george berkeley’s language of vision and the occult tradition of linguistic platonism. part ii:...

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George Berkeley’s language of vision and theoccult tradition of linguistic Platonism. Part II:

George Berkeley’s language of visionand linguistic Platonism

Michael M. Isermann *

Department of English Language and Literature, Ruprecht-Karls-Universitat Heidelberg,

Kettengasse 12, D-69117 Heidelberg, Germany

Abstract

This case study on the linguistic ideas of George Berkeley is intended to exemplify the clandestineintrusion of ‘linguistic Platonism’, i.e. occult conceptions of language, into linguistic theories in mod-ern times. The assumption underlying the study is that occult linguistic thought has played an impor-tant role in the formation of all modern theories of language which argue for a cognitive functionalongside, or instead of, the communicative function of language. In Section 3, I argue that theapparent contradictions and inconsistencies of Berkeley’s statements on language can be reconciled,if and only if we view them as grounded in the complex architecture of the two-languages metaphys-ics, or linguistic Platonism. Section 4 places the results in the wider perspective of linguistic theoriz-ing in modern times.� 2007 Elsevier Ltd. All rights reserved.

3. George Berkeley: some preliminaries

In the history of philosophy, George Berkeley figures as a notorious, if brilliant, out-sider. In the history of semiotics, he is known for his account of signs. For historians of

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58 M.M. Isermann / Language & Communication 28 (2008) 57–92

linguistic ideas and of the philosophy of language, Berkeley is almost non-existent.1 Evenso, what Berkeley has to say on language in general is no less bold and original than hisphilosophy, of which it forms an integral part. For reasons that will soon become appar-ent, Berkeley can be called a linguist–philosopher. His linguistic lines of argument are sointerwoven into the various strands of his philosophical thought that Berkeley couldremark that John Locke, whom he admired, would have fared much better had he onlyduly recognized the importance of language to his epistemology.2 I suspect that the dispar-ity between the coverage Locke has received in the histories of linguistic ideas and the phi-losophy of language and the tabula rasa that Berkeley left is as much due to the first’simmediate success in the European history of ideas as to the latter’s somewhat extravagantviews.3

Already as a young man, Berkeley contended that the objects we perceive exist in pre-cisely the way they appear to the senses. More specifically, the objects as perceived are saidto be the only objects that exist. There is no material object, no independently existingexternal physical world that is the cause of our sense impressions. Whatever is, is eithercontent of a mind or a thinking substance, i.e. a mind. Following Locke, Berkeley callsthe contents of the mind ‘ideas’, whether these are actual sense perceptions or productsof the memory or imagination. Minds or ‘spirits’, as Berkeley prefers to say, are eitherfinite and imperfect – as mine or yours – or infinite and perfect – as God’s mind. If matterin motion is rejected as the cause of our experience, and if ideas, being inert, cannot them-selves cause ideas, the question arises as to what it is that makes us have ideas. Berkeley’sanswer is that it is spirits or minds that bring about ideas. Finite minds generate ideas in

1 As for linguists proper, the situations is probably still worse. Although the combination of ‘Berkeley’ and‘linguistics’, entered into any major internet search machine, will yield more than 100,000 finds, the famousBerkeley Linguistics Society, to name just one typical result, has not shown any interest in the linguistic ideas ofits ultimate namegiver. As regards the history of the philosophy of language, Berkeley is noted by Coseriu (2003),mentioned passim in the two bulky volumes of the Handbook Sprachphilosophie/Philosophy of Language/La

philosophie du langage (1992, 1996), but absent from Borsche’s anthology (1996), Lamarque & Asher’sEncyclopedia (1997), as also from Meier-Oeser’s (1998) and Trabant’s (1998) surveys. For the history of semiotics,cf. the brief article by Armstrong in the Encyclopaedic Dictionary of Semiotics (1994) and the few scatteredremarks in the weighty four volumes of the Handbook Semiotik/Semiotics (1997–2004). Of the four recent large-scale publications in linguistic historiography, only Schmitter’s Geschichte der Sprachtheorie (1987ff) coversBerkeley (Isermann, 1999c) in some detail. Auroux’s Histoire des idees linguistique (1989–2000) and theHandbook History of the Language Sciences/Geschichte der Sprachwissenschaften/Histoire des sciences du langage

(2000–2005) touch on Berkeley, while Lepschy’s History of Linguistics (1994–1998) ignores him altogether. So doKoerner and Asher (1995), Robins (1997), Harris and Taylor (1989) and the earlier historiographies, such asArens (1969).

2 Cf. Phil. Comment., 467, 567, 717. – Since Berkeley almost invariably numbered his paragraphs – theexception to the rule being the Three Dialogues, I follow the common practice in restricting references to his textsto an abbreviated, yet recognizable title of the work, followed by the number that Berkeley assigned to therespective paragraph. Whenever the need arises, such as in referring to the Three Dialogues, I supplement thereference by supplying volume and page number of the standard edition of The Works of George Berkeley by A.A.Luce and T.E. Jessop (nine volumes, 1948–1957). The abbreviated titles are: New Theory of Vision (An Essay

towards a New Theory of Vision, 1709); Principles (A Treatise concerning the Principles of Human Knowledge,1710); Three Dialogues (Three Dialogues between Hylas and Philonous, 1713); Phil. Comment. (Philosophical

Commentaries, notebooks published posthumously); Alciphron (Alciphron: or the Minute Philosopher, 1732);Vision Vindicated (The Theory of Vision, or Visual Language shewing the immediate Presence and Providence of A

Deity, Vindicated and Explained, 1733); Siris (Siris, 1744).3 For the Lockean legacy, see Aarsleff (1982). Berkeley’s influence does not seem to extend far beyond Hume,

Reid and, with some qualifications, Schopenhauer and Peirce.

M.M. Isermann / Language & Communication 28 (2008) 57–92 59

themselves through memory and imagination, in others and themselves through (writtenor spoken) language. As a matter of fact, Berkeley argues that it is from our fellowhumans’ speech and writing, i.e. from linguistic ideas, that we can legitimately infer theexistence of other finite minds, which cannot themselves be the object of possible senseimpressions. It is the regular occurrence and the smooth functioning of interpersonal com-munication which suggests the presence of other intelligent minds (Alciphron, IV. 4ff). Inmuch the same vein, Berkeley argues with a version of the argument from design, we cansafely assume the existence of God: ‘‘In consequence, I say, [. . .] you have as much reasonto think the Universal Agent or God speaks to your eyes, as you can have for thinking anyparticular person speaks to your ears’’.4 So orderly, variable, constant and meaningful arethe ideas of visual sense experience that they form a ‘‘language of nature’’. Since it is clearthat neither we nor other finite minds can evoke the sense impressions that we receive,their miraculous presence calls for an appropriate explanation. Berkeley contends thatthey are directly and continuously caused in us by the divine mind, the author of the lin-guistic fabric of nature. Here is the conclusion of a standard version of the argument:

4 Alc5 Fo

p. 331xi). Bethat isproduthis grsad inmanifelight’’

Upon the whole, I think we may fairly conclude that the proper objects of visionconstitute the universal language of Nature [1733 ed.: ‘‘of the Author of Nature’’],whereby we are instructed how to regulate our actions in order to attain those thingsthat are necessary to the preservation and well-being of our bodies, as also to avoidwhatever may be hurtful and destructive of them. It is by their information that weare principally guided in all the transactions and concerns of life. And the mannerwherein they signify and mark unto us the objects which are at a distance is the samewith that of languages and signs of human appointment, which do not suggest thethings signified by any likeness or identity of nature, but only by an habitual connex-ion that experience has made us to observe between them. (New Theory of Vision, I,147)

It will not come as a surprise that those who have commented on Berkeley’s concept of alanguage of nature were not willing to take the whole theory at face value. It was one thingto digest Berkeley’s reliance on language at two of the critical joints of his overall theory.That the phenomena of nature should ‘‘form not only a magnificent spectacle, but also amost coherent, entertaining, and instructive [. . .] language or discourse’’ (Siris, 254; cf.Alciphron, IV. 12), seemed, however, a bit too much to swallow. For though similaritiesbetween the manner in which we make use of visual data and the way we use languagemay readily be admitted, to suppose that vision is a language ‘‘is not only paradoxicalbut borders on the absurd’’ (Creery, 1991, p. 25).5 As one critic noted, ‘‘Berkeley’s exten-sion of ‘language’ to include the divine visual language has not in fact found acceptance

iphron, IV. 12. For the full argument, see Kline (1987, p. 130).r further criticism of Berkeley’s notion of vision as a language, see e.g. Creery (1973, p. 212n); Moore (1984,); Armstrong (1994, p. 81). Even Blumenberg takes the language of nature for a metaphor (1986, chapterrkeley, foreseeing the objections, retorted almost 300 years ago: ‘‘[N]othing can be more evident to anyonecapable of the least reflexion, than the existence of God, or a spirit who is intimately present to our minds,

cing in them all that variety of ideas or sensations, which continually affect us [. . .]. That the discovery ofeat truth which lies so near and obvious to the mind, should be attained by the reason of so very few, is astance of the stupidity and inattention of men, who, though they are surrounded with such clearstations of the Deity, are yet so little affected by them, that they seem as it were blinded with excess of(Principles, III. 149).


even within the confines of British philosophy at any time in a period of over 200 yearssince his death. I would not seem rash to predict that it will not find acceptance in the nearfuture’’ (King, 1991, p. 43). From what I know of British philosophy, the prediction seemswell-founded. But neither would it seem rash – if I may pick up the thread – to predict thathistorians of linguistic ideas, if they began to interest themselves in Berkeley, would followsuit. Like historians of philosophy, they have either completely disregarded the construalof the sensible world of things as a language of nature or discarded it as fantastical or inap-propriately metaphorical.6

Absurd or not, there can be no doubt that Berkeley wants the term ‘language of nature’to be understood literally.7 Nowhere does he suggest that the visual sense data are merelylike a language. Instead, he takes pains to convince his readers time and again that they are

a language in the strict sense of the word:

6 Cf.modersweepia longexceptSprach

the conthe texstates:The sabe foulanguaextensialleged

7 Th(1991,

8 Alc9 Cf.

p. 46),

That is really and in truth my opinion; and it should be yours too, if you are consis-tent with yourself, and abide by your own definition of language, since you cannotdeny that the great Mover and Author of Nature constantly explaineth Himself tothe eyes of men by the sensible intervention of arbitrary signs, which have no simil-itude or connexion with the things signified; so as, by compounding and disposingthem, to suggest and exhibit an endless variety of objects, differing in nature, time,and place; thereby informing and directing men how to act with respect to things dis-tant and future, as well as near and present. In consequence, I say [. . .] you have asmuch reason to think the Universal agent or God speaks to your eyes, as you canhave for thinking any particular person speaks to your ears.8

3.1. Berkeley’s version of a representational theory of language

I suspect that a good many of the misgivings concerning Berkeley’s concept of a divinelanguage of nature have their roots in the difficulty of accommodating it to what practi-cally all critics agree is a general, if incoherent, theory of language.9 However, this problem

also Armstrong, who speculates that Berkeley’s ‘‘metaphysics of signification may be as fantastic to then reader as it was to most of Berkeley’s contemporaries’’ (Armstrong, 1994, p. 83). Not surprisingly, theng rejection of the underlying model of language by theorists of language and historians of philosophy haser and more venerable tradition than that ushered in through its adaptation by Berkeley. A notableion in modern historiography of linguistic ideas is Nate’s (1999) contribution to Schmitter’s Geschichte der

theorie (vol. IV, 1999). Once again, however, the exception proves the rule. For Nate’s linguistic studies oncept of a language of nature (1993, 1995, 1999) undermine their own efforts when the author admits thatts he has discussed do not primarily deal with linguistic questions (1993, p. 178). In the same vein, Nate‘‘The Language of Nature can be experienced in a language, but it is no language’’ (Nate, 1995, p. 194).me unwillingness to follow unfamiliar historical demarcations of the historiographic object ‘language’ cannd in Vickers’ influential articles (1982, 1984, 1991) and in Demonet’s study of Renaissance ideas ofge (1992, p. 575ff). The irony here is that the implicit or explicit complaints about an undue meaningon of the term ‘language’ are voiced by historiographers who have been trained to disapprove of thely naive idea that the true object of linguistics might be found in concrete, verbal communication.

is is admitted, though not really appreciated, by Creery (1973, p. 212), Kline (1987, pp. 131, 134), CreeryI, p. 26f), Turbayne (1991, I, p. 56), Land (1991, p. 107).iphron, IV. 12; cf. ibid. IV. 5; Siris, 254.Gelber (1952, pp. 492, 501), Creery (1973, p. 219), Moore (1984, p. 327), Creery (1991, p. 30), King (1991,Armstrong (1994).


can easily be handled if we assume that underlying Berkeley’s philosophy is not one, buttwo theories of language. Accordingly, I will argue in the following, firstly, that there aretwo theories of language in Berkeley and, secondly, that they join to produce a modernversion of the two-languages metaphysics. In order to condense my account, I will focusthe discussion on what I think is a covert presentational theory of language. Seeing thatthere is general agreement that Berkeley’s is basically a representational theory of lan-guage which grants overall priority to thought, I will presuppose rather than argue thatBerkeley’s description of ordinary language (what he calls ‘artificial language’) meets allrequirements of a representational or ‘Aristotelian’ theory of language.10 However, asBerkeley’s version of a representational theory of language is markedly different fromthose of its predecessors in the Aristotelian tradition, a few remarks might be helpful.

As might be expected, written words are said to stand for spoken words, and spokenwords, in turn, to represent idea-things.11 As to the latter two, it is imperative to pointto the merging of things and thought in Berkeley’s philosophy, which leaves us with ideasinstead of things as the ultimate signified. However, on close inspection, things are notquite so simple. For Berkeley’s inclusion of the world of things in the mental world doesnot prevent the newly established mental things from displaying clear traces of their des-cent. There is, in fact, a strict dividing line in the mental world that separates perceptionfrom conception, i.e. ideas of sense from those of memory and imagination. In ordinaryconversation, then, words will – for all practical purposes – evoke ideas in a listener thatare imagined or memorized. And this is what they represent or stand for. But how do theseconcepts relate to the original ideas of sense? What, for example, is the relationshipbetween an imagined apple and one presented to the senses? Given that in Berkeley’s meta-physics the world of sense has taken over the function of the world behind sense, the pro-totypical representational model predicts that an object present to the senses and the sameobject as imagined relate in terms of representation. In fact, the prediction is entirely borneout when Berkeley writes that the ‘‘ideas imprinted on the senses by the Author of Natureare called real things: and those excited in the imagination being less regular, vivid andconstant, are more properly termed Ideas, or images of things, which they copy and rep-resent’’.12 The fact that words in ordinary discourse regularly represent or stand for ideas

10 For an account of the continuity of representation from Locke to Berkeley, see Land (1991, pp. 90–96).Kearney (1991) argues at length for a representational theory of language in Berkeley. Cf. also Creery (1991, I, p.21f), Woozley (1991).11 Cf. Alciphron, VII. 13. Ideas are clearly prior to words (Phil. Comment., 356, 522, 638), although Berkeley

departs from Locke’s position in admitting the usefulness of discourse unaccompanied by ideas (cf. Sections 3.5and 4). However, speakers have to make sure they can cash in their words for ideas whenever the need arises:‘‘Words, it is agreed, are signs: it may not therefore be amiss to examine the use of other signs, in order to knowthat of words. Counters, for instance, at a card table are used, not for their own sake, but only as signs substitutedfor money, as words are for ideas. Say now, Alciphron, is it necessary every time these counters are usedthroughout the progress of a game, to frame an idea of the distinct sum or value that each represents? [. . .] it beingsufficient that we have it in our power to substitute things or ideas for their signs when there is occasion’’(Alciphron, VII. 5).12 Principles, 33. Cf. the opening sentence of the Principles: ‘‘It is evident to anyone who takes a survey of the

objects of human knowledge, that they are either ideas actually imprinted on the senses, [. . .] or lastly ideasformed by help of memory and imagination, either compounding, dividing, or barely representing those originally

perceived in the aforesaid ways’’ (Principles, 1; my italics, MMI). Cf. also Three Dialogues, where ideas are said tobe ‘‘images and representations’’ of real things (Three Dialogues, I, Works II, p. 203).

IDEAS (ideas of written words)

IDEAS (ideas of spoken words)

IDEAS (ideas of imagination/memory)

IDEAS (ideas of sense)

↓

↓

↓

Fig. 15. Berkeley’s representational theory of language.


of the imagination, which, in turn, stand for the respective ideas of sense, does, however,not seem to preclude that words may also represent ideas of sense directly.

Recognition must also be given to the fact that since there are nothing but ideas andminds in Berkeley’s universe, written words and spoken words are, strictly speaking, typesof ideas, a conclusion which might prompt us to rename them accordingly as linguisticideas or ideas of written and spoken words. But as things are, this does not seem to preventthem from occupying the respective position in the traditional chain of representation con-necting writing, speech, thought and the world (see Fig. 15; cf. part I, Fig. 1). Except forthese minor alterations, the representational model seems to remain unaffected.

3.2. Berkeley’s presentational theory of language: the language of vision

Compared to Berkeley’s fairly transparent treatment of verbal language in a represen-tational framework, the mapping of his divine language of nature on what I have calledthe presentational theory of language is not quite so straightforward. I think there is a sim-ple reason for that: Berkeley does not, and cannot, embrace a presentational theory of lan-guage in the strict sense of the word (cf. Section 4). I will argue, however, that henevertheless relies heavily on it. Let me begin the discussion with one of Berkeley’s manylinguistic portrayals of the divine language of nature. Characteristically, the introductionof the language of vision is preceded by a definition of language in general:

What I mean is not the sound of speech as such, but the arbitrary use of sensiblesigns, which have no similitude or necessary connexion with the things signified;so as by the apposite management of them to suggest and exhibit to my mind an end-less variety of things, differing in nature, time, and place; thereby informing me,entertaining me, and directing me how to act, not only with regard to things nearand present, but also with regard to things distant and future. No matter whetherthese signs are pronounced or written; whether they enter by the eye or ear: they havethe same use, and are proofs of an intelligent, thinking, designing cause. [. . .] it shallappear plainly that God speaks to men by the intervention and use of arbitrary, out-ward, sensible signs, having no resemblance or necessary connexion with the thingsthey stand for and suggest; [. . .] by innumerable combinations of these signs, an end-less variety of things is discovered and made known to us; and [. . .] we are therebyinstructed or informed in their different natures; [. . .] we are taught and admonishedwhat to shun, and what to pursue; and are directed how to regulate our motions, and

13 Cf.14 In

primarsigns a(1948,15 Cf.16 Th

languathe infPrincip17 Cf.


how to act with respect to things distant from us, as well in time as place [. . .] thereinconsists the force, and use, and nature of language. (Alciphron, IV. 7)

It is obvious that this characterization is meant to bridge the differences between ordin-ary language and the language of nature. Since his aim is to argue for the linguistic natureof vision, the tendency is for Berkeley to play down the peculiarities of each medium aswell as to emphasize the common ground. Thus, for example, both are said to consistof sensible signs that stand in arbitrary relationship to their signifieds. In addition, bothare described as rich systems of signification with an almost infinite expressive power, serv-ing various communicative purposes.13

But whatever we can make of this without having treated the universal language ofvision in some more detail, nothing so far suggests that Berkeley shaped his universal lan-guage of vision in the mould of a presentational theory of language – except for the term‘language of nature’ itself. Quite on the contrary: ‘similitude’, a concept that followingFoucault is often said to epitomize the thinking of Renaissance occultism, is expresslyexcluded from linguistic signification.14 Instead, linguistic signs – including the visual signsof the language of nature – are said to rest on what looks like a Berkeleian linguistic prin-ciple of arbitrariness: the foremost criterion for something to be a language is that there isan arbitrary relationship between sign and signified.15 According to the argument of partI, however, arbitrariness can be seen to be a reliable indicator for a representational theoryof language (cf. part I, Fig. 7). Adding to this major incompatibility, Berkeley’s languageof nature is said to function as a medium of communication between spirits, no less thanordinary language. And it is said to do so not only in the traditional terms of conveyinginformation, but also in terms of more mundane functions such as entertaining us and reg-ulating our daily life.16

As things stand, this is not all that can be brought to bear against the assumption thatBerkeley’s language of vision rests on a presentational theory of language. Thus, Berkeleyconsistently employs a representational terminology in his account of the workings of thedivine language. In a manner reminiscent of the Aristotelian tradition of representation,visual signs are said to represent or stand for ideas of touch.17 Related to the terminologicalissue – but clearly more disconcerting – is the observation that sign and signified in thedivine language of nature, i.e. visual sense data and tactile sense data, do not seem tobe identical in any tolerable sense of the word. On the contrary, they are said to ‘‘maketwo species, entirely distinct and heterogeneous’’ (Principles, 44). This divergence is allthe more disturbing considering that the identity of sign and signified was singled out

Forest (1997, p. 443).repudiating ‘‘necessary deductions’’ and ‘‘similitudes to the fancy’’ from linguistic signification, Berkeleyily opposes rival theories of visual perception that would block a construal of visual perception in terms ofnd signifieds and thus, ultimately, in linguistic terms. See Luce & Jessop’s introduction to Theory of Vision

Works I, pp. 143–163).New Theory of Vision, 64, 65; Vision Vindicated, 43.

e latter functions are repeatedly pointed to by Berkeley in order to instantiate (against Locke) usages ofge that do not seem to require concomitant ideas as their meaning. It is clear, though, that Berkeley viewsormative function, i. e. the conveying of ideas, as primary and fundamental. Cf. Introd. to Principles, 25;les, 22, 24, and below.New Theory of Vision, 144, 152; Alciphron, III. 4 (Works III, p. 149).


as the principal axiom of a presentational theory of language on which all other criteriamore or less depend (part I, Fig. 7).

To make things worse, there does not seem to be anything like a mystic descent intothings or words involved in Berkeley’s account of visual perception. The occult subject’sassimilation to the world of sign-signified objects, one of the corollaries of the Neoplato-nist view of the language of nature, is certainly not a precondition for the Berkeleian sub-ject’s capacity of reading in ‘‘that great volume of nature’’ (Principles, 109). Berkeley’sfinite spirits act autonomously with regard to nature, being exposed to, and acquiring,its peculiar dialect in a most natural setting from the cradle (Alciphron IV. 11). And insteadof being granted access to the secrets of nature, they actively advance in their understand-ing of God’s visual language, the more industry, care, and observation they invest into itsstudy (Siris, 253, 254). While human beings cannot help but acquire God’s idiom at leastto the extent that they are familiar with most of its words and letters, others may devotetheir time to discovering the grammatical rules of the divine language. Thus, in a furtherextension of what the majority of historians have seen as too bold a metaphor, Berkeleyrefers to the natural philosopher as the grammarian of nature (Principles, 65, 66). That, inturn, seems to imply that the divine language can be learned and studied in a way similarto learning and studying ordinary languages. In a nutshell, the evidence to the contrary isso impressive that it might seem to prohibit the placing of Berkeley in the tradition of thetwo-languages metaphysics.

On the other hand, the amount of evidence for the assumption that underlying Berke-ley’s thought is a version of Linguistic Platonism is just as compelling. If, for example, thescientist is at the same time a grammarian of nature (and a psychologist at that), then thissurely presupposes the fusion of language, thought, and the world that is characteristic ofthe Neoplatonist tradition. It is also due to this merging of the semiotic levels that Berke-ley can address the contents of the mind variably as things, ideas, or linguistic items in away that is basically in accordance with occult parlance.18 Even the medial distinctionbetween writing and speech is leveled out into a transient yet permanent divine idiom thatpreserves the distinctive features of both. In visual sense experience ‘‘the voice of theAuthor of nature [. . .] speaks to our eyes’’ in a ‘‘constant creation’’, an ‘‘instantaneous pro-duction and reproduction’’ of a viva voce stretch of writing.19 Accordingly, science or nat-ural philosophy cannot profitably be carried out with the instruments and methods ofcontemporary mechanical philosophy. If nature is a text, science must be a thoroughlyhermeneutic business:

18 See‘‘we arremainonely r19 Alc

Hence it is evident, that those things which under the notion of a cause co-operatingor concurring to the production of effects, are altogether explicable, and run us intogreat absurdities, may be very naturally explained, and have a proper and obvioususe assigned them, when they are considered only as marks or signs for our informa-tion. And it is the searching after, and endeavouring to understand those signs insti-tuted by the Author of Nature, that ought to be the employment of the natural

e.g. Principles, 33, 34, 38. In response to some critics, Berkeley emphasizes that through his philosophye not deprived of any one thing in Nature. Whatever we see, feel, hear or any wise conceive or understand,s as secure as ever, and is as real as ever’’ (Principles, 34; cf. 51). And: ‘‘I take not away substances. [. . .] Ieject the Philosophic sense (which in effect is no sense) of the word substance’’ (Phil. Comment., 517).iphron, IV. 14. Cf. ibid., 11, 12; New Theory of Vision, 152.

20 Pri21 See22 See23 Th

p. 72),Oeseras a syagree w


philosopher, and not the pretending to explain things by corporeal causes; whichdoctrine seems to have too much estranged the minds of men from that active prin-ciple, that supreme and wise spirit, in whom we live, move, and have our being.20

Notice also that the elements of Berkeley’s language of vision cannot be used to refer, atleast in the sense that whatever they can refer to is already pre-established by the author ofnature. But even for the infinite spirit, visual sense data cannot in the remotest sense besaid to represent ideas of touch. It is true that Berkeley confidently employs a representa-tional metalanguage that makes divine signs stand for, represent, refer to or even substitute

divine signifieds.21 And there is no reason to assume that this practice was an insinceremove meant to underpin his arguments for the essentially linguistic nature of vision.Rather, Berkeley seems to have treated representation as the most typical function ofsigns, albeit not the only one.22 And one must not forget that he lacked an appropriatenon-representational terminology. Yet visual impressions escape such representationaldescription in that they are co-original with tactile sense impressions. Clearly, Berkeleydoes not want to imply that the tactile world of sense should be accorded logical and onto-

logical priority, while the visual world was created by God in order for him to be able totalk or write about ideas of touch. Ignoring for the moment the fact that Berkeley arguesfor a linguistic priority of vision over the other senses (cf. Section 3.4), all sense data arelogically and ontologically on a par by virtue of their being constantly and indiscriminatelyissued by God.

This being incontestable, it does not, however, follow that they are all signs. But clearly,in order for Berkeley’s language of vision to follow the pattern of a presentational modelof language, what is signified by the visual sense data, i.e. ideas of touch, would have toform, in turn, a system of signs with other ideas as their signifieds and so on, infinitely.Considering that all sense impressions are directly engendered by the author of nature,it would indeed seem natural to assume that they are all meaningful elements of the divinelanguage. Berkeley, however – for reasons to be discussed later (Section 3.5) – recom-mends that the term ‘language’ be reserved for vision only. But notwithstanding his appar-ent hesitation to reduce the whole world of sense to one or several languages, Berkeleyreadily concedes that it constitutes a world of signs. Even the ideas of smell and touch‘‘agree in the general nature of sign’’ (Alciphron, IV. 12). Thus, the whole universe formsa huge semiotic superstructure in which vision is assigned the dominating role of a fullyelaborated system of signs, or language.23

For two reasons, this is precisely what one might expect. For one thing, it would cer-tainly be odd, if not downright incoherent, to have God speak in an ideal language ‘‘con-trived with such wonderful skill’’ (Alciphron, IV. 15), while with respect to ideas of theother senses he would appear to produce meaningless gibberish at whim. Secondly, and

nciples, 66; cf. Alciphron, IV. 14; Three Dialogues (Works II, p. 236.)e.g. Alciphron, IV. 7, p. 149 (stand for); VII. 5 (substitute); New Theory of Vision, 152 (represent).Alciphron, VII. 5.

is is a point on which Berkeley scholars are agreed. Cf. Land (1975, p. 199), Hardwick (1981), Pfeifer (1978,Moore (pp. 184, 333, 336), McGowan (1991, I, p. 115f), Land (1991, p. 89); Forest (1997, p. 439f), Meier-

(1997, p. 382). For Turbayne (1991, I, p. 52) and Moore (1984, p. 338), Berkeley’s conception of the worldstem of signs is ‘‘a unique feature’’ and his ‘‘most interesting and original contribution’’, respectively. Iith the predicate ‘interesting’.


more importantly, the concept of a semiotic universe of sense derives directly from Berke-ley’s definition of signs:

24 MuArmstsignificdefinitthat coseem town splength,sign: fainstantand Be25 A f

presenwhat iWhileRenaismore,historisubsta

Ideas which are observed to be connected with other ideas come to be considered assigns, by means whereof things not actually perceived by sense are signified or sug-gested to the imagination, whose objects they are, and which alone perceives them.And as sounds suggest other things, so characters suggest those sounds; and, in gen-

eral, all signs suggest the things signified, there being no idea which may not offer to the

mind another idea which hath been frequently joined with it. In certain cases a sign maysuggest its correlate as an image, in others as an effect, in others as a cause. Butwhere there is no such relation of similitude or causality, nor any necessary connex-ion whatsoever, two things, by their mere coexistence, or two ideas, merely by being

perceived together, may suggest or signify one the other, their connexion being allthe while arbitrary; for it is the connexion only, as such, that causeth this effect.(Vision Vindicated, 39; my italics, MMI)

Since the ideas caused by God are all contextually embedded and recurring (as opposedto isolated and singular), Berkeley’s associationist definition of signs imposes the followingconsequences on the elements of the sensory world: firstly, every sense impression is(meant to be) a sign and has meaning; secondly, the meaning of a sense impression is –by virtue of its being an idea – itself a meaningful sign; thirdly, if arbitrary, sign and sig-nified ‘‘may suggest or signify one the other’’, i.e. they stand in the relationship of mutualsignification24; fourthly, an idea-sign has as many meanings as there are ideas habituallyconnected to it, i.e. there is multiple signification; and, as a necessary consequence ofmutual and multiple signification, there is, fifthly, infinite semiosis: there is no end tothe divine chain of signification. For whichever reason, then, Berkeley’s terminologymerely suggests that tactile ideas are the ultimate signifieds of the language of nature.Vision as the language of nature, standing out clearly against the non-visual ideas causedby God, is itself suspended in a network of interrelated signs which is not tied to the ulti-mate signifieds of a representational model of language.25

tual signification as a corollary of Berkeley’s associationist semiotics is noted by Land (1991, p. 104) androng (1994, p. 82). It is interesting to see, especially with regard to the direction of Agrippa’s chain ofation, that from among the various types of semiotic relationship which are licensed by his associationist

ion (listed by Armstrong, 1994), Berkeley utilizes only the ‘paradigmatic’, or cross-sensory ones, i.e. thosennect the data of one sense with those of another. In particular, it is worth mentioning that he does not

o consider the potential for visual sense data to entertain semiotic relationships with other qualities of theirecies, although such is assumed by many a commentator. In fact, as Land (1975, 1991) has argued atsimultaneous or contiguous sense data serve the function of specifying the contextual use of a particularintness of a visual impression, for example, signifies the distance of a visual object not in each and everyof occurrence, but only in the appropriate visual context. For this and other affinities between Agripparkeley, see Section 3.5.urther, semantic consequence of infinite semiosis, which is also absent from the list of corollaries of thetational theory of language (part I, Fig. 7), is the ubiquity, fullness and eternal presence of meaning or,s genetically and fundamentally the same, the nowhereness and complete absence of sense (cf. Section 4).the first seems to have been the peculiar mental condition of the ‘subject’ in the occult tradition of thesance (and, no less, in the diverse mystic traditions), the latter doubtlessly describes the Modern and, eventhe Postmodern experience. Cf. note 58. In Isermann (1999a,b) I argued that the contrast between the twocal attitudes towards infinite semiosis is due to a replacement of the pre-modern primordial category ofnce by the modern category of relation, or plainly put, of a world of things by a world of written words.


On balance, then, the majority of linguistic and semiotic features of Berkeley’s divinelanguage of vision are at variance with a representational theory of language, but fullyconsistent with a presentational one. Given that a linguistic theory with a foothold inboth representation and presentation borders on the impossible, the assumption sug-gests itself that the impression of incoherence might arise from Berkeley’s representa-tional terminology rather than from a representational foundation of the language ofvision. Indeed, in Section 3.5, I will argue that most of the problematic conclusionsarrived at above may be accounted for in just this way. As a prelude to that, I will firsttry to corroborate the findings by locating what we have good reasons to regard asBerkeley’s presentational theory of language in the larger framework of linguisticPlatonism.

3.3. Linguistic Platonism in Berkeley

A central feature of linguistic Platonism, and certainly the most Platonic one, is thepeculiarly Platonic relationship between the two languages and, from a more general per-spective, between the two theories of language that define Neoplatonist metaphysics. Thesignificance of the two-world-metaphysics for linguistic Platonism demands a separate anddetailed treatment of the topic. The feature is missing from the list (cf. part I, Fig. 7),because it sits astride the juxtaposition of a presentational and a representational (theoryof) language. As I have passed over this central feature in the introduction to linguisticPlatonism (part I, Section 2), I will occasionally draw a parallel between Berkeley andthe occult Renaissance, pointing to the structural similarity in the way in which the pre-carious treatment of the relationship between the two languages makes itself felt. I willapproach the topic first from a more linguistic point of view, starting out from what seemsto be a property of linguistic Neoplatonism only. Following that, I will look at Berkeley’stwo-languages metaphysics with a view to the recurrent elements of Neoplatonism in gen-eral, leaving till the next Section (3.4) the issue of why a critique of language forms anindispensable part of linguistic Platonism.

First, the linguistic perspective: Among the effects of linguistic Neoplatonism thatlack a counterpart in the Platonic two-world metaphysics, there is one that needs par-ticular attention: The relationship between the divine, presentational language of visionand the ordinary, communicative language of representation is such that the latterappears to be the metalanguage of the first.26 After all, even Berkeley himself has tofall back on ordinary language in order to argue that what we talk about when we talkabout things we have seen is, in fact, the divine language of nature. Indeed, this is pre-cisely the situation that motivated many of Berkeley’s writings: His main objectiveoften is to convince the reader that the world around us is nothing but God’s meansof literally expressing himself. In other words, it is Berkeley’s self-proclaimed task toget the reader to recognize that what he has been referring to in everyday discourse(in the sense of ultimate signifieds) are really signs that are themselves signs of signsand so on, infinitely. This raises the following question: If the language of nature isa self-sufficient and self-referential system of signs without a representational founda-tion, then does this not mean that the ordinary (meta-)language of representation

26 Cf. Gelber (1952, p. 501); Turbayne (1991, p. 52).


would also lack an ultimate signified? Does the reformulation of the world of things asa language of nature without a representational grounding not do away with an ulti-mate signified altogether?

I believe that such a compact view of the interplay of the two languages is little morethan a theoretical speculation, and a highly implausible one at that. It is theoreticallyimplausible, because it combines two opposing theories of languages that have to be keptdistinct. In ordinary, practical affairs of life the elements of the language of nature, i.e.visual impressions, do indeed function as ultimate signifieds, as what is ultimately repre-sented. In this respect, and in some others too, Berkeley’s two languages behave more liketwo unrelated languages (as depicted in part I, Fig. 6) than like one language with twofunctions or two languages with a common joint (cf. part I, Fig. 5). As long as we under-stand the term ‘metalanguage’ to mean simply that a language is used to talk aboutanother, it is appropriate that we call Berkeley’s ‘‘artificial’’ language the metalanguageof the divine language of vision. In all other respects it is not. Two implications of the com-parison are particularly misleading: For one thing, object language and metalanguage areneither different languages nor different functions of the same language in Berkeley’s meta-physics. Secondly, Berkeley’s ordinary language does not perform the function of a meta-language. Whereas usually the typical function of a metalanguage is to make the ‘objectlanguage’ accessible to the linguistic understanding, Berkeley sees ordinary language asconcealing the divine language of nature (cf. Section 3.4). In short, it is the Platonic rela-tionship between the two languages that blocks their interpretation in terms of object lan-guage and metalanguage.

So instead of cutting the ground from under the feet of the ordinary language user, thelanguage of nature serves as the safe ground on which the representational significationprocess comes to rest. It is, to quote Berkeley, of ‘‘excellent use in giving stability and per-manency to human discourse’’ (Alciphron, IV. 15). No doubt, the same is true of scientificdiscourse, even if it is about the language of nature. Whether or not we accept Berkeley’smetaphysics, we (including Berkeley himself) generally talk about what we believe we see,hear, and touch, not about what these things might turn out to be when subjected to thescientific linguistic scrutiny of the philosopher or the grammarian of nature. This is whatBerkeley is prepared to accept as inevitable and sensible at the same time. What he lamentsis that not even when we stop and contemplate do we recognize that what we have beentalking about all along is evidently the language of the author of nature, a spirit, who is so‘‘actually and intimately present’’ (Alciphron IV. 14) to our minds and in whom, Berkeleyadds with St. Paul, ‘‘we live, and move, and have our being’’ (Principles, 149). ‘‘A commonman’’, says Berkeley with an air of indignation,

27 Alc

would probably be more convinced of the being of God by one single sentence heardonce in his life from the sky than by all the experience he has had of this Visual Lan-guage, contrived with such an exquisite skill, so constantly addressed to his eyes, andso plainly declaring the nearness, wisdom, and providence of Him with whom wehave to do.27

iphron, IV. 15; cf. Principles, 57.


The disappointment about his fellow men not recognizing the language of nature forwhat it is is probably that of the theologian Berkeley. As a grammarian-philosopher ofnature, Berkeley offers several reasons for human ignorance vis-a-vis the immediate pres-ence of God’s visible voice, one of which deserves special mention in the present context;not least, because it relies heavily on a linguistic observation.

In a line of argument that anticipates Benjamin Whorf’s concept of background phe-nomenon, Berkeley points out that it is a characteristic feature of the human perceptivefaculty to assimilate (sensible) sign and (imagined) signified to the point of identificationwith increasing frequency of occurrence. The more habitual the sequence of two senseimpressions, the stronger the illusion of the mind to perceive both when only one is pres-ent. Thus – to draw on one of Berkeley’s favourite examples – we take it for granted thatwe see a distant, extended or moving object, although distance, extension and movementare sensible qualities proper to tactile experience only. Careful introspection, however, willreveal that the tactile qualities are merely ‘‘suggested’’, i.e. signified by certain elements ofvisual perception. Thus, for example, the faintness, smallness or obscurity of a visualimpression signify greater distance of an object, given appropriate perceptual contextconditions.

By blending sign and signified into each other, we fail to distinguish them and depriveourselves of the opportunity to grasp the semiotic nature of vision in the first place. Sim-ilarly, our discriminating faculty is suspended in the perception of everyday discourse. ‘‘Isee, therefore, in strict philosophical truth’’, says Berkeley in a nicely condensed analogicalargument, ‘‘that rock only in the same sense that I may be said to hear it, when the wordrock is pronounced’’ (Alciphron, IV. 10). We believe we have direct access to what some-body means by assuming it to be what we read or hear:

28 Alc

[I]t comes to pass that the mind often overlooks them [i.e. signs], so as to carry itsattention immediately on to the things signified. Thus, for example, in reading werun over the characters with the slightest regard, and pass on to the meaning. Henceit is frequent for men to say, they see words [as acoustic-auditory entities], andnotions, and things in reading a book; whereas in strictness they see only the char-acters which suggest words, notions and things. And, by parity of reason, may wenot suppose that men, not resting in, but overlooking the immediate objects of sight,as in their own nature of small moment, carry their attention onward to the verything signified, and talk as if they saw the secondary objects? which, in truth andstrictness, are not seen, but only suggested and apprehended by means of the properobjects of sight, which alone are seen.28

Strictly speaking, the artificial separation of sign and signified and, hence, the experien-tial recognition of the language of nature as such, is almost impossible:

Which will not seem strange to us if we consider how hard it is for any one to hearthe words of his native language pronounced in his ears without understanding them.Though he endeavour to disunite the meaning from the sound, it will neverthelessintrude into his thoughts, and he shall find it extremely difficult, if not impossible,to put himself exactly in the posture of a foreigner that never learned the language,

iphron, IV. 12; cf. New Theory of Vision, 48.

29 Ne30 Cf.

are fam31 Th

110, 1(1690[1from athe twshapesin prinideas ointrodu


so as to be affected barely with the sounds themselves, and not perceive the signifi-cation annexed to them. (New Theory of Vision, 159)

Suggesting a thought experiment that is targeted towards the universality of the lan-guage of nature, Berkeley brings the argument to its ultimate conclusion:

And there are some grounds to think that if there was one only invariable and uni-versal language in the world, and that men were born with the faculty of speaking it,it would be the opinion of many that the ideas of other men’s minds were properlyperceived by the ear, or had at least a necessary and inseparable tie with the soundsthat were affixed to them.29

At this point, the subtle reproach of human ignorance with respect to the language ofnature has turned into a full acknowledgment of the intricacies involved in experiencingthe language of nature. We fail to perceive the language of nature as such, because we live

in it.30 In the absence of other languages of vision that might demonstrate the arbitraryrelationship between visual and tactile impressions, we have to resort to a make-shiftdevice in order to grasp the non-identity of sign and signified. What Berkeley is thinkingof is a person with a fully developed sense of touch who has never been exposed to sensa-tions of light and colour. We have to assume ‘‘the posture of a foreigner’’ to the languageof nature and perceive it with the eyes of ‘‘a person born blind made to see’’.31

Let me sum up the discussion so far. Although there is some merit in the view that therelationship between ordinary discourse and the universal language of vision is like thatbetween language and metalanguage, there is no evidence in Berkeley’s writings that thisis more than just a theoretical thought-experiment. The two languages and, for that mat-ter, the two theories of language, are kept strictly apart and treated as completely auton-omous. Even when talking about the language of nature, we do so in full accordance withthe requirements of a representational theory of language. A distinguishing feature of thelanguage of nature that has emerged from the above discussion is its paradoxical statusvis-a-vis human understanding. Although ever-present and, in a way, well known to us,it does not seem to be easily and transparently available to the conscious understandingof those to whom it addresses itself. It gives order, pattern and meaning to the flux of per-ceptual phenomena and thereby guides our understanding, our actions and interactions,though apparently in largely imperceptible ways. Thus, both the linguistic path and per-ceptual access to the divine language are barred. The language of nature eludes our per-ception. Employing Renaissance Neoplatonist locution, we might say that the language

w Theory of Vision, 66; cf. ibid., 144.Euphranor (i.e. Berkeley), interrupting Alciphron: ‘‘But they [these strange things] are not strange, theyiliar; and that makes them be overlooked’’ (Alciphron, IV. 15).

e famous Molyneux problem that pervades Berkeley’s works on vision (e.g. New Theory of Vision, 41, 79,32f; Vision Vindicated, 71) was already discussed in Locke’s Essay Concerning Human Understanding

975], II.9.8). Molyneux posed the problem of a man born blind who had learned to distinguish a cubesphere by touch. He argued – as did Berkeley – that the man would not be able immediately to distinguish

o if he were given sight. Berkeley’s semiotic theory of vision predicts that since one perceives distance andby sight only mediately through the customary correlation with ideas of touch, and since the latter cannotciple resemble visual ideas, a person born blind could neither correlate his tactile experience with the novelf vision nor perceive distance or shapes by sight. For a survey of the discussion, see Luce and Jessop’sction to New Theory of Vision (1948, I, pp. 143–163).


of nature is at once manifest and occult (in the original sense of being concealed) or, moreto the Berkeleian point, that it is occult, because it is absolutely manifest.

The Neoplatonist bent of the relationship between the two languages stands out moreclearly against the background of Berkeley’s philosophy, if we look at it from the broaderperspective of Neoplatonism in general.32 In a way, Berkeley’s entire philosophical archi-tecture can be seen to rest securely on a (Neo-)Platonic foundation. For basically two rea-sons, this Platonic foundation was destined to escape the notice of historians. The first isthat the two-languages metaphysics has not yet been recognized as an important variant ofPlatonic metaphysics in any historiographic tradition. The basic reason for that, in turn, isthat historians have not been willing to grant theory-status to occult ideas on language.Nor is the Platonic background easily identifiable in Berkeley, given that he does not intro-duce the two languages in an overtly Platonic context. In fact, the systematic pressure toharmonize the two languages is so strong that their contrastive properties tend to be con-stantly suppressed, concealed behind a representational terminology, or, as in the follow-ing quotation, simply reduced to a contrast of a natural vs. artificial origin:

32 AltNeopl(1991)

A great number of arbitrary signs, various and apposite, do constitute a language. Ifsuch arbitrary connexion be instituted by men, it is an artificial language; if by theAuthor of Nature, it is a natural language. Infinitely various are the modificationsof light and sound, whence they are each capable of supplying an endless varietyof signs, and, accordingly, have been employed to form languages; the one by thearbitrary appointment of mankind, the other by that of God Himself. A connexionestablished by the Author of Nature, in the ordinary course of things, may surely becalled natural; as that made by men will be named artificial. And yet this doth nothinder but the one may be as arbitrary as the other. And, in fact, there is no morelikeness to exhibit, or necessity to infer, things tangible from the modifications oflight, than there is in language to collect the meaning from the sound. But, suchas the connexion is of the various tones and articulations of voice with their severalmeanings, the same is it between the various modes of light and their respective cor-relates; or, in other words, between the ideas of sight and touch. (Vision Vindicated,40)

The second, equally important reason why Berkeley’s Platonism has been a closed bookto historians is that the identities of the two worlds that go into the Platonic two-worldmetaphysics have been tacitly reversed. What in the Neoplatonist tradition was predicatedof the intelligible world of forms, accessible only to pure thought, is now predicated byBerkeley of the world of sense. Conversely, the attributes of the Platonic world of sense,the realm of appearance, are collectively transferred onto Berkeley’s world of thought:

There is indeed this difference between the signification of tangible figures by visiblefigures, and of ideas by words: that whereas the latter is variable and uncertain,depending altogether on the arbitrary appointment of men, the former is fixed andimmutably the same in all time and places [. . .]. Hence it is that the voice of theAuthor of Nature which speaks to our eyes, is not liable to that misinterpretation

hough some authors have pointed out that in his last publication, Siris (1744), Berkeley shows distinctatonist leanings, his mature theory is generally exempted from such a disreputable classification. Cf. Wenz’sdiscussion of archetypes in Berkeley’s writings and McKim’s response (1991).

33 Pri34 Ber

p. 337)35 Pri


and ambiguity that languages of human contrivance are unavoidably subject to.(New Theory of Vision, 152)

This modification, profound though it may be, leaves the entire Platonic constructionintact while, at the same time, contributing greatly to the disguising of it. In stark contrastto all other kinds of Platonism, the world of sense, i.e. the language of nature, is investedwith the attributes of the real, intelligible world. It is depicted as universal, fixed, immu-table, perfect, univocal, eternal, and addressed as what has a higher degree of realityand dignity relative to the ideas of human institution. Ideas of sense are ‘‘more strong,lively, and distinct from those of the imagination; they have likewise a steadiness, order,and coherence’’ and ‘‘can be said to have more reality in them’’. Perfectly in line with thisrearrangement, ideas of human origin attract the opposite predicates. They are said to beambiguous, heterogeneous, incoherent, changing, irregular and, with regard to their onto-logical status, ‘‘chimeras formed by the imagination’’ or ‘‘fictions of the mind’’.33 Thus,the world of human thought is portrayed as having a lesser degree of being and the logicaland ontological secondariness that has always been an essential attribute of the Platonicworld of appearances.

3.4. Linguistic Platonism and Berkeley’s critique of language

With the neoplatonist basis of his metaphysics thus delineated, we are sufficientlyequipped to assign to Berkeley’s radical critique of language its proper systematic andhistorical location. While it is true that Berkeley’s philosophy aims at drawing awaythe curtain of words from the truths of things in a way that indeed looks forward tothe early Wittgenstein,34 it is both historically and systematically more appropriate tosee him in the Baconian or, still more generally, in the empiricist tradition of languagecriticism. In keeping with the empiricist tradition, Berkeley’s language criticism aims atthe surrender of human, especially verbal, authorship over scientific ideas in favour ofan emancipation of nature’s own communicative potential. According to Blumenberg(1986, p. 86), it is the fundamental idea of empiricism to rescue nature from its role asan underprivileged object of scientific discourse and to reinstate it as the legitimate nar-rator of its own history, leaving to the scientist the position of the faithful scribe writingdown the dictates of nature or, to borrow Berkeley’s term, the grammar of nature. Thebusiness of the philosopher, by contrast, is to sweep away the verbal dust of ‘‘uncouthparadoxes, difficulties, and inconsistencies’’ that centuries of human monologue haveheaped upon the book of nature.35 In other words, the philosopher has to clear theground of human language (and thought) in order for nature’s hand to become visibleto the grammarian of nature. It is essential to notice at this point that what is clearlymeant as a metaphor by Blumenberg and, with some likelihood, by the authors in theempiricist tradition prior to Berkeley, is turned into a literal programme in Berkeley’sphilosophy. And more than that: Berkeley’s philosopher is under the obligation to de-

nciples, 30–36; Three Dialogues (Works II, p. 235).keley’s outspoken distrust of language is standardly compared with that of Wittgenstein. Cf. Moore (1984,; Turbayne (1991, p. 50); Fogelin (2001, passim).nciples, Introd., 1–3; cf. Phil. Comment., 642.


intellectualize and to de-verbalize human pseudo-knowledge up to the point where werecognize that ‘the language of nature’ is not a metaphor.

Berkeley’s most extensive attack on human language and its attendant vices extendsover the 25 sections of the lengthy introduction to the Principles. It is clearly not tar-geted towards his readership, much less to the ‘‘generality of men which are simple andilliterate [and] never pretend to abstract notions’’ (Principles, Introd., 10). As in Bacon’scritique of language, it is the philosophical and scholarly traditions that are pilloried.Above all, Berkeley takes issue with what he saw as the most dangerous theories, lead-ing inevitably to scepticism: the doctrine of matter in motion (in science) and that ofabstract ideas (in philosophy). Both the materialist and the abstractionist doctrines,Berkeley argues at length, originate from absurd linguistic theories (cf. e.g. Principles,Introd., 21).

As a remedy against the ‘‘delusion of words’’ (Principles, Introd., 25), he recommends,and then promises himself, to

endeavour to take them [the ideas] bare and naked into my view, keeping out of mythoughts, so far as I am able, those names which long and constant use hath sostrictly united with them; [. . .] as long as I confine my thoughts to my own ideasdivested of words, I do not know how I can easily be mistaken. [. . .] To discernthe agreement and disagreement there are between my ideas [. . .] there is nothingmore requisite, than an attentive perception of what passes in my own understand-ing. But the attainment of all these advantages doth presuppose an entire deliverancefrom the deception of words, which I dare hardly promise myself; so difficult a thingit is to dissolve an union so early begun, and confirmed by so long a habit as thatbetwixt words and ideas. (Principles, Introd., 21–23)

Interestingly, the philosopher finds himself in precisely the dilemma that characterizedAlciphron’s (i.e. the general reader’s) problems of recognizing, and assenting to, the lin-guistic nature, and in turn, the divine origin, of vision. Wiping away the theoretical dustof the scholarly tradition requires ‘‘that we attend to the ideas signified, and draw off ourattention from the words which signify them’’ (Principles, Introd., 23). But where the indi-vidual’s task to disunite the solid aggregates of sign and signified, though arduous, isinstantaneously rewarded with the intuitive knowledge of God’s intimate presence andguidance, the philosopher’s enterprise is incomparably more complicated. Not only ishe compelled to prolong and sustain the artificial separation of sign and signified throughwhole stretches of discourse, which ‘‘I dare hardly promise my self; so difficult a thing it isto dissolve an union so early begun, and confirmed by so long a habit as that betwixtwords and ideas’’ (Principles, Introd., 23). Still worse, he has to convey his glimpses oftruths with the aid of the same language that is the source of all problems. It seems asif Berkeley, with all his optimism, was at times aware of the hopelessness in view of theparadoxical situation that is characteristic of the two-languages metaphysics:

Once more I desire my Reader may be upon his guard against the Fallacy of words,Let him beware that I do not impose on him by plausible empty talk that commondangerous way of cheating men into absurditys [sic]. Let him not regard my Wordsany otherwise than as occasions of bringing into his mind determin’d significationsso far as they fail of this [sic] they are Gibberish, Jargon & deserve not the name ofLanguage. I desire & warn him not to expect to find truth in my Book or any where

36 Phi37 See


but in his own Mind. wtever [sic] I see my self tis impossible I can paint it out inwords.36

On the whole, Berkeley’s discussion of the two linguistic worlds and the uneasy positionof the ‘enlightened’ subject relative to them proves to be a replica of the relevant argu-ments as presented in the esoteric tradition of Renaissance Neoplatonism. As an heir tothis tradition, Berkeley inherits a number of motives attendant on the two-world theoryfrom earlier strands of the Neoplatonic tradition, namely the ideas, for example, thatthe phenomenal world of appearances acts as a veil that covers the true reality ofthings/signs, that the world of appearances is generally mistaken for the real world/sign-world, that the demasking of the phenomenal world as such requires effort and dis-cipline, or that the teaching of the truth will meet with resistance from the side of thosethat believe in the reality of appearances. In addition to these general features, Berkeley’ssystem displays those particular aspects of a Platonic metaphysics that originate in its ‘lin-guistic turn’, i.e. the two-languages metaphysics as buttressing Renaissance occultism. Asargued above, the phenomenal language (of communication) has taken the position of theworld of appearances while nature herself has assumed the role of the ultimate sign-reality:it is presented as a real, perfect, natural, auto-referential language or, which is the same, aswhat language essentially is. This linguistic reading of the two-world theory results in apeculiar linguistic constellation that is absent from orthodox versions of Neoplatonism.For once the verbal-intellectual debris covering the reality of language is removed, the phi-losopher finds himself entangled in the paradoxical situation that requires him to eitherdraw the cloak of silence over what he has seen or put the debris back to where it was.This, then, is the linguistic paradox inherent in the two-languages metaphysics: the reallanguage defies verbalization. And it is the awareness of this paradoxical situation thatis behind Berkeley’s pessimistic remark that he ‘‘can’t paint it out in words’’.

With no viable way out of the quandary, but with the natural desire to communicatethe ineffable, Renaissance authors tried to escape the vicious circle by resorting to make-shift strategies. They either consciously destroyed the conventional make-up of the com-municative language, hoping that a spark of the true language of nature might shinethrough the otherwise opaque fabric of the veil of words – a practice which earned themthe reputation of promoting ‘affected obscurity’. Or they would temporarily, ‘‘by plausibleempty talk’’ (cf. last quote), comply with the requirements of the phenomenal language,leading the hearer-reader to the critical point where the logic of the language of commu-nication would break down. Either way, occult writers were well aware that access to thereal language of nature (or the real nature of language) could not be taught nor shown nortalked about. Ultimately, the reader would have to be left to himself. As for Berkeley,being a philosopher, a bishop and a teacher, he clearly opted for the second way to dealwith this paradox.37

Instead of taking a closer look at the contents and thrust of Berkeley’s critique of lan-guage, I would rather like to focus on its structural position within linguistic Platonism.From the point of view of the history of linguistic ideas, it may well be important to ana-lyze this part of his linguistic ideas more carefully. But whatever the philologically verifi-able motive or the proper systematic place of Berkeley’s language criticism, the most

l. Comment., 696. Cf. ibid., 579, 627, 636, 693, 867, 883; New Theory of Vision, 120; Vision Vindicated, 35.quotation above; cf. Principles, Introd., 25.


important fact – for the present argument, at least – is that it is there. It is important,because it needs to be there. It is one of the structural ingredients that is essential for atwo-languages theory to make sense. That the critique of language should eventually ren-der itself superfluous in that it needs to be voiced in the same communicative medium thatit is directed against, is just another natural consequence following from linguisticNeoplatonism.

If that is correct, Berkeley’s criticism should be aimed at more than just ordinary lan-guage. Recall that the Platonic structure of the two-languages metaphysics imposes a non-affirmative context on the entire representational theory of language. The framework oflinguistic Platonism thus predicts, in the abstract at least, that the critical attitude towardsthe communicative language be extended, firstly, to a critique of theories of language ascommunication or representation – much in the same way that traditional Neoplatonism,besides disapproving of the material, sensual side of things, always included an implicitcritique of materialist ontologies. Linguistic Platonism predicts, secondly, that the scopeof the critique spans the entire representational chain (cf. part I, Fig. 6), including whatis immediately represented by language, i.e. human concepts (as representational entities)and what is ultimately represented by language: things conceived of as ultimate signifieds.For if language does not tell the truth in the courtroom of epistemology, why should writ-ing or whatever is merely represented by language do so? Lurking behind the obvious cul-prit ‘language’, then, is the whole chain of representation, feeding the suspicion that all ofthem might be involved in the case. In less picturesque wording: It should not come as asurprise if Berkeley’s critique of language were embedded in a far more radical critique ofrepresentation in general.

Arguably, these ‘Platonic’ implications inherent in the metaphysics of the two lan-guages are entirely borne out by Berkeley’s metaphysics. On the level of his linguistic ideas,the critique is rather mild and consists in his pointing out many ‘‘legitimate uses of wordsthat go beyond the mere recording or communicating of words’’ (McGowan, 1991, p.121). Much in the same vein, Berkeley criticizes the linguistic theories that require wordsto stand generally for ideas in order to be used in a legitimate and significant manner,alerting the reader time and again to the fact that this misapprehension is at the root ofmany erroneous doctrines:

But to give a farther account how words came to produce the doctrine of abstractideas, it must be observed that it is a received opinion, that language has no otherend but the communicating of our ideas, and that every significant name standsfor an idea [. . .]. And a little attention will discover, that it is not necessary (evenin the strictest reasonings) significant names which stand for ideas should [. . .] excitein the understanding the ideas they are made to stand for: in reading and discours-ing, names being for the most part used as letters are in algebra, in which though aparticular quantity be marked by each letter, yet to proceed right it is not requisitethat in every step each letter suggest to your thoughts, that particular quantity it wasappointed to stand for. Besides, the communicating of ideas marked by words is notthe chief and only end of language, as is commonly supposed. There are other ends,as the raising of some passion, the exciting to, or deterring from some action, theputting the mind in some particular disposition [. . .]. For example, when a School-man tells me Aristotle hath said it, all I conceive he means by it, is to dispose meto embrace his opinion with the deference and submission which custom has annexed

38 Pri

in the athe rep


to that name [. . .]. Innumerable examples of this kind may be given, but why should Iinsist on those things, which every one’s experience will [. . .] plentifully suggest untohim?38

Tacitly, but naturally, this criticism feeds into a wholesale attack on a representationalor – which in the eyes of Berkeley is basically the same – Lockean theory of language. Themost extensive discussion and rejection of representationalism occurs in the seventh dia-logue of Alciphron. Before again rejecting what he believes to be the fallacies of a repre-sentational theory of language (such as the view that in order for a word to besignificant it has to stand for an idea on each occasion of its use, or the notion that thesole and principal end of language is to communicate ideas), Berkeley lets Euphranor’s(i.e. his) interlocutor Alciphron present a summary of a Lockean theory of language thatextends over nearly four pages. Its opening premises deserve to be quoted at some length:

Words are signs: they do or should stand for ideas, which so far as they suggest theyare significant. But words that suggest no ideas are insignificant. He who annexeth aclear idea to every word he makes use of speaks sense; but where such ideas are want-ing, the speaker utters nonsense. In order therefore to know whether any man’sspeech be senseless and insignificant, we have nothing to do but lay aside the words,and consider the ideas suggested by them. Men, not being able immediately to com-municate their ideas one to another, are obliged to make use of sensible signs orwords; the use of which is to raise those ideas in the hearer which are in the mindof the speaker; and if they fail of this end they serve to no purpose. He who reallythinks hath a train of ideas succeeding each other and connected in his mind; andwhen he expresseth himself by discourse each word suggests a distinct idea to thehearer or reader; who by that means hath the same train of ideas in his which wasin the mind of the speaker or writer. As far as this effect is produced, so far the dis-course is intelligible, hath sense and meaning. Hence it follows that whoever can besupposed to understand what he reads or hears must have a train of ideas in hismind, correspondent to the train of words read or heard. (Alciphron, VII. 2)

This is the sort of theory that Berkeley sees at the root of the aforementioned evils.Admittedly, neither Alciphron’s endorsement of a Lockean theory of language (Alciphron,VII. 2–4) nor Euphranor’s (i.e. Berkeley’s) rejection of it (Alciphron, VII. 5, 14) takesaccount of the fact that a prototypical representational theory of language is representa-tional throughout, extending the scope of representation to include the relationshipbetween ideas and (material) things. But this should not deceive one into concluding thatthe remaining components of the attack on representation remained implicit or evenabsent. It is just difficult to assemble them in one stretch of argument. In fact, this is alltoo natural, given that they are not meant by Berkeley to unite in a wholesale critiqueof representation. All I am saying here is that the structural make-up of linguistic Plato-nism includes, theoretically, a critical attitude towards all components of a representa-tional theory of language. Whether or not such theoretical implications receive explicittreatment is a question of the systematic requirements of a particular theory as much as

nciples, Introd., 19f; cf. Alciphron, VII. 4ff, 14; Woozley (1991). Interestingly, Berkeley seems to recognizebove quotation and elsewhere (Principles, Introd., 19) a relationship between communicative function andresentation of ideas as joint features of a Lockean theory of language.


it is dependent on the concerns and objectives of a particular author. A positive stancetowards the representational functions of any of the joints of the chain of significationis, however, precluded.

As for the critique of human thought (as what is immediately represented by ordinarylanguage), it is scattered over Berkeley’s writings. It pervades, for example, the first threeparagraphs of the introduction to the Principles (where language is not yet his concern),but rarely accompanies, as it does in the following quotation, his language criticism:

39 Cf.40 Th

ideas o41 La

The impossibility of defining or discoursing clearly of most things proceeds from thefault & scantiness of language, as much, perhaps, as from obscurity & confusion ofThought. Hence I may clearly & fully understand my own Soul extension, etc & notbe able to define them! (Phil. Comment., 178)

It is also worth noting in this context that Berkeley has been shown to reject contem-porary representational theories of perception in favour of a semiotic theory of percep-tion.39 Likewise, Berkeley’s notorious assaults on received ideas of material substances(e.g. Principles, 16ff) should, in the context of linguistic Platonism, be read as a critiqueof represented substances, i.e. of the common doctrine that material things are the ultimatesignifieds. For Berkeley’s idealist doctrine explodes the basis of representational theoriesof language in at least two ways: firstly, it does away with the idea that things are utterlydistinct from, and thus in a way ‘behind’, words and ideas (cf. Phil. Comment., 606); sec-ondly, it postulates that things (and their properties) are in fact signs.40 In sum, then, thekeystones of Berkeley’s metaphysics are a unity. The critique of materialist or dualistontologies, the critique of language and the critique of representational theories of percep-tion combine to form a critique of representational realism the presence of which isencouraged, if not required, by a linguistic Platonism operating from behind the scenes.

If the above argument for at least an implicit presence of a full critique of representa-tion in Berkeley’s works is valid, the following problem suggests itself: We have seen abovethat Berkeley notes many important non-ideational uses of language, emphasizing thatthese non-representational functions of language are as important as the representationof ideas. We have also seen that Berkeley explicitly takes to task linguistic theories ofrepresentation including the sub-theory of ideational representation. And, of course,Berkeley’s emphasis on non-representing uses of language has not been lost on historiog-raphers, who have argued that Berkeley thereby anticipates more recent, if not modern,theories of language.41 On the other hand, it is generally agreed among the same histori-ans, and rightly so, that Berkeley’s own rival theory of (ordinary) language does notescape the representationalism that it otherwise denounces. How can this be? Why doesBerkeley fail to fashion his critique of Lockean, representational linguistics into a non-Lockean, non-representational theory of language?

A conclusive answer to this question cannot disregard Berkeley’s deep involvement inthe two-languages metaphysics. It is precisely this – and only this – theory that calls forboth the provisional commitment to a representational theory of language and, at thesame time, its denunciation as a theory of what language merely appears to be. The con-

Creery (1991, p. 29).e fact that things are signs follows straightforwardly from the semiotic constitution of their elements, i.e.f sense. See below (Section 3.5); cf. also Fogelin (2001, pp. 92, 100).

nd (1975, 1991).


straints that the two-languages metaphysics places on Berkeley’s linguistic ideas are suchthat apart from denying him the possibility of communicating the true nature of lan-guage they also prevent him from ‘‘painting’’ his intuitions about non-representationaluses of language into an appropriate linguistic theory. This is inescapable to the extentthat a representational theory forms part and parcel of the two-languages metaphysics.Thus, the paradoxical situation that the truth-seeking philosopher finds himself in reap-pears on the meta-level of linguistic theories: the adherence to linguistic Platonismrequires the restoration of the same representational model of language that it is meantto undermine.

3.5. Some problems

The two last sections have provided ample evidence for the claim that underlying thedesign of Berkeley’s philosophy is a version of linguistic Platonism. By and large, thehypothesis appears to rest on a basis solid enough to require no further confirmation. Evenso, one must not ignore those features that seem to tell a different story. With Berkeley’slinguistic Platonism being brought to the fore, however, I am confident that many of theaforementioned alien elements can now be accounted for in a satisfactory way. Thus, forinstance, the fact that Berkeley attributes to the universal language of vision a communi-cative function merely shows that in an effort to convince the reader of the linguistic natureof vision he is willing to ascribe to it whatever features are characteristic of ordinary lan-guage. Still, there can be no no doubt that the sole function of God’s own idiom is that ofinstruction.42 There are, nonetheless, at least two pieces of counter-evidence to my generalclaim that cannot easily be dismissed as either impostors or minor modifications to theprototypical two-languages metaphysics as illustrated in part I, Fig. 7. And it is to thesemore intricate issues that I now turn.

The first prominent divergence from the Renaissance model of a presentational the-ory of language emerges from Berkeley’s discussion of the nature of the sign-signifiedrelationship. Recall that Berkeley takes pains to argue that the semiotic link betweenideas of vision and ideas of touch is arbitrary. Now in terms of the history of ideas,the attribution of arbitrariness to the divine language, far from being puzzling or novel,is part of the gradual secularization of linguistic ideas at the dawn of the modern era.43

With regard to a presentational theory of language, however, ascribing arbitrariness to

42 It should be noted, however, that Berkeley’s language of nature no longer informs us about the nature oressence of things. Following Locke, Berkeley views things as collections of qualities in precisely the same way thatwritten words are collections of letters (see below, Section 3.5). As a consequence, the identity of words now restsexclusively on the particular combination of letters. But while Berkeley drew the natural conclusion that thenotions of substance, essence and accidents are vacuous (see below, Section 4), Locke stopped short of taking thislast step, assuming besides ‘‘all these simple Ideas they [ideas of substances] are made up of [. . .] the confused Ideaof something to which they belong’’ (Essay, II.23.3). Cf. Three Dialogues, Works II, p. 249. What Berkeley’slanguage of nature teaches us about nature herself is, accordingly, of a more practical and less esoteric character:‘‘By this means abundance of information is conveyed unto us, concerning what we are to expect from such andsuch actions, and what methods are proper to be taken, for the exciting such and such ideas: which in effect is allthat I conceive to be distinctly meant, when it is said that by discerning the figure, texture, and mechanism of theinward part of bodies [. . .] we may attain to know [. . .] the nature of the thing’’ (Principles, 65). The same practicalunderstanding of ‘the nature of things’ determines the functionally oriented discussion of the language of naturein Alciphron, VII.43 Cf. Grazia (1980). See e.g. Locke (1975[1690], III.6.51).


the divine language of nature is as irritating as it is unprecedented. It inevitably raisesthe question of whether a presentational theory of language can accommodate theintrusion of what we have seen to be an essential feature of the ‘contrary’ theory oflanguage.

Let me therefore take a closer look at Berkeley’s notion of arbitrariness, which, inciden-tally, appears to be remarkably modern:

44 Cf.

Those ideas that now suggest unto us the various magnitudes of external objectsbefore we touch them, might possibly have suggested no such thing: Or they mighthave signified them in a direct contrary manner: so that the very same ideas, on theperception whereof we judge an object to be small, might as well have served to makeus conclude it great. Those ideas being in their own nature equally fitted to bring intoour minds the idea of small or great, or no size at all of outward objects; just as thewords of any language are in their own nature indifferent to signify this or that thingor nothing at all. (New Theory of Vision, 64)

It is apparent from this and other passages that Berkeley narrows down the meaning ofthe notion of arbitrariness in an almost Saussurean or Peircean manner, restricting it tothe logical contingency of the sign-signified connection. Signs are tied to their signifieds‘‘for no other reason than barely because they have been observed to accompany them’’(New Theory of Vision, 65). While the Western linguistic tradition prior to Berkeley hadagreed with much of contemporary linguistic discourse in treating arbitrariness as weddedto, if not virtually identical with, convention (with arbitrariness being usually inferredfrom the conventional plurality of languages), Berkeley demonstrates that arbitrarinessdoes not contrast with naturalness, but with ‘‘similitude or necessary connexion’’ (Alciph-

ron, IV. 7). Accordingly, signs classify along two different dimensions that cut across eachother. One is the arbitrary vs. non-arbitrary dimension focusing on the nature of the sign-signified relationship, the other is the natural vs. artificial/conventional dimension placingthe provenance of signs in the foreground (cf. Vision Vindicated, 40). Thus, his refined clas-sification admits of both conventional, but non-arbitrary and natural, but arbitrarysigns.44

It is precisely this conceptual clarification that allows the notion of arbitrariness to legit-imately cross the border that separates the two estranged linguistic theories united in atwo-languages metaphysics. Being stripped of their conventional dress, arbitrary signsmay principally figure as natural signs in the divine language of nature:

A great number of arbitrary signs, various and apposite, do constitute a language. Ifsuch arbitrary connexion be instituted by men, it is an artificial language; if by theAuthor of nature, it is a natural language. Infinitely various are the modificationsof light and sound, whence they are each capable of supplying an endless varietyof signs, and, accordingly, have been each employed to form languages; the oneby the arbitrary appointment of mankind, the other by that of God Himself. A con-nexion established by the Author of nature [. . .] may surely be called natural; as thatmade by men will be named artificial. And yet this doth not hinder but the one maybe as arbitrary as the other. (Vision Vindicated, 40)

Meier-Oeser (1997, p. 380).


There is evidence, then, that the natural vs. arbitrary opposition as it helped to definethe prototypical version of linguistic Platonism might, with a view to modern versions oflinguistic Platonism, be replaced by, and perhaps more appropriately expressed as, a dis-tinction between natural and conventional or instituted signs. I will briefly explore thisissue in Section 4.

The second major divergence from orthodox linguistic Platonism is far more intricateand needs to be dealt with in somewhat more detail. Considering that it concerns what Ihave identified as the semiotic principle of a presentational theory, it is no doubt alsomore irritating. In part I, I have claimed that the merging of sign and signified in anessential identity is at the heart of a presentational theory of language, because mostof the remaining features can be more or less directly inferred from it. Berkeley, how-ever, not only keeps sign and signified strictly apart. He even complains about our care-lessness in hesitating to follow him. Moreover, ideas of sight and ideas of touch beingentirely heterogeneous and distinct, it seems to follow that the tactile signified cannotbe conceived as part of the visual sign. The make-up of the divine signs, in other words,appears to be simple and not complex. One is thus faced with at least the following setof questions: Is it possible for a theory of language to be based on the principal axiomof the contrary theory of language? Or is it more reasonable to assume that instead ofbeing the principle of a presentational theory of language it is simply an ordinary featurethe exchange of which the theory could easily accommodate? If so, what is the real prin-ciple of a presentational theory of language? Does the incorporation of the alterity ofsign and signified in a presentational context result in an incoherent theory of language?Is there a way of eliminating this hostile element in Berkeley’s account of the divine lan-guage of vision?

Any attempt to provide a basis for an informed answer to these questions should takethe following observation into account. Compared with the Renaissance occult tradition,the starting point of Berkeley’s version of a presentational theory of language is funda-mentally reversed. The default situation for the occult scientist or mystic was a generalunawareness of the language of nature, or the signatures of things. Accordingly, the fun-damental problem was how to overcome the obstacles that denied insight into the true nat-ure of things. Once the veil of words was removed, admittance could be gained into thetrue language of nature. Instead of being granted to everybody, access to the secret divineidiom was characteristically limited to some chosen few, such as initiated adepts, learnedalchemists, magi or other privileged representatives of esoteric knowledge. And even forthem a full and lasting understanding of nature’s secret language was what they aspiredto rather than possessed.

Conversely, Berkeley’s starting point is that of a natural, effortless and general com-mand of the divine language. Significantly, his description of how we come to understandthe language of nature is basically an account of first language acquisition in a perfectlynatural, and naturally perfect, linguistic environment:

We have been practising this language ever since our first entrance into the world; ifthe Author of Nature constantly speaks to the eyes of all mankind, even in their ear-liest infancy, whenever the eyes are open [. . .] it does not seem to me at all strangethat men should not be aware they had ever learned a language begun so early [. . .]as this of vision. And if we also consider that it is the same throughout the world[. . .] it will not seem unaccountable that men should mistake the connexion between

45 Alc


the proper objects of sight and the things signified by them [. . .] or that they shouldeven take them for the same things.45

Hence, Berkeley’s problem is for the native hearer-readers of the true divine vernacularto imagine themselves in the contrafactual position of a ‘‘Chinese, upon first hearing thewords man and tree’’ (Alciphron, IV. 11). They have to assume the position of a stranger tothe language of nature in order to be able to recognize it for what it is. The effort and dis-cipline, in other words, that the mystic, the alchemist or the astrologer had to invest inorder to pass through the porta linguarum into the language of nature is required of theBerkeleian subject to find a way out of it.

With that in mind, it is essential not to mistake Berkeley’s didactic objective, i.e. theartificial separation of sign and signified, for a reliable description of the true semiotic con-ditions within the language of nature. Quite on the contrary: The merging of sign and sig-nified in one and the same visual perception is a mark of our fluency in the divine idiom, infact, of linguistic competence in general:

[T]he combination of visible ideas hath constantly the same name as the combinationof tangible ideas wherewith it is connected: Which doth of necessity arise from theuse and end of language.[. . .] No sooner do we hear the words of a familiar language pronounced in our ears,but the ideas corresponding thereto present themselves to our minds: in the sameinstant the sound and the meaning enter the understanding: So closely are they uni-ted that it is not in our power to keep out the one, except we exclude the other also.(New Theory of Vision, 49, 51)

And while in ordinary language we merely ‘‘act in all respects as if we heard the verythoughts themselves’’, sign and signified in the language of nature ‘‘have a far more strictconnexion, than ideas have with words. [. . .] They are, as it were, most closely twisted,blended, and incorporated together’’ (ibid., p. 51).

It is true that Berkeley frequently puts the error behind our taking ‘‘the connexionbetween the proper objects of sight and the things signified’’ for a natural relation or ‘‘even[. . .] for the same things’’ (Alciphron, IV. 11; cf. Vision Vindicated, 35) in the foreground.No less significant and frequent, however, are the passages where he expressly licenses thephrasings that imply the inclusion of the signified in the sign. Thus, for example, when Alc-iphron asks if we do not ‘‘strictly speaking, perceive by sight such things as trees, houses,men, rivers, and the like [i.e. as extended, more or less distant, figures of a certain shape]’’,Euphranor responds:

We do, indeed, perceive or apprehend those things by the faculty of sight. But will itfollow from thence that they are the proper and immediate objects of sight, any morethan that all those things are the proper and immediate objects of hearing which aresignified by the help of words or sounds? (Alciphron, IV. 10)

Here and elsewhere Berkeley indicates that he has adopted a compromise position inlabeling the tactile signifieds the ‘secondary’ or ‘non-immediate’ objects of vision. Froma traditional perspective on Berkeley’s philosophy, this move to harmonize the ambivalent

iphron, IV. 11 (my italics, MMI). Cf. ibid. IV. 12, 15.


statements on the sign-signified relationship is bound to fail. Either the merging of signand signified in visual experience is a legitimate account of vision or it is not.46 There doesnot seem to be a chance for Berkeley to have it both ways.

Against the background of the two-languages metaphysics, however, Berkeley’s con-stant wavering between authorizing and disapproving of the merging of sign and signifiedcan be seen to reflect his having one foot inside and the other outside the language of nat-ure. Viewed from outside the divine language, the ideas of vision are entirely dissimilar tothose of touch, the consequence being ‘‘that the objects of sight and touch are two distinctthings’’ (New Theory of Vision, 49). From inside the language of nature, however, both thealterity and the autonomy of sign and signified are suspended. So while the occult traditionstarted out from the delusive distinctness and autonomy of things (and worlds) only to laybare their essential sameness, Berkeley sets out from the intra-linguistic unity of sign andsignified which is then artificially denied in order to provide an exit to the world of appear-ance. On the whole, Berkeley’s inappropriate attempt at resolving the issue by adopting amiddle position as to the relationship between sign and signified is indicative of his recog-nizing the problem as much as it is symptomatic of his being unaware of its theoreticalsource.

Having said this, it might seem as if the evidence available in favour of an essentialunity of sign and signified in the divine language of nature is chiefly, if not entirely, ofan indirect nature. After all, there does not seem to be anything that warrants our ‘seeing’extended or distant things except for their habitual co-occurrence. But this is not so. Thereis, in fact, substantial evidence that the union of sign and signified serves an importantfunction in Berkeley’s metaphysics. Recall, first, that in an attempt to dissolve the experi-ential union of visual sign and tactile signified, Berkeley pinpointed their distinctness bycalling them ‘‘different things’’: That which ‘‘is seen, is one thing, and that which is feltis another’’ (New Theory of Vision, 49). What we are in need of, then, is a particular con-text that sanctions, or even compels, the analysis of sign and signified as ‘one and the samething’. And this is what I would finally like to supply. In doing this, I will push the analogybetween linguistic thinking in the occult tradition and in Berkeley’s philosophy to thepoint where philological scrutiny merges into informed speculation. I suggest that we drawa parallel between, on the one hand, Agrippa’s (1967[1533]) sign-signified relationships asthey extend over all corresponding worlds (cf. part I, Fig. 4) and, on the other, the samerelationships as they obtain in Berkeley’s divine world of sense.

Let me open up the argument with a preliminary point concerning the interpretation ofBerkeley’s notion of a language of nature: There has been considerable disagreementamong Berkeley scholars about the scope of the concept of a language of nature. Whilethe majority of commentators have understood the language of nature to be a languageof vision only, others have maintained that in his later works, especially in the Principles,Berkeley extended the notion so as to cover all divine signs, i.e. ideas of touch, of sound, ofsmell and of taste. Rather than arguing for the philological correctness of either interpre-tation, I would like to suggest an explanation that leaves room for both readings.

Recall, first, that in discussing arbitrariness Berkeley repeatedly emphasizes the distinct-ness and heterogeneity of each sense and its data. More precisely speaking, he argues

46 In this respect, compare the accounts in Vision Vindicated, 9, 35, 53 and New Theory of Vision, 144 with thosein New Theory of Vision, 51, 65, 74.


against there being any synaesthetic sense impressions transgressing the boundariesbetween different senses. Each sense furnishes its own distinct impressions. Thus, forexample, the pen that I touch while writing this would not be the same thing as, and infact entirely distinct from, what I see when I look at what I also call ‘the pen’, althoughsuch sameness is suggested by the fact that there are many words such as ‘elongated’,‘round’, or ‘sweet’, which we use in saying both how things look and how they feel, orhow they taste and smell. Due to the strict separation of sensory modalities, there is,strictly speaking, not one unified world of sense, but as many distinct worlds as thereare senses, each populated by its own peculiar ‘things’, or ‘sign-things’.

Incidentally, the analogy between the universe of Agrippa and Berkeley’s world of ideascan be extended. Note, for example, that the five Berkeleian worlds of sense are not on anequal footing. With regard to the relative appreciation of the senses, Berkeley shows aclear preference for the distinct impressions of vision, elevating them to the status ofthe language of nature. Equally obvious is that Berkeley has a far lower opinion of thesenses of taste and smell.47 Somewhere in between with regard to their degree of semioticdignity are the senses of touch – in virtue of its standing in close correspondence to thelanguage of nature – and sound – by virtue of its being capable of forming an ‘artificial’language of its own. Now if all sense-impressions are virtual signs issued by God, and ifthe set of virtual signs supplied by each sense, though internally homogeneous, is inher-ently dissimilar to the set of signs furnished by any of the other senses, does not this com-mit Berkeley to the view that all senses provide their own distinct divine idioms so thatGod would not only ‘‘speak to our eyes’’, but also to our tongue, ears, skin and nose?And would not the refusal to grant sound, smell and taste the status of so many distinctlanguages degrade a whole range of divine modes of expression in an unbecoming manner?When Alciphron puts forth a version of this argument, Berkeley lets Euphranor respond:

47 FoDialog48 Fo

That they [smells and tastes] are signs is certain, as also that language and all othersigns agree in the general nature of sign, or so far forth as signs. But it is certain thatall signs are not language: not even all significant sounds, such as the natural cries ofanimals, or the inarticulate sounds and interjections of men. It is the articulation,combination, variety, copiousness, extensive and general use and easy applicationof signs (all which are commonly found in vision) that constitute the true natureof language. Other senses may indeed furnish signs; and yet those signs have no moreright than inarticulate sounds to be thought a language. (Alciphron, IV. 12)

As smell and taste obviously lack the prerequisite features defining ‘‘the true nature oflanguage’’, they are, at best, rudimentary languages with an impoverished expressivepower. No doubt, touch and sound provide less imperfect systems of divine expression.48

Thus, in a way that is strangely reminiscent of Agrippa’s multiple worlds (cf. part I, Figs.2, 4), Berkeley’s world of sense is subdivided into a number of ranked sub-worlds providedby the five senses. But despite the fact that in both cosmological systems things and signstend to coincide, it is obvious that, historically at least, the Neoplatonic universe of Agri-ppa derived its order from the principle of the hierarchy of being, while the arrangement ofthe sensory sub-worlds in Berkeley’s metaphysics is structured and held together by the

r the sensible qualities of smell and taste, as well as for the remaining senses, see the first of the Three

ues. Cf. Kline (1987, pp. 134, 139).r the appropriateness of sound as a system of expression, see Vision Vindicated, 40.


hierarchy of sign-being. Vision, as the world with the highest degree of semiotic perfection,takes pride of place, closely corresponding to Agrippa’s archetypal world of Hebrewnames for God. Evidently, the second world is provided by touch, which I have arguedcould be treated as being on a par with vision. Following sound, the less dignified worldswith only a few divine semiotic features (such as arbitrariness and orderliness) surviving,are smell and taste. Disregarding the lack of occult correspondences and sympathies, theemerging picture is remarkably similar to what we know from the occult tradition.

The chief reason, however, for offering this parallel is that in both versions of linguisticPlatonism the sequence of elements that enter into mutual, multiple, and infinite sign-sig-nified relationships are construed as uniting in a whole, a kind of aggregate, or multiple‘substance’ (cf. part I, Section 2). Formerly defined as ‘‘distinct things’’, the individualsign-substances relinquish their substantial autonomy and join in with other seemingly dis-crete things to form the real (but dispersed) substances of a divine letter (Agrippa; cf. partI, Fig. 2) or of a divine word (Berkeley). For it is these unified collections of seemingly het-erogeneous semiotic primes extending over the whole universe of sense that Berkeley callsthings. Things are clusters of sense impressions that have been observed to signify eachother, i. e. to ‘‘accompany each other’’ on a regular basis (see Fig. 16):

49 Pri

felt, oraway tsensiblname g50 Cf.

three q

By sight I have the ideas of light and colours with their several degrees and varia-tions. By touch I perceive, for example, hard and soft, heat and cold [. . .]. Smellingfurnishes me with odours; the palate with tastes, and hearing conveys sounds to themind in all their variety of tone and composition. And as several of these areobserved to accompany each other, they come to be marked by one name, and soto be reputed as one thing. Thus, for example, a certain colour, taste, smell, figureand consistence having been observed to go together, are accounted one distinctthing, signified by the name apple.49

We are now in the position to illustrate the mutual sign-signified relationships stretch-ing over the full hierarchy of the Berkeleian sign-worlds in an almost Agrippean fashion(see Fig. 16; cf. part I, Fig. 4). It is definitely no coincidence that Berkeley juxtaposes fivedistinct sensible qualities with a five-lettered word.50 Nor does it seem to be accidental thatquite against the rule (cf. New Theory of Vision, 143) he chooses a word with a recurringletter, seeing that the gustatory and olfactory qualities of an apple would both be calledsweet. Apparently, the distinct sensible qualities that go into the formation of a thingare nothing less than letters of the divine language whose structural make-up ‘‘in regularcombinations’’ is, in turn, modeled on that of the artificial, ordinary ‘language of sound’:

I observe that visible figures represent tangible figures much after the same mannerthat written words do sounds. Now in this respect [i.e. in respect of their structure]words are not arbitrary, it not being indifferent what written word stands for anysound: But it is requisite that each word contain in it so many distinct characters

nciples, 1; cf. Three Dialogues: ‘‘I see this cherry, I feel it, I taste it: and I am sure nothing cannot be seen, ortasted: it is therefore real. Take away the sensations of softness, moisture, redness, tartness, and you takehe cherry. Since it is not a being distinct from sensations; a cherry, I say, is nothing but a congeries ofe impressions, or ideas perceived by various senses: which ideas are united into one thing (or have oneiven to them) by the mind; because they are observed to attend each other’’ (Works, III, p. 249).the parallel analyses of the meaning of the word die as hard, extended and square (Principles, 49), of theualities of the sun (Principles, 32) or the four qualities of iron (Three Dialogues, I, Works II, p. 204).

OF VISION red

round

crispy

sweet

sweet

A

P

P

L

E

WORLDOF SOUND

WORLD OF TOUCH

WORLDOF SMELL

WORLDOF TASTE

DIVINE LANGUAGE

Fig. 16. Mutual, multiple signification and infinite semiosis in Berkeley’s ‘things’, or multiple substances.

51 Inthe wrwere,compaorganiNote tnor deare prathere a


as there are variations in the sound it stands for. Thus the single letter a is proper tomark one simple uniform sound; and the word adultery is accommodated to repre-sent the sound annexed to it, in the formation whereof there being eight different col-lisions or modifications of the air by the organs of speech, each of which produces adifferent sound, it was fit the word representing it should consist of as many distinctcharacters [. . .]: And yet no body, I presume, will say the single letter a, or the wordadultery, are like unto, or of the same species with, the respective sounds by themrepresented. (New Theory of Vision, 143)

And like the letters of an alphabetical writing system, the generative capacity of thedivine characters is infinite: ‘‘That a few original ideas may be made to signify a greatnumber of effects and actions, it is necessary that they be variously combined together’’(Principles, 65). Thus, when we take what we see for an apple, we correctly anticipateand supplement the true and eternal writing of a word ‘‘established by the Author of nat-ure’’ (Vision Vindicated, 40).51

a nice and fitting analogy, Turbayne argues that Berkeley’s language of nature is conceived on the model ofitten Greek that Plato read, in which there were no gaps, no full stops, and no lower case letters. Theretherefore, no words in the text until Plato ‘‘read them into it’’ (1991, p. 62). Elaborating on Turbayne’srison, one might add that Berkeley’s ‘‘great Volume of Nature’’ lacks lines and linear order altogether: Itszation is two-dimensional in that sequential order does not go into the definition of the word-substances.hat Berkeley’s use of the book of nature ‘metaphor’ is particularly felicitous in that there is neither distancepth in visual data. As in an ‘artificial’ book, the letters, scattered line-less over the page of the visual field,ctically equidistant from the reading eye. Note also that there are as many copies of the Book of Nature asre readers.


4. Concluding remarks: Berkeley’s linguistic Platonism and beyond

In the last section, I argued that Berkeley’s sign and signified, despite countless state-ments to the contrary, combine to form a complex sign in much the same way as theydo in the occult Renaissance. Still, I have been careful to avoid specifying the ensuingunity of sign and signified in terms of identity. It is true that in Berkeley’s theory of visiondistance, extension, shape and other tactile qualities are taken to be immediately seen andhence experienced as indistinguishable from the visual phenomena with which they arecorrelated. But this form of sign-signified identity underlying Berkeley’s description ofeveryday visual experience is, strictly speaking, itself merely a sign of our understandingthe language of nature. And to take what is merely a sign of the language of vision forone of its inherent attributes is to be guilty of committing the same kind of category mis-take that Berkeley sees at the root of our ignorance of the divine language. Phenomeno-logically speaking, then, sign and signified may well be said to be identical. From the pointof view of the speaker-writer of the divine idiom, however, they are clearly not identical,albeit inseparably interlinked.52 There is thus a noticeable divergence from the sign-signi-fied identity as it appears to be at the heart of classical versions of linguistic Platonism suchas the one put forth by Agrippa.

These differences notwithstanding, the cohesion between sign and signified appears tobe sufficiently strong to ensure the coherence of what have been shown to be the elementsof a thoroughly presentational theory of language. But still, as it is the principle of a pre-sentational theory of language which is affected here, let me briefly comment on the rea-sons why Berkeley’s version of the two-languages metaphysics does not, and cannot, relyon the identity of sign and signified.

Arguably, the sign-signified identity underlying occult theories of language depends lar-gely, if not fully, on the traditional notion of substances, i.e. of things that exist in theirown right and that are the ultimate objects of scientific inquiry. On the face of it, sucha dependency might seem strange, considering that the idea of self-sufficient substancesis replaced in occult accounts of language by a kind of super-substance encompassingall ‘substances’ that stand in the relation of mutual signification. But the truth of it is that,in order to make sense, this account of a super-sign substance is in need of the same tra-ditional Aristotelian substances which it is meant to overcome. As such, substances are thenatural ingredients of the representational (theory of) language, which is, in turn, an indis-pensable pillar on which the architecture of linguistic Platonism leans. So what appear tobe autonomous, distinct, self-sufficient substances serving as the ultimate signifieds in theunreal world of linguistic representation turn out to be essentially identical sign-signifiedsfrom the point of view of the language of nature (by virtue of, for example, having thesame signature imprinted on them). This means that unless the identity of seemingly dis-tinct and unrelated ‘things’ can be conceptualized in an entirely different way, the identityof sign and signified in any version of linguistic Platonism hangs on the applicability of the

52 In line with their non-identity, and unlike the elements of an Agrippean chain of signification, the senseimpressions that go into the semiotic aggregate which Berkeley calls ‘things’ clearly retain traces of their erstwhileindependence. Though no longer autonomous, they are still recognizable as distinct and discrete elements of thecomposite thing, much in the same way as are the letters of a written (non-divine and artificial) word. Note alsothat by treating non-visual qualities of sense as divine letters on a par with visual sense-data, Berkeley has himselfdrawn the conclusion which he overtly rejected.


notions of substance, accident and essence. And these are precisely the notions that Berke-ley discards as metaphysical, empty, or even contradictory.53 With the required essentialidentity of sign and signified thus out of reach, his linguistic Platonism has to remain con-tent with the bare unity of sign and signified.

As to the second departure from the Renaissance model, there can be little doubt thatthe intrusion of arbitrariness into a presentational theory of language is closely related tothe identity issue: As long as sign and signified in linguistic Platonism were essentially iden-tical, they could not simultaneously entertain an arbitrary relationship. The slight loosen-ing of the requirement of an identity relationship to a mere union of sign and signified,however, enabled arbitrariness to trespass across the otherwise tight and impermeable bor-der separating the two opposing theories of language.

But this is purely theoretical reasoning. With regard to the more concrete requirementsof Berkeley’s system of ideas, the thrust of the argument might be reversed in that arbitrar-iness would have to be taken as the cause rather than the effect. For Berkeley’s prime con-cern was, of course, to demonstrate the arbitrariness of the language of vision: If thesemiotic relationship holding between the elements of vision and those of touch couldnot be shown to be arbitrary, the way to construing vision as the divine language wouldhave been barred. So if the inclusion of arbitrariness in a presentational concept of lan-guage was imperative, then the loosening of what I argued is the principal bond in sucha theory, i.e. the identity of sign and signified, was inescapable. The case of Berkeley thusnicely illustrates that an extension, alteration, or even violation, of any one of the axiomsof a presentational theory of language (and, presumably, no less of a representational the-ory of language) has serious repercussions on the corollaries with which it coheres. It thusrequires extensive repair of some other basic tenets in order to keep the overall theoryconsistent.

In the case of Berkeley’s extension of the presentational model, the modifications seemto have been lasting. Save, perhaps, in the esoteric underground, a return to a substance-based concept of (non-arbitrary) sign-signified identity was hardly a viable alternative,considering its rather manifest links with the esoteric tradition. The gradual secularizationof scholarly thought being well under way, subsequent versions of linguistic Platonismwould, moreover, no longer rely on the antiquated concepts of a language of natureand a divine language or lingua adamica, at least not in the Renaissance esoteric sense.54

Having occupied a central position in Renaissance linguistic speculations, these conceptshad in fact ceased to play more than a decorative role in linguistic theory formation longbefore Berkeley tried to revive them. And with the decline in the intellectual credibility ofthese concepts, the thin thread of continuity that had linked Berkeley’s linguistic specula-

53 Cf. Three Dialogues (Works II, 197f, 227ff, 233, 249); Principles, 16–26, 37, 49, 101, 102. I have arguedelsewhere (Isermann, 1999a, b) that the crisis of the notion of substance in the Modern period owes much to the‘alphabetization’ of philosophical categories such as ‘idea’ or ‘thing’. In Agrippa’s universe, even the letters of theHebrew names of God in the archetypal world (cf. part I, Fig. 2) have to be construed as substances, only soensuring the essential identity of the whole chain of signified-signifying substances which emanate from them.Conversely, Berkeley’s ‘substances’, being mere combinations of letters that lack a substratum, are clearlydesigned on the model of words. This is what ultimately makes Berkeley reject the traditional theory of substance.It also greatly contributes to making Berkeley’s account of the divine language of nature look so different fromthose designed in the Renaissance.54 For the 18th-century secularized use of the concept of a language of nature as a natural or universal system of

expression or communication (such as gestures, body language, etc.), see Schreyer (1980) and Nate (1993, p. 183ff).


tions with their Renaissance esoteric origins was also destined to disappear. Any subse-quent version of a presentational concept of language would have to be presented inentirely new conceptual garb, making use of a verbal rhetoric yet unknown. But wemay safely assume that it would draw on the notions of arbitrariness and the union of signand signified, of concepts, that is, whose misleadingly modern shape could not but furtherobscure the descent of much modern linguistic theorizing to come.

It is no wonder, then, that its covertness should have been part of the legacy of linguisticPlatonism in the Modern period. For a long period of time, the presentational theory oflanguage was not fully accessible to those who relied on it. Much less so was the fact that ithad a companion theory to go beside it. While the representatives of Renaissance Neopla-tonism had been fully aware of both the premises of the concept of language as cognitionand its incompatibility with the traditional instrumental concept of language as commu-nication, neither Berkeley nor Wilkins recognized that they relied on both. They were con-vinced that they had built their systems of ideas on a unified notion (and theory) oflanguage as representation and communication. This is one of the reasons why neitherWilkins nor Berkeley succeeded in pinpointing more than one or two of the corollariesof a presentational theory of language. And it is easy to see that this ‘failure’ was alltoo natural: The necessity of presenting a coherent and consistent theory of language stillfocusing on the representational features of language was to prevent scholars for a longtime from tracing the full contours of a presentational language of knowledge. It appearsas if the presentational concept of language had been buried alive and forgotten under therepresentational jargon of the early Enlightenment. And for as long as the growing aware-ness of the cognitive potential of language was squeezed into the representational strait-jacket (and history shows that cognition was increasingly forced into it), the resultingtheories were bound to be flawed in a fundamental way. It is not just that they did not lookgood. They could not accommodate what they were meant to embrace: two concepts oflanguage of entirely different proportions.

George Berkeley is a case in point. Those who have written about his linguistic statementshave unanimously applauded his ‘modern’ insights into various non-representational usesof language, while criticizing the lack of coherence in the remaining ‘fragments’ of a theoryof language. The main point of criticism has been that despite his critique of a representa-tional theory of language he does not really get away from it.55 We are now in a position toget a clearer picture of the historical situation. The following points should be made: Firstly,it is grossly misleading to argue that Berkeley’s achievement was to open up a way of rec-ognizing the cognitive function of language. It is a distorted view, because it implies thatBerkeley made some first steps towards a full recognition of the cognitive power of lan-guage. Instead, his is a full-blown theory of language as cognition. And as far as the ‘recog-nition’ of the cognitive power of language is concerned, that was clearly a Neoplatonic

55 Take e.g. Creery’s observation: ‘‘[J]ust at this point the language model would appear to break down: ordinarydiscourse has a referential function but the phenomenal language [of nature] does not have such (and indeed interms of the attack on matter and substance, the phenomenal language cannot have such). The ‘‘words’’ and‘‘expressions’’ of the phenomenal language cannot be said to be about anything at all’’ (Creery, 1973, p. 219). Thesame incompatibility, though from a more general point of view, is registered by Armstrong, who notes thatBerkeley’s ideas do not represent, but present (1969, p. 172). Cf. already Gelber, who recognizes ‘‘two types oflanguage’’ (1952, pp. 482, 492, 501). Similarly, Moore speculates that Berkeley’s theory of vision might itselfcontain a doctrine of signs (1984, p. 327).


‘achievement’; an insight that came at a stroke and left nothing to elaborate or improveupon. Secondly, as far as Berkeley’s recognition of genuine non-representational uses ofordinary language is concerned, these are merely a reflection of the respective functionsof the divine language of vision. Thirdly, Berkeley’s ‘inability’ to devise a consistent theoryof language is due to a complex historical constellation which made him force elements of apresentational theory of language into a representational mould; fourthly, this situation isnot peculiar to Berkeley in that it was the central problem of post-Renaissance theories oflanguage and would remain so for a long time to come.

It is hardly surprising that increasing internal pressure on the solidity of linguistic the-ories that were tailored to fit representation would eventually lead to both an explosion ofthe representational straitjacket and a breaking apart of the distorted linguistic body it hadheld together. Emerging from the explosion were two organic and viable halves, one cog-nitive and the other communicative. Judging by the internal logic of the two-languagesmetaphysics, the ensuing balance of pressure must have enabled theories of language toregain consistency. But above all, the new division of labour allowed the presentationalconcept of language to take definite shape. It is thus no coincidence that the first linguistictheory to rely specifically on two concepts of language, or on the metaphysics of two lan-guages, should likewise herald the arbitrary union of sign and signified, the autonomy oflanguage, its cognitive potential, the systematicity of signs and the related corollaries of apresentational theory of language. Nor should it come as a surprise that these seeminglyrevolutionary ideas were presented in a decidedly anti-representational tone.56

The surfacing of the non-linguistic concomitants of a presentational theory of language,however, had to await the advent of postmodernism, particularly in its most radical form,deconstructivism.57 Overtly combating what they called the tradition of a metaphysics ofpresence, its practitioners completed the picture of a presentational theory of language byadvocating what is merely its modern version: absentationalism.58 With the overdue obit-uaries on the author and the subject in the late 1960s – by Roland Barthes and MichelFoucault, respectively – the intellectual space was cleared for the proclamation of whatwas advertised as an entirely new form of thought. Among its conceptual cornerstoneshave been the dispersion or fragmentation of the self, the deferment of meaning, the het-eronomy of being, the disappearance of the subject-object distinction along with some

56 Cf. Saussure (1972, p. 97, 155f). Note that the concept of two languages survived through the so-calledChomskian revolution into recent Cognitive Linguistics, if only in a disguised form. As for Berkeley (and Wilkins,too), it is interesting to see that the split concept of language made itself already (or still) felt. Although both werepositive about having but one concept of language, they distributed the two opposing concepts of languageunderlying their projects on two distinct languages. In the case of Berkeley, these were ordinary language and thedivine language of vision. I would very much like to take this as indicating that what I am suggesting in this paperis more than historiographical fiction.57 Some of the striking similarities between Postmodern deconstructionism and Premodern esotericism, such as

mutual signification and infinite semiosis, have been observed by Eco, who assembles them under the heading of‘‘hermetic semiosis’’ (1992, chapter 1).58 I apologize for the term, but I could not resist the temptation. Let me define an absentational theory of

language as one that propagates not the presence, but the absence of the signified in the sign or, in a moreBerkeleian sense, the union of absent sign and signified. As far as both its internal logic and its role in linguisticPlatonism is concerned, postmodern absentationalism is only marginally, if at all, different from premodernpresentationalism. Cf. note 25.


conclusions that had not been spelled out in Renaissance esotericism.59 And once again,language was forced to communicate the uncommunicable. But as regards its embeddingin linguistic Platonism, the most telling characteristic of postmodernist absentationalism isprobably the verdict that was soon issued by postmodernists on anything that faintlysmelled of representation. It might be taken as indicating that Berkeley’s revised modelof the two-languages metaphysics is still basically intact.

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