THE BROWN BOOK
I
Augustine, in describing his learning of language, says that he was taught to speak by learning the names of things. It is clear that who-ever says this has in mind the way in which a child learns such words as “man”, “sugar”, “table”, etc. He does not primarily think of such words as “today”, “not”, “but”, “perhaps”. Suppose a man described a game of chess, without mentioning the existence and operations of the pawns. His description of the game as a natural phenomenon will be incomplete. On the other hand we may say that he has completely described a simpler game. In this sense we can say that Augustine’s description of learning the language was correct for a simpler language than ours. Imagine this language:—
I). Its function is the communication between a builder A and his man B. B has to reach A building stones. There are cubes, bricks, slabs, beams, columns. The language consists of the words “cube”, “brick”, “slab”, “column”. A calls out one of these words, upon which B brings a stone of a certain shape. Let us imagine a society in which this is the only system of language. The child learns this language from the grown-ups by being trained to its use. I am using the word “trained” in a way strictly analogous to that in which we talk of an animal being trained to do certain things. It is done by means of example, reward, punishment, and suchlike. Part of this training is that we point to a building stone, direct the attention of the child towards it, and pronounce a word. I will call this procedure demonstrative teaching of words. In the actual use of this language, one man calls out the words as orders, the other acts according to them. But learning and teaching this language will contain this procedure: The child just ‘names’ things, that is, he pronounces the words of the language when the teacher points to the things. In fact, there will be a still simpler exercise: The child repeats words which the teacher pronounces. (Note. Objection: The word “brick” in language 1) has not the meaning which it has in our language.—This is true if it means that in our language there are usages of the word “brick” different from our usages of this word in language 1 ). But don’t we sometimes use the word “brick!” in just this way? Or should we say that when we use it, it is an elliptical sentence, a shorthand for “Bring me a brick”? Is it right to say that if we say “brick!” we mean “Bring me a brick”? Why should I translate the expression “brick!” into the expression “Bring me a brick”? And if they are synonymous, why shouldn’t I say: If he says “brick!” he means “brick!” . . .? Or: Why shouldn’t he be able to mean just “brick!” if he is able to mean “Bring me a brick”, unless you wish to assert that while he says aloud “brick!” he as a matter of fact always says in his mind, to himself, “Bring me a brick”? But what reason could we have to assert this? Suppose someone asked: If a man gives the order, “Bring me a brick”, must he mean it as four words, or can’t he mean it as one composite word synonymous with the one word “brick!”? One is tempted to answer: He means all four words if in his language he uses that sentence in contrast with other sentences in which these words are used, such as, for instance, “Take these two bricks away”. But what if I asked “But how is his sentence contrasted with these others? Must he have thought them simultaneously, or shortly before or after, or is it sufficient that he should have one time learnt them, etc.?” When we have asked ourselves this question, it appears that it is irrelevant which of these alternatives is the case. And we are inclined to say that all that is really relevant is that these contrasts should exist in the system of language which he is using, and that they need not in any sense be present in his mind when he utters his sentence. Now compare this conclusion with our original question. When we asked it, we seemed to ask a question about the state of mind of the man who says the sentence, whereas the idea of meaning which we arrived at in the end was not that of a state of mind. We think of the meaning of signs sometimes as states of mind of the man using them, sometimes as the role which these signs are playing in a system of language. The connection between these two ideas is that the mental experiences which accompany the use of a sign undoubtedly are caused by our usage of the sign in a particular system of language. William James speaks of specific feelings accompanying the use of such words as “and”, “if”, “or”. And there is no doubt that at least certain gestures are often connected with such words, as a collecting gesture with “and”, and a dismissing gesture with “not”. And there obviously are visual and muscular sensations connected with these gestures. On the other hand it is clear enough that these sensations do not accompany every use of the word “not” and “and”. If in some language the word “but” meant what “not” means in English, it is clear that we should not compare the meanings of these two words by comparing the sensations which they produce.
Ask yourself what means we have of finding out the feelings which they produce in different people and on different occasions. Ask yourself: “When I said, `Give me an apple and a pear, and leave the room’, had I the same feeling when I pronounced the two words ‘and’?” But we do not deny that the people who use the word “but” as “not” is used in English will, broadly speaking, have similar sensations accompanying the word “but” to those the English have when they use “not”. And the word “but” in the two languages will on the whole be accompanied by different sets of experiences.) z). Let us now look at an extension of language z).
The builder’s man knows by heart the series of words from one to ten. On being given the order, “Five slabs!”, he goes to where the slabs are kept, says the words from one to five, takes up a slab for each word, and carries them to the builder. Here both the parties use the language by speaking the words. Learning the numerals by heart will be one of the essential features of learning this language. The use of the numerals will again be taught demonstratively. But now the same word, e.g., “three”, will be taught by pointing either to slabs, or to bricks, or to columns, etc. And on the other hand, different numerals will be taught by pointing to groups of stones of the same shape. (Remark: We stressed the importance of learning the series of numerals by heart because there was no feature comparable to this in the learning of language 1).
And this shows us that by introducing numerals we have introduced an entirely different kind of instrument into our language. The difference of kind is much more obvious when we contemplate such a simple example than when we look at our ordinary language with innumerable kinds of words all looking more or less alike when they stand in the dictionary.—What have the demonstrative explanations of the numerals in common with those of the words “slab”, “column”, etc., except a gesture and pronouncing the words? The way such a gesture is used in the two cases is different. This difference is blurred if one says, “In one case we point to a shape, in the other we point to a number”. The difference becomes obvious and clear only when we contemplate a complete example, i.e., the example of a language completely worked out in detail.)
a wayfarer’s notes 