CHAPTER VII.

LANGUAGE.

A LANGUAGE is a collection of signs which are used to express thought, or, in general, any state of consciousness, that is to say, feelings and volitions as well as ideas. A sign is a fact that is perceived by the senses, and reveals another fact which, owing to accident, or by its very nature, is not perceptible by the senses. Thus, the smoke we see is a sign of the fire we do not

see.

A cry is a sign of pain which, by its nature, is invisible. The signs used in language may be perceived either by touch (tactual language), or by sight (visual language), or by hearing (oral language). The tactual language has been employed in the education of deaf and dumb blind children, e.g. in the case of Laura Bridgeman; and we have an example of visual language in the collection of signs by which the deaf and dumb communicate their thoughts. But the most valuable language of all, the one best adapted for the following of all the movements of the mind, is the oral language. It consists of inarticulate sounds or cries, and articulate sounds or words.

If now, instead of the nature of the sign, or the material of language, we consider the connection between signs and thought, we find that there are two kinds of languages as there are two kinds of signs, namely, a conventional and a natural language. A conventional or artificial language is a language invented by man, one that he has deliberately chosen and systematically formed. A natural language is, on the contrary, a collection of signs that are used involuntarily and without know

ledge of the end to be attained, by which man in the beginning, without any act of volition, expresses his states of consciousness. As examples of artificial language we may mention the scientific language (chemical nomenclature, algebraical terms, etc.), the stenographical language, the deaf and dumb language. As for the natural language it consists chiefly of (1) cries; (2) facial expressions; (3) gestures and movements, and in general bodily attitudes. Speech is the language par excellence, for it not only expresses thought, but assists in the formation and development of thought. Indeed, the two terms have for us become inseparable. "Thought," says Plato, "is an interior. and silent conversation of the soul with herself" (ó évτòs TŷS ψυχῆς πρὸς αὐτὴν διάλογος ἄνευ φωνῆς γιγνόμενος).

We may study the language of speech in its development and changes, compare the various vocabularies and forms of syntax, and, from this comparison, elicit general laws. This is called Philology. But the only problem connected with language, in which psychology is directly concerned, is that of its origin and relations to thought. Is speech a natural or an artificial language? Is it to a divine revelation, to an original faculty, that man owes the power of expressing his thoughts and of understanding those of his fellow creatures by signs, or did he acquire this power himself; and, if so, was it through an arbitrary convention, or through the natural development of a primitive, spontaneous language? These are the questions that have always arisen out of the subject, and have, with time, become more clearly defined. We shall now proceed to give an account of the different solutions of them which have successively been proposed.

The Problem of Language before Plato. Democritus; Hermogenes and Cratylus.

Heraclitus and

Heraclitus took pleasure in play upon words and in derivations, as we can see from the fragments of his writings which have come down to us. Are we to suppose that in this analysis of terms he sought a confirmation of his philosophical theories, that he held that speech was given to men by the gods, and that the essence of things is revealed by their names? This doctrine, which was held by some of his followers, can scarcely be traced to Heraclitus. We know, at any rate,

that, for Democritus, language was an arbitrary institution, that names did not depend on the nature of things, but were chosen by convention (éσe). In proof of this he points out, firstly, that many words have more than one meaning (woλúσnμov); secondly, that many objects have more than one name (ióрpoπov); thirdly, that there are other objects which by analogy ought to have a special designation and have none (vévvμov) (Proclus, Comment. on the Cratylus, Zeller's edition).

Plato devotes a whole dialogue (The Cratylus) to the subject of language. We find that even in his time there were already two distinctly opposite theories on the problem of the origin of language. He puts into the mouth of Hermogenes the theory of Democritus:

"I cannot convince myself that there is any principle of correctness in names other than convention and agreement (ξυνθήκη καὶ ὁμολογία); any name which you give, in my opinion, is the right (ỏμ¤óv) one, and if you change that, and give another, the new name is as correct as the old-we frequently change the names of our slaves, and the newly-imposed name is as good as the old" (Cratylus, 384 d, e).

This is the first theory, the theory of the arbitrary institution of language.

According to Cratylus, a disciple of Heraclitus, names are, on the contrary," natural and not conventional; not a portion of the human voice which men agree to use; but that there is a truth or correctness in them, which is the same for Hellenes as for barbarians" (Cratylus, 383 a). Words reveal to us the nature and essence of things. Therefore, by studying words we can arrive at knowledge of things. Nay, more, "he who knows the one will also know the other" (Ibid. 435 d).

Finally, Cratylus is driven by Socrates' logic to saying:

"I believe, Socrates, the true account of the matter to be, that a power more than human gave things their first names, and that the names which are thus given are necessarily their true names” (Ibid. 438 c).

Plato refutes the Theories of Hermogenes and Cratylus.

Plato will not allow that words are arbitrary. As each thing has its special nature, independently of our way of feeling, it is evident that our actions are determined, not by our caprice, but by the nature of the things to which we apply them. In order to cut or burn, one must use the appropriate

instrument. In the same way, the action of naming must have its special nature. For every action we have a special instrument; for piercing, for instance, we have the awl, for weaving, the shuttle, for naming, the name. Just as the shuttle is an instrument for distinguishing the threads of the web, so a name is an instrument for distinguishing the natures of things (Cratylus, 388 c). The shuttle is the work of a particular artizan, the carpenter, and can only be made by one who is skilled in that art. The name is the work of a superior artizan, for not everyone is able to give a name; and this artizan is the legislator. Now, as the carpenter in making the shuttle looks to the nature of the operation of weaving, and, on the other hand, imitates a form of shuttle of which he has the idea, and which may be called the true, or ideal shuttle, so the legislator should look to the nature of the things to be named, without ever losing sight of the idea of the name (τὸ ἑκάστῳ φύσει πεφυκὸς ὄνομα, Ibid. 389 d). But as a smith can make excellent instruments without always using the same iron, so names can be made out of different sounds and syllables, provided they are properly applied to each thing. Finally, as the best judge of a shuttle is he who uses it, so the best judge of a name will be he who is to use it, that is, he who is to question and answer, namely, the dialectician. What constitutes the propriety and suitability of a word is imitation, not external and sensible imitation, but imitation of the special nature of each thing. "If one could express the essence of each thing in letters and syllables, would he not express the nature of each thing?" (Ibid. 423 e). The letter "p," for example, expresses motion; the sibilant letters give an idea of blowing; the letters "d" and "t" are expressive of binding and resting in a place.

This being the case, must we not agree with Cratylus that he who knows words knows things, reduce the dialectic to etymology, and give to the gods the credit of having invented speech? Plato will admit none of these inferences. He rejects the hypothesis of a divine revelation: in the first place, many particular words are badly formed; in the second place, if we look into language as a whole for the conception of nature, we shall find that among etymologies some favour the theory of Heraclitus, that is to say, of universal becoming, and others

the unity and immobility of Parmenides. Are we then to believe that the gods contradicted themselves? Or can it be granted that the science of words is the science of things? Everything is not capable of being expressed in its essence by a corresponding letter. Who could find for the name of every number a natural and appropriate form? In this case and in many others, the meaning of the words has been determined by custom and convention. How then could the study of words instruct us as to the nature of things? Moreover, shall not he who confines himself to the study of language be reduced to accepting only the thought of those who made languages? But those who made the first words made them in accordance with their particular way of conceiving things, and if they were mistaken, we must be mistaken too. Again, how did the first inventors of language form it, if they had not already the knowledge of things? And how could they have had this knowledge, if things are only known by their names? It is impossible, then, to find in names the measure and the absolute sign of truth: things must be studied, not in their names, but in themselves.

Thus, according to Plato, it is possible to conceive a perfect, ideal language, which would be the adequate expression of truth; and, so far, Cratylus is right. In truth, it was not a dialectician who presided at the formation of language; therefore, it must be partly conventional, partly arbitrary, and partly the result of chance, and truth is not to be sought in the analysis of words. Setting aside the puerile attempts at etymology in the Cratylus, we find that Plato recognized, in the first place, that words are instruments of analysis, the name is an instrument of instruction used to distinguish the nature of things; secondly, that language is natural, and not, as Democritus thought, conventional, although in many cases convention and use have determined the meaning of words; thirdly, that thought does not spring from language, but language from thought. Before we can name things, we must first know them.

Aristotle Speech is a Natural Faculty, Language a Convention.

We have only a few lines of Aristotle on the psychological theory of language. From them we see that he opposed Plato's