7The next relation which the author examines is that of succession, or Antecedent and Consequent. And here again we have one of the universal conditions to which all our feelings or states of consciousness are subject. Whenever we have more feelings than one, we must have them either simultaneously or in succession; and when we are conscious of having them in succession, we cannot in any way separate or isolate the succession from the feelings themselves. The author attempts to carry the analysis somewhat farther. He says that when we have two sensations in the order of antecedent and consequent, the consequent calls up the idea of the antecedent; and that this fact, that a sensation calls up the idea of another sensation directly, and not through an intermediate idea,constitutesthat other sensation the antecedent of the sensation which reminds us of it—is not aconsequenceof the one sensation’s having preceded the other, but is literally all we mean by the one sensation’s having preceded the other. There seem to be grave objections to this doctrine. In the first place, there is no law of association by which a consequent calls up the idea of its antecedent. The law of successive association is that the antecedent calls up the idea of the consequent, but not conversely; as is seen in the difficulty of repeating backwards even a form of words with which we are very familiar. We get round from the consequent to the antecedent by an indirect process, through the medium of other ideas; or by going back, at each step, to the beginning of the train, and repeating it downwards until we reach that particular link. When a consequent directly recalls its antecedent, it is by synchronous association, when the antecedent happens to have been so prolonged as to coexist with, instead of merely preceding, the consequent.The next difficulty is, that although the direct recalling of the idea of a past sensation by a present, without any intermediate link, does not take place from consequent to antecedent, it does take place from like to like: a sensation recalls the idea of a past sensation resembling itself, without the intervention of any other idea. The author, however, says, that “when two sensations in a train are such that if one exists, it has the idea of the other along with it by its immediate exciting power, and not through any intermediate idea; the sensation, the idea of which is thus excited, is called the antecedent, the sensation which thus excites that idea is called the consequent.” If this therefore were correct, we should give the names of antecedent and consequent not to the sensations which really are so, but to those which recall one another by resemblance.Thirdly and lastly, to explain antecedence,i.e.the succession between two feelings, by saying that one of the two calls up the idea of the other, that is to say, is followed by it, is to explain succession by succession, and antecedence by antecedence. Every explanation of anything by states of our consciousness, includes as part of the explanation a succession between those states; and it is useless attempting to analyse that which comes out as an element in every analysis we are able to make. Antecedence and consequence, as well as likeness and unlikeness, must be postulated as universal conditions of Nature, inherent in all our feelings whether of external or of internal consciousness.—Ed.
7The next relation which the author examines is that of succession, or Antecedent and Consequent. And here again we have one of the universal conditions to which all our feelings or states of consciousness are subject. Whenever we have more feelings than one, we must have them either simultaneously or in succession; and when we are conscious of having them in succession, we cannot in any way separate or isolate the succession from the feelings themselves. The author attempts to carry the analysis somewhat farther. He says that when we have two sensations in the order of antecedent and consequent, the consequent calls up the idea of the antecedent; and that this fact, that a sensation calls up the idea of another sensation directly, and not through an intermediate idea,constitutesthat other sensation the antecedent of the sensation which reminds us of it—is not aconsequenceof the one sensation’s having preceded the other, but is literally all we mean by the one sensation’s having preceded the other. There seem to be grave objections to this doctrine. In the first place, there is no law of association by which a consequent calls up the idea of its antecedent. The law of successive association is that the antecedent calls up the idea of the consequent, but not conversely; as is seen in the difficulty of repeating backwards even a form of words with which we are very familiar. We get round from the consequent to the antecedent by an indirect process, through the medium of other ideas; or by going back, at each step, to the beginning of the train, and repeating it downwards until we reach that particular link. When a consequent directly recalls its antecedent, it is by synchronous association, when the antecedent happens to have been so prolonged as to coexist with, instead of merely preceding, the consequent.The next difficulty is, that although the direct recalling of the idea of a past sensation by a present, without any intermediate link, does not take place from consequent to antecedent, it does take place from like to like: a sensation recalls the idea of a past sensation resembling itself, without the intervention of any other idea. The author, however, says, that “when two sensations in a train are such that if one exists, it has the idea of the other along with it by its immediate exciting power, and not through any intermediate idea; the sensation, the idea of which is thus excited, is called the antecedent, the sensation which thus excites that idea is called the consequent.” If this therefore were correct, we should give the names of antecedent and consequent not to the sensations which really are so, but to those which recall one another by resemblance.Thirdly and lastly, to explain antecedence,i.e.the succession between two feelings, by saying that one of the two calls up the idea of the other, that is to say, is followed by it, is to explain succession by succession, and antecedence by antecedence. Every explanation of anything by states of our consciousness, includes as part of the explanation a succession between those states; and it is useless attempting to analyse that which comes out as an element in every analysis we are able to make. Antecedence and consequence, as well as likeness and unlikeness, must be postulated as universal conditions of Nature, inherent in all our feelings whether of external or of internal consciousness.—Ed.
7The next relation which the author examines is that of succession, or Antecedent and Consequent. And here again we have one of the universal conditions to which all our feelings or states of consciousness are subject. Whenever we have more feelings than one, we must have them either simultaneously or in succession; and when we are conscious of having them in succession, we cannot in any way separate or isolate the succession from the feelings themselves. The author attempts to carry the analysis somewhat farther. He says that when we have two sensations in the order of antecedent and consequent, the consequent calls up the idea of the antecedent; and that this fact, that a sensation calls up the idea of another sensation directly, and not through an intermediate idea,constitutesthat other sensation the antecedent of the sensation which reminds us of it—is not aconsequenceof the one sensation’s having preceded the other, but is literally all we mean by the one sensation’s having preceded the other. There seem to be grave objections to this doctrine. In the first place, there is no law of association by which a consequent calls up the idea of its antecedent. The law of successive association is that the antecedent calls up the idea of the consequent, but not conversely; as is seen in the difficulty of repeating backwards even a form of words with which we are very familiar. We get round from the consequent to the antecedent by an indirect process, through the medium of other ideas; or by going back, at each step, to the beginning of the train, and repeating it downwards until we reach that particular link. When a consequent directly recalls its antecedent, it is by synchronous association, when the antecedent happens to have been so prolonged as to coexist with, instead of merely preceding, the consequent.
The next difficulty is, that although the direct recalling of the idea of a past sensation by a present, without any intermediate link, does not take place from consequent to antecedent, it does take place from like to like: a sensation recalls the idea of a past sensation resembling itself, without the intervention of any other idea. The author, however, says, that “when two sensations in a train are such that if one exists, it has the idea of the other along with it by its immediate exciting power, and not through any intermediate idea; the sensation, the idea of which is thus excited, is called the antecedent, the sensation which thus excites that idea is called the consequent.” If this therefore were correct, we should give the names of antecedent and consequent not to the sensations which really are so, but to those which recall one another by resemblance.
Thirdly and lastly, to explain antecedence,i.e.the succession between two feelings, by saying that one of the two calls up the idea of the other, that is to say, is followed by it, is to explain succession by succession, and antecedence by antecedence. Every explanation of anything by states of our consciousness, includes as part of the explanation a succession between those states; and it is useless attempting to analyse that which comes out as an element in every analysis we are able to make. Antecedence and consequence, as well as likeness and unlikeness, must be postulated as universal conditions of Nature, inherent in all our feelings whether of external or of internal consciousness.—Ed.
23II. Having shewn what takes place in naming simpleSENSATIONS, and simpleIDEAS, in pairs, both as24such and such, and as antecedent and consequent, we come to the second case of relative terms, that of naming the clusters, calledEXTERNAL OBJECTS, in pairs. The principal occasions of doing so we have said are four.
1. When we speak of them, as they exist in the synchronous order, that is, the order in space, we use such relative terms as the following: high, low; east, west; right, left; hind, fore; and so on.
It is necessary to carry along with us a correct idea of what is meant by synchronous order, that is, the order of simultaneous, in contradistinction to that of successive, existence. The synchronous order is much more complex than the successive. The successive25order is all, as it were, in one direction. The synchronous is in every possible direction. The following seems to be the best mode of conceiving it.
Take a single particle of matter as a centre. Other particles may be aggregated to it, in the line of every possible radius; and as the radii diverge, and other lines, tending to the centre, may be continually interposed, to any number, particles may be aggregated in those numberless directions. They may also be aggregated in those directions to a less or a greater extent. And they may be aggregated to an equal extent in every direction; or to a greater extent in some of the directions, a less extent in others. In the first case of aggregation they compose a globe; in the last, any other shape.
Every one of the particles in this aggregate, has a certain order; first with respect to the centre particle; next with respect to every other particle. This order is also called, the Position of the particle. In such an aggregate, therefore, the positions are innumerable. It is thence observable, that position is an exceedingly complex idea; for the position of each of those particles is its order with respect to every one of the other innumerable particles; it includes, therefore, innumerable ingredients. Hence it is not wonderful that, while viewed in the lump, it should seem obscure and mysterious.
Of positions, thus numberless, it is a small portion, only that have names. Bulk is a name for an aggregate of particles, greater, or less. Figure is only a modification, or case, of bulk; it is more or fewer particles in such and such directions.
These things being explained, it now remains to26shew, of what copies of sensations, peculiarly combined, the complex ideas in question are composed.
The simplest case of position, or synchronous order, is that of two or more particles in one direction. Let us take the particle, conceived as the centre particle, in a preceding supposition, and let us aggregate to it a number of particles, all in the direction of a single radius, one by one. We have first the centre particle, and one other, in juxta-position. This is the simplest case of synchronous order, and this is the simplest of all positions. Let us next aggregate a second particle; we have now the centre particle, and two more. The position of the first of the aggregated particles with respect to the centre particle is contact, or juxta-position; that of the second is not juxta-position, but position at the distance of a particle; the next which is aggregated, is at the distance of two; the next of three particles, and so on, to any extent.
Particles thus aggregated, all in the direction of a single radius from the first, constitute a line of less or greater length, according to the number of aggregated particles.
Line is a word of great importance; because it is by that, chiefly, we express ourselves concerning synchronous order; or frame names for positions. Now it happens, that Line has a duplicity of meaning, most unfortunate, because it has confounded two meanings, which it is of the highest importance to preserve distinct.
We havealreadyremarked the distinction between concrete, and abstract, terms; and explained wherein the difference of their signification consists. We have27also observed, that though in very many cases, the concrete term, and the abstract term, are different words, as good and goodness, true and truth, there are many others in which the concrete and abstract terms are the same; and this is the case, unhappily, with the word Truth itself, which is used in the concrete sense, as well as the abstract. Thus we call a proposition, a Truth; in which phrase, the word Truth, means “True Proposition;” and in this sense we talk of eternal truths, meaning, Propositions, always true. “Property,” is another word, which is sometimes concrete, sometimes abstract. Thus, a man calls his horse, his field, his house, his property. In such phrases the word is concrete. He also says, he has a property in such and such things. In these phrases, it is abstract.
Of this ambiguity, the word Line is an instance. It is applied as well to what we call a physical line, as to what we call a mathematical line. In the first case, it is a concrete, or connotative term; in the second case, it is an abstract or non-connotative term. Let us then conceive clearly the two meanings. The purest idea of a physical line, is that which we have already formed; the aggregate of particle after particle, in the direction of a radius. When this aggregate of particles in this order is called a line, the word, line, is connotative; it marks or notes thedirection, but it also marks or connotes theparticles; it means the particles and the direction both; it is, in short, theconcreteterm. When it is used as theabstractterm, the connotation is left out. It marks the direction without marking the particles.
It is here necessary to call to mind, that abstract28terms derive their meaning wholly from their concretes; and that by themselves they have absolutely no meaning at all. I know a green tree, a sweet apple, a hard stone, but greenness without something green, hardness without something hard, are just nothing at all.
The same, in its abstract sense, is the case with line, though we have not words by which we can convey the conception with equal clearness. If we had an abstract term, separate from the concrete, the troublesome association in question would have been less indissoluble, and less deceptive. If we had such a word as Lineness, or Linth, for example, we should have much more easily seen, that our idea is the idea of the physical line; and that linth without a line, as breadth without something broad, length without something long, are just nothing at all.8
8This conception of a geometrical line, as the abstract, of which a physical line is the corresponding concrete, is scarcely satisfactory. An abstract name is the name of an attribute, or property, of the things of which the concrete name is predicated. It is, no doubt, the name of some part, some one or more, of the sensations composing the concrete group, but not of those sensations simply and in themselves; it is the name of those sensations regarded as belonging to some group. Whiteness, the abstract name, is the name of the colour white, considered as the colour of some physical object. Now I do not see that a geometrical line is conceived as an attribute of a physical object. The attribute of objects which comes nearest to the signification of a geometrical line, is their length: but length does not need any name but its own; and the author does not seem to mean that a geometrical line is the same thing as length. He seems to have fallen into the mistake of confounding an abstract with an ideal. The line which is meant in all the theorems of geometry I take to be as truly concrete as a physical line; it denotes an object, but one purely imaginary; a supposititious object, agreeing in all else with a physical line, but differing from it in having no breadth. The properties of this imaginary line of course agree with those of a physical line, except so far as these depend on, or are affected by, breadth. The lines, surfaces, and figures contemplated by geometry are abstract, only in the improper sense of the term, in which it is applied to whatever results from the mental process called Abstraction. They ought to be called ideal. They are physical lines, surfaces, and figures, idealized, that is, supposed hypothetically to be perfectly what they are only imperfectly, and not to be at all what they are in a very slight, and for most purposes wholly unimportant, degree.—Ed.
8This conception of a geometrical line, as the abstract, of which a physical line is the corresponding concrete, is scarcely satisfactory. An abstract name is the name of an attribute, or property, of the things of which the concrete name is predicated. It is, no doubt, the name of some part, some one or more, of the sensations composing the concrete group, but not of those sensations simply and in themselves; it is the name of those sensations regarded as belonging to some group. Whiteness, the abstract name, is the name of the colour white, considered as the colour of some physical object. Now I do not see that a geometrical line is conceived as an attribute of a physical object. The attribute of objects which comes nearest to the signification of a geometrical line, is their length: but length does not need any name but its own; and the author does not seem to mean that a geometrical line is the same thing as length. He seems to have fallen into the mistake of confounding an abstract with an ideal. The line which is meant in all the theorems of geometry I take to be as truly concrete as a physical line; it denotes an object, but one purely imaginary; a supposititious object, agreeing in all else with a physical line, but differing from it in having no breadth. The properties of this imaginary line of course agree with those of a physical line, except so far as these depend on, or are affected by, breadth. The lines, surfaces, and figures contemplated by geometry are abstract, only in the improper sense of the term, in which it is applied to whatever results from the mental process called Abstraction. They ought to be called ideal. They are physical lines, surfaces, and figures, idealized, that is, supposed hypothetically to be perfectly what they are only imperfectly, and not to be at all what they are in a very slight, and for most purposes wholly unimportant, degree.—Ed.
8This conception of a geometrical line, as the abstract, of which a physical line is the corresponding concrete, is scarcely satisfactory. An abstract name is the name of an attribute, or property, of the things of which the concrete name is predicated. It is, no doubt, the name of some part, some one or more, of the sensations composing the concrete group, but not of those sensations simply and in themselves; it is the name of those sensations regarded as belonging to some group. Whiteness, the abstract name, is the name of the colour white, considered as the colour of some physical object. Now I do not see that a geometrical line is conceived as an attribute of a physical object. The attribute of objects which comes nearest to the signification of a geometrical line, is their length: but length does not need any name but its own; and the author does not seem to mean that a geometrical line is the same thing as length. He seems to have fallen into the mistake of confounding an abstract with an ideal. The line which is meant in all the theorems of geometry I take to be as truly concrete as a physical line; it denotes an object, but one purely imaginary; a supposititious object, agreeing in all else with a physical line, but differing from it in having no breadth. The properties of this imaginary line of course agree with those of a physical line, except so far as these depend on, or are affected by, breadth. The lines, surfaces, and figures contemplated by geometry are abstract, only in the improper sense of the term, in which it is applied to whatever results from the mental process called Abstraction. They ought to be called ideal. They are physical lines, surfaces, and figures, idealized, that is, supposed hypothetically to be perfectly what they are only imperfectly, and not to be at all what they are in a very slight, and for most purposes wholly unimportant, degree.—Ed.
29What are, then, the sensations, the ideas of which, in close association, we mark by the word line?
Though it appears to all men that they see position, length, breadth, distance, figure; it is nevertheless true, that what appear, in this manner, to be sensations of the eye, are Ideas, called up by association. This is an important phenomenon, which throws much light upon the darker involutions of human thought.
The sensations, whence are generated our ideas of synchronous order, are from two sources; they are partly the sensations of touch, and partly those of which we have spoken under the name of muscular sensations, the feelings involved in muscular action.9
9In attaining the ideas of synchronous order, which is another name for Space, or the Extended World, sight is a leading instrumentality. It is by sight more than by any other sense that we get somewhat beyond the strict limits of the law of the successiveness of all our perceptions. Although we candistinctlysee only a limited spot at one instant, we can couple with this a vague perception of an adjoining superficies. This is an important sign of co-existence, as contrasted with succession, and enters with various other signs into the very complex notion of the author’s synchronous order, otherwise called the Simultaneous or Co-existing in Space.—B.
9In attaining the ideas of synchronous order, which is another name for Space, or the Extended World, sight is a leading instrumentality. It is by sight more than by any other sense that we get somewhat beyond the strict limits of the law of the successiveness of all our perceptions. Although we candistinctlysee only a limited spot at one instant, we can couple with this a vague perception of an adjoining superficies. This is an important sign of co-existence, as contrasted with succession, and enters with various other signs into the very complex notion of the author’s synchronous order, otherwise called the Simultaneous or Co-existing in Space.—B.
9In attaining the ideas of synchronous order, which is another name for Space, or the Extended World, sight is a leading instrumentality. It is by sight more than by any other sense that we get somewhat beyond the strict limits of the law of the successiveness of all our perceptions. Although we candistinctlysee only a limited spot at one instant, we can couple with this a vague perception of an adjoining superficies. This is an important sign of co-existence, as contrasted with succession, and enters with various other signs into the very complex notion of the author’s synchronous order, otherwise called the Simultaneous or Co-existing in Space.—B.
30A line, we have said, is an order of particles, contiguous one to another, in the direction of a radius from one particle. Let us begin from this one particle, and trace our sensations. One particle may be an object of touch; it may be felt, as we call it, and nothing more; it may, at the same time, give the sensation of resistance, which we have already described as a feeling seated in the muscles, just as sound is a feeling in the ear. Resistance, is force applied to force. What we feel, is the act of the muscle. Without that, no resistance. This state of consciousness is, in reality, what we mark by the name. It is, at the same time, a state of consciousness not a little obscure; because we habitually overlook many of the sensations of which it is composed; because it is, in itself, very complex; and because it is entangled with a number of extraneous associations.
We havealreadyremarked the habit we acquire of not attending to the sensations which are seated in the muscles, of attending only to the occasions of them, and the effects of them; that is, their antecedents, and consequents; overlooking the intermediate sensations. In marking, therefore, or assigning our names, it seems to be rather the occasions and effects, the antecedents and consequents, than the sensations themselves, which are named. The word resistance is thus the name of a very complex31idea.10It is the name; first, of the feelings which we have when we say we feel resistance; secondly, of the occasions, or antecedents, of those feelings; and, thirdly, of their consequents. The feelings intermediate between the antecedents and consequents, are themselves complex. There are two kinds of sensations included in them; the sensation of touch, and the muscular sensations; and there is something more. When we move a muscle, we Will to move it. This state of consciousness, the Will to move it, is part of the feeling of the motion. What that state of consciousness, called the Will, is, we have not yet explained. At present we speak of it merely as an element in the compound. Of what elements it is itself compounded we shall seehereafter. In the idea of resistance, then, there is the will to move the muscles, the sensations in the muscles, the occasion or antecedent of those feelings, and the effects or consequents of them. And there is the common complexity attending all generical terms, that of their including all possible varieties.
10Still, when we apply an analysis to the complex facts indicated by the name, we come to a simple as well as ultimate experience, which is correctly signified by the name Resistance. The feeling of muscular energy expended is in all likelihood an absolutely elementary feeling of the mind; and the form of this feeling that is least complicated or mixed up with other sensibilities is what the word Resistance most usually expresses, namely, the dead strain, that is energy without leading to movement, or causing movement in such a slight degree as not to depart from the essential peculiarity of expended force.—B.
10Still, when we apply an analysis to the complex facts indicated by the name, we come to a simple as well as ultimate experience, which is correctly signified by the name Resistance. The feeling of muscular energy expended is in all likelihood an absolutely elementary feeling of the mind; and the form of this feeling that is least complicated or mixed up with other sensibilities is what the word Resistance most usually expresses, namely, the dead strain, that is energy without leading to movement, or causing movement in such a slight degree as not to depart from the essential peculiarity of expended force.—B.
10Still, when we apply an analysis to the complex facts indicated by the name, we come to a simple as well as ultimate experience, which is correctly signified by the name Resistance. The feeling of muscular energy expended is in all likelihood an absolutely elementary feeling of the mind; and the form of this feeling that is least complicated or mixed up with other sensibilities is what the word Resistance most usually expresses, namely, the dead strain, that is energy without leading to movement, or causing movement in such a slight degree as not to depart from the essential peculiarity of expended force.—B.
These things being explained, the learner will now be able to trace, without error, the formation of one of the most important of all our ideas, that of32resistance, or pressure. We touch one thing, butter, for instance; it yields to the finger, after a slight pressure; that is, a certain feeling of ours. The will to move the muscles, and the sensations in the muscles, are both included in that feeling; but, for shortness, we shall speak of them, through the present exposition, under one name, as the feelings or sensations in the muscles. As we call the butter yellow, on account of a feeling of sight; odorous, on account of a feeling of smell; sapid, on account of a feeling of taste; so we call it soft, on account of a feeling in our muscles. We touch a stone, as we touched the butter, and it yields not, after the strongest pressure we can apply. As we called the butter soft, on account of one muscular feeling, we call the stone hard, on account of another. The varieties of these feelings are innumerable. Only a small portion of them have received names. The feeling upon pressure of butter, is one thing; of honey, another; of water, another; of air, another; of flesh, one thing; of bone, another. We mark them as we can, by the terms soft, more soft, less soft; hard, more hard, less hard, and so on. We have great occasion, however, for a word which shall include all these different words. As we have “coloured” to include all the names of sensations of sight; “touch” all the names of sensations of touch, and so on; we invent the word “resisting,” which includes all the words, soft, hard, and so on, by which any of the sensations of pressure are denoted.
Such, then, are the feelings which we are capable of receiving from the particle with which we may suppose a line of particles to commence. These feelings, in passing along the line, we should receive in33succession from each, if the tactual sense were sufficiently fine to distinguish particles in contact from one another. It has not, however, this perfection. Even sight cannot distinguish minute intervals. If a red-hot coal is whirled rapidly round, though the coal is present at only one part of the circle at each instant, the whole is one continuous red. If the seven prismatic colours are made to pass rapidly in order before the eye, they appear not distinct colours, but one uniform white. In like manner, in passing from one to another, in a line of particles, there is no feeling of interval; there is the feeling we call continuity; that is, absence of interval.
The sensations, then, the ideas of which combined compose the idea which we mark by the word line, may thus be traced. The tactual feeling, and the feeling of resistance, derivable from every particle, attend the finger in every part of its progress along the line. What is there besides? To produce the progress of the finger, there is muscular action; that is to say, there are the feelings combined in muscular action. That we may exclude extraneous ideas as much as possible, let us suppose, that, when a person first makes himself acquainted with a line, he has the sense of touch, and the muscular sensations, without any other sense. He has one state of feeling, when the finger, which touches the line, is still; another, when it moves. He has also one state of feeling from one degree of motion, another from another. If he has one state of feeling from the finger carried along, as far as it can extend, he has another feeling when it is only carried half as far, and so on.
It is extremely difficult to speak of these feelings34precisely, or to draw by language those who are not accustomed to the minute analysis of their thoughts, to conceive them distinctly; because they are among the feelings, as we havebeforeremarked, which we have acquired the habit of not attending to, or rather, have lost the power of attending to.
It is certain, however, that by sensation alone we become acquainted with lines; that in every different contraction of the muscles there is a difference of sensation; and that of the tactual feeling, and the feelings of the contracted muscles, all the feelings which constitute our knowledge of a line are composed.
As, after certain repetitions of a particular sensation of sight, a particular sensation of smell, a particular sensation of sight, and so on, received in a certain order, I give to the combined ideas of them, the name rose, the name apple, the name fire, and the like; in the same manner, after certain repetitions of particular tactual sensations, and particular muscular sensations, received in a certain order, I give to the combined ideas of them, the name Line. But when I have got my idea of a line, I have also got my idea of extension. For what is extension, but lines in every direction? physical lines, if real, tactual extension; mathematical lines, if mathematical, that is, abstract, extension.
It would be tedious to pursue the analysis of extension farther. And I trust it is not necessary; because the application of the same method to the remaining cases, appears completely obvious. Take plane surface for example. It is composed of all the lines which can be drawn in a particular plane; the idea of it, therefore, is derived from the tactual feeling, and the feeling of resistance, combined with the35muscular feelings involved in the motion of the finger in every direction which it can receive on a plane.
Let us now take some of the words which, along with the synchronous order, connote objects in pairs. The names of this sort are not very numerous. High, and low, right, and left, hind, and fore, are examples. These, it is obvious, are names of the principal directions from the human body as a centre. The order of objects, the most frequently interesting to human beings, is, of course, their order with respect to their own bodies. What is over the head, gets the name of high; what is below the feet, gets the name of low; and so on. Of the pairs which are connoted by those words, the human body is always one. The words, right, left, hind, fore, when they denote the object so called, always connote the body in respect to which they are right, left, hind, fore. We have already noticed the cases in which the objects, thus named in pairs, have each a separate name, as father, son; also those in which both have the same name, as sister, brother. We have here another case, which deserves also to be particularly marked, that in which only one of them has a name. The human body, which is always one of the objects named, when we call things right, left, hind, fore, and so on, has no corresponding relative name. The reason is sufficiently obvious; this, being always one of the pair, cannot, the other being named, be misunderstood.
For the complete understanding of these words, it does not appear that any thing remains to be explained. If one line, proceeding from a central particle, be understood, every line, which can proceed from it, is also understood. If that central point be a part36of the human body, it is plain that as the hand, passing along a line in a certain direction from that centre, has certain muscular actions, passing along in another direction, it has muscular actions somewhat different. When we say muscular actions somewhat different, we say muscular feelings somewhat different. Difference of feeling, when important, needs difference of naming.
A particular case of association is here to be remarked; and it is one which it is important for the learner to fix steadfastly in his memory.
We never perceive, what we call an object, except in the synchronous order. Whatever other sensations we receive, the sensations of the synchronous order, are always received along with them. When we perceive a chair, a tree, a man, a house, they are always situated so and so, with respect to other objects. As the sensations of positions are thus always received with the other sensations of an object, the idea of Position is so closely associated with the idea of the object, that it is wholly impossible for us to have the one idea without the other. It is one of the most remarkable cases of indissoluble association; and is that feeling which men describe, when they say that the idea of space forces itself upon their understandings, and is necessary.11
11Under the head, as before, of Relative Terms, we find here an analysis of the important and intricate complex ideas of Extension and Position. It will be convenient todeferany remarks on this analysis, until it can be considered in conjunction with the author’s exposition of the closely allied subjects of Motion and Space.—Ed.
11Under the head, as before, of Relative Terms, we find here an analysis of the important and intricate complex ideas of Extension and Position. It will be convenient todeferany remarks on this analysis, until it can be considered in conjunction with the author’s exposition of the closely allied subjects of Motion and Space.—Ed.
11Under the head, as before, of Relative Terms, we find here an analysis of the important and intricate complex ideas of Extension and Position. It will be convenient todeferany remarks on this analysis, until it can be considered in conjunction with the author’s exposition of the closely allied subjects of Motion and Space.—Ed.
372. We come now to the case of namingOBJECTSin pairs, on account of the Successive Order.
We have had occasion to observe that there is nothing in which human beings are so deeply interested, as the Successive Order of objects. It is the successive order upon which all their happiness and misery depends; and the synchronous order is interesting to them, chiefly on account of its connection with the successive.
When we speak of objects, it is necessary to remember, that it is sensations, not ideas, to which we are then directing our attention. All our sensations, we say, are derived from objects; in other words, object is the name we give to the antecedents of our sensations. And, reciprocally, all our knowledge of objects is the sensations themselves. We have the sensations, and that is all. A knowledge, therefore, of the successive order of objects, is a knowledge of the successive order of our sensations; of all the pleasures, and all the pains, and all the feelings intermediate between pleasure and pain, of which the body is susceptible.
Of successions, that is, the order of objects as antecedent and consequent, some are constant, some not constant. Thus, a stone dropped in the air always falls to the ground. This is a case of constancy of sequence. Heavy clouds drop rain, but not always. This is a case of casual sequence.12Human life is38deeply interested in ascertaining the constant sequences of all the objects from which human sensations are derived. The great business of philosophy is to find them out; and to record them, in the form most convenient for acquiring the knowledge of them, and for applying it.
12This is surely an improper use of the word Casual. Sequences cannot be exhaustively divided into invariable and casual, or (as by the author a few pagesfurther on) into constant and fortuitous. Heavy clouds, though they do not always drop rain, are not connected with it by mere accident, as the passing of a waggon might be. They are connected with it through causation: they are one of the conditions on which, when united, rain is invariably consequent, though it is not invariably consequent on that single condition. This distinction is essential to any system of Inductive Logic, in which it recurs at every step.—Ed.
12This is surely an improper use of the word Casual. Sequences cannot be exhaustively divided into invariable and casual, or (as by the author a few pagesfurther on) into constant and fortuitous. Heavy clouds, though they do not always drop rain, are not connected with it by mere accident, as the passing of a waggon might be. They are connected with it through causation: they are one of the conditions on which, when united, rain is invariably consequent, though it is not invariably consequent on that single condition. This distinction is essential to any system of Inductive Logic, in which it recurs at every step.—Ed.
12This is surely an improper use of the word Casual. Sequences cannot be exhaustively divided into invariable and casual, or (as by the author a few pagesfurther on) into constant and fortuitous. Heavy clouds, though they do not always drop rain, are not connected with it by mere accident, as the passing of a waggon might be. They are connected with it through causation: they are one of the conditions on which, when united, rain is invariably consequent, though it is not invariably consequent on that single condition. This distinction is essential to any system of Inductive Logic, in which it recurs at every step.—Ed.
In the successions of objects, it very often happens, that what appear to us to be the immediate antecedent and consequent, are not immediately successive, but are separated by several intermediate successions. Thus, the falling of a spark on gunpowder, and the explosion of the gunpowder, appear antecedent and consequent; but several successions in reality intervene; various decompositions, and compositions, in which, indeed, all the sequences cannot as yet be traced. Most of the successions, which we are called upon to notice and to name, are in the same situation. We fix upon two conspicuous points in a chain of successions, and the intermediate ones are either overlooked, or unknown.
Thus, we name Doctor and Patient, the two extremities of a pretty long succession of objects. The Doctor is not the immediate antecedent of any change in the patient. He is the immediate antecedent of a certain conception, of which the consequent is, writing a prescription; the consequent of this, is the sending39it to the apothecary; the consequent of that, is the apothecary’s reading it, and so on; the whole composing a multitudinous train. Doctor and Patient, therefore, are not only two paired names of two paired objects, but names of all the successions between the one and the other. Doctor and Patient, therefore, properly speaking, are to be considered one name, though made up of two parts. Taken together, they are the name of the complex idea of a considerable train of sequences, of which a particular man is one extremity, a particular man another; just as navigation is the single-worded name of the complex idea of a very long train, of which the extremities are not particularly marked. If you say, navigation from the Thames to the Ganges, you have a many-worded name, by which the extremities of this long train are particularly marked.
The relative terms, Father and Son, are obviously included in this explanation. They are the two extremities of a train of great length and intricacy, very imperfectly understood. They also, both together, compose, as may easily be seen, but one name. Father is a word which connotes Son, and whether Son is expressed or not, the meaning of it is implied. In like manner Son connotes Father; and, stripped of that connotation, is without a meaning. Taken together, therefore, they are one name, the name of the complex idea of that train of which father is the one extremity, son the other.13
13It seems hardly a proper expression to say that Physician and Patient, or that Father and Son, are one name made up of two parts. When one of the parts is a name of one person and the other part is the name of another, it is difficult to see how the two together can be but one name. Father and Son are two names, denoting different persons: but what the author had it in his mind to say, was that they connote the same series of facts, which series, as the two persons are both indispensable parts of it, gives names to them both, and is made the foundation orfundamentumof an attribute ascribed to each.With the exception of this questionable use of language, which the author had recourse to because he had not left himself the precise word Connote, to express what there is of real identity in the signification of the two names; the analysis which follows of the various complicated cases of relation seems philosophically unexceptionable. The complexity of a relation consists in the complex composition of the series of facts or phenomena which the names connote, and which is thefundamentum relationis. The names signify that the person or thing, of which they are predicated, forms part of a group or succession of phenomena along with the other person or thing which is its correlate: and the special nature of that group or series, which may be of extreme complexity, constitutes the speciality of the relation predicated.—Ed.
13It seems hardly a proper expression to say that Physician and Patient, or that Father and Son, are one name made up of two parts. When one of the parts is a name of one person and the other part is the name of another, it is difficult to see how the two together can be but one name. Father and Son are two names, denoting different persons: but what the author had it in his mind to say, was that they connote the same series of facts, which series, as the two persons are both indispensable parts of it, gives names to them both, and is made the foundation orfundamentumof an attribute ascribed to each.With the exception of this questionable use of language, which the author had recourse to because he had not left himself the precise word Connote, to express what there is of real identity in the signification of the two names; the analysis which follows of the various complicated cases of relation seems philosophically unexceptionable. The complexity of a relation consists in the complex composition of the series of facts or phenomena which the names connote, and which is thefundamentum relationis. The names signify that the person or thing, of which they are predicated, forms part of a group or succession of phenomena along with the other person or thing which is its correlate: and the special nature of that group or series, which may be of extreme complexity, constitutes the speciality of the relation predicated.—Ed.
13It seems hardly a proper expression to say that Physician and Patient, or that Father and Son, are one name made up of two parts. When one of the parts is a name of one person and the other part is the name of another, it is difficult to see how the two together can be but one name. Father and Son are two names, denoting different persons: but what the author had it in his mind to say, was that they connote the same series of facts, which series, as the two persons are both indispensable parts of it, gives names to them both, and is made the foundation orfundamentumof an attribute ascribed to each.
With the exception of this questionable use of language, which the author had recourse to because he had not left himself the precise word Connote, to express what there is of real identity in the signification of the two names; the analysis which follows of the various complicated cases of relation seems philosophically unexceptionable. The complexity of a relation consists in the complex composition of the series of facts or phenomena which the names connote, and which is thefundamentum relationis. The names signify that the person or thing, of which they are predicated, forms part of a group or succession of phenomena along with the other person or thing which is its correlate: and the special nature of that group or series, which may be of extreme complexity, constitutes the speciality of the relation predicated.—Ed.
40Brother and Brother are a pair of relative terms marking a still more complex idea. Two brothers are two sons of the same Father; taken together, they are, therefore, marks of all that Son, taken twice, is capable of marking. Son, as we have just seen, always implies Father; and, taken together, they are the name of a train. The relatives, therefore, brother and brother, are the compound name; two brothers, are the name of the train marked by the term, Father and Son, taken twice, the prior extremity of the train being the same in both cases, the latter different.
The above terms. Father and Son, Brother and41Brother, are imposed on account of sequences which are passed. I do not at this moment recollect any relative terms imposed on account of sequences purely future. The terms, Buyer and Seller, are sometimes, indeed, used in a sense wholly future; when they mean persons having something to buy and something to sell: but they are also used in a sense wholly passed, when they signify persons who have effected purchase and sale. We have, however, many relative terms on account of trains which are partly passed and partly future. Thus, Lender and Borrower, are imposed partly on account of the passed train included in the contract of lending and borrowing; partly on account of the future train implied in the repayment of the money. The words Debtor and Creditor are names of the same train, partly passed and partly future.
The relative terms, Husband and Wife, are of the same class; the name of a train partly passed, to wit, that implied in entering into the nuptial contract; and partly future, to wit, all the events expected to flow out of that contract. Master and Servant are imposed, on account of a train partly passed and partly future; the train of entering into the compact of master and servant, and the train of acts which flow out of it. King and Subject are the name of a train similarly divided; first, the train which led to the will of obeying on the part of the people, the will of commanding on the part of the king; secondly, the trains which grow out of these wills.
Owner and Property are relative terms, or terms which connote one another. They also are imposed on account of a train partly passed and partly future. The part which is passed is the train implied in the42circumstances of the acquisition, whether inheritance, gift, labour, or purchase. The part which is future is the train implied in the use which the owner may make of the property.
Of the terms which denote objects in successive pairs, several are very general. Thus we have antecedent and consequent, which are applicable to any parts of any train. Prior and Posterior, are nearly of the same import. First and Last, are applicable to the two extremities of any train. Second, third, fourth, and so on, are applicable to the contiguous parts of any train.
We have remarked, above, that successions of objects are to be distinguished into two remarkable kinds; that of the successions which are fortuitous, and that of the successions which are constant. Names to mark the antecedent and consequent in all constant successions, which are things of such importance to us, were found of course indispensable. Cause and Effect, are the names we employ. In all constant successions. Cause is the name of the antecedent. Effect the name of the consequent. And, beside this, it has been proved by philosophers,1*that these names denote absolutely nothing.
1*Chiefly by Dr. Brown, of Edinburgh, in a work entitled “Inquiry into the Relation of Cause and Effect;” one of the most valuable contributions to science for which we are indebted to the last generation.—(Author’s Note.)
1*Chiefly by Dr. Brown, of Edinburgh, in a work entitled “Inquiry into the Relation of Cause and Effect;” one of the most valuable contributions to science for which we are indebted to the last generation.—(Author’s Note.)
1*Chiefly by Dr. Brown, of Edinburgh, in a work entitled “Inquiry into the Relation of Cause and Effect;” one of the most valuable contributions to science for which we are indebted to the last generation.—(Author’s Note.)
It is highly necessary to be apprized, that each of the two names. Cause and Effect, has a double meaning. They are used, sometimes in the concrete sense, sometimes in the abstract. By this ambiguity,43ideas are confounded, which it is of the greatest importance to preserve distinct. When we say, the sun is the Cause of light, cause is concrete; the meaning is, that the sun always causes light. When we say that ice is the Effect of cold air, effect is concrete; the meaning is, that ice is effected by cold air. “Cause,” in these cases, is merely a short name for “causing object,” “Effect,” a short name for “caused object.” In abstract discourse, on the other hand, Cause and Effect are often used in the abstract sense, in which cases Cause means the same thing as would be meant by causingness; Effect, the same as would be meant by causedness. They are merely the connotative or concrete terms, with the connotation dropped.
As the abstract terms have no meaning, except as they refer to the concrete, it is in the concrete sense I shall always use the words Cause and Effect, unless when I give notice to the contrary.
Other terms, pairing the parts of a train, take parts more or less distant; first and last, take the most distant; father and son, take parts at a considerable distance; cause and effect, on the other hand, mean always the proximate parts. It does not, indeed, happen, that we always apply them to the proximate parts; because the intermediate sequences are often unknown, at other times overlooked. They are always, however, applied to the parts regarded as proximate. For we do not, strictly speaking, say, that any thing is the cause of a thing, when it is only the cause of another thing, which is the cause of that thing; still less, when there is a series of causes and effects, before you arrive at that which you have marked astheeffect, because the ultimate one. In44all the inquiries of philosophers into causes, it is the antecedent and consequent, really proximate, which is the object of their pursuit.
We have observed, in the case of the relative terms, applied to objects as successive, that the words, properly speaking, form but one name,—that of the complex idea of a train of less or greater length: thus, Doctor and Patient is a name; Father and Son is a name; each denoting a train of which two individuals are the principal parts. In like manner, the relative terms Cause and Effect, taken together, are but one name, the name of a short train, that of one antecedent and one consequent, regarded as proximate, and constant.
3. We have now shewn, in what manner the principal Relative Terms are applied, when we have to speak of objects as having order in Space, and when we have to speak of them as having order in Time. We proceed to shew in what manner they are applied, when we have to speak of objects as differing in Quantity, or differing in Quality; and first, as differing in Quantity.
We apply the word Quantity, in a very general manner; to things, which have the greatest diversity. Thus, we use the word quantity, when we speak of extension; we use the word quantity, when we speak of weight; we use it, when we speak of motion; we use it, when we speak of heat; we use it, in short, on almost every occasion, on which we can use the word degree. Of course, it represents not one idea, but many ideas, some of which have the greatest diversity.
The relative terms, which we co-apply with45quantity, are equal, unequal, or some particular case included under these more general terms; as, more heavy, less heavy;more strong, less strong; whole, part; and so on.
When quantity is applied to extent, it may be extent either in one, or more, or every direction; it may mean either quantity in line, quantity in surface, or quantity in bulk. Accordingly, we can say, equal, or unequal, lines; equal, or unequal, surfaces; equal, or unequal, bulks.
Line is the simplest case; the explanation of it will, therefore, facilitate the rest. We have already traced the sensations, which constitute our knowledge of a line. We have seen that they are certain sensations of touch, combined with the muscular sensations involved in extending the arm.
As the sensations, involved in extending the arm so far, are not the same with those which are involved in extending it farther; and as the having different sensations, and distinguishing them, are not two things, but one and the same thing;—as often as I have those two cases of sensation, I distinguish them from one another; and, distinguishing them from one another, I require names to mark them. The first I mark, by the word, short; the other, by the word, long. As I call a line long, from extending my arm so far; that is, from the sensations involved in extending it; I call it longer from extending it farther. After experience of a number of lines, there are some which I call long, long, long, one after another, to any amount; others which I call longer, longer, longer; others which I call short, short, short; and so on.
When we have perceived the sensations, on account46of which we call lines long, longer, short, shorter, we can be at no loss for the knowledge of those, on account of which we call them equal, and unequal. It is to be observed, that in applying the words long, longer, short, shorter, minute differences are not named. They cannot be named. The names would be too numerous. A general mark, however, may be invented, to shew when there is even a minute difference, and when there is not. When there is not, we call the two lines equal; when there is, we call them unequal.
We shall presently see, when we come to trace the ideas, which the class of words, called numbers, are employed to mark, what distinction of sensation it is which is marked by the words, one, and two. In the mean time, it is easy to see, that the case of sensation, when we trace one line, with the hand, and then another, is different from the case of sensation when we trace one line only, or even the same line twice; and this diversity needs marks to distinguish it. It is true, that in tracing one line, and then another, and marking the distinction, there is something more than sensation, there is also memory. But to this ingredient in the compound, after the explanation which has already been given of memory, it is not, at present, necessary particularly to advert.
When it is seen, what are the sensations which are marked by the terms longer and shorter, applied to a line, it will not be difficult to see what are the sensations, which are marked by the terms, part, and whole.
The terms, a part, and whole, imply division. Of course, the thing precedes the name. Men divided, before they named the act, or the consequences of the47act. In the act of division, or in the results of it, no mystery has ever been understood to reside. It is of importance to remark, that the word division, in its ordinary acceptation, includes, and thence confounds, things which very much need to be distinguished. It includes the will, which is the antecedent of the act; the act itself; and the results of the act. At present we may leave the will aside; it will be explainedhereafter; and, as it is not the act, but the antecedent of the act, the consideration of it is not required, for the present purpose.
The act of dividing, like all the other acts of our body, consists in the contraction and relaxation of certain muscles. These are known to us, like every thing else, by the feelings. The act, as act, is the feelings; and only when confounded with its results, is it conceived to be any thing else. If it be said, that the contraction of the muscles of my arm, is something more in me than feelings, because I see the motion of my arm; it is to be observed, that this seeing, this sensation of sight, is not the act, but one of its results; the feelings of the act are the antecedent; this sensation of sight one of the consequents.
In the act of dividing a line, as in the act, already analysed, of tracing a line, there is a feeling of touch, and there is also a muscular feeling. There may be more or less of cohesion in the parts of the line; and thence, more or less of what we call muscular force, required to disunite them. Of course, what we call more or less of force, are only names for different states of feeling. The states of feeling which we mark by the term, force, being antecedent, all the rest48are consequents of this antecedent. The disunion of the parts of one line is attended with a certain muscular feeling; I call the feeling a small force. That of another line is attended with a muscular feeling somewhat different; I call it a greater force; and so on. This muscular feeling, however, has various accompaniments; which are closely associated with the idea of the act, and with its name. Thus there is the sight of the line, there is the sight of the hands in the act of disruption, and there is the sight of the line after it is divided. The term division, as we have mentioned before, includes all; the muscular feeling, the sight of the line before division, and the sight of it after. I need a pair of names for the line before division, and the line after. I call the one whole, the other parts. Like other relative terms, the one of these connotes the other; whole has no meaning, but when associated with parts; parts have no meaning, but when associated with whole. Taken together; that is, whole and parts, used as one name; they mark a complex idea, consisting of three principal parts; an undivided line, the act of division, and the consequent of that antecedent, the line after division.
In the preceding exposition, it is actual division, the actual making of parts, which has been spoken of. It is observable, however, that the same language, by which we name actual division, and actual parts, is applied to conceived division, and conceived parts. Thus we talk of the parts of a line, when it is not divided, nor meant to be divided. The exposition of this, however, is easy; and there is obscurity only when the double use of the terms confounds the two49cases, the division which is actual, with that which is conceived.
The division of the line may consist of one act, or of more acts than one. By the first act, it is divided into two parts; by the second into three; by the third into four, and so on. The parts of a line are so many lines. These may be equal, or unequal. But the sensations, on account of which we denominate lines equal, or unequal, have been already shewn; the equality, and inequality, therefore, of the parts of a line, need no further explanation.
When the learner conceives distinctly the sensations on account of which we apply the terms whole and parts to a line, he will not find it difficult to understand, on what account we apply them to all the modifications of extension; seeing that all these modifications are lines combined.
Thus, a plane surface is a number of straight lines, in contact, in the direction called a plane. It is of greater or less extent, according as these lines are longer or shorter from a central point; it is of one shape or another shape, according as the lines are of the same length, or of different lengths. When they are all of one length, the surface is called a circle. As they may be of different lengths in endless variety, the surface may have an endless variety of shapes, of which only a few have received names. The square is one of these names, the triangle another, the parallelogram another, and so on.
Bulk, which is the other great modification of extension, is lines from a central point in every direction. This bulk is greater or less, according as these lines are longer or shorter. The figure or shape of this50bulk is different, according as the lines are of the same or different lengths. If they are of the same length, the bulk is called round, or, in one word, a sphere; sphere meaning exactly round bulk. As the lines, when they differ in length, may differ in endless ways; figures, or the shapes of bulk, are also endless, as our senses abundantly testify. Of these but a small number have received names. In this number are the cube, the cylinder, the cone. We name some shapes by referring to known objects; thus we speak of the shape of an egg, the shape of a pear, and so on.
It seems that nothing, therefore, is now wanting, to shew in what manner the relative terms, expressive of Quantity, are applied to all the modifications of extension.
After what has been said, it will not be difficult to ascertain the sensations on account of which we apply the same relative terms to cases of Weight.
Weight is the name of a particular species of pressure; pressure towards the centre of the earth. Pressure, as we have already fully seen, is the name we apply, when we have certain sensations in the muscles, just as green is the name we apply when we have a certain sensation in the eye. As green is the name of the sensation in the eye, pressure is the name of the sensation in the muscles. Pressure upwards, is one thing; pressure downwards, is another; pressure of a body, when that body is urged by another body, is one thing; pressure of a body, when it is not urged by another body, is a different thing: pressure of a body in altering the position of its parts is one thing; pressure, when there is no alteration of the position of its parts, is another thing. Of this last sort is weight,51the pressure downwards, or towards the centre of the earth, of a body not urged by another body, and not altering the position of its parts.
In supporting in my hand a stone, I resist a certain pressure; in other words, have certain muscular feelings, on account of which I call the stone heavy. I support other stones, and in doing so have muscular feelings, in one case similar, in another dissimilar. In the case of similarity, I call two stones equal, meaning in weight; in the case of dissimilarity, unequal; and so I apply all the other relative terms by which quantity is expressed.
It seems unnecessary to carry this analysis into further detail. The words equal, unequal: greater, less; applied to Motion, to Heat, and other modifications of sensation, have a meaning, which in following the course so fully exemplified it cannot be difficult to ascertain.
It seems still necessary that I should say something of the wordQuantus, from which the word Quantity is derived.Quantusis the correlate ofTantus.Tantus,Quantus, are relative terms, applicable to all the objects to which we apply the terms, Great, or Little; they are applicable, therefore, to all the modifications of extension, of weight, of heat; in short, to all modifications which we can mark as degrees.
Of two lines, we call the onetantus, the otherquantus. The occasions on which we do so are, when the one is as long as the other.Tantus, andQuantus, then, in this case, mean the same thing as equal, equal. They will be found to have the same import as equal, equal, when applied also to surface, and bulk; and so in all other compatible cases.
52What then, it may be asked, is the use of them? If it should appear that they were of no use, it would not be very surprising; considering by whom languages have been made; and that redundancy is frequent in them as well as defect. In the present case, however, a use is not wanting.
It is necessary to observe the artifice, to which we are obliged to have recourse, to name, and even to distinguish, the different modifications, not of kind but of degree, included under the word quantity. We are obliged to take some one object, with which we are familiar, and to distinguish other objects, as differing or agreeing with that object. Thus, we take some well-known line, the length of the foot, or the length of the arm, and distinguish and name all other lengths by that length; which can be divided or multiplied so as to correspond with them. In like manner, we take some well-known object as a standard weight, which we call, for example, a pound, and distinguish and name all other weights, as parts or multiples of that known weight.
Now it will be recognised, that, in applying the relative terms equal, equal, or in calling two objects equal, no one of them is marked as the standard. Both are taken on the same footing. The one is equal to the other; and the other is equal to that. But when we say that one thing istantus,quantusanother; or one so great, as the other is great; the first is referred to the last, thetantusto thequantus; the first is distinguished and named by the last. Thequantusis the standard.
It is this which gives its peculiar meaning to the word Quantity, and has recommended it for that very53comprehensive and generical acceptation, in which it is now received.
Our word Quantity, is the Latin wordQuantitas; andQuantitasis the abstract of the concreteQuantus. We have no English words, corresponding toTantus,Quantus. We form an equivalent, by aid of the relative conjunctions; we say, So Great, As Great. But these concrete terms do not furnish abstracts; we do not say, As-greatness; in the first place, because it is an awkward expression; and in the next place, because the relative, “as,” is not steady in its application, since we use “as great” not forquantusonly, but frequently also fortantus. As greatness, therefore, does not readily suggest the idea of the abstract ofQuantus.
On what account, then, is it we give to any thing the nameQuantus? As a standard by which to name another thingTantus. The thing calledQuantus, is the previously known thing, the ascertained amount, by which we can mark and define the other amount. Leaving out the connotation ofQuantus, which is some one individual body,Quantitasmerely denotes such and such an amount of body.Quantitas, if it was kept to its original meaning, would still connoteTantitas; just as paternity connotes filiality. But in the case of Quantity, even this connotation is dropped; it is used not as a relative abstract term, but an absolute abstract term; and is employed as a generical name for any portion of extension, any portion of weight, of heat, or any thing else, which can be measured by a part of itself.14