[54] The interesting and important philological facts adduced by Mr. Findlater, confirm and illustrate in a very striking manner the doctrine in the text, of the radical distinction between the functions of the copula in predication, and those of the substantive verb; by shewing that many languages have no substantive verb, no verb expressive of mere existence, and yet signify their predications by other means; and that probably all languages began without a substantive verb, though they must always have had predications.
The confusion between these two different functions in the European languages, and the ambiguity of the verb To Be, which fulfils them both, are among the most important of the minor philosophical truths to which attention has been called by the author of the Analysis. As in the case of many other luminous thoughts, an approach is found to have been made to it by previous thinkers. Hobbes, though he did not reach it, came very close to it, and it was still more distinctly anticipated by Laromiguière, though without any sufficient perception of its value. It occurs in a criticism on a passage of Pascal, and in the following words. “Quand on dit, l’être est, etc. le mot est, ou le verbe, n’exprime pas la même chose que le mot être, sujet de la définition. Si j’énonce la proposition suivante: Dieu est existant, je ne voudrais pas dire assurément, Dieu existe existant: cela ne ferait pas un sens; de même, si je dis que Virgile est poëte, je ne veux pas donner à entendre que Virgile existe. Le verbe est, dans la proposition, n’exprime donc pas l’existence réelle; il n’exprime qu’un rapport spécial entre le sujet et l’attribut, le rapport du contenant au contenu,” &c. (Leçons de Philosophie, 7me ed. vol. i. p. 307.) Having thus hit upon an unobvious truth in the course of an argument directed to another purpose, he passes on and takes no further notice of it.
It may seem strange that the verb which signifies existence should have been employed in so many different languages as the sign of predication, if there is no real connection between the two meanings. But languages have been built up by the extension of an originally small number of words, with or without alterations of form, to express new meanings, the choice of the word being often determined by very distant analogies. In the present case, the analogy is not distant. All our predications are intended to declare the manner in which something affects, or would affect, ourselves or others. Our idea of existence is simply the idea of something which affects or would affect us somehow, without distinction of mode. Everything, therefore, which we can have occasion to assert of an existing thing, may be looked upon as a particular mode of its existence. Since snow is white, and since snow exists, it may be said to exist white; and if a sign was wanted by which to predicate white of snow, the word exists would be very likely to present itself. But most of our predications do relate to existing things: and this being so, it is in the ordinary course of the human mind that the same sign should be adhered to when we are predicating something of a merely imaginary thing (an abstraction, for instance) and that, being so used, it should create an association between the abstraction and the notion of real existence.—Ed.
179 We have now observed, wherein Predication consists, and the instruments by which it is performed. 180 We have also, in part, contemplated the End which it is destined to fulfil; that is, to mark the order in which sensations and ideas follow one another in a 181 train. On this last part of the subject, however, the following observations are still required.
The trains, the order of which we have occasion to 182 mark, may for the elucidation of the present subject, be divided into two classes. We have occasion to 183 mark, either, first, The series of the objects we have seen, heard, or otherwise perceived by our senses; or, 184 secondly, A train of thoughts which may have passed in our minds.
1. When we come to record a train of the objects we have perceived, that is, a train of sensations, the sensations have become ideas; for the objects are not now acting on our senses, and the sensations are at an end.
The order of the objects of our senses, is either the order of time, or the order of place. The first is the order of SUCCESSION; when one object comes first, another next, and so on. The second is the order of POSITION; when the objects are considered as simultaneous, but different in distance and direction from a particular point.
Let us observe in what manner the artifice of 185 Predication is adapted to the marking of a train in either of those orders: and first, with respect to a train in the order of Time.
Of this the following may be taken as a simple example. “The sun rises; clouds form; clouds cover the sky; lightning flashes; thunder roars.” It is easy in these expressions to observe, what were the sensations, and in what order they succeeded one another. It is also observable, that the order is denoted by so many Predications; and that Predication is our only expedient for denoting their order. First sensation, “sight of the sun;” second sensation, “rising of the sun;” these two denoted shortly and in their order by the Predication, “the sun rises.” Third sensation, “sight of clouds;” fourth sensation, “forming of clouds;” these two again shortly denoted in their order by the Predication, “clouds form.” The next, “clouds cover the sky,” needs no further explanation; but there is a peculiar artifice of language in the two following Predications; “lightning flashes,” “thunder roars,” which deserves to be well understood. “Lightning flashes;” here there is but one sensation, the sensation of sight, which we call a flash. But there are various kinds of flashes; this is a peculiar one, and I want to mark peculiarly what it is. It is not a flash on the earth, but a flash in the sky; it will not, however, sufficiently distinguish the flash in question, to say, the sky flashes, because other flashes come from the sky. What then is my contrivance? I form the fancy of a cause of this particular flash, though I know nothing concerning it, and for this unknown cause I invent a name, and call it lightning. I have then an expression which always accurately 186 marks the sensation I mean to denote: I say, “the lightning flashes,” “a flash of lightning,” and so on. “Thunder roars,” is another case of the same artifice. The noise here is the only sensation; but in order to distinguish it from all other noises, I invent a name for its unknown cause, and by its means can mark the sensation with perfect precision.
The Fictions, after this manner resorted to, for the purpose of marking; though important among the artifices of naming; have contributed largely to the misdirection of thought.