight alteration in the connotative term, the
important circumstance of dropping the connotation is marked. In the case of
the passive as the active form of verbs, the infinitive mood drops the
connotation of the person, but retains that of the time. Other abstract terms,
formed from the passive voice, leave out the connotation both of person and
time. Thus from legor, there is lectio; from optor, optatio; from dicor, dictio; and so on.
It is to be remarked that the Latin mode of forming
abstract terms from verbs, by the termination “tio,” has been adopted to a
great extent in English. A large proportion of our abstract terms are thus distinguished;
as action, association, imagination, navigation, mensuration, friction, motion,
station, faction, legislation, corruption, and many others.
It is also of extreme importance to mark a great
defect and imperfection, in this respect, of the Latin language. Such words as lectio, dictio, actio, are
derived with equal readiness either from the supine, lectum, dictum, actum; or from the participle, lectus, dictus, actus. The supine
is active, the participle, passive. From this circumstance probably
it is, that these abstract terms in the Latin language possess both the active
and passive signification; and by this most unfortunate ambiguity have proved a
fertile source of obscurity and confusion. This defect of the Latin language is
the more to be lamented by us, that it has infected our own language; for as we
have borrowed from the Latin language a great proportion of our abstract terms,
we have transplanted the mischievous equivocation along with them. This
ambiguity the Greek language happily avoided: thus it had πραζις and
πραγμα the first for the active signification of actio, the latter the passive. (85)
[85 I apprehend that πραγμα is
not an abstract but a concrete term, and does not express the attribute of
being done, but the thing done – the effect which results from the completed
action. Ed.]
Of the abstract terms, of genuine English growth,
derived from the concrete names of action, or verbs, the participle of the past
tense supplied a great number, merely dropping the adjective, and assuming the
substantive form. Thus, weight, a word which we had occasion to notice before,
is the participle weighed, with the connotation dropped: stroke is merely
struck; the thing struck, the
connotation, being left out: thought is the past participle passive of the verb
to think, and differs from the participle in no thing, but that the participle,
the adjective, has the connotation; the abstract, the substantive, has it not.
Whether the concrete, or the abstract, is the term employed, is in such cases
always indicated by the context; and, therefore, no particular mark to distinguish
them is required.
In our non-inflected language, a facility is afforded
in forming a non-connotative from the connotative, in the active voice of
verbs; because the connotative word is always distinguished by the presence of
the persons of the verb, or that of some part of the auxiliary verb. The same
word, therefore, answers for the abstract, as for the concrete; it being of
course the abstract, when none of the marks of the concrete are present. Thus
the word love, is both the verb or the connotative, and the substantive or the
non-connotative; thus also fear, walk, ride, stand, fight, smell, taste, sleep,
dream, drink, work, breath, and many others.
We have in English, formed from verbs, a great many abstracts
or non-connotatives, which terminate in “th,” as truth, health, dearth,
stealth, death, strength. It may be disputed whether these words are derived
from one part of the verb or another; but, in all other respects, the nature of
them is not doubtful. The third person singular of the present, indicative
active, ends in “th;” and, therefore, they may be said to be that part of the
verb with the connotation dropped. The termination, however, of the past
participle is “d,” and we know that “th” and “d,” are the same letter under a slight
difference of articulation; and, therefore, they may just as well be derived
from the past participle, and as often at least as they have a passive
signification, no doubt are. Thus the verb trow, to think, has either troweth,
or trowed; from one of which, but more likely from the last, we have truth: the
verb to heal, has either healeth, or healed; from one of which, but more likely
the last, we have health: the verb to string has stringeth, or stringed; from
one of which we have strength; thus from dieth, or died, death; from stealeth,
or stealed, stealth; mirth in the same manner, from a verb now out of use; so
heighth, length, breadth. (86)
[86 The abstracts in -th belong to a very early stage of the language. We cannot now
form words like health, truth, as we can abstracts in -ness. As in the case of adjectives in -en (wooden), and of preterites and
participles like fell, fallen, that particular part of the
vital energy of the language that produced them, is dead – ossified, as it
were; and we cannot exemplify their formation by any process now going on. To
account for many of them, we must suppose them formed from roots different from
any now existing as separate words – roots from which the corresponding verbs and
adjectives that we are acquainted with have been themselves derived by
augmentation or other change. This being the case, it is impossible to say with
certainty whether the immediate root of any particular abstract in -th was a verb, a noun, or an adjective;
and, indeed, the question need hardly be raised, since a primitive root was of
the nature of all three.
The structure of these derivatives is better seen in
some of the other Teutonic dialects than in the English or the Anglo-Saxon, in
which the affix is reduced to a mere consonant. Thus, for Eng. depth the Gothic has diupi-tha; for heigh-th, hauhi-tha. In Old High German the affix -tha becomes -da, and we have heili-da corresponding to Eng. heal-th;
strenki-da, to streng-th; besides a
great number of analogous forms, such as evi-da, “eternity” (from the same root as ever; compare Lat. aetas for aevitas). In
modern German comparatively few of these derivatives survive; and in those that
do; the -da of the Old German has
passed into -de, as in ge-baer-de, the way of ‘bearing’ oneself,
behaviour; equivalent to Latin habi-tus. The modern German equivalents of bread-th, leng-th, are breit-e, Iäng-e;
but in some of the popular dialects the older forms breite de, läng-de
are still retained; and in Dutch warm-te corresponds to warm-th, and grôt-te
is great-ness. When we recollect that th
or d in the Germanic languages
represents in such cases the t of the
Greek and Latin (compare Gr. μέλιτ (ος), honey with Goth, milith;
Lat. alter with Eng. other), we cannot help seeing how
analogous is the formation of the class of words we are now considering to that
of Latin past participles (araa-tus, dic-tus, audi-tus). In the case of those
abstracts that seem to come more naturally from an adjective root than from a
verb, we can conceive the adjective formed on the analogy of the past
participle; just as there are in English adjectives having no possible verbal
root, yet simulating past participles; as able-bodi-ed,
three-corner -ed. The abstract
noun would appear to have been originally distinguished from the participle, or
participial adjective, by some additional affix, as in lec-t-io. In Greek and
Latin this additional affix very often consisted in a reduplication of the
formative element t, as if for the
purpose of denoting multitude, generality; as in Greek (νεό-τητ-ος), Latin juven-tut-is, sani-tat-is. It is not impossible that Goth. diupi-tha, O.H.G. heili-da are abbreviations of diupi-tha-th, heili-da-d, just as Lat. sani-tat
has dwindled down in modern Ital. to sani-tà.
In a great many words essentially belonging to the
same class both in meaning and in mode of formation, the -th has, for the sake of euphony or from other causes, given place
to t or d. Thus mood corresponds
to Goth, mo-th, and means a motion (Lat. motus)
or affection (of the mind); blood, to
Goth. blo-th; theft, is in Ang.
Sax. theof-th. Mur-ther, from a root akin to Lat. mori; burthen, from the root of to bear,
are of similar formation, with additional affixes.
All these considerations would seem to put Horme
Tooke’s proposed derivation of these abstracts from the third person singular
of the present indicative of the verb, completely out of court. The famous case
of truth from troweth is especially absurd. For one thing the Ang. Sax. verb treowan does not mean “to think,” but
“to trust,” “rely on,” “believe.” This implies a ground for the trust, and that
ground lies in the quality expressed by the adjective, true. Truth has the same relation, logically
and etymologically, to true, that dearth has to dear, health to hale. Remarking on the identity in form
be tween the Ang. Sax. treow, trust,” “a treaty,” and treow, “a tree” Jacob Grimm suggests that they are radically
related, and that the idea common to tree and true is firmness, fixedness. Thus
the “true” would be the “firm” the “fixed” – what may be relied on. This view
is supported by the analogy of the Lat. robur,
which means both an oak and strength. F.]
It would be interesting to give a systematic account
of the non-connotatives, derived from English verbs; and this ought to be done;
but for the present inquiry it would be an operation misplaced. The nature of
the words, and the mode of their signification, is all which here is necessary
to be understood.
One grand class of connotative terms is composed of
such words as the following: walking, running, flying, reading, striking; and
we have seen that, for a very obvious utility, a generical name was invented,
the word ACTING, which includes the whole of these specific names; and to which
the non- connotative, or abstract term ACTION corresponds. There was equal
occasion for a generical name to include all the specific names belonging to
the other class of connotative terms; such as coloured, sapid, hard, soft,.
hot, cold, and so on. But language has by no means been so happy in a general
name for this, as for the other class. The word SUCH, is a connotative term,
which includes them all, and indeed the other class along with them; for when
we apply the word SUCH to any thing, we comprehend under it all the ideas of
which the cluster is composed. But this is not all which is included under the
word such. It is a relative term, and always connotes so much of the meaning of
some other term. When we call a thing such,
it is always understood that it is such as
some other thing. Thus we say, John is such as James. Corresponding with our
“such as,” the Latins had tails qualis.
If we could suppose qualis to have
been used without any connotation of talis,
qualis would have been such a word as
the occasion which we are now considering would have required. The Latins did
not use qualis, in this sense, as a
general concrete, including all the other names of the properties of objects
other than actions. But they made from it, as if used in that very sense, a non-connotative
or abstract term, the word QUALITY, which answers the same purpose with regard
to both classes, as action does to one of them. That is to say; it is a very
general non-connotative term, including under it the non-connotatives or
abstracts of hot, cold, hard, soft, long, short; and not only of all other
words of that description, but of acting, and its subordinates also.
Quantus, is
another concrete which has a double connotation like qualis. It connotes not only the substantive with which it agrees,
but also, being a relative, the term tantus,
which is its correlate. By dropping both connotations, the abstract QUANTITY is
made; a general term, including under it the abstracts of all the names by
which the modifications of greater and less are denominated; as large, small, a
mile long, an inch thick, a handful, a ton, and so on.
Much remains, beside what is here stated, of the full
explanation of the mode in which talis
qualis, tantus quantum, are made
conducive to the great purposes of marking. But this must be reserved till we
come to treat of RELATIVE TERMS, in general.
We have previously observed, that one of the purposes
for which we abstract, or sunder the parts of a complex idea, marked by a
general name, is, to form those adjectives, or connotative terms, which,
denoting differences, enable us to form, and to name, subordinate classes. We
now come to the next of the great purposes to which abstraction is subservient,
and it is one to which the whole of our attention is due.
Of all the things in which we are interested, that
is, on which our happiness and misery depend, meaning here by things, both objects
and events, the most important by far are the successions of objects; in other
words, the effects which they produce. In reality, objects are interesting to
us, solely on account of the effects which they produce, either on ourselves,
or on other objects.
But an observation of the greatest importance readily
occurs; that of any cluster, composing our idea of an object, the effects or
consequents depend, in general, more upon one part of it than another. If a
stone is hot, it has certain effects
or consequences; if heavy, it has
others, and so on. It is of great importance to us, in respect to those
successions, to be able to mark discriminately the real antecedent; not the
antecedent combined with a number of things with which the consequent has
nothing to do. I observe, that other objects, as iron, lead, gold, produce
similar effects with stone; as often as the name hot can, in like manner, be predicated of them. In the several
clusters therefore, hot stone, hot iron, hot gold, hot lead, there is a
portion, the same in all, with which, and not with the rest, the effects which
I am contemplating are connected. This part is marked by the word hot; which word, however, in the case of
each cluster, connotes also the other parts of the cluster. It appears at once,
how much convenience there must be in dropping the connotation, and obtaining a
word which, in each of those cases, shall mark exclusively that part of the
cluster on which the effect depends. This is accomplished by the abstract or
non-connotative terms, heat, and weight.
Certain alterations, also, are observed in those
parts of clusters on which such and such effects depend; which alterations make
corresponding alterations in the effects, though no other alteration is
observable, in the cluster, to which such parts belong. Thus, if a stone is
more or less hot, the effects or successions are not the same; so of iron, so
of lead; but the same alteration in the same part of each of those clusters, is
followed by the same effects. It is true, that we know nothing of the
alteration in the cause, but by the alteration in the effects; for we only say
that a stone is hotter, because it produces such other effects, either in our
sensations immediately, or in the sensations we receive from other objects. It
is, however, obvious that we have urgent use for the means of marking, not only
the alterations in the effects, but the alterations in the antecedents. This we
do, by supposing the alterations to be those of increase and diminution, and
marking them by the distinction of lower and higher degrees. But, for this
purpose, it is obvious that we must have a term which is not connotative;
because we suppose no alteration in any part of the cluster but that which is
not connoted; thus we can say, with sufficient precision, that a greater or
less degree of heat produces such and such effects; but we cannot say, that a
greater or less degree of hot stone, of hot iron, of hot any thing else,
produces these effects.
This then, is another use, and evidently a most
important use, of abstract, non-connotative terms. They enable us to mark, with
more precision, those successions, in which our good and evil is wholly
contained.
This also enables us to understand, what it is which
recommends such and such aggregates, and not others, for classification. Those
successions of objects, in which we are interested, determine the
classifications which we form of them.
Some successions are found to depend upon the
clusters, called objects, all taken together. Thus a tree, a man, a stone, are
the antecedents of certain consequents, as such; and not on account of any
particular part of the cluster.
Other consequents depend not upon the whole of the
cluster, but upon some particular part: thus a tall tree, produces certain
effects, which a tree not tall, cannot produce; a strong man, produces certain
effects, which a man not strong cannot produce. When these consequents are so important,
as to deserve particular attention, they and their antecedents must be marked.
For this purpose, are employed the connotative terms marking differences. These
terms enable us to group the clusters containing those antecedents into a
sub-class; and NON-CONNOTATIVE or ABSTRACT terms, derived from them, enable us
to speak separately of that part of the cluster which we have to mark as the
precise antecedent of the consequent which is engaging our attention.
It is presumed, that these illustrations will
suffice, to enable the reader to discern the real marking power of abstract
terms, and also to perceive the mode of their formation.
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