ABSTRACT RELATIVE TERMS.

14After analysing Position and Extension under the head of Relative Terms, the author now, under the same head, gives the analysis of Quantity and Quality. To what he says on the subject of Quantity it does not appear necessary to add anything. He seems to have correctly analysed the phenomenon down to a primitive element, beyond which we have no power to investigate. As Likeness and Unlikeness appeared to be properties of our simple feelings, which must be postulated as ultimate, and which are inseparable from the feelings themselves, so may this also be said of More and Less. As some of our feelings are like, some unlike, so there is a mode of likeness or unlikeness which we call Degree: some feelings otherwise like are unlike in degree, that is one is unlike another in intensity, or one is unlike another in duration; in either case one is distinguished as more, or greater, the other as less. And the fact of being more or less only means that we feel them as more or less. The author says in this case, as he had said in the other elementary cases of relation, that the more and the less being different sensations, to trace them and to distinguish their difference are not two things but one and the same thing. It matters not, since there the difference still is, unsusceptible of further analysis. The author’s apparent simplification amounts only to this, that differences of quantity, like all other differences of which we take cognizance, are differences merely in our feelings; they exist only as they are felt. But (as we have already said ofresemblance, and ofantecedence and consequence) they must be postulated as elements. The distinction of more and less is one of the ultimate conditions under which we have all our states of consciousness.—Ed.

544. After tracing the sensations and ideas, which are marked when we apply relative terms to objects, as agreeing or disagreeing inquantity; we have now to trace the sensations and ideas, which are marked, when we apply relative terms to objects, on account of their agreeing or disagreeing inquality.

First of all, the learner must take note of what he55means by Quality. We ascribe qualities to an object on account of our sensations. We call an object green, on account of the sensation green; hard, on account of the sensation hard; sounding, on account of the sensation sounding. The names of all qualities of objects, then, are names of sensations. Are they any thing else? Yes; they are the names of our sensations, with connotation of a supposed unknown cause of those sensations. As far, however, as our knowledge goes, they are names of sensations, and nothing else. The supposed cause is never known; the effects alone are known to us.

We ascribe qualities to objects, in two cases, which require to be distinguished: on account of the sensations which we have from them primarily; on account of those which we have from them secondarily. The first we call their sensible qualities; as green, hot, hard, sweet, scented, and so on: the second we more frequently call their powers; as the power of the loadstone to draw iron, the power of water to melt sugar. In this latter case, the sensations marked are not those which are derived from the loadstone, or from water; but those which are derived from the changes in the iron, and the sugar; of which changes, we call the loadstone, and the water, the cause. In the latter case, the train of antecedents and consequents is longer than it is in the former. When I see an object green; there is the object, the antecedent; and myself sentient of green, the consequent. When I see a loadstone draw iron, there is the following train; the loadstone, antecedent; iron drawn, first consequent; myself seeing it drawn, second consequent. When I see water melt sugar, there is the56antecedent water; sugar melting, first consequent; myself seeing it, second consequent. What I call the powers of an object, then, are its order in respect to certain of my sensations, the order of antecedence, not proximate, but more or less remote.

When I say that grass is green, I trace my sensation green, no farther than to the grass. When I say, the sugar is melting, I trace my sensations (for they are several) called sugar melting, first to the sugar, and then to the water. My word green, therefore, is the notation of a sensation, and connotation of an unknown cause; my name melting, is the notation of a compound of sensations, and connotation of two causes, an antecedent and a consequent: the first, an unknown cause in the sugar; the second, the cause of that unknown cause, namely, the water.

In speaking of the qualities of an object, it is necessary to take notice of an inaccuracy of language; which, not only, as Dr. Brown has well observed, lies at the bottom of many philosophical errors, but induces men to mistake the very business of the philosopher.

The term, “quality” or “qualities of an object,” seems to imply, that the qualities are one thing, the object another. And this, in some indistinct way, is, no doubt, the opinion of the great majority of mankind. Yet, the absurdity of it strikes the understanding, the moment it is mentioned. The qualities of an object are the whole of the object. What is there beside the qualities? In fact, they are convertible terms: the qualities are the object; and the object is the qualities. But, then, what are the qualities? Why, sensations, with the association of57the object as the cause. And what is the association of the object as the cause? Why, the association of other sensations as antecedent. What, for example, are the smell, and colour, and other qualities of the rose? Is not each of the names of these qualities, that of the smell, for example, a connotative name, not only noting the sensation, of which it is properly the name, but connoting all the sensations of colour, of consistence, of figure, of position; to which, all combined by association, so as to form one complex idea, we give the specific name, rose, the more general name, vegetable, and the still more general name, object? When the smell of a rose is perceived by me, or the idea suggested to me, immediately all the other ideas included under the term rose, are suggested along with it, and their indissoluble union presupposed. But this belief of the previous indissoluble union of each of those sensations with all the other sensations, is all which I really mean when I refer each sensation to the rose as its cause.

If the learner has fully apprehended the ideas here premised, it will be easy for him to trace to the bottom the relative terms, which we apply to objects on account of their agreeing or disagreeing inQuality.

We say, that objects agree or disagree, on account of one quality, or more than one quality, that is, on account of single sensations, or combined sensations.

Let us first observe the case of one quality. We say, that a blade of grass is like the leaf of an oak, meaning, that in the quality of colour both are green; we say that the leaf of the rose tree, is unlike the petal of the flower, meaning in colour. By these58words, we name the objects in pairs; first, the pair of leaves, to each of which, we give the name, like; secondly, the leaf and the petal, to each of which, we give the name, unlike. We name the first two objects, “like,” on account of the two sensations, green, and green, one of each object; we name the next two objects unlike, on account of the two sensations, green of the one, red of the other. What is done, or rather what is felt, when we give the same, or a different name, to each of two sensations, has been already so fully explained, that a bare suggestion of what has been premised, is here all that will be required.

We have two sensations. A, B. Having two sensations, and knowing them to be two sensations, that is, not one sensation, is having the sensations, and nothing more.

Why do I call one sequence of sensations, green, green; another sequence, green, red? Clearly on account of the sensations. No other explanation can be given of it, nor can be required. For the same reason for which I called the sensations of the first sequence individually, green, green, I call them both, like; and for the same reason for which I called those of the second sequence, not green, green, but green, red, I call them, unlike.

Let us next put the case of several sensations. We say, that one rose is like another. We have only to take the sensations combined under the name rose, one by one, to see that this, and the former, case, are in reality the same. The two roses are like in colour, like in smell, like in consistence, like in form, like in position. The likeness of the two roses, is a likeness59not in one sensation, but in several. But the likeness of two sensations of smell, is of the same nature as the likeness of the two sensations of sight. When I call the smell, therefore, of the two roses like, it is for the same reason as I call the colour of them like, that is, the sensations. When I call the shape and consistence, and position, like, it is for the same reason still; the tactual and muscular sensations, whence the ideas are derived to which these names are annexed. In this case, however, the reason is by no means so clearly seen, first, because the sensations are complex, and secondly, because they are of that class of sensations which we habitually overlook.

The Latin words,Talis,Qualis, are applied to objects in the same way, on one account, asTantus,Quantus, on another; and the explanation we gave ofTantus,Quantus, may be appliedmutatis mutandis, to the pair of relatives we have now named.Tantus,Quantus, are names applied to objects on account of dimension.Talis,Qualis, are names applied to objects on account of all other sensations. We applyTantus,Quantus, to a pair of objects when they are equal; we applyTalis,Qualis, to a pair of objects, when they are like.

Talis,Qualis, however, express the likeness of two objects in a manner somewhat different from the other pair of nearly equivalent relatives, “Like,” and “Like.” When we call two objects Like, the one is placed on the same footing as the other. No one of them is taken as the standard. When we apply,Talis,Qualis, the case is different. One of the objects is then the standard. The objectQualis, is that to which the reference is made.

60This being understood, the extensive meaning which came to be given to the word Quality, may be easily explained. Quality is the LatinQualitas, andQualitasis the abstract ofQualis. The meaning of the abstract is the same with that of the concrete, the connotation being dropped. When the wordQualis, is applied to an object, it notes something about it in particular, but connotes the whole object. TheQualitasof that object, is the something noted in particular, the connotation being dropped. AsQualisis applied to objects, sometimes on account of one thing belonging to them, sometimes on account of another,Qualitascomes in turn to be applied to every thing in them, requiring at any time a separate notation.Qualitas, when first formed fromQualis, has the force of a relative, and connotes the abstract ofTalis; but in its frequent use, in marking every thing in objects, which requires separate notation, this connotation, also, comes to be dropped; and Quality is finally used as an absolute term, the generical name of every thing in objects, for which a separate notation is required.15

15As in the case of Quantity, so in that of Quality, it is needless to add anything to the author’s very sufficient elucidation. I merely make the usual reserves with respect to the use of the word Connotation. The concrete names which predicate qualities (for of abstract relative names the author is not yet speaking) are said by him to be the names of our sensations; green, for instance, and red. But it is the abstract names alone which are this: the names greenness, and redness. And even the abstract names signify something more than only the sensations: they are names of the sensations considered as derived from an object which produces them. The concrete name is a name not of the sensation, but of the object, of which alone it is predicable: we talk of green objects, but not of green sensations. It however connotes the quality greenness, that is, it connotes that particular sensation as produced by, or proceeding from, the object; as forming one of the group of sensations which constitutes the object. This, however, is but a difference, though a very important one, in terminology. It is strictly true, that the real meaning of the word is the sensations; as, in all cases, the meaning of a connotative word resides in the connotation (the attributes signified by it), though it is the name of, or is predicable of, only the objects which it denotes.—Ed.

61III. It was remarked at the beginning of this investigation of relative terms or names applied in pairs, that we name in pairs—1, single sensations or ideas; 2, the clusters we call objects; 3, the complex ideas we form arbitrarily for our own purposes. Having finished the consideration of the two former cases, we shall not find occasion to speak much at length upon the last.

The clusters, formed by arbitrary association, receive names in pairs, on two occasions; either,

1. When they consist of the same or different simple ideas; or,

2. When they succeed one another in a train.

1. The ideas which we put together arbitrarily are sometimes less, sometimes more, complex, for the most part, they are exceedingly complex.

Of the less complicated kinds, are such ideas as that of the unicorn, which is a horse with one straight horn growing from the middle of its forehead; the Cyclops, a gigantic man, with a single eye in the middle of his forehead; a mermaid, of which the upper part is a woman, the lower a fish; the Brobdignagian62and Lilliputian of Swift, which are men of greatly reduced, or greatly enlarged dimensions.

Of the more complicated kinds, are such ideas as those which are marked by the word Science, by the word Trade, by the word Law, by the word Religion, by the word Faith, by the words God and Devil, by the word Value, by the words Virtue, Honour, Vice, Beauty, Deformity, Space, Time, and so on.

Language has not many relative terms, applicable to ideas of this class. We speak of pairs of them as like or unlike, same or different, greater or less; and except when their order in time is to be noted, we hardly apply to them any other marks in pairs.

We say the Cyclops in Homer, and the Brobdignagian of Swift, are unlike. We do so precisely in the same way, as we say, the rose and the lily are unlike; and the explanation which we have given of that which is distinctively marked by those terms, when applied to objects, is precisely applicable here. In the case of objects, that which is named, is, clusters of ideas;16in the present case, that which is named, is clusters of ideas. That one cluster has been formed in one way, another in another, makes no difference in annexing marks to the clusters when they are formed.

16Say rather, in the case of objects, what is named is clusters of sensations, supplemented by possibilities of sensation. If an object is but a cluster of ideas, what is there to distinguish it from a mere thought?—Ed.

There is as little difficulty in tracing what is marked by the relatives, different, and same, when applied to ideas of this class. We say, the unicorn is different63from the horse; because, to the idea of the horse it adds that of a horn growing in the middle of the forehead. In the case of very complex ideas, it is much more difficult to say, with precision, what are the added and subtracted ideas, on account of which, we apply the term, different; as when we say, the courage of Ajax was different from that of Achilles; but it is not the less certain, that it is wholly on account of ideas added and subtracted, that we so denominate the courage of the two men.

Rather more explanation is needed, to shew what is peculiarly marked by the relatives equal, unequal, greater, less, when applied to the class of arbitrarily formed complex ideas.

We have already seen, that those terms are primarily applied to what we call objects, on account of their extension; objects are equal or unequal, greater or less, in extension.

We have also seen, that in marking the extension of different objects, we are under the necessity of taking some known object as a standard, and by that object naming others. Thus, we take the foot, and say that other objects are two feet, three feet, or the half or quarter of a foot, and so on.

Having become familiar with what we call degrees of extension, we are led to employ the same mode of notation, when we come to mark analogous differences in other cases of sensation. Thus, when we perceive the weight of different heavy bodies; as the terms equal, unequal, greater, less, are applied with convenience to certain cases of extension, it appears they may be applied with equal convenience, and even precision, to cases of weight. All other sensations,64having distinguishable differences, may be marked in the same way: thus sounds are more or less loud, and we speak of equal, or unequal, less or greater loudness of sound; less or greater sweetness in objects of the palate; less or greater resistance; less or greater pain; less or greater pleasure.

When the terms equal, unequal, less, greater, had been applied to simple sensations of the pleasurable kind, and their ideas; the transference of them to complex ideas, of the pleasurable or painful kind, was easy. If the less or greater sweetness of the rose and the woodbine, was a convenient notation, so was the less or greater beauty of those two flowers, the less or greater beauty of two women, the less or greater wisdom or folly, vice or virtue, of two men.

It thus appears, that, as we apply the term unlike to our complex ideas, on account of the addition and subtraction of ideas ofdifferentkinds, so we apply to them the term unequal, on account of the addition and subtraction of ideas of thesamekind. Like and equal we apply, when we neither add, nor subtract.17

17In this passage the author has got as near as it is perhaps possible to get, to an analysis of the ideas of More and Less. We say there is more of something, when, to what there already was, there has been superadded other matter of the same kind. And when there is no actual superadding, but merely two independent masses of the same substance, we call that one the greater which produces the same impression on our senses which the other would produce if an addition were made to it. So with differences of intensity. One sweet taste is called sweeter than another because it resembles the taste which would be produced by adding more sugar: and so forth. In all these cases there is presupposed an original difference in the sensations produced in us by the greater mass and by the smaller: but according to the explanation now offered, the idea which guides the application of the terms is that of physical juxtaposition.—Ed.

652. We apply the same relative terms to successive ideas of this class, which we apply to simple ideas, or the clusters called objects, when successive. We call them antecedent and consequent, or names equivalent; as prior, posterior; first, second; or even successive, which is a name including both antecedent and consequent.

In speaking of the relative terms applied to objects as successive, we had occasion to explain the two important terms, Cause and Effect. We found that Cause and Effect, were only other names for antecedent and consequent, in a certain set of cases. We do not use the terms, Cause and Effect, as synonymous with antecedent and consequent, in those cases in which, though the objects may be antecedent and consequent to our perception, we know not whether they are parts of the same series, or parts of two different series. Within the sphere of our observation, innumerable series of events are going on; and we are observing, first a part of one series, and then a part of another, continually. It is thus constantly happening, that those things, which are immediately antecedent and consequent to our observation, are not parts of the same series, but parts of different series; and, of course, in those antecedents and consequents, there is no constancy; they are accidental, as the course of each man’s attention. This may be illustrated by many familiar instances. There may be66immediately before me, a man playing on the violin, one series; another man filing a saw, a second series. My attention may pass immediately from the sight of the man playing on the violin, to the sound produced by the filing of the saw. Playing on the violin, and the disagreeable sound of the file on the saw, are thus antecedent and consequent to my attention. But, as we recognise such antecedents and consequents, as parts of different series of events, we do not call them cause and effect.

There are two cases of antecedents and consequents, even when they are parts of the same series. They may be proximate; or they may be remote; that is, parts of the series, more or fewer, may come between them. It is only to the case of the proximate parts of the same series, that the relatives, cause and effect, are properly and strictly applied. When the series, however, is the same, the intermediate links between any two remote parts are constant. Suppose a series, A, B, C, D; as B is the immediate consequent of A, C the immediate consequent of B, and D the immediate consequent of C; when I know A and D as antecedent and consequent, without knowing the intermediate parts B, and C, there is little inaccuracy in naming A and D cause and effect; because B and C are surely intermediate, and the succession of A and D, though not immediate, is constant. We accordingly do name cause and effect parts of a series thus removed from one another, in all those cases in which the intermediate parts are either unknown to us, or habitually overlooked.

The terms Cause and Effect, thus applied to Objects as antecedent and consequent, are applied also to67Thoughts as antecedent and consequent. Thus we say, that Evidence is the cause of Belief; Villany is the cause of Indignation, and so on.

Of objects, antecedent and consequent, we have observed, that innumerable series are existing at the same time; a separate series, of vegetation, for example, in every plant, of animalization in every animal, of composition and decomposition in objects without number. In the mind, however, there is but one train, not various trains at the same time; and therefore, according to the sense above applied to the terms Cause and Effect, each thought in a train is the cause of that which follows it, and each succeeding thought is the effect of that which precedes it.

But if thoughts are reciprocally Cause and Effect; that is to say, if, in trains of thought, the same antecedent is regularly followed by the same consequent, how happens it that all trains of thought are not the same? For if the ideas A, B, C, D, &c., constantly follow one another, every mind into which A may enter, goes on with B, C, D, &c., and hence all such minds should consist of the same trains, that is, should be the same.

Supposing the succession of two thoughts to have that constancy to which we apply the terms cause and effect, trains would still have that variety which we experience. Our trains consist of two distinguishable ingredients; sensations and ideas. Sensations depend upon the innumerable series of objects. They are, therefore, liable to all that variety which attends the perception of those objects. A perpetual variety in sensations produces a perpetual variety in the thoughts which are consequent upon them. The68variety of sensation, is even much greater than is commonly supposed. The most active of all our sensations is the sight. But in most objects of sight there are numerous parts. Some of these are more seen, some are less seen; some not seen at all. Of these, the parts that are more seen by one man, are less seen by another; whence it is probable, that from an object of any complexity no two men ever receive precisely the same sensations. There is a striking exemplification of this, in the fact, so constantly observed, of the different manner in which different men are affected by the comparison of two countenances. To one man there appears a strong likeness, where another man cannot discover any. Of the minute particulars, on which the likeness depends, none, or an insufficient number, is embraced by the vision of the one, while the contrary is the case with that of the other.

The variety in the sensations, which mix in the trains of men, is one grand cause of the variety in the ideas, which make up or complete those trains. The variety in the order of those sensations is another cause. We have seen that ideas follow one another, in the order in which the sensations have followed. Thus, a man may be a kind father to his child. The sight of him to the child is habitually accompanied with agreeable sensations. The same man may be a severe master to his slaves. The sight of him to the slaves is habitually accompanied with painful sensations. A corresponding difference exists in the case of the ideas. When his image presents itself to the mind of the child, it is followed by a train of pleasurable ideas, corresponding to the69pleasurable sensations which the child has habitually enjoyed in his presence. When his image rises to the mind of the slave, it is followed, from the contrary cause, by ideas of the contrary description.18

18The author may seem to be anticipating a difficulty which few will feel, when he asks how it happens that all trains of thought are not the same. But what he is enquiring into is not why this happens, but how its happening is consistent with the doctrine he has just laid down. He is guarding against a possible objection to his proposition, that “the succession of two thoughts” has “that constancy to which we apply the terms Cause and Effect.” If (he says) it is by direct causation that an idea raises up another idea with which it is associated; and if it be the nature and the very meaning of a cause, to be invariably followed by its effect; how is it, he asks, that any two minds, which have once had the same idea, do not coincide in their whole subsequent history? And how is it that the same mind, when it gets back to an idea it has had before, does not go on revolving in an eternal round?Of this difficulty he gives a solution, good as far as it goes—that it is because the train of ideas is interrupted by sensations, which are not the same in different minds, nor in the same mind at every repetition, and which even when they are the same, are connected in different minds with different associations. This is true, but is not the whole truth, and a still more complete explanation of the difficulty might have been given. The author has overlooked a part of the laws of association, of which he was perfectly aware, but to which he does not seem to have been always sufficiently alive. The first point overlooked is, that one idea seldom, perhaps never, entirely fills and engrosses the mind. We have almost always a considerable number of ideas in the mind at once; and it must be a very rare occurrence for any two persons, or for the same person twice over, to have exactly the same collection of ideas present, each in the same relative intensity. For this reason, were there no other, the ideas which the mental state excites by association are almost always more or less different.A second point overlooked is, that every sensation or idea is far from recalling, whenever it occurs, all the ideas with which it is associated. It never recalls more than a portion of them, and a portion different at different times. The author has not, in any part of the Analysis, laid down any law that determines which among the many ideas associated with an idea or sensation, shall be actually called up by it in a given case. The selection which it makes among them depends on the truth already stated, that we seldom or never have only one idea at a time. When we have several together, they all exercise their suggesting power, and each of them aids, impedes, or modifies the suggesting power of the others. This important case of Association has been treated in a masterly manner by Mr. Bain, both in his larger treatise and in his Compendium, under the name of Compound Association, and he lays down the following as its most general law. “Past actions, sensations, thoughts, or emotions, are recalled more easily when associated either through contiguity or similarity, with more than one present object or impression.” (Compendium of Psychology and Ethics, p. 151.) It follows that when we have several ideas in our mind, none of which is able to call up all the ideas associated with it, those ideas will usually have the preference which are associated with more than one of the ideas already present. An idea A, coexisting in the mind with an idea B, will not select the same idea from among those associated with it, that it would it it occurred alone or with a different accompaniment. If there be any one of the ideas associated with A which is also associated with B, this will probably be one of those called up by their joint action. If there be any idea associated with A which not only is not associated with B, but whose negation is associated with B, this idea will probably be prevented from arising. If there are any sensations which have usually been presented in conjunction, not with A alone or with B alone, but with the combination A B, still more likely is it that the ideas of these will be recalled when A and B are thought of together, even though A or B by themselves might in preference have recalled some other.These considerations will be found of primary importance in explaining and accounting for the course of human thought. They enable us, for example, to understand what it is that keeps a train of thought coherent,i.e.that maintains it of a given quality, or directs it to a given purpose. The ideas which succeed one another in the mind of a person who is writing a treatise on some subject, or striving to persuade or conciliate a tribunal or a deliberative assembly, are suggested one by another according to the general laws of association. Yet the ideas recalled are not those which would be called up on any common occasion by the same antecedents, but are those only which connect themselves in the writer’s or speaker’s mind with the end which he is aiming at. The reason is, that the various ideas of the train are not solitary in his mind, but there coexists with all of them (in a greater or less degree of constancy according to the quality of the mind) the highly interesting idea of the end in view: and the presence of this idea causes each of the ideas which pass through his mind while so engaged, to suggest such of the ideas associated with them as are also associated with the idea of the end, and not to suggest those which have no association with it. The ideas all follow one another in an associated train, each calling up by association the one which immediately follows it; but the perpetual presence or continual recurrence of the idea of the end, determines, within certain limits, which of the ideas associated with each link of the chain shall be aroused and form the next link. When we come to the author’s analysis of the power of the Will over our ideas, we shall find him taking exactly this view of it.Concerning the simultaneous existence of many ideas in the mind, and the manner in which they modify each other’s exercise of the suggesting power, there is an able and instructive passage in Cardaillac’s Etudes Elémentaires de Philosophie, which has been translated and quoted by Sir William Hamilton in his Lectures, and which, being highly illustrative of the preceding remarks, I think it useful to subjoin.“Among psychologists, those who have written on Memory and Reproduction with the greatest detail and precision, have still failed in giving more than a meagre outline of these operations. They have taken account only of the notions which suggest each other with a distinct and palpable notoriety. They have viewed the associations only in the order in which language is competent to express them; and as language, which renders them still more palpable and distinct, can only express them in a consecutive order, can only express them one after another, they have been led to suppose that thoughts only awaken in succession. Thus, a series of ideas mutually associated, resembles, on the doctrine of philosophers, a chain in which every link draws up that which follows; and it is by means of these links that intelligence labours through, in the act of reminiscence, to the end which it proposes to attain.“There are some, indeed, among them, who are ready to acknowledge, that every actual circumstance is associated to several fundamental notions, and consequently to several chains, between which the mind may choose; they admit even that every link is attached to several others, so that the whole forms a kind of trellis,—a kind of network, which the mind may traverse in every direction, but still always in a single direction at once,—always in a succession similar to that of speech. This manner of explaining reminiscence is founded solely on this,—that, content to have observed all that is distinctly manifest in the phenomenon, they have paid no attention to the under-play of the latescent activities,—paid no attention to all that custom conceals, and conceals the more effectually in proportion as it is more completely blended with the natural agencies of mind.“Thus their theory, true in itself, and setting out from a well-established principle, the Association of Ideas, explains in a satisfactory manner a portion of the phenomena of Reminiscence; but it is incomplete, for it is unable to account for the prompt, easy, and varied operations of this faculty, or for all the marvels it performs. On the doctrine of the philosophers, we can explain how a scholar repeats, without hesitation, a lesson he has learned, for all the words are associated in his mind according to the order in which he has studied them; how he demonstrates a geometrical theorem, the parts of which are connected together in the same manner: these and similar reminiscences of simple successions present no difficulties which the common doctrine cannot resolve. But it is impossible, on this doctrine, to explain the rapid and certain movement of thought, which, with a marvellous facility, passes from one order of subjects to another, only to return again to the first; which advances, retrogrades, deviates, and reverts, sometimes marking all the points on its route, again clearing, as if in play, immense intervals; which runs over, now in a manifest order, now in a seeming irregularity, all the notions relative to an object, often relative to several, between which no connection could be suspected; and this without hesitation, without uncertainty, without error, as the hand of a skilful musician expatiates over the keys of the most complex organ. All this is inexplicable on the meagre and contracted theory on which the phenomena of reproduction have been thought explained…….“To form a correct notion of the phenomena of Reminiscence, it is requisite that we consider under what conditions it is determined to exertion. In the first place it is to be noted that, at every crisis of our existence, momentary circumstances are the causes which awaken our activity, and set our recollection at work to supply the necessaries of thought. In the second place, it is as constituting a want, (and by want I mean the result either of an act of desire or of volition) that the determining circumstance tends principally to awaken the thoughts with which it is associated. This being the case, we should expect, that each circumstance which constitutes a want, should suggest, likewise, the notion of the object, or objects, proper to satisfy it; and this is what actually happens. It is, however, further to be observed, that it is not enough that the want suggests the idea of the object; for if that idea were alone, it would remain without effect, since it could not guide me in the procedure I should follow. It is necessary, at the same time, that to the idea of this object there should be associated the notion of the relation of this object to the want, of the place where I may find it, of the means by which I may procure it, and turn it to account, &c. For instance, I wish to make a quotation:—This want awakens in me the idea of the author in whom the passage is to be found which I am desirous of citing; but this idea would be fruitless, unless there were conjoined, at the same time, the representation of the volume, of the place where I may obtain it, of the means I must employ, &c.“Hence I infer, in the first place, that a want does not awaken an idea of its object alone, but that it awakens it accompanied with a number, more or less considerable, of accessory notions, which form, as it were, its train or attendance. This train may vary according to the nature of the want which suggests the notion of an object; but the train can never fall wholly off, and it becomes more indissolubly attached to the object, in proportion as it has been more frequently called up in attendance.“I infer, in the second place, that this accompaniment of accessory notions, simultaneously suggested with the principal idea, is far from being as vividly and distinctly represented in consciousness as that idea itself; and when these accessories have once been completely blended with the habits of the mind, and its reproductive agency, they at length finally disappear, becoming fused, as it were, in the consciousness of the idea to which they are attached. Experience proves this double effect of the habits of reminiscence. If we observe our operations relative to the gratification of a want, we shall perceive that we are far from having a clear consciousness of the accessory notions; the consciousness of them is, as it were, obscured, and yet we cannot doubt that they are present to the mind, for it is they that direct our procedure in all its details.“We must, therefore, I think, admit that the thought of an object immediately suggested by a desire, is always accompanied by an escort more or less numerous of accessory thoughts, equally present to the mind, though, in general, unknown in themselves to consciousness; that these accessories are not without their influence in guiding the operations elicited by the principal notion; and it may even be added that they are so much the more calculated to exert an effect in the conduct of our procedure, in proportion as, having become more part and parcel of our habits of reproduction, the influences they exert are further withdrawn, in ordinary, from the ken of consciousness.… The same thing may be illustrated by what happens to us in the case of reading. Originally each word, each letter, was a separate object of consciousness. At length, the knowledge of letters and words and lines being, as it were, fused into our habits, we no longer have any distinct consciousness of them, as severally concurring to the result, of which alone we are conscious. But that each word and letter has its effect,—an effect which can at any moment become an object of consciousness,—is shewn by the following experiment. If we look over a book for the occurrence of a particular name or word, we glance our eye over a page from top to bottom, and ascertain, almost in a moment, that it is or is not to be found therein. Here the mind is hardly conscious of a single word, but that of which it is in quest; but yet it is evident, that each other word and letter must have produced an obscure effect, which effect the mind was ready to discriminate and strengthen, so as to call it into clear consciousness, whenever the effect was found to be that which the letters of the word sought for could determine. But if the mind be not unaffected by the multitude of letters and words which it surveys, if it be able to ascertain whether the combination of letters constituting the word it seeks, be or be not actually among them, and all this without any distinct consciousness of all it tries and finds defective; why may we not suppose,—why are we not bound to suppose, that the mind may, in like manner, overlook its book of memory, and search among its magazines of latescent cognitions for the notions of which it is in want, awakening these into consciousness, and allowing the others to remain in their obscurity?“A more attentive consideration of the subject will show, that we have not yet divined the faculty of Reminiscence in its whole extent. Let us make a single reflection. Continually struck by relations of every kind, continually assailed by a crowd of perceptions and sensations of every variety, and, at the same time, occupied by a complement of thoughts; we experience at once, and we are more or less distinctly conscious of, a considerable number of wants,—wants, sometimes real, sometimes factitious or imaginary,—phenomena, however, all stamped with the same characters, and all stimulating us to act with more or less energy. And as we choose among the different wants which we would satisfy, as well as among the different means of satisfying that want which we determine to prefer; and as the motives of this preference are taken either from among the principal ideas relative to each of these several wants, or from among the accessory ideas which habit has established into their necessary escorts;—in all these cases it is requisite, that all the circumstances should at once, and from the moment they have taken the character of wants, produce an effect, correspondent to that which, we have seen, is caused by each in particular. Hence we are compelled to conclude, that the complement of the circumstances by which we are thus affected, has the effect of rendering always present to us, and consequently of placing at our disposal, an immense number of thoughts; some of which certainly are distinctly recognised, being accompanied by a vivid consciousness, but the greater number of which, although remaining latent, are not the less effective in continually exercising their peculiar influence on our modes of judging and acting.“We might say, that each of these momentary circumstances is a kind of electric shock which is communicated to a certain portion, to a certain limited sphere, of intelligence; and the sum of all these circumstances is equal to so many shocks which, given at once at so many different points, produce a general agitation. We may form some rude conception of this phenomenon by an analogy. We may compare it, in the former case, to those concentric circles which are presented to our observation on a smooth sheet of water, when its surface is agitated by throwing in a pebble; and, in the latter case, to the same surface when agitated by a number of pebbles thrown simultaneously at different points.“To obtain a clearer notion of this phenomenon, I may add some observations on the relation of our thoughts among themselves, and with the determining circumstances of the moment.“1°. Among the thoughts, notions, or ideas which belong to the different groups attached to the principal representations simultaneously awakened, there are some reciprocally connected by relations proper to themselves; so that, in this whole complement of coexistent activities, these tend to excite each other to higher vigour, and consequently to obtain for themselves a kind of pre-eminence in the group or particular circle of activity to which they belong.“2°. There are thoughts associated, whether as principals or accessories, to a greater number of determining circumstances, or to circumstances which recur more frequently. Hence they present themselves oftener than the others, they enter more completely into our habits, and take, in a more absolute manner, the character of customary or habitual notions. It hence results, that they are less obtrusive, though more energetic, in their influence, enacting, as they do, a principal part in almost all our deliberations; and exercising a stronger influence on our determinations.“3°. Among this great crowd of thoughts, simultaneously excited, those which are connected with circumstances which more vividly affect us, assume not only the ascendant over others of the same description with themselves, but likewise predominate over all those which are dependent on circumstances of a feebler determining influence.“From these three considerations we ought, therefore, to infer, that the thoughts connected with circumstances on which our attention is more specially concentrated, are those which prevail over the others; for the effect of attention is to render dominant and exclusive the object on which it is directed, and during the moment of attention it is the circumstance to which we attend that necessarily obtains the ascendant.“Thus, if we appreciate correctly the phenomena of Reproduction or Reminiscence, we shall recognise, as an incontestable fact, that our thoughts suggest each other not one by one successively, as the order to which language is astricted might lead us to infer; but that the complement of circumstances under which we at every moment exist, awakens simultaneously a great number of thoughts; these it calls into the presence of the mind, either to place them at our disposal, if we find it requisite to employ them, or to make them co-operate in our deliberations by giving them, according to their nature and our habits, an influence, more or less active, on our judgments and consequent acts.“It is also to be observed, that in this great crowd of thoughts always present to the mind, there is only a small number of which we are distinctly conscious: and that in this small number we ought to distinguish those which, being clothed in language, oral or mental, become the objects of a more fixed attention; those which hold a closer relation to circumstances more impressive than others; or which receive a predominant character by the more vigorous attention we bestow on them. As to the others, although not the objects of clear consciousness, they are nevertheless present to the mind, there to perform a very important part as motive principles of determination; and the influence which they exert in this capacity is even the more powerful in proportion as it is less apparent, being more disguised by habit.” (Sir William Hamilton’s Lectures on Metaphysics, vol. ii. Lecture xxxii.)—Ed.

Of this difficulty he gives a solution, good as far as it goes—that it is because the train of ideas is interrupted by sensations, which are not the same in different minds, nor in the same mind at every repetition, and which even when they are the same, are connected in different minds with different associations. This is true, but is not the whole truth, and a still more complete explanation of the difficulty might have been given. The author has overlooked a part of the laws of association, of which he was perfectly aware, but to which he does not seem to have been always sufficiently alive. The first point overlooked is, that one idea seldom, perhaps never, entirely fills and engrosses the mind. We have almost always a considerable number of ideas in the mind at once; and it must be a very rare occurrence for any two persons, or for the same person twice over, to have exactly the same collection of ideas present, each in the same relative intensity. For this reason, were there no other, the ideas which the mental state excites by association are almost always more or less different.

A second point overlooked is, that every sensation or idea is far from recalling, whenever it occurs, all the ideas with which it is associated. It never recalls more than a portion of them, and a portion different at different times. The author has not, in any part of the Analysis, laid down any law that determines which among the many ideas associated with an idea or sensation, shall be actually called up by it in a given case. The selection which it makes among them depends on the truth already stated, that we seldom or never have only one idea at a time. When we have several together, they all exercise their suggesting power, and each of them aids, impedes, or modifies the suggesting power of the others. This important case of Association has been treated in a masterly manner by Mr. Bain, both in his larger treatise and in his Compendium, under the name of Compound Association, and he lays down the following as its most general law. “Past actions, sensations, thoughts, or emotions, are recalled more easily when associated either through contiguity or similarity, with more than one present object or impression.” (Compendium of Psychology and Ethics, p. 151.) It follows that when we have several ideas in our mind, none of which is able to call up all the ideas associated with it, those ideas will usually have the preference which are associated with more than one of the ideas already present. An idea A, coexisting in the mind with an idea B, will not select the same idea from among those associated with it, that it would it it occurred alone or with a different accompaniment. If there be any one of the ideas associated with A which is also associated with B, this will probably be one of those called up by their joint action. If there be any idea associated with A which not only is not associated with B, but whose negation is associated with B, this idea will probably be prevented from arising. If there are any sensations which have usually been presented in conjunction, not with A alone or with B alone, but with the combination A B, still more likely is it that the ideas of these will be recalled when A and B are thought of together, even though A or B by themselves might in preference have recalled some other.

These considerations will be found of primary importance in explaining and accounting for the course of human thought. They enable us, for example, to understand what it is that keeps a train of thought coherent,i.e.that maintains it of a given quality, or directs it to a given purpose. The ideas which succeed one another in the mind of a person who is writing a treatise on some subject, or striving to persuade or conciliate a tribunal or a deliberative assembly, are suggested one by another according to the general laws of association. Yet the ideas recalled are not those which would be called up on any common occasion by the same antecedents, but are those only which connect themselves in the writer’s or speaker’s mind with the end which he is aiming at. The reason is, that the various ideas of the train are not solitary in his mind, but there coexists with all of them (in a greater or less degree of constancy according to the quality of the mind) the highly interesting idea of the end in view: and the presence of this idea causes each of the ideas which pass through his mind while so engaged, to suggest such of the ideas associated with them as are also associated with the idea of the end, and not to suggest those which have no association with it. The ideas all follow one another in an associated train, each calling up by association the one which immediately follows it; but the perpetual presence or continual recurrence of the idea of the end, determines, within certain limits, which of the ideas associated with each link of the chain shall be aroused and form the next link. When we come to the author’s analysis of the power of the Will over our ideas, we shall find him taking exactly this view of it.

Concerning the simultaneous existence of many ideas in the mind, and the manner in which they modify each other’s exercise of the suggesting power, there is an able and instructive passage in Cardaillac’s Etudes Elémentaires de Philosophie, which has been translated and quoted by Sir William Hamilton in his Lectures, and which, being highly illustrative of the preceding remarks, I think it useful to subjoin.

“Among psychologists, those who have written on Memory and Reproduction with the greatest detail and precision, have still failed in giving more than a meagre outline of these operations. They have taken account only of the notions which suggest each other with a distinct and palpable notoriety. They have viewed the associations only in the order in which language is competent to express them; and as language, which renders them still more palpable and distinct, can only express them in a consecutive order, can only express them one after another, they have been led to suppose that thoughts only awaken in succession. Thus, a series of ideas mutually associated, resembles, on the doctrine of philosophers, a chain in which every link draws up that which follows; and it is by means of these links that intelligence labours through, in the act of reminiscence, to the end which it proposes to attain.

“There are some, indeed, among them, who are ready to acknowledge, that every actual circumstance is associated to several fundamental notions, and consequently to several chains, between which the mind may choose; they admit even that every link is attached to several others, so that the whole forms a kind of trellis,—a kind of network, which the mind may traverse in every direction, but still always in a single direction at once,—always in a succession similar to that of speech. This manner of explaining reminiscence is founded solely on this,—that, content to have observed all that is distinctly manifest in the phenomenon, they have paid no attention to the under-play of the latescent activities,—paid no attention to all that custom conceals, and conceals the more effectually in proportion as it is more completely blended with the natural agencies of mind.

“Thus their theory, true in itself, and setting out from a well-established principle, the Association of Ideas, explains in a satisfactory manner a portion of the phenomena of Reminiscence; but it is incomplete, for it is unable to account for the prompt, easy, and varied operations of this faculty, or for all the marvels it performs. On the doctrine of the philosophers, we can explain how a scholar repeats, without hesitation, a lesson he has learned, for all the words are associated in his mind according to the order in which he has studied them; how he demonstrates a geometrical theorem, the parts of which are connected together in the same manner: these and similar reminiscences of simple successions present no difficulties which the common doctrine cannot resolve. But it is impossible, on this doctrine, to explain the rapid and certain movement of thought, which, with a marvellous facility, passes from one order of subjects to another, only to return again to the first; which advances, retrogrades, deviates, and reverts, sometimes marking all the points on its route, again clearing, as if in play, immense intervals; which runs over, now in a manifest order, now in a seeming irregularity, all the notions relative to an object, often relative to several, between which no connection could be suspected; and this without hesitation, without uncertainty, without error, as the hand of a skilful musician expatiates over the keys of the most complex organ. All this is inexplicable on the meagre and contracted theory on which the phenomena of reproduction have been thought explained…….

“To form a correct notion of the phenomena of Reminiscence, it is requisite that we consider under what conditions it is determined to exertion. In the first place it is to be noted that, at every crisis of our existence, momentary circumstances are the causes which awaken our activity, and set our recollection at work to supply the necessaries of thought. In the second place, it is as constituting a want, (and by want I mean the result either of an act of desire or of volition) that the determining circumstance tends principally to awaken the thoughts with which it is associated. This being the case, we should expect, that each circumstance which constitutes a want, should suggest, likewise, the notion of the object, or objects, proper to satisfy it; and this is what actually happens. It is, however, further to be observed, that it is not enough that the want suggests the idea of the object; for if that idea were alone, it would remain without effect, since it could not guide me in the procedure I should follow. It is necessary, at the same time, that to the idea of this object there should be associated the notion of the relation of this object to the want, of the place where I may find it, of the means by which I may procure it, and turn it to account, &c. For instance, I wish to make a quotation:—This want awakens in me the idea of the author in whom the passage is to be found which I am desirous of citing; but this idea would be fruitless, unless there were conjoined, at the same time, the representation of the volume, of the place where I may obtain it, of the means I must employ, &c.

“Hence I infer, in the first place, that a want does not awaken an idea of its object alone, but that it awakens it accompanied with a number, more or less considerable, of accessory notions, which form, as it were, its train or attendance. This train may vary according to the nature of the want which suggests the notion of an object; but the train can never fall wholly off, and it becomes more indissolubly attached to the object, in proportion as it has been more frequently called up in attendance.

“I infer, in the second place, that this accompaniment of accessory notions, simultaneously suggested with the principal idea, is far from being as vividly and distinctly represented in consciousness as that idea itself; and when these accessories have once been completely blended with the habits of the mind, and its reproductive agency, they at length finally disappear, becoming fused, as it were, in the consciousness of the idea to which they are attached. Experience proves this double effect of the habits of reminiscence. If we observe our operations relative to the gratification of a want, we shall perceive that we are far from having a clear consciousness of the accessory notions; the consciousness of them is, as it were, obscured, and yet we cannot doubt that they are present to the mind, for it is they that direct our procedure in all its details.

“We must, therefore, I think, admit that the thought of an object immediately suggested by a desire, is always accompanied by an escort more or less numerous of accessory thoughts, equally present to the mind, though, in general, unknown in themselves to consciousness; that these accessories are not without their influence in guiding the operations elicited by the principal notion; and it may even be added that they are so much the more calculated to exert an effect in the conduct of our procedure, in proportion as, having become more part and parcel of our habits of reproduction, the influences they exert are further withdrawn, in ordinary, from the ken of consciousness.… The same thing may be illustrated by what happens to us in the case of reading. Originally each word, each letter, was a separate object of consciousness. At length, the knowledge of letters and words and lines being, as it were, fused into our habits, we no longer have any distinct consciousness of them, as severally concurring to the result, of which alone we are conscious. But that each word and letter has its effect,—an effect which can at any moment become an object of consciousness,—is shewn by the following experiment. If we look over a book for the occurrence of a particular name or word, we glance our eye over a page from top to bottom, and ascertain, almost in a moment, that it is or is not to be found therein. Here the mind is hardly conscious of a single word, but that of which it is in quest; but yet it is evident, that each other word and letter must have produced an obscure effect, which effect the mind was ready to discriminate and strengthen, so as to call it into clear consciousness, whenever the effect was found to be that which the letters of the word sought for could determine. But if the mind be not unaffected by the multitude of letters and words which it surveys, if it be able to ascertain whether the combination of letters constituting the word it seeks, be or be not actually among them, and all this without any distinct consciousness of all it tries and finds defective; why may we not suppose,—why are we not bound to suppose, that the mind may, in like manner, overlook its book of memory, and search among its magazines of latescent cognitions for the notions of which it is in want, awakening these into consciousness, and allowing the others to remain in their obscurity?

“A more attentive consideration of the subject will show, that we have not yet divined the faculty of Reminiscence in its whole extent. Let us make a single reflection. Continually struck by relations of every kind, continually assailed by a crowd of perceptions and sensations of every variety, and, at the same time, occupied by a complement of thoughts; we experience at once, and we are more or less distinctly conscious of, a considerable number of wants,—wants, sometimes real, sometimes factitious or imaginary,—phenomena, however, all stamped with the same characters, and all stimulating us to act with more or less energy. And as we choose among the different wants which we would satisfy, as well as among the different means of satisfying that want which we determine to prefer; and as the motives of this preference are taken either from among the principal ideas relative to each of these several wants, or from among the accessory ideas which habit has established into their necessary escorts;—in all these cases it is requisite, that all the circumstances should at once, and from the moment they have taken the character of wants, produce an effect, correspondent to that which, we have seen, is caused by each in particular. Hence we are compelled to conclude, that the complement of the circumstances by which we are thus affected, has the effect of rendering always present to us, and consequently of placing at our disposal, an immense number of thoughts; some of which certainly are distinctly recognised, being accompanied by a vivid consciousness, but the greater number of which, although remaining latent, are not the less effective in continually exercising their peculiar influence on our modes of judging and acting.

“We might say, that each of these momentary circumstances is a kind of electric shock which is communicated to a certain portion, to a certain limited sphere, of intelligence; and the sum of all these circumstances is equal to so many shocks which, given at once at so many different points, produce a general agitation. We may form some rude conception of this phenomenon by an analogy. We may compare it, in the former case, to those concentric circles which are presented to our observation on a smooth sheet of water, when its surface is agitated by throwing in a pebble; and, in the latter case, to the same surface when agitated by a number of pebbles thrown simultaneously at different points.

“To obtain a clearer notion of this phenomenon, I may add some observations on the relation of our thoughts among themselves, and with the determining circumstances of the moment.

“1°. Among the thoughts, notions, or ideas which belong to the different groups attached to the principal representations simultaneously awakened, there are some reciprocally connected by relations proper to themselves; so that, in this whole complement of coexistent activities, these tend to excite each other to higher vigour, and consequently to obtain for themselves a kind of pre-eminence in the group or particular circle of activity to which they belong.

“2°. There are thoughts associated, whether as principals or accessories, to a greater number of determining circumstances, or to circumstances which recur more frequently. Hence they present themselves oftener than the others, they enter more completely into our habits, and take, in a more absolute manner, the character of customary or habitual notions. It hence results, that they are less obtrusive, though more energetic, in their influence, enacting, as they do, a principal part in almost all our deliberations; and exercising a stronger influence on our determinations.

“3°. Among this great crowd of thoughts, simultaneously excited, those which are connected with circumstances which more vividly affect us, assume not only the ascendant over others of the same description with themselves, but likewise predominate over all those which are dependent on circumstances of a feebler determining influence.

“From these three considerations we ought, therefore, to infer, that the thoughts connected with circumstances on which our attention is more specially concentrated, are those which prevail over the others; for the effect of attention is to render dominant and exclusive the object on which it is directed, and during the moment of attention it is the circumstance to which we attend that necessarily obtains the ascendant.

“Thus, if we appreciate correctly the phenomena of Reproduction or Reminiscence, we shall recognise, as an incontestable fact, that our thoughts suggest each other not one by one successively, as the order to which language is astricted might lead us to infer; but that the complement of circumstances under which we at every moment exist, awakens simultaneously a great number of thoughts; these it calls into the presence of the mind, either to place them at our disposal, if we find it requisite to employ them, or to make them co-operate in our deliberations by giving them, according to their nature and our habits, an influence, more or less active, on our judgments and consequent acts.

“It is also to be observed, that in this great crowd of thoughts always present to the mind, there is only a small number of which we are distinctly conscious: and that in this small number we ought to distinguish those which, being clothed in language, oral or mental, become the objects of a more fixed attention; those which hold a closer relation to circumstances more impressive than others; or which receive a predominant character by the more vigorous attention we bestow on them. As to the others, although not the objects of clear consciousness, they are nevertheless present to the mind, there to perform a very important part as motive principles of determination; and the influence which they exert in this capacity is even the more powerful in proportion as it is less apparent, being more disguised by habit.” (Sir William Hamilton’s Lectures on Metaphysics, vol. ii. Lecture xxxii.)—Ed.

70This, then, is all which seems necessary to be said respecting the occasions on which we apply Relative71Terms, and to show what it is which they distinctively mark, in the trains of our sensations and ideas.

From theConcrete relativeterms,Abstractterms are formed, in the same manner as Abstract terms are73formedfrom other Concrete terms. Thus from equal, we have equally; from unequal, unequally; from74like, likeness; from unlike, unlikeness; from friend, friendship; and so on.

75After what has been said about abstract terms in general, it will not be very difficult to mark what is76peculiar in the nature of this species of them. We have seen that concrete, are connotative, terms; and77that their corresponding abstracts have the same meaning with the concretes, that which is connoted78being left out. White, for example, has a notation, and a connotation. It notes a quality, and it connotes79something else, that which is white. The abstract whiteness marks what isnotedby the concrete, but not what isconnoted.

We are now to see, in what manner this applies to relative terms. I call two things like: two sensations, for example; let us say, sensations of red. I call sensation A, like sensation B; and, of course, sensation B, like sensation A. It is here more easy to observe distinctly what is connoted, than what is noted. What is connoted are the two sensations. They are clear and simple. What is noted is what we call their likeness. What is that? We have remarked, that, in having two sensations, thedistinguishingthem one80from another is included; it is part of the compound process: And that in having two sensations—red, red, and two sensations red, green, the distinguishing the succession red, red, from the succession red, green, is included; it being part of the process, which, though in this case compound, and on that account obscure, is not the less wholly sensation. In the process of sensation, then, that part which consists in distinguishing one as one, another as another, and in distinguishing one succession from another; red, red, for example, from red, green,—is the part which is noted by the words like and unlike. The thing noted is not a distinct sensation, it is part of a process of sensation, and a part which, being never experienced separate by itself, it is very difficult to make a distinct subject of attention. Even that part of the process which consists in distinguishing, is to be distinguished into two parts. There is that part which consists in distinguishing the sensations from one another, as one, and one; and there is that part which consists in distinguishing the two, red, and red, from the two, red, and green. It is thislatter partwhich isnotedby the terms like and unlike. What isconnotedis allthe rest of the process. When, therefore, we make abstracts, from the terms like and unlike; that is, cut off the connotative part of their meaning, retaining the notative only; it is the part of the process which consists in distinguishing, not one and one, but two and two, which the terms distinctively mark.

We have also seen, and remarked, that having two sensations, one after another, and knowing them to be first one and then another, is a process of sensation and association. The pair of relatives, prior and81posterior, or antecedent and consequent, taken together, names the whole of the process; each pair is in reality a compound name of a complex idea, that of a certain process, the process of having two ideas in succession, in which process the being sensible of the successiveness is part. By all concrete relatives, something is noted, something connoted. In the process which is marked by the relatives prior and posterior, part is noted, part connoted; and the part which is noted, is the part which it is difficult to make a separate object of attention,—the part which consists in being sensible of the successiveness, for which we have not a name. By its notation and connotation, taken together, each of the terms, prior, and posterior, is a name of something, and that something is very distinct; prior is a name of the first sensation and something else; posterior is a name of the second sensation, and something else. It is by connotation, however, that each is the name of its respective sensation. Their notative power relates to the something else, and not to the whole of that; because prior and posterior, beside connoting, each its own sensation, connote one another. The notation and connotation, therefore, are divided between them, in a manner which renders it difficult to shew what belongs to each. We have not names adapted to the purpose.

The word prior notes something, and connotes something. When we make from it the abstract term priority; what was connoted by the concrete, prior, is dropped; what was noted by it is retained. In the succession of ideas A, and B, priority is not the name of A, it is the name of that part of the compound process, which consists in knowing A, as the82first of the two; posteriority is not the name of B, but of that part of the compound process, which consists in knowing B, as the last of the two.

There is a peculiarity, however, in the abstract terms formed from the relative concrete terms. These abstract terms are not, as whiteness, hardness, wholly void of connotation. They have a connotation of their own. The abstract of one relative of a pair, always connotes the abstract of the other; thus, priority always connotes posteriority, and posteriority priority.

This constitutes a distinction, worth observing, between the force of the abstracts formed from the pairs of relatives which consist of different names, as prior, posterior; cause, effect; father, son; husband, wife;—and those which consist of the same name, as equal, equal; like, like; brother, brother; friend, friend; and so on. Priority and Posteriority make together a compound name of something, of which, taken separately, each is not a name; Causingness and Causedness, the abstracts of cause and effect, make up between them the name of something, of which each by itself is not a name, and so of the rest. The case is different with such abstracts as likeness, equality, friendship, formed from pairs which consist of the same name. When we call A like, and B like; the abstract, likeness, formed from the one, connotes merely the abstract, likeness, formed from the other. Thus, as priority and posteriority make a compound name, so, likeness and likeness, make a compound name. But as likeness and likeness are merely a reduplication of the same word, likeness taken once very often signifies the same as likeness taken twice. Priority never signifies as much as priority and83posteriority taken together; but likeness taken alone very often signifies as much as likeness, likeness, taken both together. Likeness has thus a sort of a double meaning. Sometimes it signifies only what is marked by the abstract of one of the pair, “like, like;” sometimes it signifies what is marked by the abstracts of both taken together. The same observation applies to the abstracts equality, inequality; sameness, difference; brotherhood, sisterhood; friendship, hostility; and so on.19

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