to certain ideas in all languages, which so far limits the signification of that sound, that unless a man applies it to the same idea, he does not speak properly:  and let me add, that unless a man’s words excite the same ideas in the hearer which he makes them stand for in speaking, he does not speak intelligibly.  But whatever be the consequence of any man’s using of words differently, either from their general meaning, or the particular sense of the person to whom he addresses them; this is certain, their signification, in his use of them, is limited to his ideas, and they can be signs of nothing else.

CHAPTER III.

Of general terms.

1.  The greatest Part of Words are general terms.

All things that exist being particulars, it may perhaps be thought reasonable that words, which ought to be conformed to things, should be so too,—­I mean in their signification:  but yet we find quite the contrary.  The far greatest part of words that make all languages are general terms:  which has not been the effect of neglect or chance, but of reason and necessity.

2.  That every particular Thing should have a Name for itself is impossible.

First, It is impossible that every particular thing should have a distinct peculiar name.  For, the signification and use of words depending on that connexion which the mind makes between its ideas and the sounds it uses as signs of them, it is necessary, in the application of names to things, that the mind should have distinct ideas of the things, and retain also the particular name that belongs to every one, with its peculiar appropriation to that idea.  But it is beyond the power of human capacity to frame and retain distinct ideas of all the particular things we meet with:  every bird and beast men saw; every tree and plant that affected the senses, could not find a place in the most capacious understanding.  If it be looked on as an instance of a prodigious memory, that some generals have been able to call every soldier in their army by his proper name, we may easily find a reason why men have never attempted to give names to each sheep in their flock, or crow that flies over their heads; much less to call every leaf of plants, or grain of sand that came in their way, by a peculiar name.

3.  And would be useless, if it were possible.

Secondly, If it were possible, it would yet be useless; because it would not serve to the chief end of language.  Men would in vain heap up names of particular things, that would not serve them to communicate their thoughts.  Men learn names, and use them in talk with others, only that they may be understood:  which is then only done when, by use or consent, the sound I make by the organs of speech, excites in another man’s mind who hears it, the idea I apply it to in mine, when I speak it.  This cannot be done by names applied to particular things; whereof I alone having the ideas in my mind, the names of them could not be significant or intelligible to another, who was not acquainted with all those very particular things which had fallen under my notice.