I

“Subjectless propositions” so the celebrated philologer has entitled a little work which, on its first appearance, bore the title, The Verba Impersonalia in the Slav Languages.

The change of name may well be connected with considerable additions in the second edition. The new designation would, however, even in the earlier form, have been the more suitable title. For, far from treating the special nature of merely one family of languages, the author sets up a theory of wide-reaching significance, which, while contradicting the prevailing view, only deserves all the more on this account general attention. Not only philology, but also psychology and metaphysics have an interest in the problem. Moreover, the new doctrine promised to bring profit not only to the inquirer in these lofty spheres but also to the schoolboy at present tortured by the school-master with impossible and incomprehensible theories (cf. p. 23 seq.).

Such an influence, however, the treatise has not exercised. The earlier views still hold unbroken sway even to-day, and although the appearance of the monograph in a new edition bears testimony to a certain interest in wider circles, this is manifestly not due to the circumstance that the work was believed to have thrown light upon old doubts and errors. Darwin’s epoch-making work, quite apart from the truth of its hypothesis, had, even for its opponents, an indisputable worth; the wealth of important observations and ingenious combinations every one had to acknowledge with admiration. So also in the case of Miklosich, who has compressed into a few pages a rich store of learning and interspersed the most subtle observations. Many who have withheld their assent to his principal thesis may still feel indebted to him for many points of detail.

Here, however, we wish chiefly to consider the main problem and, very briefly, to make ourselves clear respecting that with which it really deals.

It is an old assertion of logic that the judgment consists essentially in a binding or separating, in a relation of ideas to one another. This view, almost unanimously maintained for two thousand years, has exercised an influence upon other disciplines. And so we find grammarians from very early times teaching that no more simple form of expression in the case of the judgment exists, or can exist, than the categorical, which combines a subject with a predicate.

That the carrying out of this doctrine brings with it difficulties could not, of course, be permanently concealed. Propositions like: it rains, it lightens, appear as though they had no wish to conform to this view. Yet none the less the majority of inquirers were so firmly convinced, that in such cases they felt compelled, not so much to doubt the universal validity of their theory as rather to search for the subjects, which in their view were only apparently missing. Many really believed themselves to be in possession of the same. Now, however, in marked contrast to the unity which had hitherto prevailed, they branched off in the most varied directions. And if we examine somewhat closely and in detail the various attempts at an explanation, we shall easily be able to understand, why none of these were able to give permanent satisfaction, or even for a time to bring about unanimity.

Science explains by reason of its comprehending a multiplicity as a unity. Here also, of course, every effort has been made to accomplish this, but every attempt has proved futile. When we say: it rains, many have supposed that the unnamed subject denoted by the indefinite “it” is “Zeus”: Zeus rains. But when we say: “es rauscht,” it is obvious that Zeus cannot be the subject. Others again have thought that the subject is here “das Rauschen”; consequently the meaning of the proposition would be: “das Rauschen rauscht.” The previous example they also completed in the same manner: “Raining, (or the rain) rains.”

When, however, we now say: “es fehlt an Geld,” the meaning must therefore be: “das Fehlen an Geld fehlt an Geld.” But this is absurd. It was therefore explained that the subject here is “Geld,” and the meaning of the proposition is: “Geld fehlt an Geld.” Closely examined, this would seem to strike a blow at the wished-for unity of explanation. If, however, by closing one eye, the failure here may be partially ignored, even this is useless when we stumble upon propositions like: “es giebt einen Gott,” respecting which we arrive at no satisfactory meaning either in the proposition: “das einen Gott geben giebt einen Gott; das Geben giebt einen Gott,” or in the proposition, “Gott giebt einen Gott.”

It was therefore necessary to look for an explanation of an entirely different character. But where was such an explanation to be found? And even if ingenuity were here able to hit upon some expedient, what availed such leaping from case to case, which could only be called the caricature of a truly scientific explanation? Not a single designation of the subject which has been so far suggested, can be termed suitable, unless indeed it be a saying of Schleiermacher’s. For if this philosopher (cf. p. 16) has really asserted that the subject in such cases is chaos, this utterance must be regarded, not so much as an attempt at explanation as rather a satire upon the hypotheses hitherto set up by philologists.

Many inquirers are therefore of opinion that the real subjects of such propositions as: it rains, it lightens, have, up to the present time, not been discovered, and that even at the present time it is the business of science to find them. But, would it not be strange if the tracing of a subject, which is thought of by everyone, and which, though unexpressed, forms the basis of the judgment, should yet offer such extraordinary difficulties?

Steinthal seeks to explain this by saying that by the grammatical subject something is suggested, which is yet unthinkable. But many will reply with Miklosich (p. 23): “We would not, I think, be going too far in asserting that grammar is not concerned with the unthinkable.”

The totality of the phenomena and the absolutely grotesque failure of every attempt to determine the nature of the subject, however often and however ingeniously this has been attempted, are the chief grounds on which Miklosich bases his assertion that, generally speaking, the supposed subject in the case of such propositions is a delusion, that the proposition is no combination of subject and predicate, that, as Miklosich expresses it, the proposition is subjectless.

Further reflections go to confirm this view, and among these one consideration as to the nature of the judgment requires to be emphasized on account of its special importance. Miklosich combats those who, like Steinthal, deny that there is any reciprocal relation between grammar and logic, at the same time repelling the attacks which, on the ground of such a reciprocal relation, might be made against his doctrine by psychologists and logicians. Indeed he arrives at the result that, in consequence of the special peculiarity of certain judgments, subjectless propositions must from the very first be expected in language. According to his view it is wrong to suppose that every judgment is a relation existing between ideas. It often happens that in a proposition only one fact is affirmed or denied. In such cases a mode of expression is also necessary, and it is obvious that this cannot well consist in a combination of subject and predicate. Miklosich shows how philosophers have been repeatedly led to this knowledge, though, as a rule, they have not appreciated sufficiently the significance of their discovery. Not sufficiently clear themselves as to the new truth to which they gave expression, and, at the same time, clinging with strange indecision to certain residues of the older view, it came about that what at first they affirmed they at last essentially deny. Thus Trendelenburg chose to find expressed in the proposition, “it lightens,” in the last resort, no real judgment, but only the rudiments of a judgment which precedes the notion of lightning and settles down into it, thereby forming the basis for the complete judgment, “lightning is conducted by iron.” Herbart finally declared such judgments as “es rauscht,” to be no judgments in the ordinary sense, not, he thought, what in logic is, strictly speaking, termed a judgment. The passage in which our author censures the inconsistency of these philosophers, and shows that the source of their confusion lies in their misunderstanding of the nature of judgment and in their erroneous definition of it (p. 21 seq.), is excellent.

From all this Miklosich draws the conclusion that his subjectless propositions are completely assured. And not only does he consider their existence beyond doubt, he further shows that their appearance is by no means so rare as might be supposed from the controversy into which it has been necessary to enter concerning them. Their great variety had led him, in the second part of his treatise (pp. 33-72) to set forth their chief classes, and there we find subjectless propositions with the Active Verb, the Reflexive Verb, the Passive Verb and the verb “to be,” each of these four classes being illustrated by means of numerous examples from the most various languages. This is especially the case with the first class, where he makes an eightfold division with the object of grouping the propositions according to the difference in their content. He mentions as universally true (p. 6) that the finite verb of the subjectless propositions always stands in the third person singular, and, where the form admits a difference of gender, in the neuter.

In other directions also he traces the matter further. He shows how these propositions did not arise later than those which predicate something of a subject, but appear from the very outset among the various forms of propositions (p. 13 seq., p. 19), and how, in the course of time, they have disappeared from several languages (p. 26). He proves that the languages in which they are preserved enjoy an advantage, inasmuch as their application lends to the language a special liveliness (26), and he shows how in other respects also it is not always possible to substitute for the subjectless proposition the categorical form, with which it is supposed to be identical. “Ich friere” is, for instance, not fully identical with “mich friert.” Instead of, was frierst du draussen? Komme doch herein! we cannot say: was friert dich’s draussen? etc. “Mich friert” cannot be applied if I expose myself voluntarily to the cold (p. 37).

II

This, shortly, is the substance of his book, regarding which I venture to make a few critical observations.

I have sufficiently expressed in this summary, my approval of the treatise in general, especially in respect of the main argument. The proofs appear to me to be of so cogent a nature, that even the unwilling will scarcely be able to escape from the truth. Quite independent of these arguments, however, I had myself, long ago, arrived at the same view, by way of a purely psychological analysis, and gave, in the most decisive manner, public expression to it, when in 1874 I published my Psychology.

Great, however, as were the pains I then took to set the teaching in a clear light and to show every former view untenable, my success so far has been slight. Apart from isolated individuals, I have been just as little able to convince the philosopher, as Miklosich, in his first edition, was able to convince philologists. Where a prejudice has, during centuries, become ever more and more firmly rooted, where a doctrine has penetrated even to the primary school, when a theory has come to be regarded as fundamental upon which much else rests, and so, as it were, by its weight rendered the foundation immovable, in such a case, it is not to be expected that the error will immediately disappear as soon as its refutation is established; on the contrary, it is to be feared that distrust of the new view will be so great, as not even to admit of a closer examination being made regarding the grounds on which it rests. And yet when two investigators completely independent of each other agree in their testimony, when by quite different paths they arrive at the same goal, it may be hoped that this concurrence will not be regarded as a mere coincidence, but that a more careful attention will be bestowed upon the arguments on either side. I hope that this will be so in the case of the new edition of Miklosich, in which I am glad to see regard paid to my own work.

The agreement with regard to the main points makes subordinate points, in respect of which we differ, of less moment. I shall, notwithstanding, briefly touch on these.

Miklosich has termed those simple propositions, in which there is contained no combination of subject and predicate, and in the recognition of which I am in agreement with him, “subjectless propositions.” I am not able entirely to approve his use of the term and the grounds which he has given for its use.

Subject and predicate are correlative conceptions and stand or fall together. A proposition which is truly without a subject must with equal right be regarded as without a predicate. It does not therefore seem to me quite fitting that Miklosich should always term such propositions subjectless, and it is quite incorrect when he calls them mere predicative propositions. (Cf. pp. 3, 25, 26, and elsewhere.) This might suggest the view that he likewise believes a second conception (the subject) is understood though not expressed, had he not in the most decided manner denied this (p. 3 seq. and elsewhere); or that he regarded such propositions as stunted forms of categorical propositions, and the latter form as the original, had he not expressly refuted this also (p. 13 seq.). His view rather seems to be, that the natural development from the simple to the categorical form in thinking and speaking is generally accomplished in such a way that the notion which stands alone in the former proposition is combined with a second as subject. “The subjectless propositions,” he says, p. 25, “are propositions which consist only of a predicate, of what, in the natural process of thought-formation must, in a great number of propositions, be regarded as the prius, for which a subject may, but not necessarily must be sought.”

But this also can hardly be right, and the expression “subject” scarcely seems to favour this view. That which forms the basis is, of course, certainly that which in the construction of the judgment stands first. The temporal succession of the words also agrees ill with such a view, since, in the categorical proposition, we usually begin with the subject. In opposition to such a view it may also be contended that the emphasis usually falls upon the predicate (and Trendelenburg has made use of this to indicate that the predicate is the main conception, and even with exaggeration goes on to say: “We think in predicates,” cf. p. 19). If the predicative conception is what is newly added, it will, accordingly, be the object of greater interest. On the other hand, we would be compelled to expect exactly the opposite if the notion of the subject contained the newly added moment.

It may just as truly be said, “a bird is black,” as, “something black is a bird”; “Socrates is a man,” as, “a man is Socrates”; but Aristotle has already observed that only the former predication is natural, the latter form is opposed to the natural order. And this is really so far true, that we naturally make that term the subject to which we first pay regard in forming a judgment, or to which the hearer must first attend in order to understand the proposition, or to gain knowledge as to its truth or falsity. We can be assured of the existence of a black bird by seeking it among birds or among black objects, more easily, however, among the former. In the same way we may be more easily assured that an individual belongs to a particular species or genus by analysing its nature than by running over the entire range of the corresponding general notion. The cases of exceptions clearly confirm the rule and the grounds on which it rests, as, for instance, when I say: “There is something black; this something black is a bird,” in which case it is just because I have first recognized the colour that I accordingly make it the subject in the categorical proposition so formed.

Of the two categorical Sorites, the Aristotelian and the Goclenian, the former in every succeeding link makes that term the subject which is common to it and to the one preceding, the latter form makes it the predicate. It is just on this account that the former appears the more natural, and as such is generally regarded as the regular, the latter as the reversed form. In like manner where, to a proposition not consisting of a combination of ideas, we add a categorical proposition having one term in common with the former, we usually apply this not as a predicate but as a subject, and we should therefore prefer to say that a predicate has been sought for a subject rather than that a subject has been sought for a predicate. For example: es rauscht; das Rauschen kommt von einem Bache (there is a sound of running water; the sound comes from the brook). Es donnert; der Donner verkÜndet ein nahendes Gewitter (it thunders; the thunder heralds an approaching storm). Es riecht nach Rosen; dieser Rosengeruch kommt aus dem Nachbargarten (there is a smell of roses; the rose-scent comes from a neighbour’s garden). Es wird gelacht; das GelÄchter gilt dem Hanswurste (there is laughter; the laughter is due to the clown). Es fehlt an Geld; dieser Geldmangel ist die Ursache der Stockung der GeschÄfte (there is a lack of money; this dearth of money is the cause of the depression in trade). Es giebt einen Gott; dieser Gott ist der SchÖpfer des Himmels und der Erde (there is a God; this God is the maker of heaven and earth), etc., etc.

Only in one sense, therefore, does the term “subjectless proposition” appear to me justifiable, and even perhaps deserving of recommendation, in so far as regard is paid to the fact, that the notion which is contained thereby is the only, and therefore, of course, the main conception; a preference which in the categorical proposition belongs, as we have seen, to the predicate. Similarly also in respect of categorical in relation to hypothetical propositions we would much rather say that they are propositions without an antecedent, than propositions without a consequent proposition; not as though we meant that where there is no antecedent there may still be a consequent proposition, but that in the hypothetical construction the consequent is the main proposition. In this way then I might perhaps agree with the author respecting the term “subjectless proposition.”

Another point, however, in which I am unable fully to agree with him is the question as to what extent subjectless propositions are applicable. Miklosich rightly emphasizes the fact that the limits are on no account to be drawn too tightly. But he thinks such limits at any rate exist, and this is just what is shown most clearly in his attempt to classify and divide the varied nature of the matter capable of being expressed by subjectless sentences. But this appears to me incorrect. The applicability of the subjectless form may, strictly speaking, be rather regarded as unlimited, since—as I believe I have already shown in my Psychology—every judgment, whether expressed in categorical, hypothetical or disjunctive form admits, without the slightest alteration in the sense, of being expressed in the form of a subjectless proposition or, as I expressed it, of an existential proposition. Thus the proposition, “A man is ill,” is synonymous with “There is a sick man”; and the proposition, “All men are mortal,” with the proposition, “There is no immortal man,” and the like.[A]

In yet another direction Miklosich appears to me to have limited too narrowly the applicability of his subjectless propositions. We have heard that such propositions constitute “an excellence in a language,” “respecting which all languages are very far from being able to boast” (p. 26). This, however, appears scarcely credible if it be true, as in another passage he has so convincingly shown, that there are and always have been judgments which do not consist in any combination of two ideas with each other, and which therefore it is impossible to express by means of a connexion of a subject with a predicate (p. 16). From this must follow, not merely, as Miklosich affirms, the necessary existence of subjectless propositions generally, but further (which he denies) the existence of such propositions in all languages.

That the author has here fallen into error seems to me partly explicable from the fact that in order to proceed with the utmost caution and lay claim to no unwarrantable example, he has not ventured to regard certain propositions as subjectless, which, in truth, really are so. We saw that Miklosich expressed the view that the finite verb of subjectless propositions always stands in the third person of the singular, and, when the form admits a difference of gender, in the neuter. This was certainly too narrow a limit, a limit which he himself transgresses, though this appears in a much later passage. In the second part of his treatise he says: “In ‘es ist ein Gott,’ the notion ‘Gott’ is affirmed absolutely without a subject, and this is also the case in the proposition ‘es sind GÖtter’”; and he adds: The “ist” of the existential proposition takes the place of the so-called copula “ist,” which in many, though by no means in all, languages, is indispensable to the expression of the judgment, and has the same significance as the termination of person in the finite verb as is clearly shown in the proposition “es ist Sommer, es ist Nacht” alongside the propositions, “es sommert, es nachtet.” “Ist” is accordingly not a predicate (p. 34; cf. also p. 21 above). As a matter of fact, if the proposition, “es giebt einen Gott,” is to be considered subjectless, so also must the proposition, “es ist ein Gott,” and therefore also, “es sind GÖtter”; and thus the rule previously laid down has proved to be too narrow. That the existential propositions and other analogous forms, which may be found, are all to be reckoned as subjectless propositions may serve to confirm what we have sought to show above, i.e. that no language exists, or can exist, which entirely dispenses with these simplest forms of propositions. Only certain special kinds of subjectless propositions therefore, am I able, with Miklosich, to recognize as the peculiar advantage of certain languages.

These are the criticisms which I have thought it necessary to make. It will be seen that, if found to be justified, they do not in the slightest degree prejudice either the correctness or the value of the author’s main argument, but rather lend to it a still wider significance. And so I conclude by expressing once again the wish that this suggestive little work, which, on its first appearance did not meet with sufficient general recognition, may in its second edition—where individual points have been corrected, much extended, and particularly the critical objections of scholars like Benfey, Steinthal and others, refuted with a laconic brevity, yet rare dialectical power—find that interest which the importance of the inquiry and its excellent treatment deserve.