I do not indeed pretend that when the cat calls upon the tiles it uses what it consciously and introspectively recognizes as language; it says what it has to say without introspection, and in the ordinary course of business, as one of the common forms of courtship.  It no more knows that it has been using language than M. Jourdain knew he had been speaking prose, but M. Jourdain’s knowing or not knowing was neither here nor there.

Anything which can be made to hitch on invariably to a definite idea that can carry some distance—­say an inch at the least, and which can be repeated at pleasure, can be pressed into the service of language.  Mrs. Bentley, wife of the famous Dr. Bentley of Trinity College, Cambridge, used to send her snuff-box to the college buttery when she wanted beer, instead of a written order.  If the snuff-box came the beer was sent, but if there was no snuff-box there was no beer.  Wherein did the snuff-box differ more from a written order, than a written order differs from a spoken one?  The snuff-box was for the time being language.  It sounds strange to say that one might take a pinch of snuff out of a sentence, but if the servant had helped him or herself to a pinch while carrying it to the buttery this is what would have been done; for if a snuff-box can say “Send me a quart of beer,” so efficiently that the beer is sent, it is impossible to say that it is not a bona fide sentence.  As for the recipient of the message, the butler did not probably translate the snuff-box into articulate nouns and verbs; as soon as he saw it he just went down into the cellar and drew the beer, and if he thought at all, it was probably about something else.  Yet he must have been thinking without words, or he would have drawn too much beer or too little, or have spilt it in the bringing it up, and we may be sure that he did none of these things.

You will, of course, observe that if Mrs. Bentley had sent the snuff-box to the buttery of St. John’s College instead of Trinity, it would not have been language, for there would have been no covenant between sayer and sayee as to what the symbol should represent, there would have been no previously established association of ideas in the mind of the butler of St. John’s between beer and snuff-box; the connection was artificial, arbitrary, and by no means one of those in respect of which an impromptu bargain might be proposed by the very symbol itself, and assented to without previous formality by the person to whom it was presented.  More briefly, the butler of St. John’s would not have been able to understand and read it aright.  It would have been a dead letter to him—­a snuff-box and not a letter; whereas to the butler of Trinity it was a letter and not a snuff-box.  You will also note that it was only at the moment when he was looking at it and accepting it as a message that it flashed forth from snuff-box-hood into the light and life of living utterance.  As soon as it had kindled the butler into sending a single quart of beer, its force was spent until Mrs. Bentley threw her soul into it again and charged it anew by wanting more beer, and sending it down accordingly.