Part I, Chapter IV, 2

Since truth consists in the proper ordering of names in our assertions, anyone seeking exact truth must remember what each name he uses stands for and place it accordingly. Otherwise he will find himself entangled in words like a bird in sticky twigs: the more it struggles, the more firmly it is caught. Thus in geometry—the only science God has so far been pleased to bestow on humankind—people begin by fixing the meanings of their words. They call this fixing of meanings definitions and put them at the beginning of their reckoning.

This shows how necessary it is for anyone aspiring to true knowledge to examine the definitions of earlier authors, correcting them where they have been carelessly set down or making his own. For errors in definitions multiply as the reckoning proceeds and lead people into absurdities which they finally recognize but cannot escape without reckoning again from the beginning, where the foundation of their errors lies. Thus those who trust books are like people who add many small sums into a larger one without checking whether the smaller sums were correctly calculated. When the error finally becomes obvious, they do not suspect their first principles and cannot find a way out, but waste their time fluttering through their books, like birds that enter through a chimney and, trapped in a room, flutter against the false light of a glass window, lacking the wit to consider how they came in. The right definition of names, therefore, is the foundation of the first use of speech: the acquisition of science. Wrong definitions, or none at all, are the foundation of its first abuse, from which spring all false and senseless doctrines. They leave people who take instruction from the authority of books rather than their own reflection as far below the ignorant as those who possess true science stand above them. For ignorance lies between true science and erroneous doctrines. Natural sense and imagination are not subject to absurdity. Nature itself cannot err; and as people acquire a richer language, they become either wiser or madder than ordinary. Nor is it possible without letters for anyone to become exceptionally wise or—unless disease or defective organs damage his memory—exceptionally foolish. For words are counters to the wise, who only reckon with them; but they are money to fools, who value them by the authority of an Aristotle, a Cicero, a Thomas, or any other teacher, who is still only a man.

Whatever can enter into or be considered in an account, added to something else to make a sum or subtracted from it to leave a remainder, is a subject for names. The Latins called accounts of money rationes, and accounting ratiocinatio; what we call items in bills or account books they called nomina, that is, names. This seems to be why they extended the word ratio to the faculty of reckoning in all other matters. The Greeks have a single word, logos, for both speech and reason: not because they thought there could be no speech without reason, but because they thought there could be no reasoning without speech. The act of reasoning they called syllogism, meaning the summing up of the consequences of one statement with another. And because the same things may enter into an account under different attributes, their names are bent and varied in different ways to show the difference. This variety of names can be reduced to four general kinds.

First, a thing may enter into an account as matter or body, as in living, sensible, rational, hot, cold, moving, and still. In each of these names the word matter or body is understood; all are names of matter.

Second, it may enter into an account, or be considered, under some attribute or quality that we conceive it to possess, such as being in motion, being so long, or being hot. Then, by a slight alteration of the name of the thing itself, we make a name for the attribute under consideration: for living we reckon life; for moving, motion; for hot, heat; for long, length; and so on. All such names designate the attributes and properties by which one piece of matter or one body is distinguished from another. They are called abstract names because they are separated not from matter, but from the account of matter.

Third, we bring into account the properties of our own bodies through which we make such distinctions. When we see something, we reckon not the thing itself but our sight of it, its color, its image in the imagination; and when we hear something, we reckon not the thing but our hearing or the sound alone, which is our imagination or conception of it through the ear. These are names of images.

Fourth, we bring into account, consider, and name names themselves and speeches. General, universal, special, and equivocal are names of names. Assertion, question, command, narrative, syllogism, sermon, oration, and many others like them are names of speeches.

This exhausts the variety of positive names, which mark something that exists in nature or may be imagined by the human mind: bodies that exist or may be conceived to exist, properties that bodies possess or may be imagined to possess, or words and speech.

There are also other names called negative, which indicate that a word is not the name of the thing in question: nothing, no man, infinite, unteachable, three lack four, and the like. Nevertheless, these are useful in reckoning or correcting a reckoning, and bring our past thoughts to mind. Though they name no thing, they make us refuse names used improperly.

All other names are merely meaningless sounds, of two sorts. One consists of new names whose meaning has not yet been explained by definition; scholastic writers and bewildered philosophers have coined them in abundance.

The other arises when people make one name out of two names whose meanings contradict each other and cannot be reconciled: an incorporeal body, for instance, or, what amounts to the same thing, an incorporeal substance, and many more. For whenever an assertion is false, its two constituent names, joined into one, signify nothing at all. If it is false to say that a quadrangle is round, for example, round quadrangle signifies nothing: it is mere sound. Likewise, if it is false to say that virtue can be poured or blown about, infused virtue and inspired virtue are as absurd and meaningless as round quadrangle. That is why one hardly encounters a senseless, meaningless word that is not compounded from Latin or Greek names. A Frenchman seldom hears our Savior called Parole, though he often hears him called Verbe; yet the only difference between verbe and parole is that the one is Latin and the other French.

When a man hears a speech and has the thoughts its words and their connections were intended and established to signify, he is said to understand it; understanding is nothing other than conception produced by speech. If speech is peculiar to man, as far as I know it is, then understanding is peculiar to him as well. Universal assertions that are absurd and false therefore cannot be understood, though many believe they understand them when they merely repeat the words quietly or rehearse them in their minds.

What kinds of speech signify the appetites, aversions, and passions of the human mind, and how they are used and abused, I shall discuss when I have discussed the passions.

The names of things that affect us—that please or displease us—have shifting meanings in ordinary conversation, because not everyone is affected alike by the same thing, nor is even the same person affected alike at all times. All names are given to signify our conceptions, and all our feelings are themselves conceptions; when we conceive the same things differently, we can hardly avoid giving them different names. For although the nature of what we conceive remains the same, the way we receive it varies with our bodily constitutions and our prejudices of opinion, and gives everything a coloring from our different passions. In reasoning, therefore, one must beware of words that signify not only what we imagine of a thing's nature but also the disposition and interest of the speaker, as the names of virtues and vices do. One man calls wisdom what another calls fear; one calls cruelty what another calls justice; one calls extravagance what another calls magnanimity; one calls gravity what another calls stupidity, and so on. Such names can never be sound foundations for reasoning. Neither can metaphors and figures of speech, though these are less dangerous because they openly declare their shifting character, which the others do not.

CHAPTER V. OF REASON AND SCIENCE.

Since truth consists in putting names in the right order in our statements, anyone seeking exact truth must remember what each name he uses stands for and place it accordingly. Otherwise he will get caught in words like a bird on sticky twigs: the more it struggles, the more stuck it becomes. This is why people working in geometry—the only science God has so far chosen to give humanity—begin by fixing the meanings of their words. They call these fixed meanings definitions and put them at the start of their calculations.

This shows how necessary it is for anyone seeking true knowledge to examine earlier authors' definitions. He must correct them if they are careless, or make his own. Mistakes in definitions multiply as a calculation proceeds. They lead people into absurdities that they eventually recognize but cannot escape without calculating again from the start, where the mistakes lie. People who trust books are like people who combine many small sums into a larger total without checking whether the small sums were correct. When the error finally becomes obvious, they do not suspect their starting figures and cannot see how to put things right. They spend their time fluttering through their books, like birds that have entered through a chimney and are trapped in a room. They flutter toward the false light of a glass window because they do not think to retrace their way in. So the first use of speech—the acquisition of science—rests on the correct definition of names. Wrong definitions, or no definitions, are its first abuse. They give rise to every false and senseless doctrine. They put those who learn from the authority of books instead of their own thinking as far below ignorant people as people with true science stand above them. Ignorance lies midway between true science and mistaken doctrines. Natural sensation and imagination are not subject to absurdity. Nature itself cannot be wrong. As people acquire more language, they grow either wiser or more foolish than usual. Without written language, no one can become exceptionally wise, or exceptionally foolish unless illness or a defect in the organs has damaged his memory. For the wise use words as counters with which to calculate. Fools treat words as money whose value comes from the authority of Aristotle, Cicero, Thomas, or any other teacher who is merely a human being.

Anything that can enter into a calculation or be considered in one, added to something else to make a total or subtracted to leave a remainder, is a subject for names. The Romans called accounts of money rationes and the act of accounting ratiocinatio. What we call items in bills or account books they called nomina, meaning names. That seems to be why they extended the word ratio to the ability to calculate in every other field. The Greeks have just one word, logos, for both speech and reason. They did not think speech was impossible without reason; they thought reasoning was impossible without speech. They called the act of reasoning syllogism, meaning the summing up of the consequences of one statement for another. Since the same things can enter a calculation under different aspects, their names are changed in different ways to show the difference. These varieties of names fall under four general headings.

First, a thing may enter a calculation as matter or body. Examples are living, capable of sensation, rational, hot, cold, moving, and still. Each of these names implies the word matter or body. All such names are names of matter.

Second, a thing may enter a calculation, or be considered, in terms of an attribute or quality that we conceive it to have: its being in motion, being so long, being hot, and so on. By changing the name of the thing a little, we make a name for the attribute under consideration. Instead of living, we count life; instead of moving, motion; instead of hot, heat; and instead of long, length. All these are names of the attributes and properties that distinguish one piece of matter or one body from another. They are called abstract names because they are separated, not from matter itself, but from the calculation of matter.

Third, we bring into the calculation those properties of our own bodies by which we make these distinctions. When we see something, for example, we count not the thing itself but the sight, the color, and the image of it in our imagination. When we hear something, we count not the thing but the hearing or sound alone, our imagined conception of it through the ear. These are names of mental images.

Fourth, we also count, consider, and name names themselves and forms of speech. General, universal, particular, and ambiguous are names of names. Statement, question, command, narrative, syllogism, sermon, speech, and many others are names of forms of speech.

These are all the varieties of positive names. They mark something that exists in nature or can be imagined by the human mind: bodies that exist or can be conceived as existing, properties of bodies that exist or can be imagined, or words and speech.

There are also negative names. They indicate that a word is not the name of the thing in question. Examples include nothing, no man, infinite, unteachable, and three lack four. Although these do not name any thing, they help us calculate and correct our calculations. They bring our former thoughts to mind by making us reject names used incorrectly.

All other names are meaningless sounds. There are two kinds. One consists of new names whose meanings have not yet been explained by definitions. Scholars and confused philosophers have coined plenty of these.

The other arises when people make a single name out of two names whose meanings contradict each other. An example is incorporeal body, or its equivalent, incorporeal substance; there are many more. Whenever a statement is false, joining the two names that compose it into a single name produces a phrase that means nothing. If it is false to say, “A quadrangle is round,” then “round quadrangle” means nothing. It is mere sound. Likewise, if virtue cannot be poured or blown from place to place, “poured-in virtue” and “blown-in virtue” are as absurd and meaningless as “round quadrangle.” This is why almost every senseless and meaningless word you encounter is made up of Latin or Greek names. A French person seldom hears our Savior called Parole, but often hears him called Verbe. Yet Verbe and Parole differ only because one comes from Latin and the other is French.

When someone hears a statement and has the thoughts that its words and their connections were designed to convey, we say he understands it. Understanding is simply the conception produced by speech. If speech belongs only to human beings, as far as I know it does, then understanding belongs only to them too. Therefore a universal statement that is absurd or false cannot be understood. Many people think they understand one when they merely repeat its words softly or rehearse them in their minds.

I will discuss the kinds of speech that express the desires, aversions, and Passions of the human mind, and how they are used and abused, when I discuss the Passions themselves.

The names of things that affect us—things we like or dislike—have unstable meanings in ordinary conversation. Different people react differently to the same thing, and the same person reacts differently at different times. Every name is assigned to express a conception, and all our feelings are conceptions. When we conceive the same thing differently, it is hard to avoid naming it differently. The thing conceived may be the same, but we receive it differently because our bodies differ and our opinions carry different prejudices. Our differing Passions color everything. So in reasoning we must watch our words. Besides conveying what we imagine about things, some words also disclose the speaker's nature, disposition, and interests. Names for virtues and vices are examples: one person calls wisdom what another calls fear; one calls cruelty what another calls justice; one calls extravagance what another calls generosity; and one calls seriousness what another calls stupidity. Such names can never serve as sound foundations for reasoning. Nor can metaphors and figures of speech. These are less dangerous, however, because they openly show their shifting meanings, while the others do not.

Chapter V. Of Reason and Science.