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INTERROGATIVE THOUGHT
THE MEANS OF ITS EXPRESSION.
BY
EDWARD T. OWEN, PH. D.,
Professor of the French Language and Literature in the
University of Wisconsin.
REPRINTED FROM THE TRANSACTIONS OF THE WISCONSIN ACADEMY OF
SCIENCES, ARTS, AND LETTERS, VOL. XIV.

GENERAL PURPOSE. .
The main results of the following investigation were sub-
mitted to the academy at the meeting of December, 1901. They
exhibit the question as the final term in a crescendo consisting of
expressions
A, SUGGESTIVE, giving only what is conceived; e. g. “You to be
industrious.”
B, AssERTIVE, giving assurance of (vouching for) what is con-
ceived; e. g. “You are industrious.”
C, IMPERATIVE, giving assurance of desire (etc.) for what is
conceived; e. g. “Be industrious !”
D, INTERROGATIVE, giving assurance of desire for information,
as to what is conceived; e. g. “Are you industrious !”
The question being regarded as a demand for information (or
a command that information be given)—that is, as an impera-
tive—and the imperative itself being regarded as a form of
statement or assertion (of a wish, etc.), the question also is re-
garded as a form of statement or assertion.
Argument will be conducted along the lines suggested by the
following Table of Contents.
*A fifth term may be found in the questioned question, giving as-
surance of desire for information as to your desire for information as
to what is conceived; e. g., to the question, “Are you industrious?” I
answer “‘Am I industrious?’ ‘’’’
§:
--
5.
TABLE OF CONTENTS,
CHAPTER I.
INTRODUCTORY OBSERVATIONS.
WoRDS OR IDEA-SYMBOLs. - PAGE
Words eacpress ideas versus things . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 359
A word may ea press one idea . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 359
A word may eacpress more than one idea ... . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 359
A word may eacpress less than one idea . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 359
SENTENCES OR THOUGHT-SYMBOLs.
Sentences eacpress thoughts versus ideas...... ... . . . . . . . . . . . . . 360
Sentences eacpress thoughts versus eactra-mental facts ........ 360
Sentences eacpress thoughts versus other mental facts ... . . . . . 360
Sentences eacpress thoughts formed in a particular way..... 361
Sentences presuppose analysis and synthesis of thought .... 363
DIFFERENT ANALYSES OF THOUGHT.
Usual analysis reveals two elements and copula . . . . . . . . . . . . 365
(a) not always plausible . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 366
(b) sometimes unavailable . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 366
(c) often not made . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 366
Adopted amalysis reveals at least three elements . . . . . . . . . . . . 367
Comparative merits of different analyses . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 368
Equivalence of conclusions based on different amalyses........................ 369
Danger of underestimating the vagueness of thought-elements................. 369
Danger of wºnderestimativg the freedom of thought.......... . . ................ 371
(a) freedom in choice of relation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 371
(b) freedom in choice of relation-aspect—proverse or reverse... 372
(c) freedom in choice of relation-phase—static or dynamic . . . 373
THOUGHT-ELEMENTs VERSUS THOUGHT-ATTENDANTs.
Primary or essential thought-elements. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 374
A88ociate thought-elements. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 375
Associate of thought versw8 associate of idea . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 375
THoughT-ASSOCIATEs.
(Thought-reality) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ........ 376
Thought-truth. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ................ 376
Thought-wntruth . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ........................ 381
MENTAL REACTIONS ON THOUGHT-Associates.
e.g. fear, hope, desire, eacpectation, belief, disbelief......... 381
| 44.426
356 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.
\
CHAPTER II.
INTERROGATIVE AND OTHER THOUGHT COMPARED.
Each kind of thought may vary in eactension... . . . . . . . . . . 384
Each kind of thought eacamined in its minimal form.... 384
A. THE CONCEPTION (expressed by a suggestion).
| Its e88ential content. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 385
Is two ideas and their relation.
Its associate truth or untruth. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 385
Its distinctive. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 387
| Is absence of belief. -
B. THE ORDINARY JUDGMENT (eacpressed by a statement).
Its essential content. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . - e º e º e º 'º a $ tº dº º º e º 'º e e g º e 388
| Is belief in truth (or untruth) of what is conceived.
Its distinctive. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 389
| Is belief.
General nature of belief. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . * e e s a e 390
Linguistic neglect of disbelief. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ...... 391
On what belief bears. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ... 392
Scope of belief. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ... 393
Intensity of belief. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 394
Eacpression of belief. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 396
C. THE IMPERATIVE JUDGMENT (e.cpressed by a command).
The fallacy of the imperative mode. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 397
Its e88ential content . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 399
| Is belief in truth of desire for what is conceived.
Its distinctive . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 401
| Is an intercalated element of desire.
D. THE INTERRoGATIVE JUDGMENT (eacpressed by a question).
Limitation of field considered. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 401
Indications offered by tradition … 402
Indications offered by concurrent mind-phenomena . . . . . . . . . 404
Its occasion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 405
| Is the insufficiency of a conception.
Its motive . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 406
{ Is desire to make a conception sufficient.
Owen—Interrogative Thought—Means of Its Expression. 357
D. THE INTERRogativº JUDGMENT—continued. PAGE
Means of making a conception sufficient. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 406
(a) By one's own effort. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 406
(b) By the effort of another:
Extra-linguistic. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 406
{ Linguistic. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 406
The effort of another implies solicitation:
Extra-linguistic ................................. 407
| Linguistic . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 407
Linguistic solicitation may be
(a) Inferential . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 407
| (b) Explicit . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 408
Its control. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 408
| Is the elected means of making a conception sufficient.
| Its e88ential content . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 409
Is belief in desire that, by linguistic means, another
make a conception sufficient.
| Its distinctive . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 410
Is the intercalated element of another's making suffi-
cient by linguistic means. w
Its genera—based upon different kinds of insufficiency
The judgment interrogative as to a term or adjunct.
The judgment interrogative as to belief.
CHAPTER III.
THE JUDGMENT INTERROGATIVE AS TO A TERM OR
ADJUNCT.
ITS ELEMENTS.
The missing element. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 414
The desideratum . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . '• - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 414
Description of desideratum . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 415
Assertion of description. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 417
Desire to be told desideratum . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 420
A88ertion of desire . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 421
358 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.
PAGE
ITs STRUCTURE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 425
ITS OPERATION ON THE HEARER’s MIND... . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 426
ITS EXPRESSION BY A SENTENCE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 429
THE SPECIALLY QUESTION.—ASKING WORD . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 432
Its meaning. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 432
Precedents for bulky meaning. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 441
Its rank. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 441
CHAPTER IV.
THE JUDGMENT INTERROGATIVE AS TO BELIEF.
ITS ELEMENTs.
The missing element—belief. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 445
The desideratum—belief-or-disbelief. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 447
Description of desideratum ... . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 449
A886.7°tion of description . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 450
Desire to be told desideratum . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 450
Assertion of desire . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 450
Truth instead of wrºtruth—and vice versa. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 450
ITS PECULIARITIES.
Fails to distinguish belief-or-disbelief as meum or tww.m..... 452
Jºacpects answer in terms of belief only . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 453
ITs STRUCTURE. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 454
ITS OPERATION ON THE HEARER's MIND. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 458
ITS EXPRESSION BY A SENTENCE. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 458
THE SPECIALLY QUESTION-AsKING Word . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 464
Its meaning . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 467
Its rank. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 468
In the following pages I several times refer to my articles—here cited
Once for all completely—on
“The Meaning and Function of Thought Connectives”—published in
the “Transactions of the Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Let-
ters,” Vol. XII, pp. 1–48, and
“A Revision of the Pronoun, with Special Examination of Relatives
and Relative Clauses,” l. c. Vol. XIII, pp. 1–140.
INTERROGATIVE THOUGHT AND THE MEANS OF
ITS EXPRESSION.
CHAPTER I.
INTRODUCTORY OBSERVATIONS.
WORDS OR, IDEA-SYMBOILS.
|Words eacpress ideas versus things.
When, as often happens, an idea is the mental counterpart of
a thing, it is true that the sign of the idea is also, indirectly, the
sign of the thing. But it is more accurate and, in close exami-
nation of language, quite essential, to recognize in words the
immediate signs of what is mental only. -
&
*
~ ; ; --- *
A word may eacpress one idea.
As to what constitutes a single idea, opinion may vary. But
presumably the idea suggested by “blue” or “blueness” will be
accepted as single. Its presentation by a single word may be
described as Integral symbolization.
A word may eacpress more than one idea.
For instance “ate” expresses not only the idea of eating, but
also a time idea, and quite as effectively as the phrase “in past
time.” Such symbolization may be known as Multiple.
A word may ea press less than one idea.
That is, in particular, it may co-operate with another word in
expressing one idea. Thus in French the symbols “ne” and
“pas” accomplish together no more than the English “not.”
The symbolization of each may be distinguished as 'raciºsal.
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360 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.
SENTENCES OR THOUGHT-syMBOLs.
Sentences eacpress thoughts versus ideas.
The single word being normally the expression of a single
idea, that combination of words which is called a sentence will
normally express a plurality of ideas. Not every such plurality
is however available for sentential expression. Without discus-
sion it may be merely postulated for the present, that no aggre-
gation of words is a sentence, unless it expresses a thought;
and that no aggregation of ideas is a thought, unless it contains
two ideas and a relation of some sort between them. (See pp.
362 and 367.) For instance, given “Orange exceeds lem-
on”, if any word be omitted, the remainder is not a sentence; and
what that remainder expresses is not a thought.
Sentences eacpress thoughts versus eactra-mental facts.
When I say, for instance, that the sun has passed behind a
cloud, I doubly violate the presumable physical truth. The
“passage” is not that of the sun; and what I suggest by the word
“behind” has no existence, except in the mind of an observer
specially situated. But my expression successfully indicates
what I have thought; and that is all that language intends. It
is true that I strive to harmonize my thoughts with external
facts. It may then be admitted that these facts are what the
sentence indirectly aims to present. But it is more accurate
and, in close examination of language, quite essential to recognize
in sentences the immediate symbols, on a larger scale than words,
of mental phenomena only.”
Sentences eacpress thoughts versus other mental facts.
Among the actual phenomena of mind, must doubtless be
included desires and emotions. These, and also the sensations
of the body, are undeniably the frequent burden of speech. But
they are such only indirectly. I am likely enough, for instance,
*That these mental phenomena themselves are facts is obvious. They
are however subjective facts, being readily differentiated from the ob-
jective facts of the extra-mental universe. Also even the thought of
one instant may become objective or external to the thought of the
next, as when One makes a thought of his own the theme of further
mental Operation. *
* *e a
© º • * so
& Cº. *
zº,
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g
gº
e
:
:
*
:
:
e
º ge e
Owen—Interrogative Thought—Means of Its Ea:pression. 361
to tell you of my fear. A sentence by which I do so will not,
however, express a fear itself, but rather my idea of fear.
To illustrate, compare the sentences “Brown fears your dog”,
“I do not fear him”, “I should dislike to fear him”, “I shall
fear him”. In all of these the idea of fear may be distinguished
from the emotion of fear, as clearly as the idea of the dog can be
distinguished from the dog himself. It is plainly also the idea
of fear, and not the emotion itself, that is expressed by what I
say. When now I say, “I fear your dog”, I see no reason to sup-
pose that the meaning of the symbol “fear” has changed. The
fact that, in the present illustration, I am actually afraid (while
speaking) is no more a proof that I express the fear itself, than
the fact that my teeth are at the same time aching, is a proof
that the words “I fear your dog” express the tooth-ache.”
Sentences eacpress thoughts formed in a particular way.
To illustrate, seeing the contractor, Mr. Brown, and also an
Italian workman, and being curious to learn in what way, if
any, they are in relation, I discover that their relation is that of
employer to employee. My discovery I announce by the sentence
“Brown employs an Italian.” -
In the thought which I thus express, the ideas named by
“Brown” and “Italian” are preliminary data. What I express
by “employs” is a resultant, to which I naturally accord a domi-
nant importance. Given “Brown” and the “Italian,” I develop
“employs.” They being my condition, this is my conclusion.
“Employs” depicts the most important figure of my mental
picture.
I may, however, derive my mental stimulus from a primary
juxtaposition of “Brown” and “employs.” Thinking first of
these two, I may institute a search of a different order. Perhaps
from memory, perhaps from other sources, I find that the proper
element to put with the given two is “Italian.” This element,
unpleasantly missing at the outset, sought with effort, found with
satisfaction, is naturally of dominant importance. Brown and
the relation of employer to employee are preliminary data.
*The immediate vocal sequel of emotion, like that of sensation, is the
purely reflex cry. But cries, although they very likely pointed the way
to speech by Suggesting the possibility of using sound as a means of
stimulating another’s mental action, are not admitted to rank as
strictly language, which implies intention.
362 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.
Italian is my resultant. The first two being my condition,
Italian is my conclusion, the most important figure of my
thought.
But I make no effort to show this by the form of my
sentence. I give to “Italian” no such form or position as I gave
to “employs” in the sentence which announced the discovery of
a relation. I do not say that “Brown Italians the employment,”
(that is, the relation of employer to employee). I say, as be-
fore, “Brown employs an Italian.” That is, I express, as before,
the thought-form which is developed by finding a relation
between terms—not the form developed by finding a term to fit
a relation and another term. -
So also starting with “employs” and “Italian” I may arrive at
“Brown.” But I shall not say that “The employing Browns the
Italian” or that “The Italian is Browned by the employment.”
I shall say, as before, that “Brown employs an Italian.”
It is true that different emphases may indicate the different
forms of thought which first of all I form. The discovery of the
relation may be announced by “Brown employs an Italian;”
that of the Italian, by “Brown employs an Italian”; that of
Brown, by “Brown employs an Italian.” But when, for
instance, I emphasize “Italian”, the emphasis is an admission
that my sentence is strictly inaccurate—that it fails to express
the particular form of thought which I should like to express if
language gave me the power. The emphasis tells you that in
that particular form. “Italian” is my resultant, though not
appearing as such in the form of thought which my sentence
expresses. It warns you that “Italian” should have the emi-
nence which belongs to “employs” in “Brown employs an
Italian”.
The sort of thought revealed by the last expression becomes
moreover the linguistic norm—employed even when the sort of
thought originally formed is very different. Thus, examining in
detail the impression produced by a red rose, and wishing to set
before you the detailed impression, I say that “The rose is red”,
which I interpret as meaning that the rose and the redness are in
the relation of object to its own quality. That is, the thought
expressed is precisely that which I should have formed, had I
passed from the successive ideas of object and color to the dis-,
covery of a qualitative relation between them.
Without examining further, I offer, merely as a working hypo-
thesis, the assumption that, whatever be the form originally
Owen—Interrogative Thought—Means of Its Ea:pression. 363
assumed by a thought, before it is expressed by a sentence it
takes the form of a pair of ideas and the relation between them.*
Sentences presuppose analysis and synthesis of thought.
While using for convenience the term analysis, I wish to be
understood as omitting from its meaning any idea of separation.
Also from the meaning of synthesis I wish to exclude the idea of
junction. By the former I mean the recognition, the special
perception, of a whole as consisting of members—not its division
into separate parts. By the latter I mean the recognition of mem-
bers as constituting a whole; I do not mean a combining of
separate elements.
It is believed and, I doubt not, rightly, that in the beginnings
of speech the single symbol stood for a total unanalyzed thought.
Indeed survivals of this method exist at the present time. It is
the basis of the cable code. It crops out in such expressions as
“Pluit”, in which the word performs the function of the sen-
tence. It is recognized in “Yes” and “No,” which, by reinstat-
ing previously mentioned elements of thought, attain the values
of affirmative and negative statements. (See further, p. 441.)
But the difficulty of this method led to its abrogation, as the
number of thoughts to be expressed grew larger. For the num-
ber of symbols which the mind can remember must be reckoned
by thousands only; while the number of different thoughts which
the mind may form is quite beyond reckoning. On the other
hand, the number of ideas or thought-elements which the mind
has thus far developed is comparatively small. Yet by co-think-
*Another view of the sentence, preferred by some, I mention Only in
Order to discard it. According to this view I centrally announce what I
conceive as an action, by the word “employs.” With this employing I
at the same time think of Prown as standing in the relation of actor
to his own act (one of the relations covered by the phrase, “relation of
subject to verb”). At the same time I am supposed to think of the em-
ploying and the Italian as standing in the relation of action to its own
actee (“the relation of verb to its object”). But I believe that we ac-
tually make a short cut. Just as I hardly think all at once of A as the
brother of B, and of B as the father of C, but rather of A as the uncle
of C; so also I hardly think of “Brown” as related in one way with
“employing,” and “employing” as related in another way with the
“Italian.” I rather think of “Brown” as related with the “Italian; ”
and the relation I conceive as that of employer to employee. That is,
H make over relations to suit the direct relationship required.
364 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.
ing these elements, comparatively few in number, it plainly must
be possible to form essentially all thoughts of which the mind is
thus far capable. A method, then, which can symbolize thought-
elements, is obviously available for the ultimate symbolization
of thought-totals; and, as it lays the lighter and more endurable
burden on memory, such symbolization of elements has been pre-
ferred. Accordingly the symbols which language uses—that is,
words—are, with few exceptions, not the signs of thoughts, but
the signs of thought-elements, or ideas.
Although then it may safely be admitted that, in some stage of
its history, a thought exists in mind as a unit, a conscious whole,
an “Anschauung,” without distinct perception of its members,
without recognition even that it consists of members, neverthe-
less, as there are practically no symbols for wholes, but only for
members, it is obviously only thought-members that can be
expressed. The first condition, then, of well developed speech,
is the existence in mind of what such speech can express, that
is, thought-members. In other words thought must be regarded
by the mind as not a simple whole, but as consisting of recog-
nized members.
The case is quite analogous to that of sense-perception. I
see my horse at one moment as a somewhat vague unit. At the
next I specially perceive his head, neck, body, legs and tail. But
I do not feel that I have developed any lack of continuity in the
structure of the animal. Suppose now that I wish to show you
this horse. It is night, and my only light is that of a dark
lantern. At the close range enforced by the smallness of the
stable, I cannot exhibit him all at once. Accordingly I flash
the light upon his head and then successively upon the other parts
of his body. You do not at any moment see the animal as a
whole. Yet the mental picture of him which you form, is the
picture of a whole. Indeed I suppose you had this wholeness in
mind at the first appearance of the head. You did not regard
that head as a fragment which might or might not be followed by
other fragments, which in case of their appearance you would
join together. Nor did I feel that I was exhibiting fragments,
which would require any union. I made a revelation of the
animal, it is true, in successive installments; but each install-
ment was given and received rather as a partial revelation than
as the revelation of a part. In short we agreed that we were
examining members, indeed, but members of a body whose
wholeness was unimpaired.
Owen—Interrogative Thought—Means of Its Ea:pression. 365
The case of linguistic thinking is analogous. Forced by the
limitations of existing linguistic methods, I regard each member
of my thought with special attention; but I do not thereby break
its union with other members. Indeed I do not see how I could
do so, except by dropping such other members out of mind; and
this would mean the destruction of my thought; for my thought
is no longer my thought, if deprived of even one of its members.
Your attitude I take to be like my own. Since people talk
for the purpose of expressing thoughts, you assume, as soon as I
begin to speak, that what I intend to express is a thought—that
is, a whole. You do not therefore feel that you are receiving
fragments, which you are to join together.
I regard the sentence, therefore, not as the presenter of
thought-fragments which need to be joined, but as a successive
revealer of thought-members, never conceived by speaker or
hearer as other than a whole. The fact that each thought-mem-
ber is a member, I regard as always present in the mind, though
never prominent—that is, as taken for granted.
The “life-history” of a thought expressed in words I accord-
ingly take to be as follows: In the first of its stages it is recog-
nized in the speaker’s mind as a unit. In the second stage it is
recognized as consisting of members, each of which is commonly
presented by a single word. In a third stage, the co-presentation
of these words as a sentential unit is matched in the speaker's
mind by a synthesis or recognition that thought-members, though
individually noted, still continue to constitute a whole. To the
hearer the words of the sentence—coming, as they must, one
after another—present, in a fourth stage, an analyzed thought;
and this, in its final stage, the hearer synthesizes.
DIFFERENT ANALYSES OF THOUGHT.
It is obvious that all analyses of thought, if carried out com-
pletely, will specially recognize each member of whatever
thought be analyzed; and so far all will be alike. But they may
differ, even with thought of the smallest possible membership, in
the perspective or relative prominence in which they put the
individual thought-members.
Usual analysis reveals two elements and copula.
It is obviously possible to regard even the trio of ideas, which
appears in every thought, as consisting of two members, one of
366 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.
which again consists of two sub-members. Thus “a equals b”
may be regarded as consisting of a subject “a” and a predicate
“equals b”, itself composed of two sub-members, a verb and its
object. The subject and the predicate may further be distinctly
recognized as co-members of a unit. This co-membership or
mutual belonging is, in the traditions of Logic and Grammar,
strongly emphasized—augmented, it may be, by an idea of
existence—and its symbol, whether found in an “is” or conceived
to be embodied in “equals”, is called a copula.
This analysis, always possible, is
(a) not always plausible.
In “Brown struck me”, I may indeed regard the “striking
me” as something to be thought of in connection with Brown.
But I may also, and much more naturally, regard “Brown's
striking” as something to be thought of in connection with
myself.
The analysis noted is
(b) sometimes unavailable.
In “Here is the book which you lost,” to use grammatical par-
lance, “you” is subject of the relative clause, and “lost which’”
the predicate. But the structure indicated by this analysis, has
no value for the speaker's purpose. The aim of the relative
clause is to confine your thinking to a particular book. I invite
you, therefore, to think of “book,” in connection with “your
losing.” I do not invite you to think of “book-losing” in con-
nection with yourself. The relative clause must accordingly
be analyzed into “which’” and “you lost,” to make it available
for my restrictive purpose. (See “A Revision of the Pronoun”
Chap. TV-III-b full face.)
The analysis noted is
(c) often not made.
If you ask me to state the size of A in terms of B, I naturally
answer that “A-is—equal to B’’. You asked for a predicate;
and there you have it! But if you ask for the bulk-relation
between A and B, I answer “A equals B’’. In this statement I
do not intend “equals B’’ as a predicate of “A”. If a predicate
must be found, I should look for it in “equals” only, regarding
A and B together, not perhaps exactly as a subject, but as that
with which the predicate is associated.
Owen—Interrogative Thought—Means of Its Expression. 367
It is possible then to analyze the idea-trio of thought in at
least three different ways. “A equals B’’ may be regarded as
consisting (1) of “A” and “equals B’’, (2) of “A equals” and
“B”, (3) of “A—B” and “equals”. Each of these analyses is
primarily bipartite. Each regards the sentence as, so to speak,
binomial.
Adopted analysis reveals at least three elements.
It is possible also to recognize initially that a thought consists
of three members—is tripartite—and that the corresponding
sentence is trinomial. In “A equals B’’ such recognition, or
analysis, develops three thought-members, a first term “A”, a last
term “B”, a mid-term “equals”—a relation, that is, between
the first and the last. If any one insist upon it, I admit a relation
of mutual belonging between each part of this mental whole and
the remainder—or between each part and every other—or simul-
taneously between all parts. That is, if copulas be desired, my
thought, to my perception, simply bristles with them. But as
mutual belonging seems to me, as said before, to be taken for
granted, I content myself with the trio of terms directly revealed
by my analysis. This analysis I propose to use on account of
its special convenience, or rather its actual need, in the effort to
interpret the sentence.
Meantime I lay some stress upon the claim that the number
of elements revealed by the adopted thought-analysis will at the
least be three. To support this claim, suppose the number of
elements revealed to be less than three. Let “A” for instance be
omitted. The remainder, namely what is expressed by “equals
B”, I should simply regard as not a thought. Agreement with
this opinion will largely depend on what is meant by thought.
But I suppose that the adherents of the subject-predicate analysis
would also hold that what is expressed by “equals B’’ is not a
thought, but a fragment of a thought. A recognition of equality
is the result of a comparison; and a comparison implies two ele-
ments compared. I cannot think of an “equaling B,” except
as an equaling on the part of something. I must then fill the
place of the absent “A” at least by an indefinite; and so soon as
I do this, my mental total becomes again a thought complete,
though obviously a thought of inferior value.
Equal thought-destruction would be wrought by the omission
of “B” or “equals”. I therefore venture to call the relation
368 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.
element of thought, and also the related elements, essential—and
to call their total an essential thought.
Comparative merits of different analyses.
On these I do not insist. I argue only for the right to choose
the analysis adapted to my needs—a right belonging to every
type of thought-investigator. In the analysis which exhibits a
subject, copula and predicate, the copula is after all the mid-
term, merely reduced to a constant meaning—an obvious con-
venience in operations involving a pair of thoughts, or more.
The first and last terms of thought are moreover in Logic some-
times so made over that each may be put in the place of the
other. “A equals B’’ is invested with the meaning expressed
by “A—is—equal to B’’; and this meaning is further modified
into that expressed by “A—is—a B equaller”. By such manip-
ulation the sentence is made to present a thought whose first and
last terms may, with proper caution, be interchanged—a great
convenience in forming deductions, since what is said of one
term may be said of the other. For instance, given “John eats
turnips” and “A person who eats turnips presumably is hungry”,
if I change my thoughts to the forms expressed by “John—is—a
turnip eating person” and “A turnip eating person—is—a pre-
sumably hungry person”, the way is made easy for “John—is—a
presumably hungry person,” or “John is presumably hungry.”
Such modifications of thought are also at times a valuable
safeguard. For instance, given “John—is–walking” and
“Walking—is—good exercise,” if the first thought expressed be
modified to suit the expression “John—is–a walking person,”
the temptation to false deduction is removed.
Such modifications seem to me, in the interest of deduction, to
be not only justifiable, but also very much to be desired. Indeed
it is Logic's business to make them. But in making them, I do
not understand that Logic claims the resultant thought-forms to
be what we have in mind in the ordinary use of speech. This
last, however, is exactly what it is the language-student’s business
to discover. With what might be in mind, and even with what
had better be in mind, when I use a given sentence, he has noth-
ing to do. His business is to find out what I actually have in
mind; and if he supposes that I have in mind what should not
be there, it is his even more imperative duty to verify his sup-
position—not to argue for the presence in my mind of that which
isn’t there. He is the searcher for what is—not the imaginer of
Owen-Interrogative Thought—Means of Its Ea:pression. 369
what would be nice, if only it were; for otherwise he becomes
the merest sentimentalist. In short, his aim is not the reforma-
tion of sentential meaning, but rather exact sentential interpre-
tation. &
Equivalence of COnclusions based on different analyses.
The view of thought which regards it as consisting of subject, predi-
cate and copula, should lead, I think, to ultimate results the same as
those to be obtained from a recognition of linguistic thought as Con-
sisting of a pair of terms and their relation. For the copula itself, or
the idea which the word regarded as copula stands for, is a relation—
a relation, to my own mind, of little practical importance, but still a
relation (a relation, at the least, of mutal belonging) between subject
and predicate.* The adopted analysis, on the other hand, develops a
relation of maximum importance and accordingly more tangible. This
tangibility will lighten the labor of further investigation, without, as I
hope, invalidating its results, even for him who may regard the particu-
lar relation which I employ, as imaginary. The conclusions more easily
reached by the study of a tangible relation, will be found available, I
think, for the more elusive relation expressed by the copula.
Danger of underestimating the vagueness of thought-elements.
The effort to interpret is in danger of reading into words a meaning
which they do not distinctly have in ordinary usage. Indeed, the more
the interpreter studies the sentence, the more certain he is to find for
it values more precise than those which even he himself has in mind,
in his Ordinary use of speech. This result might roughly be explained
by the current assumption that language reveals but a part of thought,
and that part vaguely. I believe, however, that what is defective is
often rather thought to be revealed, than the means of revelation.
Such thought is, in one or more of its factors, commonly undeveloped.
What the speaker wishes to be learned from his words is not, in many
cases, what he actually thinks, but what he might think, if he took the
trouble to do so.
To illustrate, when I say in ordinary conversation “John is my
father,” “John is honest,” “John is walking,” “Walking is good exer-
cise,” the meanings of “is” are so undeveloped, even to myself, that I
do not fully notice the difference between them. In each case what I
have in mind is little more than this, that the other terms of my propo-
sition have something to do with each other. That is, I am conscious
that they are related; but I only incipiently particularize their relation.
*For the idea of “existence,” so often alleged as the meaning of the
the copula, See p. 380, note.
24.
370 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.
My mental status is roughly indicated by the children's formula:
“John goes with man” or “John and man go together,” etc.
If now I accept this vagueness as final, I can go no further in the
study of the “is.” But I do not so accept the vagueness; for more was
doubtless in my mind, and more intended, than was at the outset fully
apparent, even to my own observation. For suppose I put together
“John is walking” and “Walking is good exercise,” endeavoring to
reach the deduction customary with proposition-couples of these forms.
I perceive at once that I did not mean by “is,” in one case, what I
meant by it in the other. Indeed, as I review my illustrations with
more care, I am very sure that they differ as follows: In “John is my
father,” the relation to which I invite your attention is essentially that
of equivalence. The person distinguished by the symbol “John” is,
in a merely different aspect, the person distinguished by paternal rela-
tion to myself. In “John is honest,” relation is that of object to its
OWn quality. In “John is walking,” it is that of actor to his action.
In “Walking is good exercise,” and more distinctly in “Men are ani-
mals,” it is that of species to genus or class to larger class, a relation
COnveniently distinguished as that of inclusion.
My initial carelessness with these relations may better be understood,
perhaps, by the aid of an objective illustration. Ilet relations be re-
placed by Christmas gifts. As each relation belongs with a particular |
pair of terms, let each gift be intended for a particular pair of persons:
for Brown and his chum a chafing-dish; for the Robinson twins a
Noah’s ark; for my servant and wife a five dollar gold-piece. All of
these objects lie on the dining-room table. I ring for my servant and
his wife; and, as they enter, I say “You will find a present on the table
in the dining-room.” For the moment “present” stands to me for no
particular gift. At a former time I did some careful plan-
ning, and distinctly sensed the individuality of each particular
gift. In the future I am likely to repeat the process. Just
now, however, I am busy with other matters, and do not think of any
particular object, as I utter the symbol “present.” I am all the more
Willing to be indefinite in my mental picturing, because I know that
“present” stands for something suitable to my servant and his wife.
Moreover, I am confident that my servant’s sense of fitness will pre-
clude his making any error. In short, I am indisposed to the effort of
making a detailed mental picture; and, being assured that a less oner-
ous rough-sketch is all that the occasion requires, I let it go at tha'.
Moreover my servant, knowing my mental methods, though momenta-
rily somewhat baffled by the numerous possibilities offered by the word
“present,” is confident that when occasion requires he will be able to
make a right selection among them. On reaching the objects indis-
criminately suggested by “present,” he appreciates the unsuitableness,
to himself and wife, of the chafing-dish or the Noah's ark, and pre-
Owen—Interrogative Thought—Means of Its Eapression. 371
Sumably takes the money as what I intended. Suppose, however, that
he makes a mistake and, coming to thank me, appears with the Noah's
ark. I should tell him that I meant the money. That is, I pass beyond
What in saying “present” I did think of, reaching what I was able to
think of with further effort, and intended him to think of. And So, too,
with the idea expressed by “is,” it seems to me by no means, in the
usual sense, indefinite or unknown, but rather, dim, because exposed
to the feeble light of partial attention, and yet intended and expected
to become clear in the brighter light of an attention which will be
more COmplete When occasion requires.
While then I cannot say that the idea expressed by “is” appears in
the Speaker's mind in full distinctness at the moment the Word is used,
I believe that this idea is expected to become distinct in both his mind
and that Of the hearer, whenever necessary. Such an idea, is obviously
very different from the Ordinary indefinite, which is expected not to
become distinct. For instance, note the value of “somewhere” in “I
somewhere heard that you have been ill.”
Accordingly I make the somewhat precarious assumption that words
should often be interpreted not merely by what is at the moment in
the speaker’s mind, but rather by what would be in his mind, if he
thought more carefully—what moreover he intends to be in the
hearer’s mind, whenever occasion requires. In other words I regard
ideas expressed as Often germs, and propose to investigate them, when
the need arises, in a developed stage.
For the above conclusions, independently reached, support is offered
by Stout—See Analytic Psychology, ed. '96, Chap. IV, Implicit Appre-
hension, especially pp. 95–96.
Danger of underestimating the freedom of thought.
By this title I mean to indicate my belief that thought of the sort
expressed by speech does not in every case respect the bounds set up
by some psychologists. These will have it that every judgment is
association of attribute With Substance, or a recognition of association.
For one, I should carry deference to this opinion so far as to admit
that every judgment may be so remodeled as to be exactly of the indi-
cated type—that possibly every judgment ought to be so remodeled.
But that every judgment is of the indicated type, is quite another mat-
ter.
(a) Freedom in choice of relation.
Overlooking the wider deviations from that type (see p. 361) I note
that, given “A exceeds B,” I can conceive (and possibly ought to con-
ceive) excess Over B as predicate of A. That is, I can Conceive of A
and excess Over B as in the relation of Substance to its own attribute.
I believe, however, that I commonly think of excess as a sequel to the
372 Wisconsin. A cademy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.
Successive Consciousness Of A and B. My Sentence is to me an ab-
breviated mental history, which may be more completely told as fol-
lows: First I thought of A. Then I thought of B. But while the
idea. Of A was growing weak or waning, and that of B was growing
strong Or waxing, and I had them simultaneously in mind, I felt a
difference named by the word “exceeds.” That is, my thought consists
by no means of a substance, an attribute, and their mutual belonging,
but rather of two ideas (which I do not seem to take the trouble to
recognize as substance, attribute, or anything else) and a bulk relation
between them.
Given again the preliminary A and B, I am by nO means COnfined to
their difference in bulk. I may, for instance, be impressed by their
similarity in Contour, or their separation in space. That is, One pair
Of terms may develop different relations.
Moreover, if one or both of the terms be changed, the way is opened
for an even larger number of relations. While the bulk relation of
A and B can be one only (that for instance expressed in A \, B) the
bulk relation of A and C may be that expressed in ASC; and the re-
lation Of A and D may be that expressed in A=D.
The variety of thinkable relations being obviously very great, the
variety of thoughts in whose formation they have a share must also
itself be great—and that independently of further variety which may
be based upon the special nature of related terms. The Opportunity to
establish Species and even genera additional to the substance-attribute
type I, however, neglect, insisting only on the existence of multiple
types of relation, and therefore of thought itself.
(b) Freedom in choice of relation-aspect—proverse or reverse.
To illustrate, if I pass from a hill to the valley which lies beside it, I
am conscious of a change Which I Call descent. Conversely, in pass-
ing between identical terminals, but in the opposite direction, I ex-
perience a change which I call ascent. Again, in passing mentally
from A to B, I experience a difference which I express by excess, or say
Superiority. Accordingly “AS-B”. But, in making a thought-transit
from B to A, I develop “B 3.”.
Now so far as there be in the physical universe aught that corre-
sponds to the mind-sensation expressed by > or <, - that is, so far as
bulk-relation exist apart from mind—it must be unaffected by any act
of mine, unaffected in particular by the direction in which I make my
mental transit between A and B. Compared with Such a relation out-
Side of mind, my ideas of Superiority and inferiority may as well be
ranked as merely different Subjective impressions caused by a single
objective relation seen from different points of approach—or say as
different aspects of a single relation. These aspects being, so to speak,
Owen—Interrogative Thought—Means of Its Eapression. 373
the one the converse of the other, I call them for convenience pro-
VerSe and reverse.
In a sense I have the power to choose between them. For though
a mental transit from A to B will compel me to experience the relation
of Superiority, still I am free to choose the reverse transit, which Would
compel the reverse relation. Being then free to choose the direction
of thought-transit, I am virtually free to choose the aspect of my rela-
tion.
This conclusion I have reached from an assumption contradictory to
the claim of some psychologists, who would have it, not only that in
forming a judgment I must associate substance and attribute, but also
that I must associate attribute with substance—never substance with
attribute. For instance, such would have it that, in mentally coupling
John and honesty, I must think as indicated by “John is honest,” and
not begin. With honesty.
Now such a claim, it seems to me, is far from being respected in
actual practice. Personally I feel quite free to begin with honesty and
end with John. I do not, however, expect to reach the same relation.
that I reached when I began with John. It is true that in dealing with
John and my father I may reach the relation of identity, whichever be
the direction in which I think from One to the Other. But that is be-
cause the relation is not One of difference. On the other hand the rela-
tion between John and honesty is one of very obvious difference, being
that of substance to its own attribute. Accordingly, when I reverse the
direction of thought-transit, I expect to reverse the aspect of the rela-
tion experienced. Thinking then from honesty to John I am by no
means surprised to encounter the relation of attribute to its own Sub-
stance, which is precisely what I express, and most distinctly, by “HOn-
esty characterizes John.” -
Moreover, active and passive voices being specially intended for the
differentiated expression of proverse and reverse relations, if a second
time I turn my proposition end for end, resuming the original direction
of thought-transit, I obtain “John is characterized by honesty”—a sen-
tence which I take to be the exact expression of what I mean by “John
is honest.”
(c) Freedom in choice of relation-phase—static or dynamic.
As so much stress Will be put on the relation, and as it will be rec-
Ognized in Several disguises, a further Suggestion may be of value.
Thus, in such expressions as “Roses are red,” the relation (of object to
its own quality) is conceived as established and, so far as considered,
permanent. In “The rose became red,” the same relation is viewed as
developing, as formative, as passing from non-existence to existence.
In the former case, in lack of a better name, the relation may be known
as static; in the latter, as dynamic. So also “to have” expresses a rela-
374 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.
tion (say that of owner to property) in the static phase, while “to get”
and “to acquire” express the same relation in the dynamic phase. More.
Over a single word may express, on One occasion, One, and, On another,
the other phase—as in “A exceeds B,” which may be taken as meaning
either “A is greater than B” or “A is becoming greater than B.”
It is the dynamic relation which is commonly expressed by the verb
of action, when attended by its object. Thus in ‘A killed B’’ the
relation of slayer to victim is considered in the formative phase—a
phase which in “A was killing B” is dwelt upon or, so to Speak,
stretched out in temporal length. Action then may be interpreted as
formative relation, thus facilitating the recognition of the general prin-
ciple, that every thought of the linguistic type consists of at least two
terms and their relation.
THOUGHT-ELEMENT'S VIERSUS THOUGHT-ATTEND ANTS.
By thought-attendants, elsewhere described as instructional
(See p. 431, etc.), I mean a variety of suggestions commonly
offered by sentences, but forming no part of centrally intended
thought. Given, for instance, “Orange exceeds lemon”, I find
in the verb a person and number value. But this I regard as
merely helping the association of the relation with the right first
term, in case the sentence, by exhibiting several possible first
terms, creates an opportunity for error. I also find that
“orange” and “lemon” may have case-endings which would locate
the idea of each as either first or last term of thought expressed.
Dut this idea of position in thought-structure, like the idea of
association noted just before, is not a part of the thought to be
constructed, but merely a guide to the proper construction of that
thought. Such ideas compare with actual thought-members
much as the plans and specifications of a building compare with
the materials of which it is made. Accordingly in the present
investigation I neglect them.
Primary or essential thought-elements.
By these I mean the terms thus far revealed (See p. 367)
by thought analysis. For instance, in the thought expressed by
“Orange exceeds lemon”, I discover, thus far, only the idea
expressed by “orange”, that expressed by “lemon” and a rela-
tion of bulk-superiority expressible by “excess.” As none of
these can be omitted without my thought's surrender of its
claim to be a thought, they may be ranked as the essential ele-
ments of the given thought.
Owen—Interrogative Thought—Means of Its Earpression. 375
Of other elements that may be added to that thought, I should
maintain that, however useful they may be, they still do not suc-
ceed in making thought more truly thought, than it was without
them. These accordingly I rank as unessential under the title
Associate thought-elements. &
Such elements may be found not only in “Large oranges exceed
Small lemons”, but also in the expression “Orange exceeded
lemon”. In this, besides the naming of a particular bulk-rela-
tion, “exceeded” plainly symbolizes an idea otherwise expressible
by “in the past.” I find moreover that, antagonistically to the
passive voice, “exceeded” names the relation of superior to
inferior and not the relation of inferior to superior. “Orange”
too, and “lemon”, may exhibit ideas of number and of sex—the
latter degraded, it may be, into gender. But such ideas of time,
voice, gender and number occur in all expressions that I shall
examine. Being then by no means peculiar to particular ex-
pressional types, they do not aid the differentiation of these types
from one another. So I discard them from all thought to be
discussed, and do so with especial satisfaction, since every added
detail aggravates the difficulty of investigation.
Associate of thought versus associate of idea.
By suggesting in this title that an adjunct may bear upon a
total thought, I break completely with traditions commonly
accepted. I have been taught to believe that, Once the skeleton
of a thought to be formed is established in the mind—a skeleton
consisting, at the most, of three parts only—any addition thereto
must be an addition to a single one of those parts. I am how-
ever forced, with doubtless many others (e. g. Paul and Sweet),
to believe that some ideas are added to the whole of the skeleton
at Once.
The nature of these ideas, and the argument in favor of their
annexation to the total thought, I take up later. Meantime, to
change my figure, let it be enough to note that my attention has
been, up to date, confined to trowsers, coat and cap—the garment,
each, of part only of my body. I must now extend my mental
vision to my cloak, with which I may invest my body all at
OOlćé.
376 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.
THOUGHT-ASSOCIATES.
(Thought-reality.)
Examining the thought expressed by “Orange exceeds lemon,”
I find that it is real. But, in saying this, I must use the utmost
care, to avoid misunderstanding. I mean, and only mean, that
the thought is actually formed in my mind. It goes also with-
out saying that each element of the thought, each idea thereof,
is also in my mind. In other words I merely hold with others,
that even intellectual phenomena are facts. As reality thus
defined is characteristic of all our thoughts and all thought-
elements, it may be neglected in their comparative study.”
Thought-truth.
By truth I mean accordance, so far as may be, with reality
external to the momentary action of the mind—a being-matched
by external reality.”
*It is true that reality might be conceived by the mind along with
One thought Or a part thereof, and not with another thought or any
Of its parts. But I do not find that such is the fact. For instance,
When I say that “Orange exceeds lemon,” I do not tell myself that
thinking of an orange is with me a real occurrence. I draw no con-
trast between my real thinking of the Orange, and an unreal think-
ing of an apple—or anything else of which I simply am not thinking.
** It is possible of course to associate such truth with an individual
thought-member—that is, to make it the adjunct of an idea. For in-
stance, given again the expression “Orange exceeds lemon,” I feel that
my idea of the greater fruit is fairly accordant with an existing exter-
nal object, as is also my idea of the less. How far the idea of excess
is matched by aught that outlies thought, is debatable. But as much
as this, at least, is obvious: that the idea of excess does vary with varia-
tions in external data. It may then be asumed that this idea is as true
as it can be to that which is external. Each idea, that is each member
of my thought, possesses then its maximum degree of truth attainable
by mind.
Such excellence of detail does not, however, mainly interest me. As
I taste my soup, I care not greatly for the nature of its individual ele-
ments. What I desire is that the soup itself be good; and if in this
desire I am disappointed, I shall not be comforted by any eulogizing of
the soup materials. Toward thought my behavior is quite analagous.
For instance, the idea expressed by “Booth” is matched by a counter-
Owen—Interrogative Thought—Means of Its Ea:pression. 377
To illustrate, suppose that I have made a mental transit be-
tween the ideas expressed by A and B, and that I have further
experienced a mind-sensation expressible by the word “excess.”
These three elements of consciousness together form a unit; and
to this unit each element is indispensable. Regarded thus only,
all elements rank as equal in importance. That they may, from
other points of view, appear unequal in importance, has been
conceded. (See the preceding note.) In the interest of sim-
plicity, I elect to consider only the obviously possible case of
parity. *
Suppose me further to feel that the mental status just de-
scribed is matched in the outer world by two objects and their
bulk-relation. In other words I regard my whole thought as
true. If now I wish to add to my thought this idea of truth,
forming thereby a thought of greater complexity, I may say that
“A truly exceeds B.”
Now most grammarians will tell me, I suppose, that “truly”
is an adverb—that is, that the idea of truth is treated as an
part in physical reality, or, in other words, is true; so also are the ideas
expressed by “killed” and “Garfield.” It is even true that Booth killed;
and a killing of Garfield actually happened. But from all these truths
of detail I derive but scanty satisfaction; indeed I heed them little in
the presence of the total “Booth killed Garfield.” Truth, in short, as
an idea-adjunct, is commonly neglected, to the point at least of failing
to be a part of what I mean to say.
A peculiar modification of truth is, however, very commonly associ-
ated with the individual thought-member or idea. To illustrate, if you
ask me what is the relation between A and B, I answer, emphasizing
the relation, “A eacceeds B; ” and to this idea of excess I specially attach
an idea, roughly speaking, of truth. I mean, however, this time some-
thing more than that the idea of excess is matched, outside of my
thought, by what is real. What this something is, I can seek to better
advantage in a more objective illustration. Let it then be conceded
that fire and gunpowder, being assembled, produce, by means entirely
unknown to me, an explosion. Reasoning along the well-known psy-
chological highway, I conceive a faculty of explosion-causing, or say the
quality of explosiveness. Strictly speaking, I Ought to predicate this
explosiveness of the combination fire and gunpowder. But in actual
practice I use the expression “Powder is explosive.” This explosive-
ness is not, however, on a par with other qualities of powder, for in-
stance its blackness. It is black unaidedly. It is explosive only with
the aid of fire. It is not productive of explosion peculiar to itself. It
is co-productive, with fire, of an explosion peculiar to powder and fire
378 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.
attribute of the excess. Again, if I leave the idea of truth
without a special expression, I suppose it would be held that,
so far as truth is still a part of my meaning, it still attaches
itself to the idea of excess. That is, in “A exceeds B’’ (Conf.
“A does not exceed B’”) any truth, regarded as part of what I
mean, is an incorporated limiter of “exceeds”—a part of the
total meaning of “exceeds” and limiter of another part of that
meaning, namely the idea of excess alone.
But, as I have argued above (See the preceding note) any
truth proper, which is associable with a single idea, will be that
single idea's being-matched by a single element of external real-
ity; with truth of this sort, however, I do not think my sentence
deals. On the other hand, the truth of my total thought, with
which my sentence does deal, cannot, if I have rightly argued,
appear as the attribute of a particular thought-member, except
in the modified form of rightness, or co-productiveness (with
other members) of true thought. Such modified truth, how-
combined. So also when I say that “A eacceeds B’’ or, more laboriously,
“The excess of A over B is true,” I really mean that the excess is CO-
productive, with A and B, of a truth peculiar to the combination “A
exceeds B.”
Now in the thought before me A and B are postulates, accepted With-
out approval, without a mental vote—the charter members of an idea
society. “Exceeds” on the other hand is offered as a later candidate.
Truth being the aim of the society, it is important that the prospective
new member co-operate effectively with the charter members, in truth-
production. The intrinsic merit of the candidate is of less importance
than his suitableness to members already enrolled. Accordingly, in the
sentence “A eacceeds B,” I should say that what I associate With exceSS
is not precisely the idea of truth, but rather an idea of suitableness to
A and B in true-thought production—or, in a word, rightness.
By similar reasoning I should argue that, if in the same expression
A be emphasized (or B), an idea of rightness is associated with A
(or B). It appears accordingly that any member of that idea trio
which constitutes an essential thought, may be regarded as an accession
to the others, and further also as suitable to those others, in true.
thought production—in other words as right—in other words as, very
roughly speaking, true. I have accordingly carried one step further
the thought-forms presented on pages 361-362.
All of these thought-forms I propose from now on to neglect in favor
of another, not that they are uncommon or inferior, but merely because
they promise no addition to what may be gained from the examination
of that other, which has the advantage of being simpler.
Owen—Interrogative Thought—Means of Its Eacpression. 379
ever, I dismiss because, so far as I know myself, I do not at
present have it in mind. I am not just now thinking that, in
the production of true thought, “exceeds” is a right addition to
A–B, any more than I am thinking that A is a right addition
to “exceeds B,” or B is a right addition to “A exceeds.” That
is, I am not dealing with “A. eacceeds B,” “A exceeds B’’ or “A
exceeds B.” I am dealing with the unemphasized “A exceeds
B.” In this last expression I am merely thinking that what
I express is true, regarded as a whole; and to this truth of total
thought I wish to confine attention, because it has the advantage
of maximum simplicity.
That I do thus actually think of truth as bearing on total
thought, is, in some cases, apparently beyond a doubt. Suppose,
for instance, that you say “The air is very cold,” and that to
this I answer “That is true.” My “That” revives before our
minds the total thought (consisting of the air, the extreme cold-
ness and the qualitative relation between them) which you ex-
pressed, but without a recognition of any particular member.
It is accordingly in this case impossible that what we think of
as true be any single member of thought. It must be then that
what we think of as true is a total thought.
The mental feat which we perform in this case I seem to
myself to perform again, when I say that “A truly exceeds B,”
or when I incorporate the idea of truth in the meaning of “ex-
ceeds” and confine myself to saying “A exceeds B.” I confess,
however, that thus far I see no means of proving such to be my
mental act, and therefore must appeal, in support of my opinion,
to the self-introspection of others.
* I am aware that in actual practice a wholly unemphasized Sentence
is rare, the tendency being to put a vocal stress upon the final word,
even when there is no thought-dominance of the corresponding idea.
I suspect that this tendency is initiated by the habit of giving the final
position to the word for the dominant idea. Conversely the final word
is commonly a dominant and properly emphatic word. By the unre-
flecting, what is common is made universal. At the same time the cus-
tomary fall (in pitch) of the voice at the sentence end, is rather advan-
tageously offset by an increased loudness, the danger of a failure to be
heard being thus avoided. Be the reason what it may, as a matter of
fact the final word is often emphasized, even to the complete neglect of
the rational emphasis. E. G. : “I am no longer a young man.” “If
thy father and thy mother forsake thee, the Lord will take thee up”
(a Sunday-school reminiscence).
380 Wisconsin. A cademy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.
The truth which is conceived of thought can not, of course, be
absolute. It is, after all, the mind's impression of agreement
between a picture which it forms, and an external reality, which
may be posed as the original of the picture. Now this original
itself is far from being certainly known. What appears to be
reality may not deserve to do so. In such a case what I regard
as matched by external reality will merely be matched by what
wrongly seems to me to be reality. Bearing in mind the pos-
sibility of such a mistake, I re-define the truth of thought as a
being-matched by supposed reality outside of thought.
Such truth is all that language contemplates. No doubt, in
thinking, we desire and strive to be correct; but in speaking we
endeavor only to reveal what actually is in our minds, correct
or incorrect. The lie, as not a use of speech, but plainly an
abuse, may be set aside as utterly non-linguistic. The aim of
speech is communication—a begetting in another mind of a
counterpart to what is in one's own—a reproduction of the mo-
mentary mental self. In the case of a lie the should-be parent
thought is childless, but charged with bastard offspring. The
liar is mentally a self-made cuckold. On the other hand, the
issue of error is legitimate. The statement unintentionally
false is to the full degree linguistic. Brother Jasper’s “The sun
do move” is as truly and properly language as any utterance
more acceptable to science. Truth, then, so far as it concerns
the language student, is subjective truth. Accordingly, in a
sense more extended than that employed on p. 360, it may be
said that sentences deal with thought alone—never directly with
extra-mental fact.*.
* It is obvious that my “truth” of thought is merely a substitute for
that element of “existence,” which is often regarded as part of what is
meant by an affirmative assertion. Thus “The rose is red” is com-
monly paraphrased by “The rose exists red,” “The red rose exists” or
“There exists such a thing as a red rose.”
In such an interpretation, it seems to me that existence is synony-
mous with reality, being thinkable either of my thought itself (or a
part thereof) or of that external status of which my thought is the
internal correlative. Now the reality of my own mental act appears to
me unimportant, for reasons given above. I can hardly feel it worth
my while to vouch for it, that I am actually thinking the whole or any
part of my thought. If then I do vouch for any reality, it seems to me
it must be the reality of that to which my thought is correlated, namely
Some fragment of an outer universe or Status. Accordingly the “exist-
Owen-Interrogative Thought—Means of Its Ea:pression. 381
Thought-untruth.
By untruth I mean a failure to be matched, or a being-un-
matched, by external reality.” To argue that untruth takes its
place in mental structure as the attribute of a total thought re-
garded as a unit, and to contend that untruth is quite as subjec-
tive as truth, would be an essential repeating of pp. 377–380.
MENTAL REACTIONS ON THOUGHT-ASSOCIATES.
Such mind-activity as language aims to reveal contains an
element which thus far has not been considered. To illustrate,
• { * * , , • , ,
ence” which I am supposed to incorporate in “The rose is red” would
seem to be a portion of the Outer-world’s reality. That is, my sentence
would be regarded as declaring that, in the outer world, the mate to
what I think of exists or is. Personally, however, I construe my sen-
tence as declaring that what I think of is matched or mated in the Outer
world.
The difference between the two I admit to have its analogy with that
of tweedle-dum and tweedle-dee. Yet, as the mental state presumably
copies the outer world, if that which language deals with be the copy,
it would seem more natural to say “The copy is that of a real Original,
or is matched by Such an original,” than to say “The original of the
copy is real, or exists.” My special reason for preferring the idea of
truth to that of existence is, however, the possibility of greater brevity,
and at the same time the ability to distinguish readily between the
reality (= mere actual occcurrence in mind) of thought and that agree-
ment with the Outer world which I mean by truth. As I seem to take.
account of all thought-elements or adjuncts considered by the sup-
porters of the “existence” theory, in a merely different perspective, I
hope that even to those supporters the conclusions reached will be
available. *
In all the above I am naturally not to be understood as denying that
” occasionally has the meaning of “exists” or “is existent,” as in
“Whatever is is right.” -
** It is possible of course to associate untruth with an individual
thought-member—that is, to make it the adjunct of an idea. With idea-
untruth, I should however argue, the sentence deals as little as with
idea-truth.
To the modification of idea-truth, described on p. 377 (note) and
Rnown as rightness, there corresponds a modified idea-untruth, a
Wrongness, an unsuitableness to fellow terms in true-thought produc-
tion. This wrongness, however, I neglect for reasons similar to those
Which seemed to justify the neglect of rightness.
& &
is
382 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.
suppose that, as you sit in my study, your attention is caught
by a painting, on which you invite my comment. If I should
say “That painting is a portrait,” you would understand me to
vouch for its being matched by a real person. If on the other
hand I should say “(Some claim) the painting to be a portrait,”
you would understand me to do all that I did before, except that
I should no longer vouch for the matching. That is, you would
understand that I have merely thought of the matching—that, so
to speak, I have not felt it.
So also, if I should say “My son to lead his class,” you would
understand that a mental picture of my son’s leading his class
is in my mental visual field, along with a being-matched by fact
—or, in other words, along with truth (Compare “My son not
to lead his class”); but this truth again I do not feel; I only
think of it. I put before you, so to speak, the elements of a men-
tal experiment; but what ultimately happens, or say the reaction,
I do not exhibit. Now it seems to me that the reaction is
precisely what you most of all would wish to know. If I put
a slice of lemon in my mouth, I shall hardly thereby greatly
interest you. But if you can learn how this experiment affects
me, you may find it worth your while to do so. Again, if from
my words you merely know that certain ideas assemble in my
mind, your knowledge has for you but little value. But if you
learn the effect which they produce upon me, you may feel re-
paid for your share of the effort incident to thought-communi-
cation. Given then the truth or the untruth of “My son’s lead-
ing his class”—or given, say, “My son to lead his class” or “My
son not to lead his class”—if you can learn that I fear or hope
for either—that I like or dislike, desire, regret, expect, believe
or disbelieve the one or the other—you may esteem such learn-
ing worth your effort.
Now any one of the reactions noted—and others also-may be
expressed by speech. But most of them require the aid of
special words. For instance, given “My son to lead his class,”
if I wish you understand that my reaction is what is known as
hope, or expectation, I am obliged to say that “I hope, or expect,
my son to lead his class.” That is, the reaction requires a spe-
cial word for its expression.
Suppose however that, given “My son to lead his class,” my
reaction is belief. In this case I merely say that “My son leads
his class.” That is, the word “leads” expresses all that was
Owen—Interrogative Thought—Means of Its Ea:pression. 383
expressed by “to lead,” and also all that might be expressed by
“I believe” (or say “I know”).
It is obvious that, by further loading such a word as “leads,”
a sentence might, without increasing its bulk, be made to express
an even larger volume of thought. Indeed, as I believe, it is
by exactly such an increase of the single word’s expressional
burden, that the question-forms of speech have been developed.
To me then obviously the study of interrogative expressions is—
to imitate the agriculturalist’s “intensive farming”—a study of
intensive symbolism.
Now symbolism of this order has, in question-forms, attained
perhaps its highest development. It can best be understood
after examining those other grades of symbolism, of which it
forms the climax. Such examination should be based, I think,
upon a comparative study of thoughts expressed, to which ac-
cordingly I pass in the following chapter.
384 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.
CHAPTER II.
INTERROGATTVE AND OTHER THOUGHT COM-
PARED,
Each kind of thought may vary in eatension.
By this I mean not only that, in general, thoughts have dif-
ferent numbers of constituent ideas, but also, in particular, that
every kind or grade of thought to be examined may so vary with-
out becoming a thought of another kind. That is, I wish to
emphasize the distinction between mere difference in size and
difference in kind. To illustrate, “Brown is certainly very
honest” stands for, so to speak, a bigger thought than “Brown
is honest;” but, for my present purpose, these two thoughts will
rank as of one kind. On the other hand the thoughts expressed
by “Brown is honest” and “Is Brown honest ?” might seem, to
a hasty view, to differ little, if at all, in size; but I shall rank
them as very different in kind.
Each kind of thought eacamined in its minimal form.
By this I mean that, for the sake of clearness and convenience,
I shall deal with thoughts containing only the ideas required
to make each one of them a thought of a particular kind. For
instance, “Brown is honest” will suit my purposes better than
“My friend Brown is undoubtedly a very honest gentleman.”
The kinds of thought to be examined under the following A,
T}, C and D, may be regarded as interpreting respectively the
kinds of expression illustrated in connection with those letters
On p. 354.
A. THE CONCEPTION (eacpressed by a suggestion).
By this I mean the lowest grade of thought—such thought as
would be thought no longer, if deprived of any element. This
I offer to attention merely as a convenient background on which
to project the judgment.
Owen—Interrogative Thought—Means of Its Ea:pression. 385
Conceptions are expressed by what may be roughly called sug-
gestive phrases. In illustration all needs will be met by the in-
finitive phrase, which alone accordingly will be considered. For
the sake of saving labor, I select an infinitive phrase which offers
a pair of terms and a relation named with maximum distinct-
ness; and I choose a relation as simple and tangible as may be. I
omit the “article” for the sake of brevity, and treat the English
infinitive as a single word. It will express in my illustrations
no more or less than what is expressed by the one-word infinitives
of other languages. Indeed the “to’’ may be regarded as the in-
finitive inflection, merely isolated and prepositive.
My immediate purpose, stated from the sentence-student's
point of view, is to determine how much meaning there may be in
a typical suggestive phrase, for instance, “Orange to exceed
lemon.” Next I strive to find what further meaning lies in an
expression assertive, but otherwise equivalent to the suggestive,
for instance, “Orange exceeds lemon.” That is, a sort of sub-
traction is expected to reveal, as a remainder, the distinctive as-
sertive element of meaning, or in other words the element whose
presence makes a judgment such.
Its essential content.
This I find to be a duo of ideas, and their relation. For
instance, in the thought expressed by “Orange to exceed lemon,”
I find an idea of the first named fruit, an idea of the last named
fruit, and a bulk-relation between them. I observe that, if any
one of this idea-trio were omitted, the remainder would not con-
stitute an idea-total worthy in my opinion to be ranked as
thought. I also observe that, while other ideas might be added
with advantage, their presence would not make the total a whit
more worthy to rank as a thought of the lowest grade—that is,
as a conception.
Its associate truth or unbruth.
|FXamining further, I find in the conception an adjunctive
idea of truth or untruth, put as an attribute of a total which con-
sists of two ideas and their relation. To illustrate, I offer the
two expressions: -
(1) “Lemon to exceed orange,” and
(2) “Lemon not to exceed orange.”
I cannot admit, and shall elsewhere antagonize, the opinion
that “not to exceed” is meant to call up the idea of equality or in-
2
25
386 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.
feriority, one or both, or any other substitute for the idea of ex-
cess. For the moment it may be enough to remark that, in the
expression “Lemon doesn’t exceed orange,” the inclination which
the enclitic “n’t” exhibits towards its neighbor “does,” or say
its aversion shown to “exceed,” affords some indication that the
mind does not associate the negative with the excess. Indeed,
were it to do so, the strictly proper word would not be “not,”
but “non.”
I regard the “not” as suggesting solely the idea of untruth.
Thus construed, expression (2) reveals a thought attended by the
idea of its untruth. The obvious antagonism of one thought to
the other strongly intimates that expression (1) should be taken
as standing for a thought attended by its truth.*
This idea of truth, or untruth, I expect to find in every thought
to be examined. I have, however, given it somewhat careful
attention, because it seems to me that, without it, thought of
greater complexity cannot thoroughly be understood.
*I admit that (1) might sometimes better be interpreted as not sug-
gesting either truth or untruth—sometimes, again, as calling up to
mind the categorical idea of truth-or-untruth. With Such occasions
however I am not dealing. In “I believe lemon to exceed orange”, that
which I believe is, as it seems to me, the truth of my thought—just
as what I believe, in saying “I pelieve lemon not to exceed Orange”,
is the untruth of my thought. It is thus and thus only that I elect to
construe the expression “Lemon to exceed Orange”. That is, of
thoughts which might be indicated by it, I choose that one which is
ready for the accession of my belief. In that one accordingly I find
the adjunctive idea of thought-truth.
This idea of truth is however easily overlooked, for the following
reason. Affirmative expressions are, in linguistic practice, much more
common than negative. The truth which ordinarily attends a thought,
becomes a matter of course, and easily fails to be noted. Were you
to ask me what I wish you to think of when I utter (1), I should be
very apt to answer: “the relation between lemon and Orange”. But
suppose you repeat the question with (2). I must now put in the idea
of untruth, and answer: “the untruth of the relation, etc.” If now
you repeat your question with (1), I shall answer: “the truth of the
relation, etc.” That is, I am so used to the idea of truth, that I or-
dinarily overlook it. But if you sharpen my attention by directing it
first to the untruth, which I do not intend, I become aware, and
keenly, of the truth which I do intend.
Owen—Interrogative Thought—Means of Its Eacpression. 387
Its distinctive.
The idea of truth which I seem to find in the conception when
it is not negative, is far from being an endorsement. I meet the
thought arising in my mind, as the bank-official meets the bank-
note submitted to his expert judgment. He may be asked to
decide upon its genuineness; or, on the contrary, he may be asked
to decide upon its spuriousness. The idea of the note will ac-
cordingly be attended in his mind by an idea of either genuine-
ness or spuriousness—say the idea of genuineness. But this at-
tendant idea is merely the aspect in which the idea of the note is
offered. It does not predetermine ultimate opinion. And so
it is with the truth which forms a part of what is expressed by
“Lemon to exceed orange.” Thinking of such truth does not
commit me. I still am free to reject (or accept) this truth,
precisely as I still am free to reject (or accept) the untruth
which forms a part of what is expressel by “Lemon not to exceed
orange.” That such is the fact, I think appears in the expres-
sion “I disbelieve the lemon to exceed the orange,” in which I
reject what seems to be presented in the aspect of truth—and in
“I disbelieve the lemon not to exceed the orange,” in which I
reject what is obviously presented in the aspect of untruth. The
presence then of the idea of truth, as thus far noted, is far from
implying that anything is true; it only implies a preference to
regard a thought in its possibility of being true, rather than in
its possibility of being untrue. Conversely the presence of the
idea of untruth implies only a preference to regard a thought
in the possibility of being untrue.
The significance of my examination is less in what I have
found, than in what I have not found. In particular I have not
found any personal endorsement of the conception—its truth or
its untruth. I have found, in other words, no element of belief.
As I expect to find this element in other forms of thought to be
examined, I make the provisory claim, that the distinctive of
the conception is the absence of belief.
As you are likely to decide on the validity of any conception
I reveal, you might prefer me to pose it unattended by ideas of
truth or untruth, leaving you to form the verdict “That is true”
or “That is untrue.” But in linguistic practice I disregard
such preference, and submit my thought in the aspect of truth
or untruth, inviting the verdict “I accept that” or “I reject
that.” Offering however no verdict of my own, I also do not
388 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.
bias yours. My conception is merely a preliminary datum, a
theme, a topic. Had you asked me “Of what shall we think?”,
I might have answered “Lemons.” In precisely the same spirit
I might answer “The truth (or, it may be, the untruth) of lemon
to exceed orange.” The conception then is far from being a
verdict, or say a judgment. It is merely that upon which a
judgment may be formed; or perhaps it would be better to say:
it is a mere beginning, which will become a judgment when com-
pleted by an element of acceptance, endorsement, or say belief.
Or, to change my figure, the members of a judgment are assem-
bled; but the breath of life is not yet in them.
B. THE ORDINARY JUDGMENT (eacpressed by a statement).
Its essential content.
The forming of a judgment is commonly held to be, or at least
to contain, a mental act of knowing. But I prefer to follow the
hint, confessedly unreliable, offered by language-history. Look-
ing backward, I find that the primary meaning of “sententia”
was “an opinion.” The sentence might then be defined as an
opinion or, more exactly, the expression of an opinion. Since
what is expressed by a sentence is commonly also called a judg-
ment, the hint is given to regard all judgments as opinions; and
this it seems to me is safer than to think of them as knowledge.
For what is supposed to be knowledge, in the ordinary sense,
is often found to be no knowledge.
The word opinion itself is not however fully adequate. It
names a mental status as much too weak, as knowledge is too
strong. I prefer as a rule the word belief, by which I mean the
act of knowing, but without distinction between knowing rightly
and knowing wrongly, the latter being an extra-linguistic acci-
dent. Indeed I expect to use “to-believe” and “to-know” as
synonymous, choosing the former when greater distinctness is
required, and preferring the latter when its greater convention-
ality favors the momentary need. Accordingly what is expressed
by a sentence, in other words a judgment, I regard as consisting
essentially of belief in a conception.
I neglect moreover unbelief, in the sense of failure to reach
belief. I also at present pass over disbelief—an embarrassing
quasi-synonym for belief in the untruth of thought. It is well
Owen—Interrogative Thought—Means of Its Ea:pression. 389
enough, no doubt, to say that (1) “Orange exceeds lemon” ex-
presses belief, and that (2) “Lemon not exceeds orange” ex-
presses disbelief. But when I strive to differentiate expression
(2) from (3) “Lemon not to exceed orange,” I find myself in
trouble. For, though the thought expressed in (3) no doubt
may be distinguished adequately from the thought expressed in
(1) and (2) by calling it a conception, (3) should further be
distinguished from (4) “Orange to exceed lemon” by calling
the thought of (3)—I know not what—perhaps a disconception.
But the word is lacking; and the idea which it indicates is un-
familiar. Again, for disbelief I shall find no approximately
synonymous disknowledge. I shall accordingly work to better
advantage by confining myself, so far as possible, to conceptions
attended now by truth and now by untruth, and to judgments
containing belief in one or the other.”
Its distinctive.
To make this obvious, I write, the one above the other, a
sentence or expression of a judgment, and a suggestive phrase or
expression of a conception—both of the essential type—both con-
taining, that is, only the ideas needed to make them, one a con-
ception, the other a judgment. Accordingly
*In such expressions as “I doubt”, “I do not believe”, “I believe”,
etc., the mental act of doubting or believing is itself conceived a.S true
or untrue, and a secondary belief is brought to bear on this truth Or
untruth, as is clearly indicated by the comparison of such expressions
with “me to doubt,” “me not to doubt”, etc. Such expressions may
however be discarded, attention being confined to the briefer sentential
forms in which belief, when part of what is meant, is left Without any
special word to express it, or is in other words incorporated in the
meaning of the verb, as in “Orange exceeds lemon.”
The presence, in every judgment, of the speaker’s belief may vine
dicate the sentence “Seeing that it rains, a walk will not be pleasant”.
He who cannot tolerate the “seeing that” as a subconscious synonym
of “since”—he who feels that something there must be, to which the
adjunctive “seeing” may cling—will find this something in the incor-
porated “I” of assertion; for every original assertion is first-personal,
just as every (directly) quoted assertion is third-personal—or some-
times second-personal. So, too, in “Seeing it rains, don’t go,” the
purist may choose between “I, who am aware of the rain, wish you
not to go.” and “I wish you, who are aware of the rain, not to go.”, or
even associate the seeing with both “I” and “you.”
390 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.
(1) “Orange exceeds lemon”, and
(2) “Orange to exceed lemon.”
Interpreting these as indicating
(1) My belief in a conception, and
(2) a conception (and nothing more),
I, so to speak, subtract the lower from the upper. I thus ob-
tain a remainder of belief, which was part of (1) but not a part
of (2). Pending further examination, I postulate that, as the
distinctive of concption was, so to put it, the belief which it does
not have, per contra the distinctive of a judgment is the belief
which it has.
General nature of belief. 2
Of this a working idea may be reached, I think, most easily
through disbelief; and both will be appreciated better after an
objective illustration. Suppose then that, in my walk, as I am
just about to set upon the ground my leading foot, I see beneath
it a rattlesnake. The somewhat energetic withdrawal of foot—
and general self—I can indicate perhaps to best advantage by the
word recoil. But for the opposite of this withdrawal, which I
also wish to consider, I can not find an equally effective word.
Such opposite action I seem to conceive with sufficient clearness;
indeed I find it picturesquely detailed, as I read in the gospel
of St. Luke the father's reception of the homing prodigal. “His
father saw him, and had compassion and ran and fell on his
neck and kissed him.” Something of this sort I wish to express
by the word accurrence, that is, an eager running toward what is
attractive—antagonistic to an equally eager running away from
what is repulsive.
In the field of thought, belief and disbelief impress me as
closey analogous to these actions of the body. Speaking very
roughly, if you set before my mental vision the thought expressed
by “Men are vegetables,” I recoil from it. I do not care at this
moment to investigate the ground of this recoil, aesthetic, ethical,
rational or any other; enough, in general, that I repel or reject
the thought—that I disapprove it or dissent from it—that in
particular I disbelieve it. If on the other hand you put before
my mind the thought expressed by “Men are animals,” I accur
to it; I embrace or adopt it; I approve it or assent to it—more
particularly I believe it.
Owen—Interrogative Thought—Means of Its Expression. 391
That belief is more than I have indicated—that it is attended
by a feeling that it is inevitable, that others share or ought to
share it, that it is a proper and even necessary corollary of the
existing order of things—I admit, but do not think it necessary
to consider for the present purpose.
Linguistic neglect of disbelief.
Of the two phenomena, belief is the recognition of agreement
or harmony between thought and fact, between self and the outer
world, or better perhaps between the special self of the moment
and the general, permanent self. Disbelief is the recognition of
discord. Belief is satisfaction. Disbelief is dissatisfaction.
The former is the more agreeable—the more human. In
Goethe's Faust the Devil is objection personified—“der Geist der
Stets verneint.” Belief is success; disbelief is failure—reason
in itself enough for the linguistic predominance of expressions
for belief. Indeed, for the sake, it may be, of being able to
believe, we change to a believable form that even which we dis-
believe. .
To show this, I note that, in my objective illustration, the aim
of recoil is strictly to be far from the rattlesnake. But the act
of recoil incidentally brings me nearer to another object—say
a honeysuckle now in all its bloom and fragrance. It is not
true that my jump with might and main was prompted by a
longing to be near that object. True it is, however, that I did
most energetically reach that object. I may say with perfect ad-
herence to fact that, not liking the Snake, I changed my course,
approaching something else that I like better.
So also when there looms up in my mental path a thought
which I cannot approve, instead of disapproving it I can ap-
prove something else. Instead of disbelieving it, I can believe
its untruth. Accordingly, if you say that “Men are vegetables,”
exhibiting, as I take it, your belief in the truth of men's being
vegetables, instead of taking sides against the thought which you
oblige me to think, and saying that “I disbelieve it,” I say “Men
are not vegetables,” meaning that I believe the untruth of men's
being vegetables, thus siding with what I think of, but thinking
now of something different from that of which I was initially
obliged to think.
Such considerations have by no means cogency enough to ex-
plain complete neglect of disbelief, although they seem to me
392 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.
sufficient to occasion a preponderating inclination toward belief.
But if one only of the two, belief or disbelief, could be expressed
by speech, considerations of the sort described would seem to me
sufficient to determine choice. Now just that “if” is realized in
all expressions taken up in this investigation. In these there is
no separate symbol for belief or disbelief. Whichever I experi-
ence must be incorporated in the meaning of my verb. For
instance, given “Orange to exceed lemon,” all that I do to express
belief is to substitute the word “exceeds.” If now I wish instead
to incorporate in the verb my disbelief, I need a form analogous
to “exceeds,” but meaning “I disbelieve . . . to ex-
ceed . . .” But such a word I do not find. I might
indeed require the form “exceeds” to do double duty, now for be-
lief and now for disbelief. But if “exceeds” should sometimes
mean “I believe to exceed,” and sometimes “I disbelieve to ex-
ceed,” my hearer would be hopelessly confused; the aim of
speech would be completely thwarted. By one of those two
meanings I must then unswervingly abide. Accordingly, from
what is meant by words of the assertive type, linguistic usage
utterly excludes the idea of disbelief, admitting only belief,
which however has its election between truth, which commonly
is not expressed by any special word, and untruth, which is
specially expressed by such a word as “not.”
On what belief bears.
The main importance of this topic appears in the study of
negative expressions. In them indeed the bearing of belief may
be most surely and most easily determined. At present I shall
exhibit this bearing merely as indicated by introspection.
Eelief, as it appears in language, is an adhesion to one of two
alternatives, truth or untruth. Neglecting, as before, the indi-
vidual thought-member, and spreading attention over the total
thought, I feel that, whatever be my thought, it is either true or
untrue. With one of these possibilities, truth or untruth, I may
ally myself, but not with both. “No man can serve two mas-
ters . . . . he will hold fast to the one and despise the
other.”
To this truth then (or untruth) it is, that I add my belief,
procedure being somewhat as may be indicated by answers to
questions: Q. “What is your thought?” A. “Orange to ex-
ceed lemon.” Q. “In which aspect do you regard this thought
Owen—Interrogative Thought—Means of Its Ea:pression. 393
—as true or untrue?” A. “As true.” Q. “Do you believe this
truth 22” A. “Yes.”
Scope of belief.
By this I mean the extent of that to which belief applies, there
being opportunity for variation of that extent, in the case of
general or multiple propositions. Thus the general thought ex-
pressed by “Lemons to exceed oranges” may be regarded as a
group of individual thoughts, consisting of “The lemon a to
exceed the orange f,” “The lemon a to exceed the orange g,”
“The lemon b to exceed the orange h,” etc. Now when I say
that “Temons occasionally exceed oranges,” I mean to indicate
that some only of these individual thoughts are true.
If I said that “Some lemons exceed oranges,” I should ob-
viously be cutting down the number of lemons available in my
multiple thought. If I said “Lemons exceed some oranges,” I
should do the same by the oranges. In saying “Lemons oc-
casionally exceed oranges,” it might be that I should similarly
cut down the number of lemon-orange relations to be thought of.
Each individual thought, however, being associable with its own
respective idea of truth (or untruth), it seems to me that what
I have cut down is rather the total of these truths. That is,
among the idéas associated with my individual thoughts, I
reckon some truths (as also some untruths). Or, changing per-
spective, I may say that the associated truth is occasional. That
is, the occasionalness, or variation from universalness, belongs to
the truth of my multiple thought.
So far as I know myself, it is thus that I do my thinking.
But on this I do not insist, my contention being merely that
either the thought conceived as true, or the truth conceived of
that thought, may vary in extension. With a personal prefer-
ence however for the latter, I add the following illustrations:
“That lemons exceed oranges I believe to be true in actual cases
(when the lemons are very large), true in possible cases (if the
lemons be very large), true in impossible cases (if the lemons
be grape-fruits), true in all cases, many cases, some cases, few
cases, no cases.”
My immediate purpose in presenting this variation in the
scope of belief, is to use it as a back-ground on which to pro-
ject
394 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.
Intensity of belief. *
While conceding that, as an initial mental act, belief is com-
monly subject to great variation, I claim that, in linguistic ex-
pressions of the type considered, the intensity of belief does not
vary. To illustrate, suppose a cube and a sphere of approxi-
mately equal bulk; and suppose I find it hard to determine
whether they be equal or not and, if not, which is the larger.
Suppose that, on the whole I incline to regard the cube as
greater than the sphere, but am still unwilling to risk the asser-
tion: “Cube exceeds sphere.”
As I have not reached a fully developed belief, it would be
most rational for me to renounce all dealing with such belief,
and to seek an expression for my actual mental status. This I
might describe as a half, quarter or thirty-seven per cent. belief,
an opinion, a doubt, a suspicion. But all of these require spe-
cial indication and in linguistic practice become in turn the
theme of full belief itself. Thus, in the expression “I suppose
C to exceed S,” what is centrally announced as believed to be
true is the supposing, and not the excess, etc. That is, the full
expression of my thought would be: “I believe in the truth of
my supposing—C to be greater than S.” And this belief, of
course, is complete.
With an expression so obtrusive of oneself, the sentence is
however by no means always satisfied. It seeks a form appa-
rently more self-effacing or impersonal—a parallel to that
afforded by “C eacceeds S.” In this expression a full belief and
a believing self are indicated by a trifling modification of the
relation word. (Conf. “C to eacceed S.”) That is, myself and
my belief are part of what is meant by “exceeds.” I should like
very much to express my incomplete belief in the same way.
But obviously, if what I incorporate in my verb (by its trifling
modification) be sometimes complete belief and sometimes be-
lief that is incomplete, I shall fall into hopless ambiguity.
In some way the incomplete belief must be plainly indi-
cated. Such indication, as noted above, may be ac-
complished by a special word for incomplete belief (e. g.,
“suppose”) or by the ordinary word for belief plus a word of
description (e. g., “partly believe”). If neither expedient be
adopted, it remains possible to use a describer or modifier, under-
stood to bear on the belief (which is incorporated in the verb,
but otherwise unexpressed); e. g., instead of “C exceeds S2’ I
might say “Partly C exceeds S,” meaning that what is partial
Owen—Interrogative Thought—Means of Its Ea:pression. 395
is the belief in C's excess over S-a belief incorporated in the
meaning of “exceeds.” This possibility however we plainly do
not utilize.
There seems then to be no further available expedient except
(renouncing the modification of belief itself) to modify that on
which belief is operative—either the thought conceived as true
(or untrue) or the truth (or untruth) conceived of that thought.
Of the former expedient language does not, to my knowledge,
avail itself. To illustrate, believing incompletely that “C ex-
ceeds S,” I do not say “(I believe it to be true that) an incom-
plete C exceeds S,” “C exceeds an incomplete S,” or “C exceeds
incompletely S.” That is, I do not make the incompleteness the
adjunct of any individual thought-element. Also I do not say
“(I believe it to be true that) incompletely C exceeds S.” That
is, I do not make the incompleteness the adjunct of the total
thought.
There remains the expedient of regarding the truth itself as
incomplete or partial. To this it will be objected that truth
cannot be partial—that there is no intermediate between truth
and untruth. To this objection, founded on unquestionable
fact, I answer that the impossibility of an intermediate is no bar
to its conception by the mind.” Truth itself and untruth, and
even reality, do not, as I take it, occur outside of mind. The
mind creates them. The creation of partial truth would seem
as feasible as the creation of truth complete (or untruth).
Partial truth is variously and ambiguously expressed by
probability, possibility, likelihood, etc. These words I am
using now without attendant idea of futurity. By what is prob-
able I do not mean what I expect to happen in the future, nor
what I expect to be shown to have happened now or in the past.
I mean that which, regarded as of the present only, I really
approximate to believing—that which, figuratively speaking, I
believe to be approximately or partially true. That is, I regard
the probable, not as completely true or untrue, but as lying some-
where in a quite imaginary region between the two. In saying
“C probably exceeds S2’ I am, without question, really in some
phase of partial belief. But in using the linguistic mechanism,
I remodel my mental status into a belief in the partial truth of
*Students of French Grammar have accomplished the equally diffi-
cult feat of conceiving “ne—pas” as two semi-negatives, forming to-
gether one complete negative.
396 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.
my thought. Partial truth, in other words, under the title prob-
ability, displaces or reduces that complete truth which is a not
specially expressed, but certainly incorporated element of what
is meant by “C exceeds S.” (Conversely “probably not” ex-
hibits partial untruth.) Accordingly I interpret “C probably
exceeds Sº as meaning “I fully believe in the partial truth of
the conception, C to exceed S.” Whatever be then, in the mind,
the actual variation of what is called belief, I conclude that, in
thought prepared for linguistic expression, belief does not vary.
Or, playing upon a current locution, I would have it that “soft-
ened assertion” is really the hard assertion of softened truth (or
untruth). That, accordingly, which makes an expression
assertive, is the presence (in its meaning) of the speaker's full
belief—a belief it may be in the truth, the untruth or the partial
truth of a thought—such truth consisting in the thought’s being-
paralleled, matched or duplicated, it may be by a phenomenon
of the external universe, it may be even by a phenomenon of the
speaker’s mind itself—such phenomenon being regarded as ex-
ternal to the thought of the moment.*
Eacpression of belief. +.
The question by what element of the sentence the belief, or
say the assertion, is expressed, is of small immediate impor-
tance. The opinion that this element is the personal ending of
the indicative mode, is obviously inaccurate; for the same sign
of person is often used in other modes, without assertive effect.
On the other hand the “modal vowel,” when it occurs, is doubt-
less distinctive. In its absence, it may be said that whatever in
actual practice enables the assertive form to be recognized as
such (e. g., the indicative flectional ending's difference from
that of other modes) is the element which expresses assertion.
So far as my observation reaches, the verb-forms which possess
such assertive element are ranked as “indicative.” Assertion,
then, or belief (in truth or untruth), is part of the meaning of
the indicative mode**—indeed, its exclusive privilege; for it is
*For instance, in “I doubt, fear, desire”, etc., in which assertions the
mere thought of my doubting is felt to be matched by actual doubt
itself.
** That the indicative form is often used without indicative meaning,
or as a pseudo-indicative (as in “I deny that Brown is honest”, in
which sentence the “is” cannot assert, as it does in the isolated
“Brown is honest”), is merely one of many inconsistencies of speech.
Owen—Interrogative Thought—Means of Its Ea:pression. 397
possible, I think, to exhibit, as apparent only, all exceptions”
and especially the exception offered by the imperative.
C. THE IMPERATIVE JUDGMENT (eacpressed by a command).
The fallacy of the imperative mode.
By ranking imperative expressions as modally different from
the assertive forms of the indicative, grammarians create an em-
barrassment, of which I wish to rid myself, so far as may be, by
discrediting the authority of Grammar. As an indication that
this authority ought not to be trusted, I note that forms like “to
fell” are, in the grammars of some languages, ranked as the
causative mode of “to fall.” As “to fall” and “to fell” have
each its own indicative, subjunctive, etc.; and as some gram-
marians further recognize “conditional” modes of both indica-
tive and subjunctive value (as in some Spanish Grammars); it
may be imagined how a rational mind will fare with modes of
modes, continuable, if fortitude fail not, to the mth degree of
absurdity.
Again, if “to fell” must rank as a mode of some other verb,
I cannot confine myself to conceiving it as the causal mode of
falling. So far as meaning goes—and even also mental domi-
nance—it seems to me that felling (and raising) are much more
modes of causing, than of falling (and rising)—modes
which, at a pinch, might bear the names of cadent and ascendant
modes of causing. So too with “Move!”; I cannot perceive it
solely as the imperative or commanding mode of motion; I must
also see it as the mobile mode of command.
*Thus the subjunctive (or other mode) in the conclusion of a con-
‘dition, I should rank as a pseudo-Subjunctive with really full assertive
“intensity”. For, even at its weakest, the conclusion is what I be-
1ieve to be true in impossible cases (see p. 393); and such restriction of
cases can hardly more invalidate assertion (or belief in truth) than
restriction to no cases at all, as in “Lemons never exceed Oranges”.
Yet, so far as I have observed, no claim is made that in this sentence
“exceed” is stripped of any assertive intensity, although the scope of
assertion is obviously reduced to Zero. Again, as the merest piece of
introspection, I note that, answering your “If you were three men, you
wouldn’t eat more”, my “Yes, I should” appears to me to be as dis-
tinctly an assertion as any “shall” or “did” that I could utter.
398 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.
Moreover, if one accession of meaning puts a verb into a differ-
ent mode, fair play would seem to call for change of modal rank
with other accessions. I see no reason for laying greater stress
upon an added idea of command, than on the more effective, and
so far more important, idea of aid. If an expression meaning
“I command you to climb” have modal recognition, much more
an expression meaning “I assist you to climb” would seem in
ordinary justice to require modal recognition also. With the
courage of this conviction, given “I help you over the fence”
(meaning “I assist you to climb,” etc.), I might announce this
“help” as the cooperative mode of climbing, except that I mis-
trust me it should rather rank as the transcendental mode of
cooperation.
Once started in the rôle of “modiste,” I should hardly know
when to stop. What is allowed with a first accession of mean-
ing might also be allowed with a second—a third—a thirtieth.
But as the vistas open—as there rise to view the modal possi-
bilities offered for instance by “I desire to help to persuade you
to attempt to cause to fall”—I renounce the effort to establish
as modal what are obviously mere agglomerations of meaning—
occur with the utmost frequency—in the greatest variety—with
every sort of word. If, coexisting with the word “to fall,” I
ever find another word of similar form invested with the com-
plex meaning of my illustration, I shall say that this word and
“to fall” are merely different words. So also, given “Come!”
and “I come,” the meaning-difference between the “come” of
one case and the “come” of the other might, in the interest of
clearness and convenience, justify their recognition as two dif-
ferent words, alike in form alone. Indeed it would be well per-
haps to do the like with every so-called mode which adds to the
dictionary meaning of a verb any other meaning than the assert-
ive element expressible by “I believe.”
Or rather, to be even more consistent, I would with others
rank the assertive form—that is the so-called indicative mode—
as alone a verb. The so-called imperative, which I shall try to
exhibit as the maker of a merely complex assertion—that is, as
a so-called indicative with complex meaning—I would also rank
as a verb, but as another verb.
The unassertive forms of conjugation might be ranked as members
of an extra-verbal word-class—as what might well enough be known
as hybrid parts of speech—more or less verbal in their power of gov-
Owen—Interrogative Thought—Means of Its Ea:pression. 399
erning other words—more or less something else in their government
by other words.”
Regarding the imperative, not as a mode, but as an individual Verb,
I observe that its conjugation is defective, especially in comparison
with what it might have been. Starting with a form for “I desire you
to come” (say “Come!”), it was obviously possible for language to de-
velop form-varieties meaning subjunctively “(that) I desire you to
come,” infinitively “me to desire you to come,” and so on through the
total range of verbal nouns, adjectives and adverbs. Variation for
time, say tense, may occur not only with desire, but also With that
which is desired; and the two variations may agree or disagree. The
like is true of variation for person and number. In short all conjuga-
tional possibilities are open to the imperative, and each is often doubly
available. Among the permutations and combinations Unus produc-
ible I shall not take the risk of losing my way. Enough that Speech
has been contented with an insignificant part of their disheartening
number. **
Its essential content.
This is plainly subject to variation. Some indeed have
divided imperative expressions into many species—precatory,
hortatory, mandatory, etc. These however may be overlooked
in an investigation which more especially aims to discover the
method of idea combination, than to increase the precision of
ideas combined. I center attention on the general admission
that imperative sentences stand for something more than the
expressions hitherto examined.
To make that “something more” completely obvious, let an
imperative expression be set in the light which may be shed by
a contextual neighbor. Accordingly, “Eat that apple! For I
am not hungry.”
*Thus “I prefer your wearing black—you to wear black—that you
wear black” exhibits the verbal substantive in turn as verbal noun,
infinitive and subjunctive used as noun. In “I prefer persons wearing
black—who wear black” the verbal adjective appears in turn as par-
ticiple and as (in some languages) subjunctive used as adjective.
“She sang ear-splittingly” exemplifies a verbal adverb, which at the
same time takes an object and is operative as an adjunct to a verb.
In Greek this usage may be found outside of compounds.
**I note, as somewhat interesting, that “May he go!” (not “May he
go?”) lies without the strictly imperative limit, as it fails to implicate
the person addressed. On the other hand “Let him go!” is strictly
enough imperative, but imperative of “Let”—and not or “go.”
400 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.
That my lack of appetite is used, in this expression, to explain
or account for “Eat that apple!”, may be assumed as granted by
every one. So much indeed is clearly indicated by the “For.”
Plainly also the accounting is for something other than your
eating of the apple. For to put my lack of appetite as explana-
tion of your eating is hardly rational. If however “Eat that
apple!” be taken to mean “I desire you to eat that apple,” or
“That you eat that apple is my desire,” the situation is allevi-
ated. My lack of appetite at least relieves my wish (that you
exhaust the visible food supply) of any opposition which might
offer, in case I were hungry myself. That is, what is explained
(at least negatively) by “I am not hungry” is my desire that
you eat the apple.”
The imperative expression being thus interpreted, the struc-
ture of thought expressed is easily perceived. The desire (that
you eat the apple) is conceived as true; for otherwise the inter-
pretation would be “I not desire, (or don’t desire), etc.” This
truth, moreover, is believed; for otherwise the interpretation
would be “me to desire, etc.” Now neither of these last imag-
ined interpretations would, as I suppose, be satisfactory to any
one. I feel accordingly that what is meant in full by “Eat that
apple!” is essentially expressed by “I believe in the truth of my
desire (that you eat that apple, or) for your eating that
apple).”f
*Whether ideas express by “I”, “desire” and “you” be regarded as
part of what is expressed by “eat”, or as inferred by the hearer, does
not seem to me important enough to warrant argument.
†I also perceive that when I use an imperative, for instance “Come!”,
I have in mind not merely a desire for your coming, but rather a de-
sire that you put forth the energy required to bring about your Com-
ing. But so far as that I do not think it necessary to extend investi-
gation.
Or again, as Sigwart will have it (Trans. Dendy—’95, Vol. I, p. 17),
the imperative aim is ridt to express a wish, but to bring about the
realization of a wish—an opinion quite incontrovertible, so long as
“aim” is understood to be ultimate purpose. For when I say to you
“Come!”, no doubt the mere informing you of my desire is of too small
importance to account for the evolution of a special form for impera-
tive expression. No doubt moreover I have some expectation, or at
least some hope, that you will be caused to come. But such causation
is not, so far as I can see, a part of what I actually express. It (the
causation) may be effected by influences of my own, coercive, intim-
Owen—Interrogative Thought—Means of Its Ea:pression. 401
Its distinctive.
Comparing “You eat that apple,” interpreted as
(1) “I believe the truth of your eating that apple,” and
“Eat that apple !”, interpreted as
(2) “I believe the truth of my desire for your eating that
apple,”
I note that, in the imperative judgment (2), an idea of my
desire is thrust in between the belief in truth and the apple-
eating of (1)—or say intercalated. The imperative sentence
then is merely the assertion of a thought increased a trifle in com-
plexity. In other words, to use a compact grammatical phrase,
the imperative is a pregnant assertion.
Regarding rather thought expressed than its expression, I
would have it that the imperative judgment is distinguished
from an ordinary judgment by the presence of an idea of per-
sonal desire injected between belief in truth and the conception
which, in ordinary judgment, is itself believed to be true.
D. THE INTERROGATIVE JUDGMENT (expressed by a question).
Limitation of field considered.
The scope of interrogative operations is far too great to permit
their exhaustive investigation. Like the statement, the ques-
tion may be embarrassed by negative elements. It may bewilder
idating, persuasive. But all such I regard as strictly extra-linguistic.
So far as I can see, the iºn mediate aim of imperative speech is confined
to letting you know what I desire, and that I desire it. “
In making belief the foundation of the imperative thought, truth
(or untruth) the basement of the mental edifice, desire the first and
your coming the second story, I do not mean that, in the mind of
speaker or hearer, the lower courses of thought-masonry are histor-
ically older. I imagine that the early thought-constructor was con-
tented with the upper stories—that the lower ones are of more recent
date, put in at great expense of effort, to meet a modern demand for
thought-completeness and Stability. Nor do I conceive them as men-
tally dominant. They are indeed more or less underground, below the
level of completest consciousness. The Superstructure is most in view,
most in esteem. It realizes the preeminent purpose; all else is dis-
tinctly subordinate. On the other hand, not only in the architecture
of stones, but also in that of ideas, the foundations cannot be neg-
lected, if the building is to stand Securely.
26
402 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.
itself with alternatives. It may be overwhelmed by adjunctive
clauses, adjective or adverbial, restrictive or informational.
That too which prompts a question, and that which is merely
surprising, are mentally so near of kin, that often it is far from
easy to differentiate the question from the exclamation. That
again which I do not know but wish to know, and what I neither
know nor care to know, are enough alike to permit the symbol of
One to replace the symbol of the other—to allow the two to act
as interchangeable indefinites. Moreover the interrogative has
all the degrees of vagueness that belong to the ordinary indefi-
nite; and this vagueness may be that of kind, of number, of par-
ticular individual. [To illustrate, compare the questions
“What killed Lincoln º’’="How many?”—“What actor 3",
“Which Booth * and, in obsolete phraseology, “Whether of the
two Booths?”] The question moreover may be doubled, as
in “Who killed Lincoln when?” Question and simple command
may coalesce, as in the French interrogative-imperative
“Venez?” The question, as used by examiners and cross-ex-
aminers, becomes inquisitorial, aiming to test the knowledge or
veracity of their victims, while the ordinary question is rather
inquisitive or zetetic. The question may seek to mislead by
false dilemma, to confuse by distorted perspective; or on the
other hand it may take on the hermeneutic quality, being aimed
to aid the hearer’s cerebration. As indicated on p. 354, the ques-
tion may appear as a questioned question—and also as a ques-
tioned factor of a question. Indeed it is obvious that, however
difficult it be for the mind to form a given judgment of any sort,
by reason of its extent and intricacy, and however awkward be
the linguistic means of expressing that judgment, nevertheless
any element thereof may be precisely that at which a question is
aimed. In short there does not promise to be any difficulty of
thought or speech, in which some form of question may not be
involved. The question however offers ample difficulty of its
own. To this accordingly I shall, so far as may be, confine
attention, examining interrogation only as it appears in the
simpler and more easily expressible forms of thought.
Indications offered by tradition.
These are few and disappointing. That “interrogative sen-
tences are such as ask a question,” and that “interrogative words
Owen—Interrogative Thought—Means of Its Ea:pression. 403
are used in asking questions,” the naked eye can perceive.*
To rank such words among the pronouns confuses the idea of the
pronoun, as well as that of the interrogative word. The dis-
tinctive characteristic of a genuine pronoun (and I do not here
consider any pseudo-pronoun—such, for instance, as the mere
indefinite) I hold to be the restriction of its symbolizing power
to the reinstatement (or anticipation) of a part or parts or all
of a thought, which has been (or will be) expressed by another
more effective word or combination. In “Yesterday I dined on
mutton. It was very good,” the pronominal “It’ revives in mind
the waning idea suggested first by “mutton.” In “Yesterday
I dined on mutton. What will the cook provide to-day?,” the
interrogative “What,” with an eatable named by “mutton” di-
rectly at hand, neglects it absolutely. In “Though he is ill, Mr.
Brown is at work,” the “he” prefigures in the vague an idea
which I inferentially promise to express more distinctly, ful-
filling this promise by the words “Mr. Brown.” In “What
will the cook provide to-day ?,” I offer no such promise, for the
excellent reason that I see no hope of fulfilling it.**
The distinctive feature of interrogation is sometimes said to
be the “rising inflection.” But this does not belong to questions
only. If you ask me “Shall you go to the play?,” I answer with
rising inflection “I think I shall go;” indeed I may use through-
out precisely the variations of pitch which the cockney uses in
“To which house shall I go?” Again the question is not always
put with rising inflection. In American English, although the
voice is raised at the end of “Are you there?”, it falls at the
end of “Where are you?”
*That language students universally endorse such definitions, mainly
offered by Grammar, I do not for a moment suppose. That real in-
vestigators are discontented, many of them ready to revolt, some in-
dependently holding to rational views, and giving them welcome ex-
pression, would seem to be a foregone conclusion. To the opinions of
such I hope only to bring the merest confirmation. Their opinions are
not what I mean by Grammar.. I mean the body of observations,
definitions, classifications and explanations, adopted as creed or en-
dured as fashion by teachers and writers, with rare exceptions.
**The “What” in a sense anticipates the answer; so too in “Lend me
five dollars!” the “Lend” anticipates your act of lending; but such an-
ticipation is far too different from that of the pronouns, to furnish
ground for entrance into their category.
404 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.
Equally futile is the effort to establish, as distinctive feature
of interrogation, an inverted order of words. On the one hand
questions are asked without its aid, as for instance “Who is
there?” On the other hand, inversion does not always make a
sentence interrogative. In the closing lines of Locksley Hall
the inverted expression “Comes a vapor from the margin” does
not intend a question.
While then it must be admitted that rising inflection and in-
version are used as helps to indicate the interrogative meaning,
it seems to be proper, in view of their frequent omission, to rank
them as only helps.
Discarding these and other purely formal characteristics, I
propose to look for one substantial and essential, expecting to
find it, as a matter of course, in the thought itself, which inter-
rogative expression embodies. I turn accordingly to interroga-
tive thought, and, first of all, to
Indications offered by concurrent mind-phenomena.
Under this title I wish to repeat the experiment performed
upon the Imperative—to examine the mental status pictured by
the question, in the light which may be shed by a contextual
neighbor.
In Hugo’s “Toilers of the Sea” I find that Captain Lethierry,
overflowing with gratitude to one Gilliatt, a sailor, picturesquely
asks “Where is he 3 that I may eat him.” Examining the mental
status of the questioner, I find an intention to eat Gilliatt, con-
current or coincident with whatever other mental state may be
expressed by the question. The question itself is apparently
aimed to aid that intention. Conversely the intention explains
or accounts for the question. Taking inventory of the latter, I
find, at first sight, only that “Where” conveys the idea of unspe-
cified place; that “he,” otherwise Gilliatt, suggests a person;
that “is” encourages some faith in that person’s being in that un-
specified place. In short, the utmost that I can rightly or
wrongly develop from the dictionary values of words employed,
is that Gilliatt is somewhere. This is hardly definite enough to
invite explanation; and even if it did, the explanation offered by
“that I may eat him” would hardly be sufficient or appropriate.
Accordingly I feel obliged to find in “Where is he?” more
meaning than at first appeared. The like is true of the follow-
ing illustrations: “Where is the water-pitcher?—for I am
Owen—Interrogative Thought—Means of Its Ea:pression. 405
thirsty.” “Since I can’t eat cake, haven’t you any bread?”
“Where is your pencil, if you can’t find a pen?” With all of
these I feel obliged to find, in the meaning of the question, some-
thing more than at first appears. Of what this something is, I
hope to find an indication in the next succeeding sections.
Its occasion.
This I take to be the conscious insufficiency of a previous
conception. In a later section I shall try to show that what
creates the insufficiency of a conception is at times the absence or
offensive indefiniteness of a conception-element—e. g. (1)
“Booth to have killed . . . .” or “Booth to have killed
Some One,” as compared with “Booth to have killed Lincoln”—
and at other times the lack of that belief which, if experienced,
would change the conception into a judgment—e.g. (2) “Booth
to have killed Lincoln” as compared with “Booth killed Lin-
coln.” Strictly speaking, the mental total assembled (before
the asking of a question) in case (1) is hardly an actual concep-
tion at all, but rather a would-be conception, or a make-shift
for a conception; and in case (2) the mental total is insuffi-
cient, only when appraised as if it were a judgment—which in-
deed the thinker may have wished it to be, but which it is not.
The fact of immediate importance is however that in either case
the mental total, as compared with what the speaker is assumed
to wish it were, is distinctly insufficient. Accordingly, as I am
planning to present that only, for the moment, which is common
to the two varieties of insufficient thought—common to their
natures, and common to their augmentations into interrogative
judgments—I venture to use for both that single name (i. e.
insufficientconception) which most will help me to maintain them
both in mind together—help me also clearly to distinguish them,
as will appear, from other forms of thought already examined.
Meantime I do not wish to be understood as implying that the
less one knows about a matter, the more he will strive to know.
For while it is generally true that what I know I shall not ask,
it seems to be universally true that I shall ask nothing in re-
gard to that of which I know nothing. Thus, in the matter of
Catiline's banishment, if I have never heard of Catiline, of
Tome, or of banishment, I am certain not to ask a question as
to either one, or any combination of them ; and even if I had
heard of Catiline, but nothing further, I should be more apt to
406 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.
request you to tell me about Catiline, than to ask you a specific
question. But if I knew that Catiline had suffered banishment,
I might inquire what city banished him. In short, the question
may occur when knowledge is incomplete, but not when it is
null—and rather when that which is missing is a single element,
than when it is two or more.”
Its motive.
This appears to be the desire for knowledge—the desire to
make sufficient a conception consciously insufficient. Such in-
sufficiency alone can hardly lead to a question. It must be at-
tended by that dissatisfaction, of which a desire to mend the in-
sufficiency may be regarded as the active phase. To illustrate,
“Brown has gone somewhere.” Admitting that I do not know
where he has gone, so long as I am personally satisfied with my
absolutely rather insufficient statement, I shall not ask a ques-
tion. I don’t know, don’t care and shall not try to learn. When,
however, I not only do not know, but also care to know, then
and then only shall I try to know.
Means of making a conception sufficient.
(a) By one’s own effort:
To illustrate, not knowing the number of your house, and
wishing to know it, I may go to your house and find out for my-
self. Such expedients I discard, as plainly foreign to the mat-
ter in hand.
(b) By the effort of another:
(1) extra-linguistic.
(2) linguistic. -
The former I neglect entirely. The latter I consider, but
only when direct and special. Your diary, for instance, and
your published theses, constitute linguistic efforts eminently
helpful, on occasion, to the seeker after knowledge. But you
did not make them specially to meet my need, nor did you aim
them directly at me. Valuable as they are, they do not prom-
ise to illuminate the problem of interrogation any more com-
pletely or effectively than linguistic efforts made by you espe-
cially in my behalf, and in my mental presence.
*The case of momentary failure to remember—that is, momentary
ignorance—may be dismissed as promising nothing of special value
to the present investigation.
Owen—Interrogative Thought—Means of Its Expression. 407
The effort of another implies solicitation:
(1) extra-linguistic.
(2) linguistic.
In other words, the chance that you will help me mend a con-
ception without request (or some equivalent) from me to do so,
is too small to be considered. Extra-linguistic means of prompt-
ing you to effort, I neglect in favor of the linguistic; and of
these again I shall examine those alone which are direct and
special, excluding every indirect appeal “to whomsoever it may
concern” and every standing, hourly operative “Please help the
blind '''
Linguistic solicitation may be inferential or explicit.
(a) Inferential:
That human ingenuity, under stimulus of sore need, should
hit upon many ways of obtaining knowledge, without over-step-
ping the bounds above established, would seem to be a foregone
conclusion. Of possible expedients I will exhibit a few, mak-
ing use of an illustration which easily bends itself to different
forms. Supposing then that I do not know, but wish to know
from you, the cause of Brown's ill-humor, I might say merely
that
(1) “Brown is ill-humored,” relying on this announcement
to stimulate you to an explanation of his temper. Better yet I
might say that -
(2) “I don’t know the cause of Brown's ill-humor,” or
(3) “I doubt the cause of Brown's ill-humor.” I might also
succeed with
(4) “Something is the cause of Brown's ill-humor,” or
(5) “ is the cause of Brown's ill-humor,” or merely
(6) “The cause of Brown's ill-humor.” I might, moreover,
start you with a proposition of alternatives, as
(7) “Gout to be or not to be the cause of Brown's ill-humor.”
I might also feebly announce that
(8) “I suppose that gout is the cause of Brown’s ill-humor,”
or flatly declare that
(9) “Gout is the cause of Brown's ill-humor.” If neither
of these aroused you, because you share the opinion expressed,
I might rely on your antagonism to bring you out of your shell,
on substituting
y
408 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.
(10) “Gout is not the cause of Brown’s ill-humor.” If none
of these things moved you, I might put you on your defense by
(11) “You think gout is the cause of Brown’s ill-humor,” or
(12) “You think gout is not the cause of Brown's ill-humor.”
Or I might tickle you into an answer by the Irishman’s combina-
tion of (9) and (2)
(13) “Gout is the cause of Brown’s ill-humor, I dunno.”
Or, becoming more emotional, I might try you with
(14) “I’m sorry I don't know the cause of Brown's ill-
humor,”
(15) “I wish I knew the cause of Brown's ill-humor,”
(16) “(Oh) that I knew the cause of Brown’s ill-humor,” or
(17) “The cause ! The cause of Brown’s ill-humorſ”
IBy these and doubtless other means you might be led to infer
my general desire for information, and even my particular de-
sire that you inform me, especially if you are of an obliging
disposition, and keenly on the watch for a chance to show it.
The uncertainty of such expedients, however, justifies the ex-
pectation that there will be found in language methods more
(b) Explicit.
Outside of the question itself, for instance -
(1) “What is the cause of Brown's ill-humor?,” I recall but
two expressions which make an explicit appeal to another's lin-
guistic aid in making a conception sufficient. These are
(2) “I wish you to tell me the cause of Brown’s ill-humor,”
and its imperative abbreviation,
(3) “Tell me the cause of Brown’s ill-humor,” both of which
will be examined somewhat closely in juxtaposition with strictly
interrogative forms.
Answering now the possible query “What interrogation is,” I
feel it safe to say, in a general way, that it is one of several di-
rect and explicit linguistic means of inducing another mind to
give particular information. An exacter comprehension I hope
to reach in chapters III and IV.
Its control.
By this I mean the influences which mould the interrogative
judgment to a particular form; and these I find in the elected
means of making a conception sufficient.
To illustrate: If I do not know but wish to know the num-
Owen—Interrogative Thought—Means of Its Ea:pression. 409
ber of your house, and plan to mend my ignorance by personal
investigation, I meantime hardly feel the need of forming any
judgment whatsoever, beyond the judgment which I may have
based upon conception altogether insufficient—an imperfect
judgment which may be expressed by “The number of your
house is —.”
But if I plan to utilize your aid to mend my ignorance, I
must be conscious in the first place of my plan. Moreover, in
order with success to operate my plan, I am forced to reveal it
to you. Again, to accomplish this revelation, I must meet the
usual conditions of communication; and these require that first
of all I make you of my plan a mental picture of the sort that
language is constructed to express. That is, I need to form for
you a judgment descriptive of my mental status.
Its essential content.
Such a judgment must contain the element of my belief or
knowledge. For if what I set before you seemed to you to be
uncertain even to myself, you very well might.turn your back
on me at once, as one who very strictly “does not know what he
is talking about.”
In the present case my belief must be in the truth of my
description. For descriptions which are not true—that is, de-
scriptions to which my mental status or experience does not
correspond—are plainly quite irrelevant.
My mental state is, in the rough, and roughly speaking, a
desire. That is, I experience a quasi-emotion with respect to
an effort (conceived as to be made by you) to make sufficient a
prior conception which was insufficient.
Obviously this desire and that effort must appear in the
mental picture to be set before you.
As that effort is to take linguistic form and be a revelation
to myself, it may be known as a “telling me by you,” or as “your
telling me,” or “that you tell me.” Accordingly my judgment,
thus far constructed, is expressible by “I believe to be true my
desire that you tell me .”
Plainly this is not enough. I must put myself in your place
—realize your ignorance of my mental status, your inability to
know that status otherwise than by my aid—particularly I must
somehow help you to discover what it is that I desire you to
tell me. - t *
410 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.
Proposing to discuss the means of such a helping in the fol-
lowing chapter, for the moment I describe the telling and what
is to be told, as another person’s making a conception sufficient
by linguistic means. Accordingly, as the essential content of
an interrogative judgment, I rather vaguely nominate “belief
in truth of desire that by linguistic means another make a con-
ception sufficient.”
Its distinctive.
The forms of thought thus far compared—conception, ordi-
nary judgment and imperative—have constituted a crescendo,
each except the first containing an element foreign to the form
preceding. Expecting now, as indicated in my second sentence
(on p. 354) to find another term for this crescendo, I compare the
essential content of (1) interrogative with that of (2) impera-
tive. Accordingly, -
(1) “belief in truth of desiring that by linguistic means an-
other make a conception sufficient.”
(2) “belief in truth of desiring (what is conceived, or say) a
conception.” *
Subtracting (2) from (1), I obtain as a remainder, “that by
linguistic means another make sufficient,” or say “another's
making sufficient by linguistic means.” This remaining ele-
ment of thought being, as I must believe, in every case an element
of the interrogative judgment, and never of the imperative or
any other uninterrogative form of thought, I nominate it as
distinctive of the interrogative judgment.
The interrogative accordingly is merely an imperative in-
creased a trifle in complexity—in other words, a pregnant im-
perative.
Its genera.
These are naturally based upon the different kinds of insuf-
ficiency which may exist in a prior conception.
These kinds of insufficiency—impedimenta necessary to a
line of mental march which thus far has been single—it has been
convenient hitherto to carry in a single bundle. Henceforth
lines of reasoning on which I need them are divergent. Let then
the contents of the bundle be divided.
These contents, or these kinds of insufficiency, are two. A
conception may be insufficient because it lacks a conception-
Owen—Interrogative Thought—Means of Its Ea:pression. 411
element; for instance “Booth to have killed .” In such a
case it is obviously insufficient, not only as a conception, but also
as a judgment. Again, a conception may be insufficient because,
though quite sufficing as conception, it fails to be the judgment
which the thinker wishes that it might be; for instance “Booth
to have killed Lincoln.” In either case accordingly the thought-
form ranked thus far as an insufficient conception may, from
a different point of view, rank also as an insufficient judgment.
Now as a judgment is a conception plus belief, and as—in
theory at least—belief may be added to any conception, possible
kinds of judgment-insufficiency include all possible kinds of in-
sufficiency in a conception. Accordingly we may drop the con-
sideration of conception-insufficiency and take up that of judg-
ment-insufficiency, without any danger of overlooking any ele-
ment of judgment or conception.
Of judgment-insufficiency there plainly may be reckoned as
many kinds as there are kinds of judgment-elements; for the
absence of any element is possible and constitutes, if actual,
what may be felt as insufficiency; and insufficiency in each case
may be recognized, if so elected, as a special type.
Of judgment-elements I recognized, in the simplest case, the
following kinds:
(1) A primary mental unit or thought—or say a conception—
consisting of two ideas and their relation;
(2) The truth (or untruth) of this thought;
(3) Belief in this truth (or untruth).
Whether (2) is ever absent from a would-be judgment, be-
coming what a question aims to supply, may be examined later.
(See p. 446.) That (3) may fail to attend a thought, has
been sufficiently indicated in the treatment of conception
(pp. 387-388). Assuming for the moment that belief may some
times be what a question aims to establish; assuming the like
of each primary idea, or term, of (1); assuming the like of
every adjunct possible to any term of (1); I see that the inter-
rogative judgment may be interrogative as to—
genus (1)—a term or adjunct,
genus (2)—belief.
The former genus is intended by the current expression, “the
interrogative sentence with (specially recognized) interrogative
word;” e. g. “Who saw you?,” “Whom saw you?,” “What man
saw him 2,” “What man saw he?,” “Where saw you me?” etc.
412 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.
The latter genus is intended by the current expression “the
interrogative sentence without (specially recognized) interroga-
tive word;” e. g., “Saw you my brother?,” “Are you tired?”
Any danger that these genera fail of mutual exclusion—that
some question will at the same time ask for a term or adjunct,
and for belief—is unimportant. There will probably not be any
serious asking of a question such as “Saw you my brother
where?” or “Is who tired?” Mental modesty may be expected
to inhibit the display of mental nakedness so extensive. Such
nudity—or, dropping figure of speech, such ignorance—will
rather be revealed on the installment plan, by successive single
questions. *
Owen—Interrogative Thought—Means of Its Ea:pression. 413
CHAPTER III.
THE JUDGMENT INTERROGATIVE AS TO A TERM
OR ADJUNCT.
To illustrate this, recalling the assassination of Lincoln, and
wishing to form a judgment containing the actor, the action
and the victim, or say the actee, I can get no further than
what might be expressed by “ killed Lincoln.” But, hav-
ing faith in your superior power or knowledge, I am going to
ask you to put into my mind an idea which shall fill what may
be called a thus far vacant mental space.
My case has some analogy with that of Nebuchadnezzar, re-
quiring “the magicians and the astrologers and the sorcerers
and the Chaldeans” to tell him a dream unknown to them and
forgotten by himself—or that of Huckleberry Finn, who expects
the dictionary to give him the spelling of a word which he can
not, however, indicate, because he does not know its spelling.
To me accordingly the linguistic feat to be accomplished by
a question is simply astounding. Before you can aid me by
an answer to my question, I must cause you to think of an idea
which is not in your mind; and this idea I can not arouse in
your mind by the usual verbal stimulus, because the word for
that idea and even the idea itself are absent from my own mind.
Though difficulties to be met are extraordinarily great, the
means employed to meet them are absurdly small (Conf. “Who
killed Lincoln’”). Their success—overriding, as it does, all
adverse probability—seems to me a challenge to investigation,
which the language-student can not honorably decline.
ITS EI.EMENTS.
In trying to establish these a little more exactly than was done
above (pp. 409–410) it is well to begin with what apparently de-
termines the selection and arrangement of the others, namely,
that which roughly may be called
414 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.
The missing element.
The interrogative operation has its analogy with the making
of a cannon—described, in a well-worn story, as accomplished
by taking a hole and putting some iron around it. For the
moment, I pursue this analogy only so far as to remark that the
interrogative judgment also starts with, so to speak, a hole. The
absence of an element from a previously attempted judgment
strictly constitutes a mental zero, a vacuum, or say, a void. For
instance, given the expression “ killed Lincoln,” it may be
assumed that initially no idea whatever is in the mind, to cor-
respond to what is indicated by the blank.” In using then the
phrase “the missing element,” or “absent element,” I really wish
to suggest the void left by the absence of that element.
The desideratum.
By this I mean the desired element. Having realized that in
my attempted judgment there is a void, I next experience, if I
am to develop an interrogative judgment, a desire for what will
fill that void. I certainly do not desire the void itself. What
I do desire is, so to speak, a void-filler. Thus, given “
killed Lincoln,” if I base thereon a question, what I shall wish
to learn and what I shall ask you to tell me, will not be a blank,
but that which suitably may take the place of the blank.
That which the blank expresses may be well enough described
by calling it nothing. That, on the other hand, with which I
hope in the end to fill the void, is to me quite positively some-
thing. The difference between the two is the difference between
not being and not being known. The desideratum accordingly
is to me an indefinite. Expecting to develop this doctrine, I
note for the moment that any interrogative word may be ex-
pected to appear as merely a somewhat peculiar umodification of
a corresponding indefinite.
*Though I be able to say that “Some one killed Lincoln”, or even “An
actor killed Lincoln”, still, if I ask “Who killed Lincoln'?”, it is obvious
that, so far as compared With any desired judgment—and with this I
ultimately have to deal—a void exists when I can only say that “Some
one kiſled Lincoln”, quite as truly and distinctly as if I were only able
to say that “ killed Lincoln.”
Owen—Interrogative Thought—Means of Its Ea pression. 415
Description of desideratum.
The asking of a question presupposes that my effort to fill the
void in a prior defective judgment will not assume the form of
personal investigation, but will begin with an attempt to obtain
from you a void-filler. The ultimate filling of the void will
naturally be done by me; but what I use, to fill it, you must first
supply me.
In the cases to be examined, what you are to furnish—that,
in other words, for which I come to you—is a single idea. But,
in coming to you for this, I bring along the ideas which I al-
ready have. For instance, if on “ killed Lincoln’” I base
a question, it will take the form of “Who killed Lincoln’’ That
is, in begging material to complete “ killed Lincoln,” I
bring with me “killed” and “Lincoln.”
The superficial oddity of this may be emphasized by the fol-
lowing illustration: Proposing to breakfast on ham, eggs and
coffee, but having no eggs, I enact a quest for them, going to
your market-stall, basket on arm, to get them. But I do not put
in the basket the ham and the coffee. For why should I bring
you the already collected elements of my breakfast, when trying
to get from you an element which as yet I do not have :
On closer examination my illustration proves to be mislead-
ing. As a seller of eggs, you will ordinarily learn that I want
them, from a verbal exhibition of my wish, quite independent
of eggs themselves, or coffee or ham. To make my objective il-
lustration parallel to that exhibition of ideas only, to which we
give the name of speech, I must make the former an exhibition
of things only. Let then my effort to get the eggs be a “dumb
show.” Accordingly I present myself with my basket. Were
I proposing to sell, I should be more likely to bring my wagon.
From the smaller receptacle you may succeed in deducing the
stronger probability, that I wish to obtain and not to deliver.
If now, looking into the basket, you find the already purchased
coffee, you may further infer that what I have in view is a
breakfast. The sight of the ham will partly strengthen this in-
ference, and partly further suggest the remaining element of the
breakfast which I contemplate, namely, eggs. In short, from
what I have you may infer what I wish to have.
In coming to you for material to fill the void in a thought, my
case is quite analogous. To illustrate: I have the elements
“killed” and “Lincoln,” or say “ killed Lincoln.” The
other required element I indicate for the present by a blank, for
416 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.
the excellent reason that it is not in my mind. That is, in my
attempted judgment there is a void.
Suppose now that I come to you with this void alone, without
surrounding elements, and ask you to fill it. In the beginning,
says the Scripture, “The earth was without form and void.”
Likewise what I bring you is not only void, but also without
form. I offer you vacant mental space without its contours.
To fill this space, however, as I would have it filled, not every
form of thought-material can be used; nor is there any universal
stop-gap for mental emptiness—no answer suitable to every
Question. To enable you to choose aright, I must, to speak with
the utmost objectivity, establish for you the contours of the void.
This I do by imitating the fantastic building of the cannon.
Around a hole I put some iron. About the mental void I gather
elements which serve as boundaries. I establish, so to speak,
the edges of the void—in other words, its mental environment.
This environment consists of those thought-members which al-
ready are in mind. The void and this environment being then
coterminal, the existing thought-members may be said to furnish
the boundaries of the void. *
Now the void is not, of course, what I wish to obtain from
you. But, as the void must be exactly filled, its boundaries are
those of the element which is to fill it—the desired element—
the element which the question aims to obtain; and these bound-
aries—or ideas which I already have—the question does ex-
press. Accordingly I may say that in asking you a question—
that is, in asking you for a void-filler—I give you the void-filler's
boundaries.
Now boundaries are in the strictest sense a definition. We
are then prepared to learn that, when an interrogative judg-
ment is formed, ideas already found will be used as definition
of an idea, yet to be found. Thus, given the uncompleted
thought expressed by “ killed Lincoln,” it is quite impossi-
ble for you to think of the required thought-element, except so
far as you be guided by a definition (description or determina-
tion). But the only definition I can give you is that afforded
by “killed Lincoln.” That is, the mental desideratum must be
distinguished from other thinkables by its fitting what may be
summed up as “Lincoln-killing.”.”
* With a little anticipation I can further indicate that ideas already
in the questioner’s mind are offered and accepted, as defining the idea
Owen—Interrogative Thought—Means of Its Earpression. 417
Postponing the effort to determine how the definition, or
description, operates to realize its purpose, I take up next the
Assertion of description.
The indications that description is asserted, so far as I can
find them, are derived from introspection. To illustrate, Sup-
pose that one of several persons standing behind me strikes me
on the back. Turning toward them, I ask “Who dared do
that ?” While I shall argue that every question affirms my de-
sire to be informed, I am sure that in this question I also mean
no less to announce my conviction that he who struck me was
very daring. Indeed, my emphasis, so far as it may be trusted,
Which the question aims to obtain. To illustrate, suppose that, as We
enter the club room, you notice on the rack a very Striking hat, and ask
“Who owns that hat?” I answer “He has remarkable taste!”
By this “He” it seems to me I plainly mean the person distinguished
from others by owning that hat; and though, after thinking of such per-
son, I have Wandered off to matters altogether foreign to your purpose,
still, in using your “owns that hat,” as definition of the person to be
thought of, it seems to me I have done precisely what you wished.
NOW had the remainder of my answer been exactly what you wanted;
had I, for instance, said “He is the mayor”, or “He who owns that hat
is the mayor”, it seems to me my use of your “owns that hat” would
still have been precisely the same—and, surely, the very use that you
intended.
With a little change this illustration will throw further light on the
“Extent of Vicarious Usage”, examined on pp. 32, etc., of the “Revision
of the Pronouns.” Suppose accordingly that, on the occasion just
imagined, you ask, “Whose hat is that?” and that I answer as before
“He has remarkable taste.”
Roughly speaking, “Whose” and “He”, as I take it, contemplate one
person. Moreover “He” can have no sufficiently definite meaning, ex-
cept so far as it presents to mind a second time ideas first presented by
other words. Accordingly the idea-presenting power of “He” is what
may be known as vicarious, and in this case reinstative, as distinguished
from anticipative. The reinstative act however is, in the present case,
of a most peculiar type.
While the awkward expression “Whose hat is that?” no doubt intends
me to distinguish a person from others by his owning the hat, the form
in which the expression is put is that adopted to distinguish the hat as
owned by a person, just as in the expressions “his hat”, “John’s hat”,
“the hat of John” or “the hat owned by John.” That is, the impression
27
418 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.
seems to indicate that I even more intend to assert my opin-
ion of my assailant, than to find out who he is. &
This dominant intention seems to me to be a survival from an
earlier state of mind. Reviewing the mental history which cul-
minates in a more ordinary question, e. g., “Who killed Lin-
coln’’, I find a moment at which the thought which the ques-
tion aims to complete, was an attempted, though a baffled judg-
ment. I should not ask you to tell me who killed Lincoln, ex-
cept as I feel sure of an occurrence in which Lincoln met his
death. Although this occurrence is ultimately used to describe
its missing protagonist, I come to the description in the as-
sertive state of mind.
This state of mind continues while I make my description. I
do believe in a phenomenon, perceived as an ideal trinity com-
posed of actor, act of murder, and victim—and not a whit the
strictly offered by “Whose hat” is the one conveyed by “the hat owned
by whom”, or say “the hat of a whom.”
When now I answer “He has peculiar taste,” the person meant by
“He” is the person meant by “Whose”, appearing a second time upon
the mental stage. But the actor, so to speak, in the mental drama has,
on this second appearance, lost his former fellows. “Whose”, like the
“Who” of other examples, was attended by interrogative elements; but
by these the “He” is quite deserted. Again the “Whose” not only meant
“a person ’, but also meant “possessed by’’, and this latter meaning also
has forsaken the person meant by “He.” -
But these defections are offset by considerable reinforcements. As
introduced by “He” the person reappears upon the mental stage in
quite a goodly company, of which it is moreover chief—a principal
term, with a retinue of adjuncts. For “He”, as I take it, means “the
person owning the hat”, or say “the He of a hat.”
If then “He” be accepted as the reinstater of “Whose”, the following
changes have occurred:
(1) The interrogative power of “Whose” is lost.
. (2) The relation named by “owned by’’ (that is, the relation of prop-
erty to owner) has been replaced by (the relation of owner to property,
that is) the relation named by “owning.”
(3) The idea, named by “hat” is introduced by a second reinstative
effort.
That is, in the process of reinstatement, while a fundamental identity
remains intact, a large contingent of ideas has been lost (that is, the
numerous ideas which constitute interrogation)—a relation reversed—a
new idea added. - - . - -
Owen—Interrogative Thought—Means of Its Ea:pression. 419
less completely, from having no particular actor in mind. In
short, the incompleteness of a thought is not a bar to my believ-
ing it to be true. The superficial implausibility of this doctrine
is relieved by the sentence “Lincoln was killed.” In this I have,
as before, no doer of the killing—strictly, then, no actor. Yet
I declare my belief in the truth of my substantially no less
defective thought, without a trace of embarrassment.*
I have moreover a special motive for holding fast to my belief
and revealing this belief to you. For it is, ordinarily, as im-
plicated in an actual occurrence, that I wish you to conceive that
actor of whom I am myself unable to think. What I wish to
learn is not who might have killed Lincoln, but who as a matter
of fact did kill Lincoln. But actual fact, as I have argued, can-
not be expressed by words. The nearest linguistic approxima-
tion is thought believed to be true. Wishing then to put before
your mind the killing of Lincoln as a fact, the best that I can do
is to express to you my mental correlative of this fact, or say my
thought, and add to this thought my belief that it is true—in
other words, that it is matched by fact. I conclude accordingly
that my defining is assertive—that “killed,” beyond the naming
of a particular act, expresses what I might express by the words
“I believe to be true,” which would apply, of course, to the total
thought expressed by “ to have killed Lincoln.”
I do not, however, claim that the defining element of a ques-
tion is asserted always. Indeed, there are cases in which I see
an excellent motive for non-assertion. To illustrate, I will util-
ize a very neat distinction between assertion and non-assertion,
which is revealed by French in the expression of the following
thoughts: -
(1) I seek a servant (e.g., one John Brown), whom I believe
to be faithful.
(2) I seek a servant (as yet an unknown quantity) whom I
merely conceive as faithful.
Of these the first is regularly expressed by a sentence exactly
*The fact that the current of my thought is, when I make my state-
ment in the passive voice, reversed, involving the substitution of the
reverse relation, seems to me in the present case to be without impor-
tance, although this passive statement differs from my “–killed Lin-
coln" in this respect, that while in either case I know not who killed
Lincoln, in one case I do not care (or even perhaps consider) but in the
other I do. - ** - • *
420 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.
equivalent to “I seek a servant—who is faithful,” which is a
mere variation upon “I seek a servant. He is faithful.” The
second is, however, regularly expressed by a sentence exactly
equivalent to “I seek a servant who be faithful;” that is, I seek
a particular kind of servant. Now it is natural to expect that
what is meant by each italicised expression will be made the
basis of a question. Such a question, once reduced to the usual
brevity, would appear in either one of the following forms:
“Who is faithful ?” and
“Who be faithful ?”
I cannot, however, see that my desire to be informed is any
less completely felt, or any less surely vouched for (as I shall
later argue) in the subjunctive question, than in the other. I
therefore hold to merely this, that the descriptive element of the
question may be unassertive—a possibility sometimes realized in
several languages.
The special importance of this usage is the guidance which
it offers to the search for that member of a question which as-
serts desire. If it be true (as I shall argue) that a question
always does assert desire—and also true that the defining ele-
ment of the question sometimes does not assert—then surely
desire-assertion will at least sometimes be found outside of the
descriptive verb. For instance, in the question, “Who killed
Tincoln’,” I shall surely sometimes find outside of “killed” the
assertion of my desire (that you tell me who killed Lincoln).
Desire to be told desideratum.
When the desired element of thought has been identified, no
doubt the major difficulty of the question is overcome. But the
wish to be told this element should also be made evident. The
words “killed Lincoln” may succeed in causing you to fix your
attention on the idea (e. g., that expressed by “Booth”) which
I wish you to put into my mind. But, in fixing thus your at-
tention, you merely parallel the act of him who obligingly car-
ries out my request to “stick my fork into the biggest one of
those potatoes yonder.” What I wish to obtain is, in each case,
selected from its fellows; but I do not in either case make it
unignorably clear that what has been selected I also wish to ob-
tain. Unless my hearer be sufficiently acute and obliging, the
potato may remain in the dish, and the desired idea may remain
in another mind. Its revelation to me could only be the result
Owen—Interrogative Thought—Means of Its Ea pression. 421
of an inference, on which so important a linguistic act, as the
question, can hardly be supposed to rely.” It may then rank as
a foregone conclusion, that the speaker’s desire to be informed
will be accepted by the hearer, as part of what a question is in-
tended to express. Accordingly, in the question “Who killed
Lincoln’,” I feel sure that words employed will not only express
that definition of my desideratum, which resides in “killed Lin-
coln,” but will also in some way express as much, at least, as
what might be expressed by “my desire that you tell me that
desideratum.”
Assertion of desire.
Language is commonly defined as a means of conveying in-
formation. To the student of interrogation it is, however, ob-
vious that language is also a means of soliciting information.
Of these two operations, the latter seems to me to presuppose
the former. For surely I shall not conceive the extremely com-
plex act of asking you to give me information, until I have con-
ceived the vastly simpler act of merely giving information; and
my conception of information-giving can hardly be supposed to
have become availably distinct, until developed by realization in
actual practice. If then one of the two (the ordinary statement
and the question) be derived from the other, the question is pre-
sumably derived from the statement. Moreover, that a deriva-
* That the question did at first rely on precisely such an inference, I
regard as essentially beyond a doubt. The history of the compacter
language-forms and those which express ideas of major difficulty, ex-
hibits commonly an early stage in which even the dominant idea is left
to inference. Thus, in “It rains. I shall however take a walk”, the an-
tagonistic relation between the walking and the raining could not at
first be felt as part of what is meant by “however”—a word initially ex-
pressing only manner or condition indefinite to the utmost degree, being
merely an essential synonym of “anyhow.” But in time this antago-
nism, being constantly intended by the speaker, and constantly inferred
by the hearer, came to be felt as part of what was actually expressed,
and elected the word “however” as its symbol, forcing that word to
mean “in spite thereof.” or “nevertheless.” So, too, in the case of the
question, what at one time Was nothing more than occasional inference,
came to be regular, was next accepted as part of meaning expressed, and
finally elected, as I hope to show, a particular sentence-member as its
symbol.
422 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.
tion of one from the other should occur, is somewhat to be ex-
pected. The development of speech being a successive adapta-
tion of old means to new ends, it is a priori likely that the
question be an adaptation of a preexisting means of expression.
I shall not therefore be surprised, if the interrogation prove to
be merely an adaptation of the statement. I feel, however,
that such proving must come from further indications.
Of these, the practical indication has some value; I mean
that the mental cargo carried by the verbal vehicle must be as-
sertive, to justify the expense of transportation. Such is peculi-
arly the feeling of the hearer, whose share of the effort entailed
by thought-communication is even greater than the speaker's.
Given, for instance, the assertion “I believe it to be raining”—
or, more briefly, “It rains”—you find some value in the personal
quasi-knowledge which it offers you. But to the expression
“It to be raining” (and nothing more) you very properly object
that, if the speaker is without assurance that the figment of his
brain is matched by something more substantial, he might as
well—or even better—maintain a golden silence.
This proposition obviously holds of language, only in its
service of the understanding. Undoubtedly it does not hold of
poetic utterance, in which the extra-utilitarian value of a mere
imagining—say, to go no further, its sublimity or beauty—is
ground enough for its exhibition, altogether independently of
any one's belief that it is true. Admitting then that, in a
frequent, valid and important usage, speech is free of any
obligation to assert, I merely claim the right to examine ex-
clusively the other usage, believing that in it the operative
method of the question will be most easily discovered, and also
that whatever be discovered will be quite available with what is
not examined. Accordingly, in every independent expression
of the type to be examined, the interrogative as well as any
other, I expect to find the speaker's knowledge or, to be more
accurate, his supposition that he knows—that is, his belief. In
other words the question itself will presumably be assertive.
The indications thus far noted in this section would, so far
as valid, establish only this—that, in the thought expressed by
a question, there is assertion somewhere. That assertion bears
upon the particular element of desire, can be established only,
so far as I can see, by the speaker's introspective study of the
thought which, by a question, he proposes to express. The effort
Owen—Interrogative Thought—Means of Its Ea:pression. 423
of the moment being to determine whether desire be or be not
asserted in the question, suppose we paraphrase the question by
two different expressions, one assertive of desire and the other
not, and ask ourselves which one the better shows our meaning.
Accordingly, given the question “Who killed Lincoln’,” I para-
phrase by - -
(1) “I desire you to tell me who killed Lincoln,” and
(2) “Me to desire you to tell me who killed Lincoln.”
For myself, I am as sure as I can be, that I mean the former.
I wish you to think of my desire not merely as imagined on my
part, but as actually occurring in my mind. Appreciating the
difference between merely entertaining a thought of desire, and
actually experiencing desire, I wish you to understand that the
latter is my present status. Being, however, confined by lan-
guage to the expression of the former (Conf. pp. 360 and 380),
I can virtually transform it for you into the latter, only by
putting it as matched by the latter, and adding my belief in its
being so matched. In short I think, in full, what I express by
“I believe it to be true that I desire, etc,”—or, more briefly,
“I desire, etc.” When then I ask you “Who killed I.in-
coln 3,” I shall surely be dissatisfied, unless in some way
you understand from my question, not only what it is that
I desire, but also my mental state of desiring—a state not merely
imagined on my part, but actually experienced, or, by linguistic
transformation, believed by me to be true. I must therefore
conclude that in a question I assert desire.
Indeed I cannot think that, in a formula doubtless adopted
for the very purpose of ultimately gratifying a desire to know,
the actuality of that desire could be put with less distinctness
than the actuality of ordinary statement—that is, the revelation
of what I know already—the announcement largely, so to speak,
of desire already gratified. I might almost as well expect my
dog to show his satisfaction with the recollected bone I gave
him yesterday, more eagerly than his longing for the one he
expects me to give him, as I go to the cupboard now.
424 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.
Precedents for double assertion.
Though frequent in form,” two assertions in substance are not ex-
tremely common within the limits of a single sentence. One charge at
a time is the rule for guns and for statements. Yet double assertion
is distinctly recognizable in “I have a letter from my wife, Who is in
New York”, in which expression the relative clause is obviously pro-
pounded by reason of its self-sufficient informational value, quite as
certainly as the separate sentence “She is in New York.” But this
asserted relative clause is not employed for the purpose of telling you
what wife I mean. That is, it is not restrictive, or definitive—not on a
par with the “who killed Lincoln’’ in “I wish you to tell me who killed
Lincoln (or the person distinguished by killing Lincoln).” To parallel
the interrogative expression, as interpreted, I must find a Case in which
the relative clause, asserted because informational, is also of a restrict-
ive Or definitive character.
Such a Case I think I find in the following illustration : “I want a
book which you will find on the newel post.” This sentence is quite
inadequate, if I stop with “book”; for what I want is far from being a
book; it is the particular book distinguished by its being on the newel
post. To this book I confine your thought by a description which iso-
lates it from all others. I am sure then that my relative clause is re-
strictive, descriptive or definitive. I feel also sure that it is asserted. I
admit that on such Occasions I Commonly prefer, in my description, to
draw upon what you already know—what I therefore do not need to as-
sert. But in the present case I stipulate that you know nothing of the
book’s location. It is natural therefore that I give you the missing
knowledge and by the usual means—that is, by an assertion. I might
no doubt rely on merely associating in your mind the idea of location
with that of the book. I might accomplish this by the expression
“Bring me the book on the newel post.” But so far as I know myself,
I choose the usual course. As you don’t know where to find the book,
3 declare outright that you will find it on the newel post, expecting you
to use this newly given knowledge, to guide you to a particular book.
That is, my asserted informational clause is at the same time distinctly
restrictive. There being also an obvious assertion in “I want,” my
illustration offers two assertions, One of which restricts an element Of
the other. The illustration therefore seems to me to countenance the
precisely parallel assumption that, in “Who killed Lincoln’’’, I assert a
desire that you tell me a to me unknown person whom I assert to have
killed Lincoln.
*Thus, given “I don’t believe that Brown is ill,” though indicative in
form, the “is” has no indicative or assertive value. Otherwise I am in
the embarrassing position of vouching for Brown's illness in the very
breath in which I deny my belief therein.
Owen—Interrogative Thought—Means of Its Expression. 425.
ITS STRUCTUR.E.
The materials of the judgment (interrogative as to term or
adjunct) being now collected or close at hand, it remains to be
determined how they are put together.
Having, for instance, begun a judgment which, if completed,
would have been expressed by “Booth killed Lincoln,” I have
accomplished only what may be expressed by “ killed Lin-
coln.” Discontented with this result, I have experienced a
desire that you furnish me what shall fill the void indicated by
the blank. Being unable directly to express desire itself—able
only to express an intellectual operation on desire—I have
formed the judgment “I believe in the truth of my desire that
you furnish me what shall fill the void”—or, more briefly, “I
desire you to tell me the void-filler.”
As you, however, cannot know what idea is suitable to act as
void-filler, except so far as I may aid you, I do the best I can,
by giving you the void’s mental environment, which serves you
as its boundaries and therefore also as a quasi-description of the
void-filler.
|How this description will operate upon your mind, I shall
try to show in the next-succeeding section. Meantime I note
that for reasons indicated on pp. 417–420 the description itself
is formed as a judgment.
I have then, as the materials of an interrogative judgment, two
defective judgments (defective in so far as a term of each is
ruinously indefinite) expressible by
(1) “I desire you to tell me void-filler.”
(2) “Void-filler killed Lincoln.”
It is obvious that what I mean by “void-filler” in one of these
expressions, I also mean in the other. Also, when you come to
think my thoughts after me, if you are to do so exactly, you too.
must hold fast to precisely the same idea in each of the judg-
ments which you form.
Now ideas are quite unstable. If, having led you to form one
in your mind, I let it slip an instant from your mental field, I
cannot rely upon its reappearing exactly as it was at first. In
the argument of Mr. Joseph Cook, that life continues after or-
ganization ceases, he had in mind sometimes the life of constitu-
ent cells, and sometimes the life of the constituted individual.
426 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.
That is, the idea expressed by “life” was not the same at differ-
ent stages of his thinking.
To avoid in your case any chance of such an accident—to
make sure that in your mind the idea of a void-filler undergoes
no variation—my surest course will be to form that idea in your
mind once only. Moreover, as your thinking will be, so far as
may be, like my own, I also restrict myself to a single thinking
of the void-filler. Nevertheless, as argued on pp. 421–423,
417–420, I must somehow form in your mind both judgments—
the one, that I desire you to tell me the void-filler—the other,
serving to describe the void-filler. i.
Under these requirements, the only course I think of is the
following—a course, moreover, favored by considerations of
economy. Before one judgment containing the idea of the void-
filler fades at all from mind, I must use that idea in the other
judgment. That is, I must combine my separate acts of judg-
ing into one continuous mental operation, consisting of two
judgments with a simultaneous common factor—that factor be-
ing the idea of the void-filler. The mental action, in the case
of my illustration, will accordingly be indicated by the diagram
I desire you to tell me void-filler
killed
Lincoln.*
ITs OPERATION ON THE HEARER’s MIND.
Postponing the problem of sententially expressing an inter-
rogative judgment of the present type, let it for the moment be
assumed that expression is sufficiently effected by my diagram—
that I do thereby succeed in revealing to you such a judgment.
Accordingly you have in mind the interrogative judgment, or
* The power thus to use an idea, thought of only once, as simulta-
neous element of two different thoughts (a power which, in a Revision
of the Pronoun, pp. 49–52 I made a somewhat protracted effort to estab-
lish) I will at present merely illustrate objectively, by the case of a
north-east corner-stone, which is at the same time part of an east wall,
and part of a north wall, but remains in its double membership a single
stone. Indeed it seems to me it can be sensed as corner—sensed, I
mean, with full appreciation—only as it is, by a single mental act,
appreciated in its two-fold membership of north wall and of south wall.
Owen—Interrogative Thought—Means of Its Ea:pression. 427
say the interlocking pair of judgments, which I have sought to
diagram by
I wish you to tell me void-filler
killed
Lincoln
At first sight all our effort, yours as well as mine, may seem
to be hardly worth the while. The common factor of the judg-
ments is, in a first condition of my mind, a mental zero, and
later merely an unknown quantity. Now zero once is zero
again; and an unknown quantity is not made known by repeti-
tion. Yet everyone remembers that the value of an algebraic
ac, though unrevealed by either of two equations, may some times
be obtained from their cooperation. Indeed, the case presented by
my diagram is to a certain extent analogous. I use an unknown
Quantity in each one of two judgments. In one of these I expect
you to obtain for the unknown term a substitute in terms of the
known—and, having done so, to use it in the other judgment.
But, dropping algebraic illustration, I wish to center attention
on the case in hand.
I concede that my pair of judgments would disappoint my
purpose, were your knowledge no greater than my own. But
what is unknown to me is supposed to be known to you. On
my side the desired idea forms no part of mental stock. But on
your side it is a part of mental stock. Your only difficulty is to
find it—to select it from its fellows. If then, while letting you
know that I wish you to tell me an idea, I successfully direct
you to its selection among the ideas in your possession, you will
be enabled to fulfill my wish. What needs to be established,
then, is your susceptibility to such direction.
In the effort to exhibit this, I substitute for “void-filler” the
convenient ac, and diagram the chosen illustration of the inter-
rogative judgment now considered, by
I desire you to tell me a
killed
Lincoln
On reading this, I assume that you admit to mind what I will
call a horizontal thought (because expressed by words in hori-
zontal series), and also a perpendicular thought. Under the in-
428 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.
fluence of the latter you experience, I suppose, a mental reaction,
which I wish to examine with some care, as it seems to me to give
the key to the solution of the interrogative problem.
To appreciate this reaction, let it first of all be remembered
(see p. 367) that every thought may be seen by the mental eye
as a combination of any single constituent and a remainder. In
the thought expressed by “a killed Lincoln,” the very indefinite-
ness of the “a,” antagonizing the definiteness of “killed Lin-
coln,” tends to pose the thought before your mind as consisting
of an indefinite idea and a definite remainder. This tendency
is strengthened by the fact that the indefinite idea, having al-
ready served in a former thought, appears in the present thought
as old material, while what is offered by “killed Lincoln” is new.
In short, regarding thought as a mental unit, you specially re-
gard the unit of the moment as made up of two sub-units, respec-
tively expressed by “a” and “killed Lincoln.” Of these, you
probably accept the latter without disfavor. With the one ex-
pressed by “a” you are, I suppose, dissatisfied as much as I.
|Moreover each of us would like to pass to the more agreeable
mood of satisfaction, as the sequel to a successful restoration of
our defective mental statuary. The question is: Can you effect
the restoration ? I think you can ; indeed, I think you must.
I continue, of course, to assume that what is needed for the
restoration, is part of your mental stock—that you very well
know that Booth killed Lincoln. In all your knowledge there is,
moreover, no other item, which can be confused with this—none
such, for instance, as Smith or Brown or Robinson killed Lin-
colm. If then the present factor of thought, expressed by
“killed Lincoln,” can by any means suggest the absent factor,
there is no danger of mistake; for there is nothing but Booth to
be suggested.
That, in a rightly working mind, the absent factor Booth
will be suggested, is, I believe, the consensus of theory and ex-
perience. Whether we say that the explosion of the brain cells
which register “killed Lincoln,” is followed by an overflow of
energy along a well-worn channel to the cells which register
Booth, exploding them, and projecting into consciousness the
idea named by Booth—or content ourselves with saying that
the entrance into mind of one thought-factor entails, by associa-
tion of ideas, the entrance of the other factor—to you, who have
already formed the thought expressed by “Booth killed Lin-
Owen—Interrogative Thought—Means of Its Ea:pression. 429
coln,” the suggestion of what is named by “killed Lincoln” is
enough to bring into your mind what is named by “Booth.”
Accordingly, if so disposed, you answer “The slayer of Lin-
coln was Booth,” or “Booth killed Lincoln,” or simply “Booth.”
To me, indeed, this name may be only a name, a “vox et praeterea
nihil;” and I may or may not be contented with it. If not, I
can by further questions ask of you further details, which you
in turn can give me, until you build up in my mind an idea
which satisfies me, or until your mental supply is exhausted.
All this I neglect, as it seems to me that what I contend for is
established—namely, that the interrogative judgment will effect
the speaker’s purpose, if only it can be revealed to the hearer.
The feasibility of thus revealing such a judgment I hope to es-
tablish under the title -
ITS EXPRESSION BY A SENTENCE.
In effecting this my greatest difficulty will be offered by the
void-filler—what in diagram I indicated by an ar. My mental
image of this void-filler is, indeed, about as lean as may be. I
have, however, considerable faith that such a void-filler there
is (otherwise I should stultify myself by trying to induce you
to reveal it). But that is essentially all. I cannot distinguish
it from other thinkables. I cannot tell its qualities. In short
it stands before my mind as substance bare of attributes, an
idea, however, by no means rare in linguistic experience.
The word for naming this idea is “something,” taken for the
moment in its broadest meaning. Were I therefore to say that
“Something killed Lincoln,” the “something” might cover any
one of the following: a man, an animal, an herb, a stone—an
illness, an accident, an evil spirit—in short, essentially any idea
that the mind may admit. “Something” is accordingly what is
called indefinite, which means in the present case not merely
that the word is unable to point your attention to one of many
definite ideas which might be in my mind, but that the idea
which is actually in my mind (expressed by “something”) is
in this case substance without attribute—in other words, itself
as indefinite as it can be.
The indefiniteness of such an idea is usually less extreme.
To the idea expressed by “something” there is ordinarily joined
enough of attribute to exclude, for instance, both animal and
430 Wisconsum Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.
spiritual being. The far more special “Some one” restricts
the field to persons, or even human beings. Gender inflection
may still further confine it to men or to women. But within
the narrowed field indefiniteness remains complete.
In such a narrowed field interrogation commonly operates.
In asking “Who killed Lincoln’,” the fact that the desired idea .
is clothed with attributes enough to fix it perhaps in the cate-
gory “Man,” has little practical value. I am still so far from
having the idea which I wish to have, that, within my present
universe of desire, I may surely go so far as to call the desired
idea substance short of attribute or, in that special sense, indefi-
nite.
Without examining further these and other differences be-
tween indefinites, I venture to use the “Some one” instead of
“a,” and to express the horizontal thought of my diagram by
the sentence “I desire you to tell me some one.”
I think it also proper to use the “Some one” in expressing
the perpendicular thought. For obviously the person whom I
wish you to tell me, and the person thought of as killing Lin-
coln, are the same. Accordingly, -
I desire you to tell me some one
killed
Lincoln.
Crude as it is, this diagram appears to me to express an
interrogative judgment with sufficient clearness to enable an
actively cooperating and intelligent mind to find a desired idea,
and to induce such a mind to tell the said idea, if so disposed.
The only peculiarity of the diagram is a slight peculiarity in
the use of the indefinite. From this may be inferred the con-
clusion, later to be reached, that every so-called “interrogative
word” is based upon merely a somewhat peculiarly used indefi-
nite.
In this diagram I note that the idea expressed by “some one,”
being simultaneously part of the horizontal thought and part
of the perpendicular, stands in need of twice as much aid from
inflection as it would require, if used in only one of its two
thought-factorships. The word is on the one hand used as direct
obj ect in the horizontal sentence; and this it would be well.
to indicate by accusative inflection. On the other hand the
word is used as subject in the perpendicular sentence; and this
Owen—Interrogative Thought—Means of Its Ea:pression. 431
it would be also well to indicate by nominative inflection. But
language does not seem to furnish double inflection of the sort
required by this double factorship. The linguistic expedient
adopted to meet this exigency is the relative, in the present case
the so-called relative pronoun “who.” I therefore reconstruct
my diagram, utilizing this “who” and also displacing the indefi-
nite “some one” by the more convenient “him,” which in this
case is also indefinite. Accordingly,
I wish you to tell me him
who
killed
Lincoln.
This diagram I later utilize as the interpretation of the ques-
tion “Who killed Lincoln º’ Meantime, inspecting the opera-
tive method of the diagram in thought-expression, I find no
obscurity, unless it be in the case of “who.” Examining as
closely as I can, I note that the idea expressed by “him” is not
repeated or varied in its nature by “who.” I conclude accord-
ingly that “who’ is strictly void of meaning—that is, it stands
for no idea which forms a part of intended thought. Its use is
that of plans and specifications, which, helpful as they are in
the construction of a building, form no part of the building
constructed. It may then be distinguished as instructional, but
by no means structural. -
Reviewing its instructional activity, I find that it warns my
hearer not to allow the idea introduced by “him” to slip away
from his attention, but to hold it fast in mind while a new en-
vironment of ideas is gathered around it. Accordingly, for my
personal convenience, I call it a continuative. But the more
important function of this “who’’ I take to be its indication
that the idea, shown by the special form of “him” to be already
the object in a first environment, is to be the subject in the yet
to be assembled second environment. To me accordingly “who,”
in its more conspicuous aspect, is merely a “case-ending,” iso-
lated from its stem, the sign of a single idea's particular mem-
bership in one of two thoughts into which it enters. (For an
elaboration of this theory, see “A Revision of the Pronoun”—
Chap. III.)
Wishing further to condense my diagram, I utilize the power
of multiple symbolization. Just as “what” may be invested
432 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.
with the values proper to both “that” and “which,” so also I
force the “who’ to do the double duty of “him” and “who.”
That is, a pregnant “who’” shall be made to act as relative and
antecedent both, but not completely. The idea-naming power
of “him” the pregnant “who’’ acquires; of case-exhibiting
power, it holds fast that of the merely relative “who;” but that
of “him” it relinquishes. Availing myself of this still in-
creasedly effective pregnant “who,” I reconstruct my diagram,
obtaining
I wish you to tell me who
killed
Lincoln.
Needing now no longer the depictive power of a diagram, I
substitute the sentence
“I wish you to tell me who killed Lincoln.”
This sentence, and the briefer
“Tell me who killed Lincoln,”
I regard as expressing an interrogative judgment of the now-
considered genus—that is, a judgment interrogative as to a term
(in the present case, the first term or subject of the insufficient
prior judgment “ killed Lincoln”) or adjunct. These
sentences, however, are by no means questions in the usual sense
of the word. To become a question, even the briefer sentence re-
quires further bulk-reduction; and such reduction is accom-
plished by what I will examine under the title
THE SPECIALLY QUIESTION-ASRING WORD.
Let it be assumed that, in the illustration “Who killed Lin-
coln 2,” “Who?” is that word. This assumption I hope to justify
in the remaining sections of this chapter, especially the follow-
ing, devoted to
Its meaning.
Not finding the meaning of such a word as “Who?” in cur-
rent definitions and descriptions, in my opinion both defective
and misleading, and being quite unable to suppose a confidence
in my own ability to extort the meaning from the word itself,
I have assumed that, at any rate, the meaning of the total sen-
tence of which it is a member, might be established with essen-
Owen—Interrogative Thought—Means of Its Ea pression. 433
tial accuracy—and that, in that total meaning, the particular
meaning of the question-asking word would necessarily be in-
cluded.
That total meaning, reached by a priori reasoning upon the
influences which mould an interrogative judgment, was, in the
case of my illustration, claimed (on p. 431) to be
“I wish you to tell me him who killed Lincoln.”
In support of this claim I have mainly relied on personal
introspection, appealing for confirmation to the introspection of
others. If a consensus has been reached, it is presumably not
only gratifying, but also correct—and more surely so than I
have thus far indicated; for we have been half-wittingly sub-
mitting our interpretation of the question to tests severe and
numerous, derived from our linguistic experience. Of these
the most conspicuous is the required agreement of interpreta-
tion with the indications offered by the speaker’s gesture, facial
expression, tone of voice, and by the environment of the sen-
tence, either circumstantial or contextual—that is, objective or
ideal. These, repeated thousands of times, establish the total
meaning of the question, as it seems to me, beyond a peradven-
ture.
To illustrate the force of these indications, suppose that, an-
swering my invitation to meet me at my house, my hearer say,
“I don’t know but what I’ll come,” or “I don’t know as I will,
and I don’t know as I will.” Some of the words employed in
these illustrations are quite beyond my understanding; yet I
am absolutely certain of the total thought intended by either
expression.
In the case of the question, I regard the absoluteness of our
certainty as even greater. For I do not concede that any mem-
ber of a question is beyond the ordinary understanding. If any
member were so, it would doubtless be the specially interrogative
word—or say the “Who?;” but even this, I believe to have a
meaning, accurate and recognized. Our perception of this mean-
ing, I suppose, like that of countless other such, to have faded
somewhat, becoming rather indistinct—and largely because the
interrogative act is performed so often, and so easily, that we
have ceased to heed its details. In exhibiting this meaning, I
shall work, however, to the best advantage by treating it first as
if it were unknown, and seeking to deduce it from the known—
that is, from the interpretation which I have assumed as known.
28
484 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.
Let accordingly the question and interpretation take their
places together, as follows:
“I desire you to tell me him who killed Lincoln,’
“Who killed Lincoln º’’
It is postulated that the three words of the question do in
some way express the total thought presented by the ten of inter-
pretation. It is required to determine how the duties of the
ten are divided up among the three.
My own opinion is that, of the three, the first is made to tell
the messages entrusted to the first eight of the ten. This opin-
ion—superficially, at least, implausible—will perhaps be ren-
dered somewhat less so by the following considerations.
It is not extremely difficult for a single word to tell a multiple
message—to stand for a cluster of ideas—provided the num-
ber and the nature of the messages be constant. Putting myself
in the messenger's place, I had rather be the bearer of half a
hundred messages the same from day to day, than to tell a single
message daily, now of one sort, and again of another altogether
different. I had vastly rather undertake the indicated business
of “Who?,” as agent for the bearers of eight single messages, pro-
vided that the eight-fold duty be the same from day to day, than
to act as single-message carrier myself, embarrassed with an
ever-changing message—such a message as, for instance, that
entrusted to the sore ill-treated “post.” The burden put upon
that word is only partly indicated in the following sentence:
“They want some iron posts at the post (military) where my
brother has his post (station), and I am going to post this letter
at the post (office), in order to post him post-haste as to prices.”
The embarrassment occasioned by such change of message is not
inflicted on the “Who” of a question. It obviously makes no
difference whether I ask you “Who killed Lincoln º’’ or “Who
stole my umbrella' or any similar question. The message
which I claim to be imposed upon the “Who?” is in every case
the same.
Again, if the duty entrusted to the eight words of the interpre-
tation “I” wish"you"to"tell "me" him *who killed Lincoln” shall
still be done when I restrict myself to the question “Who killed
Lincoln’,” I do not see that, in that duty, any word but “Who?”
can share. Not only the ideas expressed by “killed” and “Lin-
coln” may be replaced by those expressed by “stole” and “um-
brella,” or a thousand other words, without effect upon the re-
° and
Owen—Interrogative Thought—Means of Its Eacpression. 435
mainder of interrogative thought; but also I cannot discover
any element of meaning common to both “killed” and “stole,”
or to “Lincoln” and “umbrella,” which might be a part of what
I claim to be expressed by “Who?” Indeed, I may dismiss
without replacement, “killed” or “Lincoln,” or even both at
once; and still I do not find that “Who?” is in this instance
called upon for any increase of exertion as a messenger. In
short, no part of what is meant by the eight interpreting words
appears to be expressed by any word of the question but “Who?” .
Accordingly, if this meaning be expressed by any member of the
question “Who killed Lincoln 3,” the expressing must be done by
“Who?” alone. This is, the interrogative “Who?” must mean
“I wish you to tell me him who.”
A probability that any message given to the “Who?” of the
Question will in some way differ from that entrusted to the
“who’’ of the interpretation, is moreover indicated by the differ-
ence in the vocal treatments of the words themselves. As merely
one of ten, the “who’ is uttered feebly and in a somewhat lower
pitch than its fellows. As one of three, the “Who?” is uttered
very differently. In the present state of vocal usage (and its
explanation) I admit its general insecurity as basis for an argu-
ment; yet, for the difference in these particular vocal render-
ings, I think there is a rational motive, explanatory of the case
in hand.
As one of ten, as a relative—that is, an isolated case-inflec-
tion—“who’ is not on a par of importance with attendant fully
empowered words. These are the bearers, each, of a part of the
thought to be constructed—each the bringer of a special mes-
sage. “Who” is the merest badge of one particular message-
bringer—the indication of his rank in the embassy of thought.
Properly, in such a case, this “who’’ is vocally subordinate.
Vocal treatment varies little when, by the use of a pregnant
“who’’ (see p. 432) interpretation is reduced to
“I wish you to tell me who killed Lincoln.”
Little variation is, indeed, to be expected, since the pregnant
“who’’ is so much more appreciably the heir of the formally
identical relative “who,” than of the utterly different “him.”
But when the “Who?” is one of three, becoming interrogative,
its pitch and loudness equal in American English, and surpass
in British English, those of any other sentence-member; and
this I take to be because it bears a message even weightier than
that of either fellow-messenger.
436 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.
Taking a hint from Chinese, I infer that the “Who?” of the
verbal trio—that is, the interrogative “Who?”—is intended as
a different word from the “who’’ of either interpretation—in
particular, the pregnant “who,” whose vocal treatment is the
less dissimilar. This inference is strengthened by the practice
of other languages, in which the interrogative and relative (both
simple relative and pregnant relative) are given altogether dif-
ferent forms, and ranked as absolutely different words. As
such, there is ground for expecting them to show a difference in
their values.
By “value.” I intend not only meaning—that is, (1) con-
tribution of thought-elements—but also guidance—that is, (2)
contribution of knowledge how thought-elements are to be put
together. Value, in other words, shall stand for thought-con-
tingents of two kinds, structural and instructional—the latter
being extra-structural. (See p. 431.)
As for differences of meaning in the sense of (1), I noted on
p. 432 that the pregnant “who’’ has only the meaning of the
indefinite sometimes antecedent “him,” which it has incorpo-
rated. On the other hand the interrogative “Who?” has all the
meaning of “I desire you to tell me him (or the person).” In
a search, exhausting if not exhaustive, I have discovered nothing
more. This total—big enough, no doubt, without expansion—
I believe to be what is meant by “Who?” I cannot see that
it is merely inferred, or say supplied. I believe that, when I
use the interrogative “Who?,” I regularly think, though doubt-
less somewhat dimly, of what is expressed by “I desire you to
tell me him;” that I wish you also to think of the same; that
I succeed in bringing you to do so. Believing thus, I must rank
what each of us regularly thinks of, as actually expressed by
“Who?”—as what indeed the dictionary should exhibit as its
meaning.”
As for differences in guidance, I find none. The power en-
trusted to the pregnant “who’’ is handed over to the interroga-
tive, it seems to me, intact. To make this clear, compare
*I was myself somewhat dismayed, at first, by this result of a quite
uncompromising argument. I venture however to hope that those who
must regard a part of this meaning (of Who?) as inferred, can charge
up to an unimportant “personal equation” what they deem excess of
meaning proper, without regarding my conclusions as otherwise in-
Valid,
Owen—Interrogative Thought—Means of Its Earpression. 437
(1) ) “I wish you to tell me him who killed Lincoln” and
! “I wish you to tell me him whom Booth killed.”
The indefinite “him” is, in each expression, shown by the
form of “him” to be the object of “tell.” Whatever is meant
by “him” is, however, in the one case, shown to be also the sub-
ject of “killed”—shown, in the other, to be also the object of
“killed.” These latter showings are respectively effected by the
relatives “who’’ and “whom.”
In
(2) | “I wish you tell me who killed Lincoln” and
! “I wish you to tell me whom Booth killed.”
the guidance, offered in the previous illustrations by the merely
relative “who’’ and “whom,” is still afforded by the “who’’ and
“whom,” now pregnant. But the guidance, offered in the pre-
vious illustrations by “him,” is no longer given.
Let now the last expressions be replaced by formal interro-
gations. Accordingly,
“Who killed Lincoln 7” and
(3) } “Whom killed Booth * (or “Whom did B. kill?”).
Plainly the showings effected by the pregnant relatives of (2)
are effected also by the interrogatives of (3). That is, in ad-
dition to its meaning already noted, the interrogative offers
guidance in the form of warning that an idea, already used as
factor of one thought, is to continue in attention, while further
ideas join with it in forming another thought; and the said
idea's particular factorship in that other thought, the interroga-
tive (e. g. “Who?”) distinctly indicates.
Moreover I do not see that, in the matter of guidance, the
interrogative exhibits any addition to the power possessed by the
relative and the pregnant “who’’ alike. Recapitulating then I
find in the interrogative “Who?” the guidance offered by the
relative “who ;” but, instead of the no meaning proper of the
relative “who,” I find in the interrogative “Who?” the very
bulky meaning expressible by “I desire you to tell me him.”
I am far from claiming that the interrogative word was, strictly
speaking, derived from the relative. The former means to me too
much, and the latter too little, to encourage such a theory. Moreover,
at the date of developing the interrogative word, it remains to be
proven that the language-maker found the relative word in existence;
and in some languages he never found it. That in many languages he
438 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.
Would find a word predestined to become a relative, is obvious; but he
might find it in a stage of development at that time only indefinite, and
not yet advanced to relative rank. To me the relative and interroga-
tive are collateral descendants of the indefinite. My purely personal
guess, indeed, is that the interrogative antedates the distinctly rela-
tive word.
Values of other interrogative words may be outlined as fol-
lows. -
“What?,” in the sense of the German “Was "-indefinite as
to kind and individuality, but commonly not as to number—
means “I wish you to tell me that (which).” As for guidance,
it directs the hearer to continue in mind the thought-factor ex-
pressed by “that,” and to use it as a factor (not specified by its
form as subject or object) in a sentence yet to come. E. g.
“Tell me that (which ) killed Lincoln.”
“What?” in the sense of the German “Welcher ?”—indefi-
nite as to individuality but not as to kind or number—may be
illustrated by “What actor killed Lincoln’” This I interpret
as meaning “Tell me the actor (distinguished from others by
having killed Lincoln, i. e.) who killed Lincoln.” In this ex-
pression “the,” though commonly known as definite article,
stands for what is in my thought decidedly indefinite, serving
only to suggest that category of particularity, which I am
unable to fill. I am virtually asking you to fix that individual-
ity to which I can make no nearer approach than by saying “An
actor killed Lincoln” or “Some actor killed Lincoln.” With
this stipulation, I interpret “What?” as meaning “Tell me the
. . who.”
As to guidance, the fact that “the" is adjunctive to an object
of “Tell,” is overlooked. The fact that “who’’ will figure as
subject (or object) in a following sentence, dominates. Ac-
cordingly when inflection exists, as with “Welcher?,” it indicates
the function which the object of “Tell” shall have in the follow-
ing sentence.
Plainly “What?,” in such a usage, offers systematic grammar
opportunity to recognize an interrogative article. For a rela-
tive article conf. “An actor—which actor for the time escaped—
assassinated Lincoln.”
“Which 2° in many usages is like the just preceding “What?,”
except that commonly a somewhat smaller group is contemplated,
indefiniteness of individuality being thereby correspondingly
Owen—Interrogative Thought—Means of Its Ea:pression. 439
reduced, as in “Which Booth (i. e., which member of a family)
killed Lincoln 7”
“Whether?” (obsolescent) merely reduces the scope of unde-
termined individuality to a pair of terms—e. g. “Whether of
the two (the older and the younger Booths) killed Lincoln’’
“Qualis?”—indefinite as to attribute—specially deals with
attributes of substantive ideas, being accordingly, in one of its
simultaneous functions, ranked as an adjective. To illustrate,
“Qualis est Julius’” I interpret as meaning “Tell me the attri-
bute—or quality—(which) Julius is characterized by.” g
In reducing this expression to the form, “Qualis est Julius’’’
I note that we might, if we chose, say “Tell me the quality
(which) characterizes Julius,” thereby reducing thought and
expression to already considered types. But instead of doing
so, we adopt the thought-form expressible by “Tell me that (sub-
stantive) which (adjective) Julius is.”
This use of a single idea, as simultaneously substantive in one
thought and adjective in another, may be led up to by the exhi-
bition of successive substantive and adjective function, which
though little observed and less commended, is nevertheless a lin-
guistic procedure by no means rare, and, as it seems to me, by
no means unwarrantable. Thus, following the statement that
“Her dress is red,” I do not hesitate to use the expression “That
is a beautiful color,” passing without warning from adjective
to substantive use of an idea. The converse change, though
more uncommon, is hardly subject rationally to any harsher
criticism. Accordingly, having said that “Red is a beautiful
color,” my linguistic instinct will not be severely shocked, if I
get the answer “My party-dress is that.” Indeed, instead of
two appearances of one idea in functions successively substan-
tive and adjective, I may encounter the idea in a single appear-
ance, but as simultaneously factor of two thoughts, in the first
of which it is substantive, while adjective in the other. This
will happen if the answer be “That’s the color my dress is,”
meaning “That color is the color (substantive) which (adjec-
tive) my dress is.”
Simultaneous different functions are indeed a foregone con-
clusion, so soon as thought develops some complexity. For,
granted that an idea is to serve as factor in each of two idea com-
binations, it is not to be expected that it should hold in each pre-
cisely the same position—that its rank in one should always tally
440 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.
with its rank in the other. “Verbal mouns” and “verbal adjec-
tives” are witness by their very titles to the difference of simul-
taneous functions. Admit the neglected “adjective noun” and
the present case is covered. Thus, in “Her dress is bright red,”
“red,” in its fellowship with “dress is,” ranks as adjective; but
as term to the adjunct “bright” the same “red” must pose as
substantive. (Conf. “Studying lessons aloud is forbidden,” etc.)
Accordingly, interpreting “Qualis est Julius” as meaning
“Tell me what (=that which) Julius is,” I define the “Qualis?”
as meaning “Tell me that (substantive) which (adjective)
22
In guidance, as with “Welcher ?,” the first of the two functions
is neglected, the case-ending being used to indicate the second.
“Where?,” “Whither?,” “When?,” “How 2,” etc.—indefinite
like “Qualis ('' as to attribute—have special dealing with the
attribute of a verb. Neglecting such a question as “Where is
Brown ('', in which location is presumably rather predicate ad-
jective to “Brown is?’ than adverbial, I elect as typical the sen-
tence “Whither go you?” This I interpret as meaning “Tell me
the direction which characterizes your going.” But instead of
using thought of the form thus indicated, we commonly substi-
tute the form expressed by “Tell me the direction (substantive)
which (adverbial) you are going.”
This use of one idea in simultaneously substantive and adver-
bial functions may be familiarized by the sentence “What sur-
prises me is the little you are influenced by your friends.”
I forbear to tax already wearied patience with my own interprefa-
tion of other specially question-asking words, or the legionary cases of
their usage in distorted thought-perspective, e. g., “How Old a man did
you meet?”, instead of “What was the age of the man you
met?” Nor shall I seek to determine what parts of speech may
be embodied in the interrogative words. It is obvious that any element
of any, the most complex, thought may utilize its fellows as a descrip-
tion of itself—that any element, thus described, I may ask you to tell
me; that is, any element may form the nucleus of a question; that is,
again, the way is open for each one of the parts of speech to develop an
interrogative form. The actual non-development of some is merely
one of many linguistic inactions to be explained by the absence of Suf-
ficient action-causing motive. The interrogatives which language actu-
* ally has developed, suffice, with a little ingenuity, for all linguistic
needs. Suppose, for instance, that I do not know whether my grammar
is on my reader or under it, before it or behind it, “rechts oder links.”
Owen—lnterrogative Thought—Means of Its Eapression. 441
In short, the prepositional idea is absent or indefinite. Having no in-
terrogative of prepositional aspect, with which to ask your help, I re-
construct my thought in such a way as to bring the space relation. Which
a preposition commonly renders, into such a region of my thought, that
I can express it by a substantive. Accordingly, “The position (Space
relation to my reader) of my grammar is what?” or “What is the
position of my grammar?” Again, not knowing the action in which
Booth Was actor and Lincoln actee, and not possessing an interrogative
symbol for it—say an interrogative verb, as in “Booth whatted Lin-
coln’”—I generalize the action under the symbol “do,” and formally
particularize it as “a doing Something; ” and this something I make
the nucleus of a question, using the expression, “What did Booth do
to Lincoln 7” meaning, “Tell me something Booth did to Lincoln.”
Precedents for bulky meaning. -
That a single Word should have the total meaning Commonly ex-
pressed by many, need occasion no surprise. In the beginnings Of
speech the single word is believed to have performed the duty now-a-
days assigned to the sentence. Indeed, survivals such as “Pluit” are
familiar. Looking for illustration nearer home, suppose you ask
“Did Booth kill Lincoln 7”, and I answer “Yes.” My single word is
conceded to express as much as “Booth killed Lincoln.” By reinstate-
ment it assembles what ideas I need, and adds to them what is further
required, to form a judgment. The monosyllable “Come!” is generally
held to assert whatever is asserted by “I desire you to come.” Meaning
is not less multiple or complex in the sentence “Please!” (Conf. pp.
434, etc.)
The sentences, however, thus far cited, do not appear as parts of
larger sentences. For such as do, I look to other languages. “Un je
ne sais quoi me trouble” means “An I-do-not-know-what-it-is agitates
me.” Examining the meaning of this group of words, employed in
French to express the subject of intended thought, I find they form a
sentence, while serving at the same time in a larger sentence precisely
as a single word. Indeed, they form an available definition of “quelque
chose,” “(et) was” or “Something.”
Its rank.
In examining the “relative pronoun” I was forced to conclude
that it is not, in any proper sense, a pronoun—that, in the Ordi-
nary sense, it is not a word, because it does not stand for any ele-
ment of thought—that it is merely a sign that an idea, already
named by its antecedent and put thereby in one environment, is
to remain in mind while a second environment gathers about it—
commonly also a sign that, in this second environment, the said
442 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.
idea is to serve as a particular thought-member. I called it, in
this last symbolic activity, an isolated case-ending, the sign of a
second case-usage.
Of the interrogative I also claim that it is not a pronoun, and
that, in the ordinary sense, it is not a word—not however be-
cause it means too little, but because it means by far too much.
To call it on the other hand a sentence, ranking it with “Yes”
or “Pluit,” may at first sight seem improper; for it offers more
than even these. This more, however, I have sought to exhibit
as not a more of meaning, but merely a more of what do with
meaning. So far as meaning only is concerned, I claim for
“Who?” an exact equivalence to “I wish you to tell me him.”
That is, I claim that “Who?” is a sentence”—strictly no more—
surely no less.
From its fellow one-word sentences, I differentiate the
“Who?” as follows: Condensing the expression of its total
*The judgment expressed by this sentence has a first term “I”, a
mid-term “wish” and a last term “to tell”. (See diagram below.)
This last term is moreover mid-term in a second environment. In
this, the “you” appears as first term of “to tell.” Of last terms there
are two, one direct and the other indirect; for the current of the action
has, like that of many rivers, a lateral effluent. The indirect last term
is “me”; the direct is “him”, with the formally definite but substan-
tially indefinite meaning of “the person”. Following the hint afforded
by the relative power which abides in the interrogative “Who?” I per-
ceive that “the person” is to serve as subject in a new environment,
yet to gather about it. Supplying such an environment, I find “the per-
son” further used as first term to a mid-term, e. g., “killed”, and a
last term, e. g., “Lincoln”, which together act as its restricter. Dia-
graming I accordingly obtain
You
I —— wish — to — tell
2-’
...” him. ——(killed —— Lincoln)
In 9
the person
Owen—Interrogative Thought—Means of Its Ea:pression. 443
value (structural and instructional) from “I wish you to tell
me the person (him) who’’ into “Tell me the person who,” I see
that it should rank as an imperative sentence. I further note
that the idea named by “person”—that is, a part of the meaning
of “Who?”—is to serve, without an intervening disappearance
from attention, as particular factor (subject) in a coming
thought—a thought expressible, for instance, by “the person
killed Lincoln.” Generalizing on my observation, I rank the
interrogative word as ordinarily a one-word imperative sentence,
Cne factor of which is signalized as also simultaneously a partic-
ular factor in another sentence yet to come.
The ordinary value of the interrogative word is often re-
duced, such word renouncing the indication of particular second
factorship, as in “What killed Lincoln 7” (that is, “I wish you to
tell me that which killed Lincºln’’) an expression in which the
interrogative “What?” does not announce its indefinite element
“that,” as either subject or object of “killed.”
The ordinary value of the interrogative word is also some-
times much augmented. For instance, when used alone, as
sequel to a statement such as “Some one killed Lincoln,” the
“Who?” alone not only means “Tell me the person (,him)”, but
also (with a power now for the first time strictly pronominal)
reinstates ideas expressed by “killed” and “Lincoln.” That is,
the “Who?” has all the meaning of the expression “Tell me the
person (,him) killed Lincoln.” In such a case the so-called in-
terrogative word should rank as a pair of sentences with a simul-
taneous factor marked for particular service in the second
Sentence.
To ask “What part of speech is “Who?” must therefore seem
to me an idle question. This “Who?” is not a part of speech,
but as others, I think, have said, a speech in itself—the pre-
Sentation of a thought which is always complete in form, and,
in the case last noted, complete in substance also. With still
broader generality it may then be concluded, that the interroga-
tive word is the linguistic equivalent of always one and some-
times both of a pair of sentences linked by a factor signalized
as simultaneous, and often marked for a particular service in the
second sentence.
444 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.
CHAPTER IV.
THE JUDGMIENT INTERROGATIVE AS TO BELIEF.
Part of the reasoning which I bring to bear upon the inter-
rogative problem, in the aspect now to be considered, is so close
a duplicate of that already followed in preceding chapters, that
it need not be repeated. The remainder may be introduced by
the illustration: “Are you coming?—because I have to make
my plans accordingly.”
Assuming my interpretation of these words to be that of
everyone, I note that what follows the question “Are you com-
ing?”—namely my necessary planning, or my need of planning
—is the cause, as seen by me, of whatever I mean, by “Are you
coming?” Accordingly, to find out what my need (in my
opinion) causes, is to find out more or less completely what is
meant by “Are you coming?”
Examining the words of this question, if I give them only the
meanings which they have in extra-interrogative usage, I obtain
at the most a conception (which may be expressed by “your com-
ing”) plus, it may be, a personal conviction of its truth; but
this conviction, in the present case, is plainly not intended. Let
it therefore be excluded. What is left—that is, “Your coming”
—is obviously by no means what my need of planning causes.
Accordingly I have not thus far discovered what my need of
planning causes.
That my need however causes something, must be regarded as
my own opinion, since I use the word “because.” Moreover I
am sure I know right well just what, as seen by me, it causes—
namely, a desire to know whether you will come or not. Which
one of the two you do, is comparatively unimportant, provided
only that I know which one it is going to be. Now this I hope
to know as the result of information to be given by you. Think-
ing dominantly then of your primary informing, rather than of
my own thereby to be developed secondary knowing, I experi-
ence my desire as a desire that you tell me something—some-
Owen—Interrogative Thought—Means of Its Eapression. 445
thing which of course requires telling—something which, with-
out your telling, is not in my mind. This something, as preemi-
nently part of interrogative judgment, I examine under the gen-
eral title of
ITS ELEMENTS
and, in its primary aspect, under the special title of
The missing element—belief.
The examination of this may begin with the classification of
essential judgment-elements (brought forward from Chap. I)
—which alone I propose to consider—as
(1) Primary or essential elements of thought (or concep-
tion), i. e., first term, mid-term or relation, last term;
(2) Truth or untruth of the thought consisting thereof;
(3) Belief in such truth or untruth.
In the judgment which the now considered form of question
aims to make sufficient, all terms of (1) are present. To exhibit
this, I choose an illustration in which the mid-term is ex-
pressed by the word “to-be.” For, although this mid-term or re-
lation is somewhat embarrassing by reason of its vagueness, this
word has the advantage, in the now considered usage, of avoid-
ing that even more embarrassing auxiliary which appears in
such a sentence as “Does A equal Bº’’ or “Did Booth kill Lin-
coln 7” ” Accordingly, “Is Brown honest ?”
* In the question-asking sentence of the type considered in this chap-
ter, it has been claimed that the question-asking power resides in
“Does” or “Did.” Among the many reasons why this claim should be
disregarded, I note that no more interrogative force would seem to
reside in “Did,” than might be claimed for other so-called auxiliaries
in “Was Booth killing Lincoln?”, “Has he killed him?”, “Will he kill
him?” or even “Whom did he kill?”, although in the last expression the
supporters of the “Did” hypothesis agree to put the interrogative bur-
den. On the “Whom 2’’
Moreover, other languages in general have no word like “Did;” and
even in English its aid is abrogated in poetic or exalted diction—for
instance, “Saw ye him whom my soul loveth?” (Cant. III, 3). Accord-
ingly the expression “Did Booth laill Lincoln?” should be ranked, I
think, as merely a local and fortuitous variation from the prevalent
interrogative type exemplified in English by “Killed Booth Lincoln’’’—
a variation obviously explainable by whatever principles be found ex-
planatory of the norm.
446 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.
By this question I am plainly trying to find out something
about Brown’s being honest; that is, a thought expressible by
“Brown to be honest” is merely part of an intended larger men-
tal structure, say a judgment. This part contains however all
that is required of it, regarded as a mere conception, i. e., a first
term and a last term named respectively by “Brown” and “hon-
est,” and a mid-term or relation named by “to-be”—a relation
which may be known as that of substance to its own attribute.
Further detail might be added, but none is indispensable to
formal thought-completeness. Accordingly the missing judg-
ment-element is not an essential element of a conception.
The remaining judgment-elements which may be missing, are
truth or untruth of thought, and belief. Examining first the
former, I juxtapose the expressions “Brown to be honest” and
“Brown not to be honest.” Of these, the latter presents a mental
picture, as if it were unmatched by reality external to itself.
That is, the thought expressed is put in the aspect of untruth.
Such being the case, as argued on p. 385-386, I conclude that the
antagonistic “Brown to be honest” expresses a thought appear-
ing on my mental stage in the antagonistic aspect of truth; that
I intend it to appear on the mental stage of my hearer in that
aspect; that my intention is realized. And what I claim for the
expression “Brown to be honest,” I also claim for the expres-
sion “Is Brown honest ?,” antagonizing it with “Isn't Brown
homest?” That is, I succeed in establishing in your mind the
thought of “Brown’s being honest”—attended, as in my own,
by its truth. (See however pp. 451, etc.) I conclude accord-
ingly that, in the judgment which the present form of question
aims to make sufficient, all elements are present, except belief.
Belief is absent. Were it not absent, the occasion for a ques-
tion would itself be absent. An interrogative status would not
develop in my mind. What would develop would be expressible
by “Brown is honest,” or more fully by “I believe in the truth
of Brown’s being honest.” That is, I should form an affirmative
judgment. As I cannot do this, I conclude that what is absent
from such judgment is belief—a belief which, if present, would
bear upon the truth of Brown's being honest (or, in a negative
judgment, upon the untruth of Brown's being honest).
It is obvious that also disbelief is absent from the mind. Its
absence however is not felt; for its presence was not planned for,
any more than that of fear or gladness. Considering the judg-
Owen—Interrogative Thought—Means of Its Ea:pression. 447
ment-void as the void in a judgment intended—a judgment lin-
guistically restricted to belief in truth or untruth of a thought——
I hold that in the speaker’s consciousness belief alone is missing.
The desideratum—belief-or-disbelief. -
In making the desideratum cover that very disbelief so care-
fully excluded from assertion, there is a seeming inconsistency,
which may however be relieved as follows:
If the argument conducted on p. 421 be correct, assertion—
that is, the expression of belief that a thought is true (or un-
true)—antedates interrogation. To this proposition it is the
merest corollary, that, before interrogation is attempted, the prac-
tice of assertion develops what may be called an assertive mental
habit. It is then quite conceivable, that the special form as-
sumed by the judgment interrogative as to belief, will not be
determined solely by desire for information, but will also be
affected by the operative method of assertion. That it is in
fact so influenced—and that most oddly—may appear as fol-
lows.
In following the assertive method, I form a mental pic-
ture—say a mere conception—in the expectation of believing,
therefore discarding disbelief. I expect to believe that my
picture is true, or else untrue. Sometimes however my expecta-
tion comes to naught; and at these times it is, that I ask a ques-
tion of the order now considered, e.g. “Is Brown honest ?” That
is, as the result of being disappointed in my expectation to be-
lieve, I develop a desire that you make good my failure. The
special mental form of what I desire you to do, is accordingly
determined for me by my disappointed expectation—is cast in
the mould of a belief arrested in development. To change my
figure, the question must be studied as an effort, so to speak, to
float a stranded assertion; and much depends on when the asser-
tion runs aground.
(1) It may be that, having formed a mental picture, and con-
templated its possible truth and untruth, I feel exactly equal
inclinations toward the two, but no preponderating inclination—
or say propension—toward either one. That is, my failure to
believe the one or the other is a consciously double failure.
Suppose that, in this mental state, I appeal to you for aid.
This aid you might afford, if I should set before you the two
alternatives (truth and untruth), both of which I fail to believe,
º
tº º
: **, * * * ** 3:
* e • , ” * * * s
* , & p
©
tº
tº e
© e tº ſº &
448 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.
and invite you to name the one believed by you. This indeed
I can easily do by means of interrogative words of the type
already considered, propounding such a question as “Which of
the two, the truth or the untruth of Brown’s being honest, do
you believe?,” or “Whether of the two, that Brown be honest, or
that Brown be not honest, do you believe?” Indeed, when both
alternatives are somewhat equally distinct in consciousness, such
forms of speech are actually employed, being known as double
questions. These moreover often are reduced by ellipsis, serv-
ing thus as virtual questions of the single type.* They may
however be neglected, as introducing no principle new to the
interrogative syntax examined in Chap. TII.
(2) It may be on the other hand that, having formed a mental
picture, and contemplated its possible truth and untruth, I feel a
propension toward the one or the other—say the truth. This
propension—strong enough perhaps to give promise of becoming
full belief—may so preoccupy me, that I quite neglect the al-
ternative untruth, letting it slip from my attention. It may
however happen, that the promise fails to be fulfilled—that my
propension does not grow into belief. In that event I am
brought again to a mental stand-still, but somewhat later than in
the former case; in other words, the mental structure which I
have begun, though uncompleted, has reached a stage more near
completion. As in case (1), so also in this case, I have failed—
but with this difference: in the former case my failure was
consciously double; in this case it is consciously single. That is,
I am aware of failing to believe only a mental picture's truth.
If now you are to help me, you must do better than I have
done. By dint of greater mental power, or greater knowledge,
you may perhaps succeed where I have failed—that is, in be-
lieving truth. But on the other hand it may be that you cannot
succeed, except in what I did not try—that is, in believing un-
truth, or else in disbelieving. To give you all the chances of
succeeding, I must reopen choice, either between believing truth
and believing untruth, or else between believing and disbeliev-
ing.
That I do not do the former, is indicated by the coexistence
of the question forms “Is Brown honest?” and “Isn't Brown
honest?,” in one of which Brown's being honest is put in the
* Compare the Latin “(utrum)—an,” and the German “ob—(oder),”
* * • ?
etc. . . . . *
ſ ºf
: , ;
*
:
:
:
Owen—Interrogative Thought—Means of Its Expression. 449
single aspect of truth, while in the other the single aspect of
untruth is elected. Accordingly the only course available is to
reopen for you the choice between belief and disbelief. That
is, I must violate what I have striven to establish as a funda-
mental law of assertive thinking—a violation into which I seem
to have been led by the very impulsiveness of my effort to con-
form.
Accordingly, in asking you a question of the present Order,
it must be that I invite you to form for me a mental structure
consisting of a thought like mine, presented like my own in the
aspect of truth (or it may be untruth), and augmented by belief
or disbelief therein. What this augment will be, belief or dis-
belief, I do not know; but, whichever it be, it is what I partic-
ularly wish to learn. Accordingly my desideratum, if once
obtained in the form requested, would prove to be your belief
or else your disbelief.
Meantime the desideratum stands to me for whatever is meant
by belief and also whatever is meant by disbelief, being merely
an indefinite of no extraordinary type. Thus, proposing to
settle by a thesis, whether strikes are advantageous or the con-
trary, I present both attributes by a single indefinite word, in
the title “The Advantageousness of Strikes.” That an equally
effective symbol for both belief and disbelief, will offer at the
proper moment, I do not doubt. Meantime I content myself
with expressing the desideratum of the interrogative sentence.
by the phrase “belief-or-disbelief.”
Description of desideratum. - - :
That the desideratum needs to be described, may be argued,
in a general way, essentially as on pages 415-416. More
specially, I note that, in addressing you a question of the present
kind, I am not moved by any curiosity about your mental at-
titude as such, be it present, past or future. That you did or
do or will believe, disbelieve or doubt—hope or fear—like, de-
sire, purpose or the contrary—is nothing, of itself, to me.
Otherwise I might ask you such a question as this: “How do
you feel about your thought of this moment?”—or, more rele-
vantly to the present case, “Which of the two, belief or disbelief,
are you experiencing at this moment?”—or “did you experience
at half past three yesterday afternoon º’ To me it plainly
makes the utmost difference what it is that you believe or dis-
29
450 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.
believe (to be true or untrue); and all that I care to know is
the mental reaction which you experience when confronted with
a thought the duplicate of mine. That is, I wish to know your
belief or disbelief in a particular thought—accordingly, a par-
ticular belief or disbelief, distinguishable from others by its
being experienced in the presence of a particular thought. In
a sense then my desideratum—that is, your belief-or-disbelief—
requires description; and description is accomplished by the
exhibition of the thought, belief-or-disbelief in which you are
to experience. The exposition of desideratum seems then pre-
determined as the nomination of a belief-or-disbelief which, in
the presence of a particular thought, you are to experience.
The nomination of belief-or-disbelief is indispensable, because
without it you might suppose my desideratum to be some other
mental reaction of which you are capable—for instance, hope,
fear, joy, distress, etc. The expression of the thought in which
your belief-or-disbelief is to be experienced, is also indispensa-
ble, because without it you might tell me some belief-or-disbelief
in which I have no interest. Accordingly, to satisfy the desire
which my question aims to realize, I must not only name my
desideratum, belief-or-disbelief, but also restrict, describe or
define it, by adding the thought on which it is to operate.
Assertion of description.
The little which I have to say upon this topic will be said to
best advantage on pp. 455-456.
Desire to be told desideratum.
Under this title I have nothing to add to arguments advanced
on pp. 420–421, from which I concluded that a question must
be understood as distinctly announcing the speaker's desire to be
told the required conception-element of the judgment which he
has vainly sought to form.
Assertion of desire.
Argument supporting such assertion would essentially repeat
considerations indicated on pp. 421–423.
Truth instead of untruth and vice versa.
In forming an interrogative judgment of the present type,
I have argued that I am somewhat nearer to believing the truth
Owen—Interrogative Thought—Means of Its Earpression. 451
of a prior conception, than I am to believing its untruth (or
vice-versa). It might accordingly be expected, that I should
present my thought in the dress—or say the aspect of truth or
of untruth—in which it more attracts my belief. This, however,
is precisely what I usually do not do. In the expression “Brown
is honest, isn’t he?” I am so near to believing the truth of
Brown’s being honest, that I even risk a tentative assertion.
Following this with a more seriously intended question, I ask
you to express yourself upon the untruth of Brown’s being
honest. In “Brown isn’t honest, is he?” assertion and question
are equally antagonistic. It appears then that, if I more in-
cline to the truth of my thought, I put in question its untruth,
and vice versa. -
Why I do this, I do not claim to know, though several motives
are conceivable. For instance, it is obvious that, in putting
my thought before you in one only of its possible aspects (as
true or as untrue), I expose it to a virtual contradiction by your
answer. Such being the case, I may rather naturally prefer to
imperil that aspect of my thought, whose contradiction will the
less distress or mortify me.
Again, that aspect of my thought which I myself find less
alluring, has presumably the lesser chance of satisfying you—
the greater chance of rousing your antagonism; and in the latter
lies perhaps my gain. I suppose that a statement such as “Two
and two are five” is more likely to evoke an expression of your
opinion, than the more acceptable “Two and two are four.”
The exhibition of the less attractive aspect of a thought, ac-
cordingly, might be defended, as an interrogative expedient, on
the ground of its major effectivity as provoker of an answer.
Such explanations regard the speaker’s action as a choice.
Some ground, however, may be found for ranking what occurs
as quite involuntary. As there forms in mind a thought con-
sisting of the elements expressible by “Brown,” “honest” and
“to be,” before belief arrives upon the scene, at least in all its
fullness, one of the alternatives (truth, or untruth) develops in
me some propension toward itself. By just so much, however,
as I lean toward one alternative, I lean away from the other.
If belief develops, it finds the one in the very focus of the
mental eye—the other in the margin of the visual field. Per-
haps belief is nothing more than the focalization of one alter-
native, and the final disappearance of the other from the mental
452 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.
view. The usages of speech, however, indicate that, whatever
be the actual mental process, it is conceived by the language-
using mind as first, the posing of two alternatives, and second,
a siding with one of them. Doubtless, however, the neglected
alternative does not disappear beyond recall. Should its pres-
ence become more welcome, it can reappear. It may be de-
scribed as standing just across the threshold of consciousness,
waiting its opportunity to reenter. This opportunity seems to
me to come. Of two occupants of my mental field, I was im-
pelled at first to hold to the one and despise the other. In the
instant of my disappointment comes a strong revulsion. For a
moment I feel the reactionary impulse not only to despise the
one, but also to hold to the other. It is nothing new in the
history of inclinations, if that other, taking advantage of
my momentary pique, possess me quite completely—for a mo-
ment. If now it be at just this moment, that I shape my
thought for the interrogative act, it will be the at the outset
less attractive of my two alternatives, that will be offered to my
hearer.
These explanations I wish to be understood to put forward as
mere suggestions, more in the hope that they may lead some
other person to the proper explanation, than in any faith that
they themselves are adequate. I believe that all the noted in-
fluences are operative; but frankly, I distrust their sufficiency.
Fortunately they do not seem to be needed in the solution of
other interrogative difficulties.
ITS PECULIARITIES.
Among these, which might include the interchange of truth
and untruth, just described, I note in the first place that it
Fails to distinguish belief-or-disbelief as meum or tuum.
By this title I mean to indicate that belief-or-disbelief is
virtually dissociated from a particular believer—you or me.
To recapitulate, I am blocked in the effort to form a judgment—
a judgment which, if completed on lines begun, would be my
belief in the truth (or the untruth) of a particular thought. In
my embarrassment, I wish you to exhibit the element which
would correspond in your mind to the Void in my own, sup-
posing you to build with my blocks, plus one which I do not
Owen—Interrogative Thought—Means of Its Expression. 453
have. This corresponding element being anknown to me, I
can conceive it only vaguely as a belief-or-disbelief, at some time
to be experienced by me, but in the mean time experienced by
you. The situation is, accordingly, rather intricate. I do not
doubt, indeed, that language can be made to deal with it dis-
tinctly and completely. But I do extremely doubt whether the
game would be worth the candle—whether, indeed, the candle
could have been supplied by the earlier players of the game. It
seems to me that the believing I and you are retired from the
fore-ground of consciousness to such a distance, that they are no
longer separated by the mental eye. So far, at least, as further
examination is concerned, I think that any consciously differ-
entiated I and you may be regarded as automatically inter-
changing when required, without the need of special symbols—
without, indeed, the need of special recognition.
Eacpects answer in terms of belief only.
In my own attempt to form a judgment—say upon the honesty
of Brown—I recognized that, in the condensed assertion now
considered, disbelief is barred by linguistic practice—that I
must choose between belief in truth of thought and belief in its
untruth. Neglecting say the latter, the only course remaining
open to me was to believe the truth; but this I could not do.
Turning to you for help, and realizing that you must in some
way be free to approve or disapprove my thought, I ignored
linguistic bounds, inviting you to express your belief-or-dis-
belief. g
INow if it happen that belief is that which you in fact ex-
perience, you can carry out my programme. But if it happen
that you disbelieve, you cannot. That is, while, in condensed
assertion, you can express belief, you cannot express disbelief.
Indeed, I have no expectation that you will. I am after all
aware of your linguistic limitation. In case you disbelieve, I
appreciate that you will reconstruct your judgment into a belief
in the truth or untruth of my offered thought. Thus, to my
question “Is Brown honest?,” I expect that you will answer
either “Brown is honest” (or an equivalent), meaning that you
believe in the truth of Brown's being honest, or “Brown is not
honest,” meaning that you believe in the untruth of Brown's
being honest. That is, although in my embarrassment I ask
an expression of belief-or-disbelief, I expect in answer only the
454 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.
expression of belief. Or, vice versa, although the question of
the now considered kind expects and even aims to obtain its
answer in the form of a belief that a particular thought is true,
or that it is untrue, nevertheless such question actually invites
a belief or a disbelief in a thought already posed as true, or a
thought already posed as untrue.
ITS STRUCTURE.
Reviewing the mental operations which lead to the now con-
sidered form of the interrogative act, I find that, in attempting
to form a judgment, although I successfully assembled all ma-
terials of a mere conception plus its truth, I was unable to add
that belief or disbelief, which is indispensable to a judgment;
that, from the perception of a void in my would-be judgment,
I passed to the imagination of a void-filler formable, though not
by me, presumably by you; that this void-filler was necessarily
indefinite; that, from the scope of this indefinite, I excluded
fear, liking, purpose and other mental attitudes which might be
taken by you toward a thought, reducing the scope of the indefi-
nite to belief or disbelief; that this belief or disbelief, to be
of use to me, I felt must be experienced by you in the presence
of a thought the duplicate of my own; that finally I wished you
to tell me this belief or disbelief.
|Before attempting an interrogative sentence, I must build, as
what it shall express, a mental structure—a somewhat complex
interrogative judgment—which shall resume the scattered
mental acts described.
In doing this, I note that, from every point of view, the most
important element of my interrogative judgment will be the
judgment-element with which I expect you, so to speak, to fill
the void in my first attempted, unsuccessful judgment—that is,
belief or disbelief experienced by you. As I do not know which
one of the two you will actually experience, I can picture it
only as indefinitely one or the other. As first constituent then
of my interrogative mental total, I bring in what may be ex-
pressed by “belief-or-disbelief experienced by you”—or, more
simply, “your belief-or-disbelief.”
As this belief-or-disbelief must be the one which you experi-
ence under the influence of a particular thought conceived as
Owen—Interrogative Thought—Means of Its Ea:pression. 455
true (or else as untrue), you need this thought to furnish you
that influence. Therefore I bring in this thought. In the
chosen illustration, my interrogative mental structure becomes
accordingly, as thus far developed, what may be expressed by
“your belief-or-disbelief in the truth of Brown’s being honest.”
This belief-or-disbelief I obviously wish you to tell me. This
wish accordingly I also bring in, completing my interrogative
mental structure, which may be expressed by “I wish you to tell
me your belief-or-disbelief in the truth of Brown's being honest”
—or, more conveniently to further argument, by “I wish you
to tell me your believing-or-disbelieving the truth of Brown to
be honest.”*
This expression I propose as exhibiting my thought in a form
which it may assume, unbiased by the exigencies of adopted lin-
guistic methods. Such thought, however, is apparently some-
what modified, before a sentence is attempted. I do not mean
that modification is necessary; for no doubt that expression,
though offered merely as a broad description of my mental state,
is also quite available as it stands, for practical linguistic pur-
poses. It suffers, however, from undue length. Condensation
is to be expected. In preparation for the condensation actually
reached by the interrogative sentence, modification seems to me
to occur as follows: -
In the first place, a judgment is substituted for the mere con-
ception indicated by “believing-or-disbelieving, etc.” As previ-
ously argued, the current judgment-forms of speech are highly
condensed—more so, I think, than any others. To remodel con-
ception into judgment, promises then the best of chances to
condense.
The judgment contemplated is your own, not mine. But
* It is plain that I might resort to the expedient of analyzing your
indefinite mental action (believing-or-disbelieving) into a comparatively
definite doing of something indefinite. I might by this means change
my interrogative judgment into the form expressible by “I wish you to
tell me something (i. e. that which = what) you think of the truth,
etc.” This judgment I might express by “What do you think, etc,”
Similar analyses would enable me to utilize other interrogative words
examined in Chap. III. For instance, interrogative ends would be met
by “What opinion have you, etc.?” or “How do regard, etc.? Enough,
however, that I may and often do elect the special form of interrogative
judgment indicated just above.
456 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.
I can not form the judgments of other people—only my own.”
But, again, in the present case I cannot form a judgment of my
own. That is, I cannot really believe, or disbelieve. In this
strait, I resort to a linguistic fiction. Though in fact I neither
believe nor disbelieve, I put it that I either believe or disbelieve.
This presentation, though strictly false, is practically harmless,
as it does not favor any particular untrue thought. I am more-
Over naturally disposed to make it, as it merely looks beyond
my actual indecision, to decision which, by your aid, I expect to
reach. I offer then, as mine, what is already mine in wish, and
is expected in a moment to be really mine. Moreover I am not
in any danger of deceiving you. It is plain to you that I am
merely putting myself in your place—merely making for you
a show of that judging which you will really achieve. Without
haggling over the “I,” you put yourself in my place—that is,
you substitute yourself for me as judgment-former—the “I,”
which stood for me, now symbolizing you. That is, as indi-
cated once before (p. 452), we sink the difference between
“meum and tuum.”
Developing now a little the argument of p. 449, I note that
the use of an indefinite “believe-or-disbelieve” may seem less
implausible, if it be remembered that, after all, it is quite
analogous to what was done in leading up to recognizedly inter-
rogative words (p. 430). When I formed the imperfect judg-
ment “. . . . . . killed Lincoln”—imperfect through the absence
of a primary judgment-term—I provisionally filled the void
with an indefinite “some one.” So also now I fill the void created
*I could form indeed a judgment to the effect that you have formed
(are forming or will form) a judgment—that is, I could form a belief
that you believe a thought to be true; and such a judgment I could ex-
press by a sentence, e. g., “You believe Brown to be honest.” Such a
judgment also I might effectively handle as a constituent element of
the interrogative judgment. But I could not find for it, in any lan-
guage that I know of, a condensed expression like the “Brown is
honest,” which I use to express my own belief in his being honest.
That is, no variant or single substitute for “is” will change “Brown is
honest” from the expression of my belief into the expression of my
|belief (or hope, or expectation, etc.) that you believe. In short, there
seems to be no opportunity for condensation, such as is required to
change “I wish you to tell me your believing-or-disbelieving the truth
of Brown to be honest” into a question, e. g., “is Brown honest?”
Owen—Interrogative Thought—Means of Its Ea:pression. 457
by my failure to believe or disbelieve, with a very similar indefi-
nite. Indeed, if “something” be allowed the verbal power,
I may say “I something Brown to be honest.” It is true that
the proper word would be “nothing.” Yet it would hardly
stretch the power of symbolism to the breaking point, were I
to insist that in this case “something” should cover “nothing,”
just as the algebraic a, includes all values, even that of zero.”
Returning to my illustration, I propose accordingly to change
“your believing-or-disbelieving the truth of Brown to be honest”
into the form of a judgment, really yours, but linguistically
feigned to be my own, or put as indifferently yours or mine.
This judgment will appear, then, as my (for your) believing-
or-disbelieving, etc. To avoid confusion, I deal for a moment with
only the former of the two alternatives, believing and disbeliev-
ing. Accordingly, “my (for your) believing the truth of
Brown to be honest” is to be so changed, as to have the meaning
expressed by “Brown is honest.” Now, without puzzling over
such a refinement of self-examination as contemplates belief (or
its absence) in One's own believing, it is perhaps enough to put
it roughly that, in the expression “my for your believing, etc.,”
I am merely talking about believing. On the other hand the
expressions “Brown is honest” and “I believe Brown to be
honest,” each of which stands for a judgment, represent me as
experiencing that believing which I talk about. I will accord-
ingly make use of this experiencing, to effect the change of “my
(for your) believing, etc.” into the form of a judgment. That
is, instead of “my (for your—or, say, my or your) believing-
or-disbelieving the truth of Brown to be homest,” I will sub-
stitute “I (for you) experience believing-or-disbelieving the
truth of Brown to be honest.”
Now this believing-or-disbelieving is not only what I (for you)
experience, but also at the same time what I wish you to tell me.
That is, it is a simultaneous factor of two judgments, which,
by the very simultaneous presence of that factor in each one,
* In fact I might develop the indefinite judgment into “I either or
neither believe or disbelieve.” But this would be presumably going
quite beyond what may be conceived as likely to happen in the lin-
guistic thinking of minds at the stage of development marked by the
Creation of the judgment interrogative as to belief.
458 Wisconsin. Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.
become a mental unit. This can be most easily shown by a
diagram: accordingly,
I (for you)
experience
I wish you to tell me the believing-or-disbelieving
the truth of
Brown
to be
honest.
Its OPERATION ON THE HEARER’s MIND.
As previously argued (See p. 428) any thought may be con-
ceived as consisting of any one of its parts, plus the remainder;
and that remainder may serve as restricter or distinguisher of
that part. Applying this doctrine to what may be called the per-
pendicular thought, as diagramed above, and conceiving that
thought as constituted of “believing-or-disbelieving” and a re-
mainder, T regard the former constituent as restricted or dis-
tinguished by the latter. That is, the particular believing-or-
disbelieving which I wish you to tell me, is separated for you
from others, by its being the one experienced in connection with
the truth of Brown’s being honest.” Accordingly, if you suc-
ceed in thinking after me my perpendicular thought, you will
know what I wish you to tell. At the same time you will know
that I wish you to tell it to me, if you succeed in thinking after
me what may be called the horizontal thought.
Now your success in thinking my thoughts after me is my
success in expressing them. Accordingly, interrogative needs
will be met, if I can change my diagram into a successful sen-
tence—that is, if, given a judgment interrogative as to belief, I
succeed in
ITS EXPRESSION BY A SENTENCE.
What is offered by the last diagram (see above)—that is a
judgment interrogative as to belief—is in my opinion roughly
what is meant by the interrogative sentence “Is Brown honest ?”
* Any argument supporting this proposition would be an essential
repetition of pp. 415–416, 426–428.
Owen—Interrogative Thought—Means of Its Ea:pression. 459
To establish this opinion, I might begin with the sentence, striv-
ing to develop the meanings of its members to such an extent,
that the total of their meanings would tally with that of the
diagram. It will be however simpler, and presumably more sat-
isfactory, to proceed in the inverse direction. I assume then
that, in using the question “Is Brown honest?,” I mean what was
meant by the diagram. Next I endeavour to show how the
meaning of the diagram can be expressed by the words of the
question.
In the first place, the diagram contains by far too many words.
The practical need of greater brevity may be accepted as the
final cause, or the “raison d’être,” of the conventional interroga-
tive sentence. For the latter, I will first prepare the way, by a
series of reductions in the diagram.
In order to have the believing-or-disbelieving in convenient
shape to be the object of “I wish you to tell,” I contrived to intro-
duce it into the diagram, in substantive form. But obviously
the “believing” will still be there, and still be conceivable as the
object of “tell,” even if I incorporate it with “experience” in the
total meaning expressed by “I believe;” and the like is true, if I
substitute “I disbelieve” for “I experience disbelieving.” Ac-
cordingly I change my diagram into
I (for you)
I wish you to tell me believe-or-disbelieve
the truth of
Brown
to be
honest
To reduce this diagram further still, I utilize the brevity of
the imperative, obtaining
I (for you)
Tell me believe-or disbelieve
the truth of
Brown
to be
honest
To effect a further reduction, I need a single word which can
express the meanings of two or more of the words thus far em-
460 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.
ployed. Confining attention for the moment to the perpen-
dicular expression, I note that “Brown” and “honest” will ap-
pear in the conventional question “Is Brown honest ?” That is,
the ideas expressed by these words will have, each one, its spe-
cial symbol: neither of them will be incorporated in the mean-
ing of any substitute for words employed in the diagram. There
remain then, Subject to possible incorporation, the more or less
composite ideas expressed by “I,” “believe-or-disbelieve,” “the
truth of" and “to be.” -
Now all these four ideas together could be expressed by a
single word, if only, instead of the meaning expressed by
“believe-or-disbelieve,” I had the meaning expressed by “believe”
alone. For instance, in “Brown is honest” (Conf. illustration
p. 392; also p. 394) the “is” expresses all that is expressed by “I
believe the truth of Brown to be honest,” except what is ex-
pressed by “Brown” and “honest.” The “is” in this case may
then be defined as meaning “I,” “believe,” “the truth of". . . . . .
Let now a different “is” be conceived, with the partly inde-
finite meaning expressed as follows: “I,” “believe-or-dis-
believe,” “the truth of " . . . . . . “to be”. . . . . . This indefinite
“is,” which I am going to try to develop into an interrogative
“is,” may be distinguished by writing it with italics—according-
ly, is.
The use of such an is will effect, of course, an important gain
in brevity; but it will sacrifice by just so much the power of
directing special attention to any particular one of the elements
which it expresses. It can not indicate which one of these I
wish you to regard as simultaneous judgment-factor. But it
does not need to do this. It is true that, of all these elements—
namely, “I,” “believe-or-disbelieve,” “the truth” and “to-be’—
I wish you to use, as simultaneous factor, only a particular one.
But that one is clearly indicated by the very nature of the case.
Being what I wish you to tell me, it will surely not be what is
already in my mind and quite distinct—not, that is, a definite
element—not an element expressible by “I,” “the truth” or “to
be.” It can therefore only be the element expressible by
“believe-or-disbelieve.”
I propose, accordingly, to substitute the indefinite is for the
“I believe-or-disbelieve the truth of . . . . to be” of the preced-
ing diagram. As to the place in which to put this is, I note
Owen—Interrogative Thought—Means of Its Expression. 461
that, when I reduce “I believe the truth of Brown to be honest”
to “Brown is honest,” the ordinary “is” elects the place of “to
be.” Giving for the moment the like position to the indefinite
“is,” I make the diagram
Brown
Tell me is
honest.
In this I intend the “is,” as member of the perpendicular
sentence, to stand for the four meanings of “T,” “believe-or-dis-
believe,” “the truth of and “to-be;” but in its membership of
the horizontal sentence—that is, as the object of “Tell” in
“Tell me”—I heed exclusively that one of the four expressed
by “believe-or-disbelieve.”
Eor this diagram I wish to substitute a presentation, of the
usual linguistic type—a change which must be made with some
precaution. For language, be it written or spoken, will be
confined to, so to speak, a single line. I am to pass, accordingly,
from presentation in two dimensions, to presentation in one
dimension only. In doing so, I wish, if possible, to retain for
any new expression the advantages afforded by the old. Now the
particular advantage of the old was this, that each of its two
sentences, in even their most highly complex form, appeared as
a continuous, unbroken whole. I do not therefore wish to sub-
stitute, for instance, “Tell me Brown is honest;” for, in such
an expression, I break the horizontal “Tell me is” of my dia-
gram, by interpolating “Brown,” a part of the perpendicular
“Brown is honest.” To maintain the continuity of both the
horizontal and the perpendicular, as they range themselves upon
a single line, I must make their simultaneous factor, at the same
time, the end of one and the beginning of the other.
In doing so, I merely repeat the arrangement of ideas employed
with an interrogative thought expressed by the aid of a recog-
nizedly interrogative word, for instance, “Who?”—a thought,
that is, in which the desideratum is an essential element of a
mere conception (Conf. p. 411). In expressing such a thought,
I framed the sentence “Tell me some one (=him [who] =who)
killed Lincoln.” In the sentence thus arranged, the “some
one,”viewed as desideratum—that is, as object of “Tell (me)”—
was put in its natural position after “Tell me.” At the same
462 Wisconsºn Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.
time the “some one,” viewed as an indefinite, was in a position
eminently suitable for being defined by “killed Lincoln.”
The case of the ‘is’ impresses me as quite analogous—capable
of the same advantageous treatment. One element of its mean-
ing figures as the desideratum—namely, believing-or-disbeliev-
ing. As symbolizing that desideratum, the “is” will naturally
take position immediately after “Tell me,” as a direct object.
That element of meaning is, moreover, also an indefinite. As
symbol of that indefinite, the “is’ will naturally not mingle with
the elements which are to define it; that is, it will take position
immediately before (or immediately after) the words by which
it must be defined—that is, before or after “Brown” and
“honest.” But it cannot come after them, without losing its
well nigh indispensable connection with “Tell me.” Accord-
ingly it shall come before them.
Apparently then, in changing from diagramatic to senten-
tial presentation, all old advantages may be retained, analogy
preserved, and new advantages acquired. I therefore do not
hesitate to substitute the sentence
(Tell me [is) Brown honest].
In writing this, I use the parenthetic signs as well as brack-
ets, to show that my sentence is really two, being the expression
of two judgments; and that a part of what is meant by “is”
should be regarded as at the same time factor of one and factor
of the other judgment. This simultaneous factorship I also
believe to be, at the outset, the only operative motive for the
chosen verbal order. I do not indeed forget that, when my
sentence shall become the question “Is Brown honest?”, some
will have it, that the question-form has been developed by “in-
version” operating on the statement “Brown is honest.” But
I can not regard the interrogative order of words as reached by
any puss-in-the-corner game between the verb and subject; nor
can I regard the so-called inversion as, at the outset, any con-
scious warning of interrogative purpose. I believe that, what-
soever might, in assertion, have been the order followed by
“Brown,” “honest” and “is,” the “is” would, in a question, go
to the head of the sentence, irrespective of any apparent place-
exchange with either of the other words. In short, I believe that
it takes its place according to fundamental principles of thought-
construction, adapted to the special limitations of sentential
presentation.
Owen—Interrogative Thought—Means of Its Eapression. 463
Incidentally I note that the position of “Is,” as sentence-head in “Is
Brown honest?”, tallies exactly with that of “Who?” in “Who killed
Lincoln’” That is, the “Is” and the “Who?” which I shall claim to be,
each one of them, a question-asking word, agree in being put in the
initial position. -
Now it is an accepted tendency of untutored minds, to place at the
Sentence head the Word for whatever idea is momentarily of dominant
interest; and as such I rank desired ideas indicated (along with other
ideas) by “Who?” and “Is.” Accordingly, though I for one should not
incline to regard this tendency as actually accounting for the position
of either “Who?” or “Is,” I nevertheless perceive that this position emi-
nently satisfies that tendency; and I conclude that such position, once
elected for the reasons indicated, is approved, confirmed, convention-
alized by such a tendency.
The expression “Tell me is Brown honest,” though in actual
use and for an interrogative purpose, does not rank as an “inter-
rogative sentence.” To be so ranked, it must still further be
reduced in bulk. Indeed a further reduction is to be expected.
Just as in “Tell me who killed Lincoln,” I found that the strictly
indefinite “who” was pitched upon to do the question-asking; so
also in “Tell me is Brown honest” I expect that the “is,” on
account of its partial indefiniteness, will be selected to perform
the interrogative duty. It is almost, also, a foregone conclusion
that, just as “Who?” equipped itself for this duty, by assuming
the meanings of all sentence-elements except those of restrictive
value, so also the indefinite “is’ should fit itself for larger func-
tion, by corresponding augmentation of its meaning. That is,
reduction is to be effected by incorporation.
Accordingly, by a supreme effort of multiple symbolization,
the already heavily loaded “is” shall be made to bear the further
burden of what is meant by “Tell me”—what is meant, that is,
by “I wish you to tell me.” In short, the indefinite “is” be-
comes an interrogative IS-a word which, in this augmented
meaning, I find it convenient to write in capitals.
If the reasoning followed be correct, it appears that, just as
in “Who killed Lincoln’’ the “Who?” is regarded as the spe-
cially interrogative symbol, so also in “IS Brown honest ?” the
“IS may be regarded as
464 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.
THE SPECIALLY QUESTION-ASIKING WORD.
The duty of such a word I can not regard as done by inver-
sion, for reasons indicated on pp. 462 and 404, or by the rise
of voice at the sentence-end, for reasons indicated on p. 403.”
I must regard such duty as done by what I have called the
interrogative IS.
That, in the sentence “IS Brown honest?,” the IS performs a
duty quite analogous to that of “Who?” in “Who killed Lincoln º’’
—that also the difference between this IS and the is of “Tell me
is Brown honest” tallies closely with the difference between the
“Who?” of a question and the “(him) who’’ of “Tell me (him)
*The actual value and the operative method of the “rising inflec-
tion” may be suggested here as well, perhaps, as elsewhere. Suppose
for a moment the information-seeking sentence of p. 462 to be formed
in the inverse order of thought, and expressed as follows: (Honest
Brown [is) me tell]—or, more simply, “Brown is honest—tell me.” If
now the imperative phrase (“tell me”) be dropped, it will be felt that
the speaker has stopped before his sentence is completed. The same
impression was no doubt at first produced, when “Tell me is Brown
honest?” was reduced to “IS Brown honest?” Presumably some time
elapsed before the originators of the interrogative sentence came to
feel that what, at first, had been expressed by “Tell me,” was incorpor-
ated into the meaning of “IS Brown honest?” Meantime the latter
expression was felt to be elliptical, or incomplete.
Now the completion of a sentence is commonly attended by a fall in
vocal pitch. Neglecting other causes, I observe that, when a muscular
activity is near its end, it is commonly somewhat lessened. In speak-
ing, when the linguistic purpose of the moment nears fulfillment, the
talking muscles are relaxed, including those which regulate the tension
of the vocal chords. As the latter muscles abate their effort, the vocal
chords themselves are slackened, and the vocal pitch descends. Pre-
sumably this unintended fall of pitch, when once familiarly associated
with completion of the sentence, was deliberately utilized to indicate
sentential close, and exaggerated for the sake of easy recognition.
On the other hand, until the sentence end is reached, the average
vocal pitch is naturally maintained. Pitch-maintenance would there-
fore properly become the sign, that the speaker has not finished what
he has to say—that, even though he ceases speaking, what he has said
is incomplete. Moreover, just as fall of pitch, the sign of completeness,
was exaggerated downward, so also maintenance of pitch, the antago-
nistic sign of incompleteness, would naturally suffer, so to speak, exag-
Owen—Interrogative Thought—Means of Its Ea:pression. 465
who killed Lincoln”—will perhaps appear more plausibly, if I
may put the operation of the IS in the light afforded by another
means of symbolizing, purely theoretical. Let it then be seen
how interrogative purpose might be accomplished by a quite
imaginary symbol, built on the lines of an interrogative pro-
noun.
To break the way for such a symbol, I note that words in-
cluded by Grammar in the pronominal word-class have, with
little formal variation, quite a range as parts of speech, or say
in sentential function, though they do not, so far as I have noted,
operate as verbs. For instance, the demonstrative may act as
substantive or adjective or adverb (e. g. “there,” “thus” etc.).
It does not, however, appear as verb, though obviously it has the
geration upward—that is, sentential incompleteness would be marked
by rising inflection. - -
When once, however, the omitted “Tell me” is understood to be a part
of what the interrogative sentence means, the rising inflection would
seem to be no longer needed. If, indeed, the interrogative “IS” were
different in form from the “is” of ordinary assertion, I should
say that rising inflection would be entirely superfluous. But, as such
is not the case, the rising inflection, and also the interrogative order
of words (“inversion”) continue an auxiliary service in establishing the
interrogative IS as such, in distinction from the commoner assertive
“is.”
Both expedients, however, are frequently used for other purposes.
(See pp. 403-404.) Both are, in American English, renounced with
questions which employ recognized by interrogative words (e. g., “Who
killed Lincoln?”). Indeed, the rising inflection is sometimes neglected
even when no recognizedly interrogative word is present. To illus-
trate, “The question before us is the following: Is Brown honest?”
So also sometimes in a contrasted sentence-pair, consisting of a state-
ment and a question, the statement is uttered with the rising inflec-
tion—the question with the falling: e. g., “Jones is honest. Is Brown
honest?” “Brown is agreeable. Is he also honest?” Also the inver-
sion is sometimes neglected, as in the so-called statement with rising
inflection: e. g., “Brown is honest?” I do not, however, think of a case
in which the question (without especially recognized Interrogative
word) omits both inversion and rising inflection. Nor should I expect
the omission of both these interrogative indications, until some substi-
tute shall be provided, to distinguish the interrogative IS from the
“is” of ordinary assertion. Meantime these two indications, either
alone or both combined, appear to me to do for the IS precisely what
33
the acute accent does for the ris of Greek.
30
466 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.
latent power to do so, as in “Booth thissed or thatted Lincoln.”
The indefinite has no less range, and no greater ambition, fail-
ing to develop the plainly possible “Booth somethinged Lin-
coln.” The relative has equal freedom, but also does not assume
the verbal function, though it might be forced to do so, as in
“This is the carpenter who mends the stables, and also whiches
(=mends) the fences of the neighborhood.” With the even
subtler interrogative, a verbal usage would be even less expected.
Yet the interrogative pronoun itself may be compelled to act as
verb, for instance in “Booth whatted Lincoln º’’.
The question asked, however, by the words of the last illus-
tration, is not by any means the sort of question examined in this
chapter. What these words do ask for—that is, the indefinite
desideratum, or say the desired indefinite—is the relation be-
tween a subject and an object, or say the action in which a sub-
ject and an object both are implicated. The desideratum then
is an element of essential thought, as also is the case with “Who
killed Lincoln 7” and “Whom killed Booth 2". On the other
hand, the interrogative sentence “IS Brown honest ?” operates
in a deeper mental stratum. Its desired indefinite is the sec-
ondary process of believing or disbelieving, which bears upon
the truth of a thought complete in every essential—the thought
expressible by “Brown to be honest.”
Now this indefinite, even when merely indefinite and not also
desired, is much more difficult to symbolize, than the indefinite
action or relation above considered. “Booth somethinged Lin-
coln” seemed the merest and altogether natural extension of
existing language means and methods. But, in saying “I some-
thing (=believe-or-disbelieve) Booth to have killed Lincoln,”
I seem to be going quite beyond all precedent. Yet, in the in-
vention of my proposed imaginary symbol, a start with essen-
tially such an indefinite, I seem obliged to make. Indeed, in all
development of interrogative words, I am personally unable to
conceive a start from anything but the unknown; and this can
be mentally pictured only as indefinite. In order then to coin
an interrogative word, which shall take the place of IS in “IS
Brown honest ?”—a word which plainly must, like “IS,” be
operative as a verb–I must have, to start with, a verb which,
also like the IS, shall be indefinite, and indefinite as to belief
or disbelief. Accordingly I begin with an is which (as described
on p. 460) I pose as meaning, not simply “I believe to be. . . . .”
Owen—Interrogative Thought—Means of Its Ea:pression. 467
but rather “I believe-or-disbelieve to be. . . .”—that is, “I some-
thing to be. . . . .” If now I can by usual means transform this
indefinite verb into an interrogative verb, my immediate purpose
will be accomplished.
Now languages very often have, among their stock of ele-
ments for word-construction, one which makes an interrogative
out of the indefinite word to which it is applied. Thus, abso-
lutely slighting historical origin, I may say that, when the mean-
ing of the Latin “id” (= it or that) is not sufficiently definite,
becoming that of which I wish you to give me information, by
the simple addition of “qu’’ I turn it into “quid,” which I
should define as meaning “I wish you to tell me that (which).”
So, too, in English, so soon as an idea of place, suggested by
“here,” is too indefinite for toleration, becoming that of which
I wish you to give me information, by the simple addition of
“whº I turn it into “where?,” which I might define as meaning
“I wish you to tell me the place in which.” That is, by means
of a prefix, I change an indefinite into an interrogative.
Given now “Brown is honest,” and extending the meaning of
the “is” to cover for the moment not merely belief, but indefi-
nite belief-or-disbelief (in the truth of . . . . . . to be . . . . . . ),
by the addition of the “wh” I could change this indefinite “is’
into “Whis,” a word which should by analogy be not only indefi-
nite, but also interrogative, meaning “I wish you to tell me
your belief-or-disbelief (in the truth of . . . . to be . . . . ). Ac-
cordingly I develop “Whis Brown honest ?”—an expression
which I offer, not because I greatly hope that it may prove a
successful neologism, but because it formally exhibits the IS of
the question “IS Brown honest ?” in that analogy with other
question words, to which it seems to me to have a rational claim.
Its meaning.
Retracing now the steps of argument—and in the inverse
order—starting with the interrogative sentence, e.g. “IS Brown
honest ?,” I have found its meaning to be
“I wish you to tell me is Brown honest” (is being indefinite)
or, in a diagramatic exhibition,
Brown
I wish you to tell me is
honest
or more fully,
468 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.
º T (standing for you)
I wish you to tell me believe-or-disbelieve
the truth of
Brown
to be
honest.
Now the “Brown” and “honest” of the last diagram tally
exactly with the “Brown” and “honest” of the interrogative sen-
tence “IS Brown honest ?” So far then as cancellation of
equivalent terms can be trusted to reveal equivalence of remain-
ing terms, it appears that the remaining IS of “IS Brown
honest ?” is equivalent to what remains of the diagram—namely,
“I wish you to tell me you believe etc.,” or more smoothly, “Tell
me your believing-or-disbelieving the truth of . . . . to be . . . .”
(Conf. note, p. 436). -
As the relation expressed by “to be” is only one of many
relations with which the interrogative sentence may deal (Conf.
“Equals A Bº,” “Killed Booth Lincoln º’ etc.), therefore a
general definition of the specially question-asking word of the af-
firmative interrogation now considered, would take the form “I
wish you to tell me your believing-or-disbelieving the truth of
. . . . . . to — . . . . . . ” On the other hand, as the negative
interrogation “Is n’t Brown honest ?” asks for belief-or-disbelief
in untruth, that untruth might be expected to take the place of
truth in definition; but as that untruth is specially expressed by
“not,” therefore a proper definition of the negative interroga-
tion’s question-asking word will not contain that element of un-
truth, which would correspond to the truth contained in the
above definition of the question-asking word of affirmative inter-
rogation.
Passing by a number of interesting expressions even more
densely packed with meaning,” I close examination of the spe-
cially question-asking word, with a comment on
Its rank.
Like the interrogative “Who?” the closely analogous inter-
rogative “IS” compels me to regard as idle any effort to rank
it as a “part of speech.” It is obviously not a part of speech,
*E. G., in answer to the statement “Brown is n’t honest,” the follow-
ing: “Nicht?”, “Vraiment?”, “So?”, “Isn’t he?” etc.
Owen—Interrogative Thought—Means of Its Expression. 469
but again a speech complete—and more. It is, on the one hand,
the assertion of my desire that you tell me something. That is,
in meaning, it is not a word, but a sentence. On the other
hand, in form, it is not a sentence, but a word. It is, with
many like expressions, most conveniently known as a one-word
Sentence.
From the main body of its fellows I differentiate it as follows:
it operates not merely as a single sentence, but also as part of
a second sentence. Given two judgments with a common factor,
it symbolizes all of one and a considerable part of the other—is,
roughly estimated, a sesqui-sentence.
From its nearest of kin, for instance “Who?,” it is distin-
guishable by the nature of the special void which it aims to fill.
Likening the act of judgment to the objective act of weighing, I
note that the question of the “Who?” type seeks for an object
to put in the balance. The question of the “IS” type seeks for
a reading on the dial. They are respectively question of cause
and question of effect—question of datum and question of con-
clusion. -
Those who think of words as always sentence-factors—as
“parts,” that is, “of speech”—have opportunity to add a species
to the genus known as verb. For, granting that the question
“IS Brown honest?” means “I wish you “to tell me your “believ-
ing-or-disbelieving Brown “to be honest”—and that all the mean-
ing of the paraphrase (that of “Brown” and “honest” excepted)
is expressed by the IS of the question—it is plain that, in many
conjugational systems, the IS might four times over claim the
verbal rank; and, as it also does what may be specially known as
the question-asking, the IS might claim a special rank as an
interrogative verb.
Those, again, who hesitate to form new species, may elect
to rank the verb of the interrogative sentence as a mere variety,
or say a mode. Grammarians rank one form of the unassertive
verb as the infinitive mode. The verb which merely asserts,
they call the indicative mode. The verb which asserts desire,
they call the imperative mode. The verb which asserts desire
to be informed, they may consistly call, as some indeed have
called it, the interrogative mode.
This brings me back to my initial propositions. Neglecting
classification of expressional elements into modes and parts of
470 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.
speech, and centering attention on mental totals expressed, I find
the simplest form of thought considered, to be the mere con-
ception of two terms and their relation, commonly further posed
as true, or else untrue, and expressed by a merely suggestive
(that is, an unassertive) phrase. The addition of personal
belief produces the ordinary judgment, expressed by the merely
assertive sentence. The intercalation of desire produces the
imperative judgment, expressed by a pregnantly assertive sen-
tence, or command. The further intercalation, expanding de-
sire into desire to be told an indefinite judgment element, pro-
duces an interrogative judgment, commonly expressed, according
to the nature of the indefinite element, by one or the other of
the examined forms of the question—both of which, however,
rank as merely still more pregnantly assertive sentences—or, say,
as pregnantly imperative.*
In closing, I wish to express the keenest appreciation, that
my own line of groping amid the obscurities offered by inter-
rogation, may be very ill adapted to another mind whose light
is stronger. On such a mind I venture only to urge attention
to the following probabilities: that every question (asked for
information) presupposes that an element is more or less entirely
missing from what might have been a prior judgment; that the
desideratum of a question is, in the asker’s mind, an unknown
or an ill known substitute for that missing element—that is, an
indefinite; that the question must provide the hearer with a
clue to this indefinite, and cannot do so, as it would appear, ex-
cept by naming its definite fellow judgment-members; that
every question naturally also exhibits the desire to be told the
indefinite substitute; that this desire is presented as not merely
thought of, but also actually felt; in short, it is circumstantially
probable, that the question should in some way assert desire to
be told the indefinite element of a thought exhibited in the form
of a judgment.
Madison, Wis., July, 1903.
* I should perhaps have added elsewhere, that an imperative Value
of the question is rather strongly hinted by the tone in which it is
sometimes uttered. Thus, to the disturber of my peace, I shout “Who’s
there?” in just the tones that I should use in saying “Go away!"
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