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Rodnyanskaya I.B. Fight S.N. Bulgakov with Immanuel Kant on the pages of “The Philosophy of the Name” “Philosophy of a name” – according to Fr. Sergius, cited by his student and publisher L.A. Zander, is the author’s “most philosophical” book, despite the fact that its theological part is no less extensive than the philosophical one. Perhaps such self-esteem is due to the fact that it was Kant and the neo-Kantians who taught European thought to consider philosophy par excellence, so to speak, the philosophy of philosophy - epistemology. In the formulation of V. Windelband: “Kant calls any philosophy dogmatic which, without exploring cognitive activity and its boundaries, wants to go directly to the knowledge of things...” 1. Bulgakov, having undergone this Kantian training, never abandoned it (cf. his “critical”, in the Kantian sense, approach to the theme of “The Never-Evening Light” - “How is religion possible?”). In “The Philosophy of the Name,” Bulgakov’s original symbolistic epistemology develops, carried out through reflection on the nature of language. In this work, anti-Kantian pages occupy one of the central, perhaps most problematic and productive places. One must think, “dealing with” Kant, Fr. Sergius, in his Crimean isolation, fulfilled one of the behests of his “Friend” who was separated from him – Fr. Pavel Florensky, who brought down on the German thinker, this, in his words, “the great deceiver” and “a pillar of malice, disgusting to God,” the full charge of his rejection of the new European Western philosophy 2. However, Bulgakov, due to his characteristic mentality - with a no less temperamental attitude towards the “Kant case” - abandoned impulsive defamation using biting metaphors and took the path of a corrosive and responsible analysis, which to this day leaves the door open for the continuation of the dispute. Here it does not hurt to recall the broader historical and cultural context of the duel started by Bulgakov. The relationship between Russian religious philosophy of the late 19th and 20th centuries with the multifaceted teaching of Kant represents a touchstone for understanding the distinctive features of Russian thought as a whole. On the one hand, Kant’s ethical idealism, his “criticism of practical reason” served our thinkers as a support or incentive in the struggle for the unity of speculation and life, against the arrogant alienation of philosophical science from the moral and vital tasks of the individual. It is not without reason, as G. Florovsky casually notes, that the theological assimilation of Kant began in our country even somewhat earlier than the philosophical assimilation 3 . Not to mention the influence of Kant’s “religion within the limits of reason alone” on the religious moralism of Leo Tolstoy, at the turn of two centuries “back to Kant,” according to the same Florovsky, “we began to return first in the field of moral philosophy”; these “Kantian motives” are “the ideology of imperatives and duty”, “the pathos of moral nobility” 4. At the very beginning of the new century, philosophers grouped around the collection “Problems of Idealism” (1902), and first of all S.N., departed from Marxism. Bulgakov, contributed to both the ethical orientation of Kant’s thought and the helplessness of “dogmatic” materialism in the face of the temptation of Kant’s methodology (Bulgakov’s famous words: “Kant has always been more undoubted for me than Marx” 5. On the other hand, the ineradicable Platonism of Russian philosophical thought, as it was determined on the paths cleared by V. S. Solovyov, - Platonism, which constitutes both its strong and weak sides, - could not but come into conflict with the Kantian doctrine of the unknowability of the “thing in itself” and the isolation of “pure reason” in the world of phenomena. Kant himself, as far as one can judge, never consciously compared (or opposed) his teaching and the intuitions of Platonic philosophizing; as Windelband notes, Kant's weak point was his lack of “knowledge of the history of his own science and especially the history of ancient philosophy” 6 . The giants Fichte and Hegel, who immediately succeeded Kant on the German philosophical scene, were also least of all concerned with the juxtaposition of Kantianism and Platonism; they began the construction of a philosophical edifice, in a sense, from the zero cycle, dreaming, according to Bulgakov’s verdict, to “break through to the world of ideas” (that is, to the noumenal world) with the “Luciferic self-confidence of the speculative mind” and thereby allowing “a German parody of Platonism” 7. Russian thought was intrigued by the doctrine of the “thing in itself” precisely because of its correlation with Plato’s doctrine of ideas. Vladimir Solovyov even has an extremely extravagant interpretation of Kant’s thesis about the unknowability of things in themselves - in the spirit, I would say, of idealistic panpersonalism: since, he reasoned, ideas, unlike concepts, are living, original figures, their personal core cannot be exhausted by any objectifying knowledge... So, half agreeing with Kant where he, “completely agreeing with Plato, points out the irreconcilable contradiction between the sensory world of phenomena and the intelligible world of things in themselves” 8, even praising him for this (“... the doctrine of the thing in itself, establishing the rights of faith and opening the door to mysticism puts Kant head and shoulders above rationalistic theology” 9, Russian thinkers at the same time considered Kant’s phenomenalism “an attempt by prisoners barricade themselves in a cave (naturally, in the famous one, Plato’s. - I.R.) and make its opening impenetrable to the sun.” 10 They quite unanimously opposed Kant’s epistemology with the symbolistic worldview, according to which the phenomenon is not a direct reflection of the noumenon, as it is seen in “naive realism,” but is involved in the noumenon - as a symbol of the heavenly idea depicted by it. Here the aesthetic, artistic orientation of Russian speculation is clearly evident, striving, partly following Schelling, to draw its cognitive models from the experience of art, while Kant was oriented, as is known, towards mathematical natural science. This discrepancy is the most dramatic and fundamental. Following the traditional love for triads, I will point out three sources of our author’s philosophical and linguistic initiative. The first of them is purely theological, associated with noisy debates about imyaslaviya, which was condemned by the synod of the Russian Orthodox Church before the revolution, but enjoyed the sympathy of secular Orthodox theologians. The issue, as you know, was brought before a special commission of the All-Russian Church Council of 1917–18, but due to external and internal circumstances it was not considered. The materials prepared for this commission, first of all, by Fr. Sergius, but also Fr. Pavel Florensky, served each of them to present their views on the philosophy of words (in indirect connection with the problem of veneration of the Name of God intended for discussion), which work was completed by Florensky in Moscow by the beginning of the 20s, and by Bulgakov, cut off from both capitals by the civil war, in Crimea, the first resulting in a short essay, and the second in a major work 11. Another source of the “Philosophy of the Name” is the intense polemics of religious thinkers who grouped in the 1910s around the publishing house “Path”, with Russian neo-Kantians and “immanentists” (perhaps the most dirty word among the “Putians”), with the circle of the Westernizing philosophical magazine “Logos”. The excess of this polemic can be considered the work of V.F. Ern "From Kant to Krupp", written at the height of the First World War at the peak of Germanophobia. The dispute was interrupted by the October coup, but with all the fervor Bulgakov transferred to the “walls of Chersonis.” On the pages of “The Philosophy of the Name,” the thinker no longer defends Kant from the neo-Kantians, as was the case in “The Unevening Light,” 12 but attacks the “Critique of Pure Reason” as a common epistemological platform for both the teacher and his followers. Finally, the third motivation for the creation of the treatise is the incredible corruption of language in the “crucible” of the communist revolution, which, of course, has its own ontological and even mystical aspect. Considering this aspect of the matter, Bulgakov in some important way anticipated the later Western philosophy of linguistic analysis with its “criticism of language”, although, of course, from the opposite starting positions - as if warning in advance against the extrapolation of logical formalism to the structure of knowledge as a whole. Let us repeat that Bulgakov bases his theology on a philosophical, epistemological excursion. Philosophy for Fr. Sergius always served as a necessary springboard to theology, and he moved from philosophical analysis to theological speculation only from the moment when the philosophical tools began to reveal their inadequacy. In this case, anticipating thoughts about communication with God and knowledge of God through the Name of God, he, again in Kantian style, poses the question of how knowledge is possible in general, but puts it on the territory that, in his opinion, Kant neglected. “Neither Kant, nor Fichte, nor Hegel noticed language and therefore were repeatedly victims of this ignorance” 13. In posing the problem “Kant and Language”, Bulgakov starts from a number of considerations by Hamann, Herder, Jacobi, from the philological philosophizing of W. Humboldt and his Russian follower A.A. Potebnya, partly from the theory of symbolism in Vyach. Ivanov, which does not detract from the freshness of his own approaches. Bulgakov’s main and seemingly fruitful thought is the following. The critical armor with which Kant fences himself off from the old philosophical dogma of the identity of thinking and being would be impenetrable if not for the fact of language. Inspired by this thought of Bulgakov, let me express one elementary consideration. Based on Kant’s theoretical philosophy and moving from the opposite, one can come to an argument in favor of the long-known opinion that language is the first differential feature, or specificum, of Homo sapiens. For precisely in the world of phenomena, where Kant would like to imprison us, all animals, up to the highest ones, live, perfectly adapted to it and content with an adequate response to its signals. Signal systems, including the most developed and complex ones, like those of bees or dolphins, allow them to navigate in this world. A person limited in his horizon by phenomenality would be the same animal, so with a slightly increased sharpness we can say that Kant’s theoretical philosophy, in contrast to his moral philosophy, describes the anthropological data of a certain human-animal, albeit capable of reasoning. However, the presence in a person of language, which is qualitatively different from any signaling system, immediately puts him in relation to the world above a purely adaptive one and opens for him the door to noumenal being... The characteristic turn of Bulgakov’s thought is as follows. Language is inseparable from thinking, “there is no thought without speech,” a reasonable person is, of necessity, a speaking person; but, on the other hand, language belongs to the same extent to world existence. All theories of the origin of language do not stand up to criticism precisely because language is not a conventional instrument of thought derived from human psychophysiology, but an ontological primary element. “Words are born, not invented, they arise before this or that use. This is the self-testimony of the cosmos in our spirit. Explaining the origin of a word is generally a false task. The word is inexplicable, it exists in its wonderful primordial state” (p. 19, 23). In other words, language as an anthropocosmic formation, only half belonging to the world of human consciousness, is a window into the realm of things in themselves, not noticed by Kant, or, as Bulgakov poetically puts it, “words are the monograms of being flashing in the consciousness,” and our spirit “is the arena of self-ideation of the universe” (p. 31, 26. resp.). In view of this dual nature of language, “the philosophy of words,” as the author writes, “is an integral part of the symbolic worldview” (p. 28), and any epistemological analysis should begin not with “judgment,” as Kant did, but with the question of how the amazing fact of naming is possible, when the symbolic is attached to the noumenon through the indicating pronominal gesture “this” and the existential connective “is” a name-word that does not exhaust the transcendental mystery of the noumenon, but participates in it. “Kant and his school,” the author notes, “passed by this fact and began their analysis from the point where the whole thing was already done” (p. 45); “The act of naming, expressed in conjunction, has the deepest philosophical and mystical significance, for here the Gordian knot of Kantianism is cut, the malice against God’s world is overcome - an attempt to make the noumenon deaf and blind, and the phenomenon empty, dead and ghostly, the original realism of thinking is established, which at the same time is idealism...” (p. 61.) 14. Accordingly, the grammar of language is, according to Bulgakov, “practical epistemology”: Kant ignored it in his reasoning, and yet unconsciously used it, since most of the categories of his epistemological schematics are already given in declension, conjugation, grammatical number, voice and aspect of the verb, etc. It is precisely the appeal to language that makes it possible to free epistemology from the taste of psychologism and sensationalism, which, according to Bulgakov, Kant sinned with (contrary to his intentions). For only the idealization of sensory, experimental material in the word, the elaboration of this “raw material” by thought-speech, giving it generality, builds a bridge between sensory ideas and categorical concepts. Otherwise they would be alien to each other and incompatible. In the judgment “boring” (i.e. “I am bored”), as Bulgakov rightly states, the same power of thought is revealed as in the judgment containing Newton’s laws; more precisely, it, thanks to its expression in words, is to the same extent objectified and schematized, freed from raw psychologism. (By the way, the psychological admixture in Kant’s methodology did not escape the attention of such a sympathetic analyst as Windelband, with whose works Bulgakov was, of course, familiar: “...even if the theory of knowledge formulates its task completely independently of psychological prerequisites,” writes this distant student of Kant, “still, in order to solve this problem, it must everywhere resort to psychological facts and theories” 15. Such fundamentally psychological facts, elevated to a categorical level, include the perception of space and time. But, Bulgakov objects, language in its transcendental-immanent nature testifies not only that the world of things exists in itself and is slightly open to human comprehension, but also that space and time, absolutized by Kant, by no means constitute a universal form of knowledge. “The initial, basic, exhaustive form of our thought - judgment - proposal - naming - is free from both spatiality and temporality, it is a timeless and extrasensory act” (p. 82). But here we come to the most vulnerable point of Bulgakov’s symbolistic epistemology, substantiated through the philosophy of words. He modifies the “naive” identity of thinking and being, Leibniz’s thesis about “pre-established harmony” into the identity of words and ideas (in the Platonic sense): the sphere of words exactly corresponds to the sphere of ontological ideas, non-spatial and timeless. He writes exactly like this: “Every word means an idea” (p. 17). And despite all the reservations about the fact that there are first words - “myths” and later artificial and false words, that after the “Babylonian confusion of languages” in every dialect the ontological basis of the word is obscured by layers of psychologism and historicism, that the relationship between epistemology and grammar is also devoid of complete transparency - despite all these attempts at correction, the basic identity of the word and the cosmic element it calls remains unshakable in Bulgakov’s system of thought. Noumena “lose their temper”, give their energy to words, and language thus turns out to be not only a medium, a force field of knowledge, but also the main source of knowledge about the world and even a means of mastering the world through the “power” of the learned word. Bulgakov does not seem to realize that epistemology cannot be confined exclusively to the sphere of philosophy of language, since the question of truth in each individual case is not automatically clarified by language. The superlogical intuition of being, inherent in the human spirit as a whole, is indeed verified by language and manifested through language; but this does not eliminate the question of experience as a source of knowledge, of practice in the broadest existential sense: you will know them by their fruits. Bulgakov flatly rejects the Kantian distinction between analytical and synthetic judgments (according to the Russian philosopher, any judgment is synthetic, since it points to the noumenon that is subject to it as a certain newly discovered fact, and any judgment is analytical, because in the world everything is interconnected and each “subject” can lead to all the others); thereby he actually denies the role of experience, this basis (according to Kant) of synthetic judgments a posteriori. Language, it turns out, Bulgakov knows everything himself. Thus, extreme platonism leads the author of “The Philosophy of Names” to a purely archaic understanding of language, speech, and he finds himself in a position somewhat reminiscent of the situation of supporters of the “ontological proof” of the existence of God, who were completely defeated by Kant: the ability to conceive a certain object in a word does not mean its existence. If Bulgakov’s reproach to Kant is fair that the German philosopher did not notice language because he was “entirely enveloped in the pathos of mathematical natural science” (p. 91), then in response Kant could no less harshly reproach Bulgakov for the fact that he ignored both scientific and existential experience, since in his epistemology he was embraced by the pathos of linguistic magic - which By the way, he shared not only with Fr. Pavel Florensky, but also with Velimir Khlebnikov 16. In general, one should recognize Bulgakov’s success in turning to the fundamental fact of language to criticize Kant’s phenomenalism and failure in his attempt to make language a testing ground for resolving any epistemological problems. The words from “Non-Evening Light”: “Epistemological experience (in the Kantian sense) is preceded by life, alogical or superlogical experience” 17 – could serve as a warning for Bulgakov himself, who built his epistemology “within the boundaries of language alone,” or, which returns through Potebnya and Humboldt to Schelling, within the boundaries of the word as a work of art. Despite the fact that “The Philosophy of the Name” on one side is turned to the wisdom of the past - antiquity and the German philosophical classics, this book is still undoubtedly an innovative work that fits into the search for European thought of the 20th century. It is significant that the book was created simultaneously with the Logico-Philosophical Treatise of L. Wittgenstein. “Omitted” by the monumental classics of German philosophy, language has taken a real revenge in our century, and in this regard, the direction of thought chosen by Bulgakov turned out to be portentous. The contribution of Russian philosophers is great here: Florensky’s essays on words and names, parallel to Bulgakov’s study; in 1927, “The Philosophy of the Name” by A.F. Loseva, summing up the fruits of Neoplatonism, followed by M.M.’s dialogical concept of utterance. Bakhtin, which gradually won many minds. If we return to the European context, we cannot help but notice the almost word-for-word coincidence of Bulgakov’s most important thesis: “...it is not we who speak words, but the words, internally sounding in us, speak themselves” (p. 25) with Heidegger’s no less central thesis: language is the “house of being,” it is not people who speak “language,” but language speaks to people and “people.” If Bulgakov's work had received timely fame in the West, it could have served as a preventative against the excesses of linguistic philosophy. Indeed, where the latter sees the disorienting influence of language on thinking and declares the “metaphysicality” of natural language to be its ailment, requiring “therapy” from analysts, Bulgakov brilliantly showed how the genius of language does not pose false ones, but, on the contrary, resolves genuine “metaphysical” philosophical problems. The complex, intense, detailed thought of Bulgakov in his “most philosophical” book requires further leisurely development, which, of course, this sketch does not pretend to do. 1. Human cognition occurs in the word and through the word, thought is inseparable from the word, its self-reflection inevitably requires an analysis of what constitutes this primary element or material, i.e. it must begin with an analysis of the word, with an examination of its essence. So, what is the word ? The question in this form sounds, of course, too vague, because it is polysemantic, it can be understood in a thousand different meanings, depending on our intonation, on the direction of attention, on the specific aspiration of the torturing thought. Even within the relatively narrow limits of the science of language, where it has its own specific formulation, what interests us most here is usually left unattended) 18. The word is studied in linguistics from the point of view of structure, phonetics, history, morphology, semasiology, psychology, in connection with all the rich content that the modern science of language has. However, in this history, physiology, psychology, anatomy, mechanics of words, the formation of the word and its fate is studied, in general genetic research, based on the abundance of scientifically studied facts, predominates, but in most cases the problem of the word as such is not even noticed: what makes a word a word, what is its nature, εἶδος in every state of affairs, in every language, in every era, in every use? What is that specific feature without which there is no word? What is its ontological characteristic? This is a question not about genesis and not about formation, but about the essence, about the τὸ ὄντως ὄν of the word. All questions about the genesis of words that are usually studied in this regard, such as: about the origin of language, about the original unity or plurality of adverbs, etc. – in this formulation remain out of consideration. In fact, it is a mistake to think that by studying genesis we can thereby establish the essence; on the contrary, in a certain sense it must be known before this research, otherwise this latter becomes impossible. It is necessary to take not a conventional study dictated by special tasks; we need intuition of the word, seeing it in its immediate existence, in its idea. It is necessary to isolate and establish about a word what goes without saying about it, which constitutes its axiom. It is obvious that this first and main axiom is at the boundary of linguistics, which knows only concrete words clothed in flesh and blood, deals with sounds that have already become words, and studies this flesh of the word in different aspects. Meanwhile, this word, clothed in historical flesh and having its own specific place in language and its history, is an alien from another world, or rather, it belongs to two worlds at once. Although it is given into the hands of the linguist for all his analyses, but with this shell it is not given to him entirely and, remaining itself, does not fit into his research. The question of words does not fit into the science of words as such. And if linguists sometimes consider themselves called upon to speak out on the issue of words, they are usually content with obvious deductions, sometimes with naivety, and the worst of them is that a scientific specialist without criticism proclaims his personal metaphysics, and sometimes prejudice, as a scientific solution to the question, not noticing that it still requires preliminary clarification or dissection. In fact, the question of the word is not a question of philology, although, of course, it has its own judgment here and gives its conclusion in the first place. Usually philologists are not even properly aware of it. But what is much more surprising is that philosophers are equally unaware of it. For them, language remains, as Müller puts it (Lectures on the Science of Language 19, 19), “like a veil that is too close to a person’s mental eye, barely noticeable.” The word is usually looked at only as an instrument of thought and not even the thought itself, but only its presentation, as a self-explanatory and self-evident means. They see it as an absolutely transparent and light-transmitting medium, like a window, which must be taken care of so that it is washed or, in extreme cases, does not deceive with its colored glass. In this sense, the word was sometimes feared, measures were taken to bring it to order, poisonous antics were released regarding it, like the Mephistophelian denn eben wo Begriffe fehlen, da stellt ein Wort zur rechten Zeit sich ein. 20 Judgments like the one we find in the thinker of language Humboldt, that “die Sprache ist das Bildende Organ der Gedanken” and that “es gibt keine Gedanken ohne Sprache, und das menschliche Denken wird erst durch die Sprache” 21 remained incomprehensible and unheard. All modern philosophy, except Leibniz, passed by language, one might say, without noticing the problem of words. Neither Kant, nor Fichte, nor Hegel noticed language and therefore were repeatedly victims of this ignorance. And this was repeated in later philosophy, where some, representatives of logic, saw in language only an indifferent means, while others considered the issue purely psychologically. Philosophy and philology clung to the question of the meaning of a word for thought when considering a more complex question, namely the relationship between grammar and logic, but here this question either remained completely unexamined or was submitted to psychology for consideration. So, we repeat once again, our question stands at the boundary from which the vast and richest field of philology lies in one direction, and the laborious paths of philosophy lead in the other, but it arises not as a special problem of one or another special field of knowledge, but as one of the basic, immediate and primary perceptions of human self-consciousness as γνῶθι σεαυτόν 22 . Man is a thinking and speaking being; the word-thought or thought-word is in his possession before any concrete utterance. A person thinks in words and speaks a thought, his mind, λόγος, is inextricably linked with the word λόγος, λόγος is λόγος - self-consciousness tells us in an indescribable play on words. So, what is this λόγος - word-thought? A word is a combination of voice sounds and noises produced by our speech organs, and it can be actually pronounced or only indicated through writing or in another way, for example, by gesture. This sound mass is, according to the successful expression of the Stoics 23, the body of the word, σῶμα. Without this sound body there is no word, no matter whether it is pronounced, or only schematically indicated, or only appears in our imagination (as notes already contain music, regardless of performance). How this body of the word can be more closely and more accurately defined, into what elements it can be decomposed, which elements in it will be essential, which are derivative, how they arose, etc. - we can ignore these questions here; they constitute the proper field of the science of language. For us, for now, it is enough to establish that every word has a sound body that is actually realized, i.e. spoken or only presented in an ideal image. What is essential in this matter, obviously, is not the physical side of the sound, the timbre of the voice, its strength, etc., but a certain combination of sounds, a sound or musical phrase; in the end, there may be a certain ratio of sound vibrations, expressed by a mathematical formula, even by a number: all the same, a specific number expresses a certain rhythm and sound, the structure of the sound body, determines the flesh of the word. The body of the word is a form, no matter what it is imprinted in, no matter what it is realized in, at least in a gesture 24. As a form, the word is something embodied, belonging to the natural, material world, inscribed in it, imprinted and imprinted in it 25 . Is there a word as much an object of the external world as this table, this pen, this ink? Is there such an object as this written word? Obviously yes. Is this printed? Obviously, yes too. And this is spoken? Why not? Isn’t the wind whistling in a pipe, or any other sound, an object (sound) or a phenomenon of this world, a material object in general? What about a word that is written on a phonograph record in the form of several indentations, or that sounds from a phonograph tube when the roller rotates? Do I hear or touch the word that I read in a book (in the alphabet for the blind), or see (in the case of the alphabet for the deaf and dumb)? Why not? But the word that I think or with which I think, although I do not utter it; which no one knows except me, which remains in the depths of my soul? This word may be silent, but it is not meaningless. After all, I think in a certain language, and not in a language in general. My inner word does not remain disembodied, i.e. formless, although bare of sound; at the same time, some rudimentary articulations may occur in my organs and corresponding work is performed in the brain. In a word, the word may not come out, not manifest itself, but it still exists in its flesh, its ideal image is in the mind of the subject, and our silent words-thoughts often turn into a thought out loud, a monologue. This is the general origin of every living word, which comes from the darkness of silence. But it is already present in him before its pronunciation, just as an object in a room emerges from the darkness that was there before the introduction of light. And when I want to communicate my thoughts to another, then I must realize words that exist only in the imagination, images of words, dressing them in the flesh of sounds or signs, oral or written speech, and thereby testify that my internal images of words, my inner speech are the same word, realized only visually, the word of imagination; the material for this imagination, the object of memory or fantasy, is the word in its concreteness. Word-speech, in the communication of man with man, turning into word-thought, constantly appears and disappears from the surface, like a river going underground, but where it comes to the surface, it carries the same waters, not new, but only hidden. And if it is still possible to dispute the idea that thinking is accomplished by the word, and not only expressed by it (about which below), then there is no need to argue that the inner word exists in us, clothing thought before speech; we speak not only out loud, but also within ourselves, to ourselves, in ourselves, we speak in a dream and in reality, in consciousness and oblivion, and different degrees of realization of a word, different ways of its psychological experience are not decisive for its being or essence, just as it does not matter whether I hear a Beethoven symphony in an orchestral performance or on the piano, whether I read it with my eyes from the notes, whether I hum it from memory, whether I hallucinate it, finally, whether I evoke it in my memory in the imagination only by an internal act, it doesn’t matter: this is a Beethoven symphony, a musical image that has a known form that can be embodied and, even more than that, only exists in the imagination, because shaping is inherent in the form, outside of this it does not exist, and this form itself is in this case the true flesh of this work. Of course, when we accept the expression of the Stoics that the voice is the body of the word, we must not forget all the uniqueness of this body, which differs from any natural body as much as any work of human art differs from it. The latter is the embodiment of the design-form, the bearer of corporeality is here the form, however, it is necessary in something previously formless (μὴ ὄν, ἄπειρον) to be realized, clothed in flesh, receiving, indeed, a body. The form inherent in a certain image is energy, force, not material, ideal, but inseparable from matter, in it only existing, antinomically associated with it as negation, overcoming and affirmation. This is idealized matter, enlightened by form, and the ideal original existence of form is realized precisely in action, i.e. embodiment, which is why it is impossible to talk about an incorporeal form, abstracting from what it shapes. The relative independence of the form of the word from the matter of embodiment is also clear: it seems to be indifferent to whether it is spoken or written, or only realized by the imagination, by some internal, indefinable articulations; it remains true and identical to itself during all these reincarnations. However, like any form, the word also has its own matter, into which it is fully and naturally embodied. It chooses it for itself and is chosen by it, for it it is to a certain extent created, so that for other incarnations it is raped, is not its own for them, but a portable one (in this sense, Beethoven’s symphony was written for orchestra, the Venus de Milo is sculpted from marble, and Notre Dame Cathedral is carved from stone, and therefore neither a piano arrangement, nor prints and engravings can replace the original, although undoubtedly convey their form, but without its strength and fullness, without the fullness of its resonators). The human word is first and foremost a sound word realized by the organs of speech. Here it is born, here it lives in its fullness, and all other forms of the word can be understood as superstructures, repetitions, copies, works of this word. We think and write in words because we speak them and learn to speak by ear, i.e. perceiving the sound body of the word. A closer look at the nature of the word shows us that it is similar to a work of art - or, why not say directly - it is a work of art, of course, sui generis 26; in it, the essential difference precisely belongs to the form, which is necessarily inherent in incarnation and which does not exist outside of incarnation, but matter is of comparatively secondary and in any case not decisive importance. The body of the word is its internal form, and for the word it does not matter what font, what paint, what paper it is printed on - it is preserved in its existence, in the same way, a given verbal form is reconciled with its different implementations, from internal silent articulations 27 to the sea trumpet and gramophone 28. We must, of course, keep in mind that here we mean the whole word as a form, and not just the elements that are called the formal parts of the word in grammar - this grammatical difference does not apply here. The essence of form is the relationship of parts, a certain rhythm, a pattern. Therefore, any collection of sounds, the very ones from which a word is composed (such as water and vdoa) or a random set of letters in the form that they come to hand at random, is not a word, because it does not carry out a given relationship, therefore, does not fulfill a certain form and therefore is not a word-symbol - λόγος. And in the soul of the listener or reader, these combinations awaken, at most, sound images of individual letters as such, not forming a word, not included in the unity of form. And if one could imagine a case of aphasia in which the memory of a word would be lost, but the memory of certain sounds and letters would be preserved, then the word and speech would be irretrievably lost. But sounds and letters are as much the results of the decomposition of words as words are the composition of letters, and if words were forgotten, then the letters would cease to be letters 29. So, a word is a certain form, realized in different ways, but the initial material has a sound articulated by the organs of speech. A word is a sound sign - a form of sound. However, this determines only the outer shell of the word, the physical body of the word, but it alone is by no means sufficient to make a word. In fact, in nature there are various sonorities that have a certain form and even represent the results of the articulation of the vocal organs: the cries of animals, the singing of birds, which have a certain melody, even the “speech” of a parrot that has been taught to speak. But are these really words? Is this different from any melody that another bird whistles, taking from a person? Next, the cries of animals, and finally the cries of a person in unconsciousness, pain, or intoxication? Further, any piece of music is such a sound form, but is not a word. It is obvious that a word becomes a word not from one sound form as such, but only when certain conditions are present. This condition is that the word has not only form, but also content, it has meaning, it is fraught with meaning. And this meaning is embedded in the sound, fused with its form, this is the secret of the word. Meaning, meaning is the necessary content of a word, without this it ceases to be a word: “water” is a word, “voda” is not a word, because it means nothing, although formally it could be one and, perhaps, it will be one, if it exists in some language. Every word has meaning, there are no meaningless words, the word has meaning. Language also has auxiliary words, the meaning of which is understandable only in the context of speech; Leaving aside such words for now, so as not to complicate the question, we must say that every word means an idea, and as many words as there are, there are as many ideas with their endless shades and overflows. To feel this richness, it is enough to take a lexicon. Grammar, putting words into grammatical form, provides them with additional meaning, endows them with a certain modality, which we will also set aside here so as not to complicate the issue ahead of time. For now, we will dwell only on the original, root meaning, from which different nests and families of words and grammatical uses are formed. Such a rudimentary word - neither a noun nor a verb - is a stump of a word, its body, not yet fully formed to live a full life, but it has already been born as a word, as a meaning, as a meaning, as an idea. Further, we know that the same word can have dozens of different meanings in metaphorical use and the same thing can have dozens of words for its expression; this is a phenomenon of always ongoing life. But if we stop (of course, only with the effort of abstract thought) this stream of words and single out a specific word in any specific use, we will see that it certainly has a meaning, expresses an idea. The whole difficulty in observing this process is that speech is always in motion, it is physiology and history, and not anatomy and mechanics, and, however, we can, with the effort of thought, hold back and stop the breath of a word anywhere. I’ll take the phrase: the sea sparkles dazzlingly. It consists of three words that together have one meaning. But they only come into this meaning because they, individually, are words, each having its own meaning, which means it expresses its own idea: the idea of ​​the sea, the idea of ​​sparkling, the idea of ​​dazzling. And what’s more, each of them expresses its idea independently of a given use in general, before this or that use of a word in a certain phrase, without regard to . It is only because it is possible to use words in speech, to express thoughts, that each word independently has its own meaning, expresses its own idea, is an element of thought. So, in order to obtain a complex symphony of colors in a picture, with the richest shades and tints and in the amazing complexity and consonance of the whole, you need to have separate colorful elements, color sounds, just as for a Beethoven symphony you need sound elements in all the diversity of their height, length, timbre. And, although in complete speech the meaning of a word depends not only on itself, but also on all the others included in it, on the entire meaning of the phrase, the word itself, before any context, or rather, in any context, must have and retain its own meaning, no matter how it is colored or modified, this is the prius 30 of meaning; words devoid of meaning cannot be expressed. If the meanings were extinguished and the words became dead and fell, falling dead from their nests, it would be impossible to say or think anything. And here is the first antinomy of the word: the word has meaning only in the context, only as a whole; the word separately, in isolation, does not exist; individual words are abstractions, for in reality there is only coherent speech, and, however, the word has, must have, its own independent meaning, its own coloring. Nothing exists outside everything, outside the cosmos, and words also exist in the verbal universality of the cosmos, and yet the cosmos is not an all-consuming unity, but a concrete diversity in which everything individual is held. If we begin to take any word in any form, in its history, then in each given case we will come to the conclusion that it is impossible even to define and isolate a separate word from a living context, and, however, the fact is that the word is present as a meaning and its idea burns in its quality. If we want to put a preparation of a word under a mental microscope, striving for an aesthetic vision of its essence, we must take the meaning of the word, its idea in its immediacy, irrelevance, regardless of the place that grammar and syntax assign to it, and also from the place that logic assigns to it. The idea as the meaning of a word is the pure quality of meaning, which does not tolerate or allow any secondary definition, expression through another, from the context. It must be perceived with absolute pitch, as the known sound of a certain pitch or timbre. It also needs to be freed from the psychological shell, although it is always present (and psychologists and linguists usually focus on it: apperception, association 31, reflexes, representation, perception, concept, etc. - other treatises on linguistics are replete with all of this; an example of such a psychological mess is represented by the treatises of Steinthal, who is recognized as an authority for this). The psychological shell shows only the accompanying and relatively external, random conditions of how the semantic word sprouts, but it cannot explain the appearance of the word itself; if there were no words, there would be no language, there would be no psychology of language. Therefore, in relation to the word as such, as an idea or meaning, it is inappropriate to ask whether a representation or concept, abstract or concrete, expresses this or that word: water, light, darkness, book. It could be one, and the other, and the third. Perhaps one or another psychological definition and filling of this verbal image. It is possible to use it differently both for representation and for concept and for “Wahmehmung” and for “objektiwes Urteil” (in Kant) 32. But all this is not yet in the word itself: in it there is only an idea that exists on its own, as one bare quality, without relation or, more precisely, before relation to this or that logical use and the psychological experience associated with it. The meaning was ignited and the word was born, that’s all. And therefore, the eidetic essence of the word is completely missed when, to understand its nature, cases of the secondary formation of the word are taken, more precisely, the new use of an already existing word, for example, in the terms: let's call so-and-so; then the words take on the character of a road pillar, placed completely arbitrarily and for a specific purpose. Words are born, not invented, they appear before one use or another, that’s the whole point. Sometimes they almost imagine that, for the sake of convenience, they conspired to invent words to designate known objects, but here an unresolved question is introduced into the problem itself, and often the very conspiracy about words already presupposes their existence. So, words, as the primary element of thought and speech, are the carriers of thought, they express the idea as a certain quality of being, simple and further indecomposable. This is the self-testimony of the cosmos in our spirit, its sound. Concepts, ideas, judgments, all products of speech and thought are further results of the use of words, but are completely inapplicable for their qualification and explanation. Abstract and concrete, universal and individual, subjective and objective, etc. there may be concepts, not words. Words are all equally located outside this division; they are pure meanings, qualities of being, ideas pronounced in the inner world of a person 33. True, every word-thought, idea exists in speech in a formalized form, as a certain element of it; it occupies a certain place in a sentence and has an etymological face: there is a certain part of speech, taken in a certain form, case, number, tense, person, mood, etc. And yet, these are different concrete verbal takes of the same primary element - meaning. So: light, in the light, about the light, light, bright, shines, luminary, illuminate, etc., all these options or, more precisely, formulations of one meaning-word-idea: light. Wolf, wolves, wolfishness, wolfishness, wolf cubs, wolfishness, etc. – variants of the idea wolf. A word-thought can never be shown in its pure form, because all words are formed and involved in the body of speech and therefore impart certain shades of a given meaning and its use. Such a word-meaning, of course, is not the root, because the root word as such exists, and is not the result of only philological analysis, abstraction, it still has one or another semantic connotation due to its position in the sentence, the order of words, as in the Chinese language, to a certain extent in French and English. Of course, the core of the meaning of a word is connected precisely with the root, as shown by a comparison of words of the same meaning, but of different shades, where it is the root, or at least the basis, that remains constant and unchanged. compounded root 34. And, however, one cannot say that the roots are only abstractions in the sense that they actually do not exist independently, but words or even sentences exist. Roots exist, if not more, then no less than the other parts of words and speech, and than words and sentences, for, of course, the parts exist no less than the whole. But very specific functions are associated with the roots of words, they are the carriers of semantic meaning, the core of the meaning is associated with them, the very idea that remains unchanged in all words of a given root and meaning, while everything else has only a formal meaning and introduces shades. And just as there is no word consisting of only one root (even in the case when this is the case in a sound image; the role of inflection, prefixes, suffixes, etc. is then played by the context), so there is no absolutely isolated word that is not part of speech and, therefore, outside the defining design and connection. Connection and design are presupposed by the nature of the word to the same extent as the meaning - this cannot be denied, but it is equally impossible to deny the core of the word, the root with which the meaning of the word, the idea, the meaning is connected. Formal elements are universal and uniform, while root elements are individual and unique. And the meaning is connected to the root. Now we are faced with the most significant and, one might say, fatal question for understanding the word: how should we understand the meaning of the word, the meaning of the meaning? What does it mean that words have meaning, what is the origin of words-ideas? Before we have time to open our mouths to this question, we are met by psychology, which immediately takes into its hands this matter, trustingly handed over to it by naive linguistics. She diligently explains associations, apperceptions, perceptions, ideas, shows the way in which an idea is born from the evidence of the senses, and then a certain sign is mixed into this idea for the convenience of designation - and this is how a word arises. There may be a reason for the emergence of words - in onomatopoeia - an onomatopoeic theory 35, there may be a secret of its occurrence in involuntary exclamations - interjections - an injection theory 36, maybe in internal gestures 37 - a psychophysiological theory - but in any case, according to all these theories, the word arises from the need to have a conventional and abbreviated designation for a certain psychological content, more or less complex. The function of the word is representative; it does not contain meaning, but only denotes it, it is like paper money in metal currency, it is a necessary and useful surrogate, a conventional abbreviation for a psychological complex. It is the result of a psychological technique aimed at saving forces; it is the product of a kind of economic activity of the soul. The word is one way or another invented, invented by man for his own needs, for the needs of communication and thinking, or arose according to psychological or mental laws and then improved through “evolution.” The latter, as we know, can explain the emergence of anything from it, why now this is the dominant theory, and the starting point for it is the idea of ​​homo alalus 38, who gradually invents language, and to other naive people this seems no less conclusive and convincing than Pithecanthropos for Darwinists. At the same time, some do honor to man and leave behind him a thinking ability that distinguishes him from animals, sometimes even a verbal ability, while others produce thought and word in an evolutionary manner. The common feature of all these discussions about the mental genesis of speech is ignoratio elenchi 39 for this question, the fact that they ignore the content of the question, and in fact assume it has been resolved. Everything that happens in a person, of course, passes through his psychological environment and is subject to the action of a mental mechanism, mental formation. And by focusing our attention on this mental mechanism, we learn a lot about how certain functions occur in the soul, how it masters, adapts, subordinates to skills, and establishes automatism. And to understand the phenomenon of automaticity of language and the genetic processes of its occurrence, psychology can give a lot. However, apart from the question how? there is a question what? And besides the question of the mechanism of language and mental automatism, there is a central question about the very existence of language, about the nature of the word. For, if there is a word, psychology can draw its patterns of the psychology of speech, just as if there is a thought, it can analyze the mental laws of thinking, and if there is poetry, it can develop the laws of poetic creativity, and if there is science, it can develop the laws of scientific creativity, etc. But genesis can only trace development, but not the appearance of the developing, not emergence, not birth, for evolution excludes birth, it deals only with what has already been born and given. If a language is given or there is a word, there may be an evolution of the language, its psychology, but if it is not there, evolution will not help. Psychology, which deals with ready-made data, is unresponsive where it is not about the psychological situation in which these data exist and develop, but about them themselves, and it can neither understand nor explain the secrets of the word. In general, fashionable evolution, no matter what sauce it is served under, is absolutely unsuitable here and appears only through a misunderstanding. Even less can one be satisfied with the idea of ​​the deliberate invention of language. Who was the genius who invented the language? And how did he manage not only to come up with it himself, but also to inform everyone, teach everyone, convince everyone, for the language is universal? When and where did this happen, where are the signs? If we refer to the distance of centuries in which nothing is visible, then this is an asylum ignorantiae 40, you can cram anything into this gray distance. What if I say that it was Pallas Athena who gave the language, as the Greeks thought? Don't like it? Well, just say that you put forward your explanation only because you like it, it pleases your prejudices. And what an impossible, fantastic work would be accomplished by someone who began to invent a language, what precision of thought he would have to discover, what memory, what ingenuity. Well, won’t evolution, especially social development, help with this? Yes, it does all sorts of miracles for you, but here you first need to hold everything in one head: first invent a language, and then pass it on to another, to others, so that they too will be convinced, assimilate, understand. But how to convey a language when there is no language yet? Here's the challenge. “Thoughts without speech and feelings without names” 41 - how to convey them and what to call them? To do this, obviously, it is necessary, neither less nor more, to already have a language, words, in other words, something that should be subject to explanation is already presupposed. But here an even more important assumption is made, which is, however, just as inconsistent as the supposed existence of speech before its invention. This is the admission of blind and deaf thoughts without words. After all, it is assumed here that the inventive homo alalus, of course, quite a monkey (after all, this is what our Darwinists want), invited his relatives to express their thoughts and ideas in words, so that between them, thoughts and words, a fusion was formed and thus a word-meaning was obtained. So this assumption of thoughts without words, thoughts stripped of words, not embodied in them and at the same time already born, conscious, represents the greatest absurdity, because it tears apart the inseparable. Thoughts without words do not exist, just as words without meaning do not exist. We cannot separate a thought from a word or a word from a thought, just as we cannot separate our shadow from ourselves. And this is not an actual or psychological impossibility, not a lack of skills or mechanism (as I do not know how, for example, to play the piano, because I do not have an associative mechanism and generally corresponding automatism), - this is a purely subjective, factual impossibility, absent for others, and for me, removable, at least in principle, if I want to learn. And this is not a logical impossibility, which is stated by inconsistency and violation of the law of identity, like a round square, for there is no logical inconsistency in the idea that words can be separated from thoughts, and on one side there are naked thoughts, not dressed in words, and on the other, meaningless, but already ready to accept the meaning of the word - you can think this, and formal logic is powerless to speak out here on the merits, because it does not notice the formal impropriety here. But here there is an ontological impossibility that lies in the nature of speech and thought itself and establishes their inseparability. We cannot conceive a thought from a word and a word from a thought, we cannot break their connections, just as we cannot merge them, identify them until they merge completely, but we recognize the thought born in the word and the word expressing the thought (the duality of λόγος’a) 42. And this is a final, categorical verdict, which all psychologists who study and interpret genetic processes should take note and use. Here is an axiom that is not proven, but shown; all the power of persuasiveness lies only in demonstrativeness, in direct evidence. But we think without words, say those who want to run behind the scenes of thought and spy on what is happening there, behind the word (the same as spying on what is happening in our room when we are not there). Others are satisfied by stating that a certain mental tension or even creative aspiration in general passes without words 43. But in this case we are not talking about thought, but about what precedes its birth, about the effort of the emerging thought, about the intensity of the mental pulse, in a word, we are not talking about speech, but about thinking as a volitional activity, as energy and, perhaps, not about consciousness, but about what is deeper than it, about the “subconscious”. Thus, when applied to thinking as mental tension and when applied to thinking as the birth of a thought from something that is not yet a thought, although it gives birth to a thought, this may be true. But our judgment refers to an already existing thought, to a spoken word. And here the fact that λόγος is both thought and word retains its absolute force. The word is not only an instrument of thought, as is often said, but also thought itself, and thought is not only the object or content of the word, but also the word itself. And, however, thought is not a word, for it abides in itself, and the word is not a thought, for it has its own life. Λόγος has a dual nature, in it word and thought, body and meaning are inseparably and unmerged. And what can be said about thought and speech, the same must be said about the word-meaning. It is impossible to talk about the genesis of meaning and words separately or about their later gluing or superimposing on each other. In this sense, there is and cannot be a genesis of a word at all; a word cannot arise in a process. It may or may not be, present or not present in consciousness, this is a matter of fact; it, already existing, may have development, history, and in this sense, genesis, but all this will be the history of a word that is already given and existing. The word itself cannot be explained, just like a thought: neither a word nor a thought in this sense has genesis, does not arise, but is the essence. A thought can only be explained by a thought or by thinking about it, which is an obvious vicious circle; in the same way, the emergence of the word can only be explained through the word, therefore, assuming the word - the creative energy is already present, the inner word has already been sounded. There is no thought that is not embodied in a word, and there is no word that does not embody a thought. And in this sense, explaining the origin of the word is generally a false task, a misunderstanding, thoughtlessness. The word is inexplicable; it exists in its wonderful primordial state. And the most amazing thing about it, and at the same time the most significant thing, is the inseparability and non-fusion in it of meaning and form, idea and body. Just as an idea does not exist without embodiment, so sounds are not words without an idea. But is this combination of idea and form as inseparable as we claim, in the face of the facts of the existence of many languages? Does not the same idea take on different and numerous forms depending on the language? Does language exist at all or only languages? Word or just words? The question is serious and difficult, and at the same time irresolvable. Is there only one true, primitive language (as the Jewish language was considered for a long time, and is probably still considered by many to be so), and all the others are variations or surrogates? And if not, then what about the many hundreds, perhaps thousands of languages ​​that are known to modern linguistics? Even if we accept the first assumption, we still have to accept that for a given state of language all adverbs have equality and equivalence and serve the same purpose by different means. In other words, their verbal clothing in the sounds of a given language becomes only the actual means of realizing the internal, unchanging word, so to speak, meta-logos, thought. It is this inner word-meaning, idea, that makes them all words. What does it mean to learn another language or translate into another language? This means putting one and the same inner word in different clothes, realizing it 44. And this realization, language as an adverb, is a relative, historical matter. Language is learned, it is a life-long endeavor, languages ​​are born, die, and in general are subject to history, psychology, and all kinds of genetic research. No matter how we understand the nature of the word and the structure of each specific language, we must say that multilingualism likens the word to Chinese writing, in which everyone reads well-known written characters denoting entire words in their own way, and residents of different provinces do not understand each other. The inner word-meaning is like this Chinese letter. But it is precisely the lack of fusion of body and idea in the word that is evidenced by the fact of multilingualism, in which the same word, namely the word, and not the concept that is usually slipped in here, is realized differently in different languages. If the idea and its embodiment would completely merge and permeate each other (as this should be thought of in relation to the absolute divine language), then they would be inseparable, but now they only look into each other and sometimes decay for each other, completely diverge, die for one another, in general they bear the stamp of the accidental and temporary. As Humboldt put it, “language spontaneously arises only from itself, and languages ​​depend on the nations to which they belong” 45 . So, the inner word, idea, meaning is the real core of the word, which is contained in its verbal shell. Words of different languages, different shells, are strung together with the same meaning, and it is this meaning that makes them words. What does it mean to speak, to utter words? This means arousing meanings in the mind through words as embodied ideas. At the same time, you can speak in different ways: first of all, you can talk to yourself, arouse meanings in yourself. I can think and at the same time speak “to myself” or with a pen in hand, putting the word into written form. At the same time, I speak or write in a certain language, i.e. I don’t use words in general, but certain, specific words. But speaking usually means having communication in words. This communication also takes place in a certain language, and it doesn’t matter in principle which one, but the most important thing that happens here is that the same inner words sound in the soul of the listener, the same meanings flash as in the speaker. Words exercise their inherent power to realize meaning, to awaken an idea in human consciousness. Everything else - the sound body of the word, the physical and physiological conditions of hearing, its cerebral substrate - all this belongs only to implementation, embodiment, these are only wires and a telegraph apparatus, but not the telegram itself. The essence of speech is the awakening of meanings, the life of ideas-words in a person, which connect the consciousness of people, and this connection is made through language. This inner word has its own life, before it is embodied in the word, in consciousness, realized in it. Is it possible to explain the origin of words-ideas by any reasons contained in the human psyche as a psychological mechanism? Here we are met with all sorts of teachings about the origin of the word from associations, apperceptions, reflexes, articulations, but all this, to a certain extent, explains the mental mechanism of language, at most can only explain the mental side of the emergence of this or that word, its germination, but all these psychological explanations cannot, of course, explain the origin of the grain of the word - the ideation itself: why from perceptions, experiences, connections this grain-idea is hatched, possessing an original life, capable of flashing in the consciousness of every person, retaining its vitality longer than the grains of bread found in the graves of the pharaohs, for the words preserved in the most ancient writing have not lost their vitality, their immortality. An inevitable hiatus 46 arises between psychological explanations of the origin of a word and the word itself. The word in its essence cannot be interpreted psychologically, in psychological terms, although in its incarnation it has its own psychological clothing; the problem of the inner word does not even lend itself to psychological formulation, cannot be grasped with its forceps. It is possible - and in a certain sense, perhaps, it should be - to understand any creative work psychologically: the Venus de Milo, the IX Symphony, or whatever you want - but does any of the most detailed psychological analysis explain these things in their eidetic essence? Whatever the conclusions of such a psychological analysis, the Venus de Milo lives its own life, regardless of even the psychology of the sculptor. Moreover, it could be created because in a certain sense it exists independently of the means of implementation, otherwise the psychology of creativity would not have generated anything. Likewise, words can only be mastered or realized through a mental mechanism because they exist; just as in order to learn a foreign language, it is not enough to have memory and time, but it is necessary that this language itself exist. It is not people who unite themselves with words, using language as a means of mutual understanding or an instrument of communication, but words and language unite people who, to the best of their ability, use this unity in words. Sociality here is not a productive cause, as people now readily think, but a consequence, a result, a realization. Language is not created, but only implemented in society; it binds and grounds society. The Babylonian pandemonium, which, according to the biblical legend, affected only the sound body of language and was expressed in multilingualism, without yet abolishing the internal language, nevertheless turned out to be so disastrous and destructive for human communication. If this pandemonium affected the inner word and it extinguished in humanity, being replaced by various home-made inventions in the style described by psychologists, then human society would collapse and each person would be surrounded by an impenetrable wall of his own subjectivity. Everyone would have to invent their own language for themselves, with it they would be born and die, and the continuity of culture and history would become impossible. So, humanity is connected by that inner word that sounds in a person, joining life with every utterance. To get rid of the direct recognition of this axiom, which is clearly enough to be understood in order to accept, one usually grabs at various meaningless explanations, the whole advantage of which is their complete uncertainty and meaninglessness: heredity, evolution, associations, with an obvious petitio principii 47 . The ideal essence of a word cannot at all be decomposed into psychological elements; it is not psychological at all and therefore is not even affected by psychological explanation. Words exist, this is a fact that psychology already has to reckon with, and since they exist, so does language. It is not language that creates words, but words that create language for their clothing, for their realization. Words-ideas are forces, some ideal potencies that create a body for themselves, possessing the power of embodiment. It is a misunderstanding to look for the genesis of language in psychology. Language, according to Humboldt’s beautiful expression, is not ἔργον, but ἐνέργεια 48 and therefore only can be ἔργον. But, if the inner word is not susceptible to psychological reactivity, then perhaps it is subject to a logical or epistemological reaction and then, decomposed into its component parts, it will reveal the primary elements or bonds? Logic and epistemology explain precisely the meaning of a word, seeing in it a general concept or idea, a hidden judgment, etc. Therefore, one can seem to assume that the laws of logic and epistemology precede the word, they are the prius for it. However, if we take a closer look at such reasoning, we will be convinced that in such cases it is not the word itself that is being discussed, but one or another of its uses, i.e. that which is already a product of the word, of thought; we are talking about constructions, and not about primary elements, which are not even noticed separately, although they exist. And in order to judge whether a person has “representation”, “Wahrnehmung”, “Urteil”, etc., it is necessary first to have the word person. The word is the primary element of thought into which it is decomposed, but it itself is no longer decomposable. We think in words-ideas, and to go beyond these limits, i.e. for itself, thought is unable to. And this truth is realized by everyone as soon as he opens his mouth to speak or takes up a pen to write. We stand here very close to the element of thought in its primary elements, to the cell of thought. All that remains is to simply, humbly and piously admit that it is not we who speak the words, but the words, internally sounding in us, speak themselves, and our spirit is at the same time the arena of self-ideation of the universe, for everything can be expressed in a word, and this word equally includes the creation of the world and our psyche: the sun and boredom are equally ideas of the universe, thinking, conscious of itself. Due to the fact that the universe, the world, is characterized by ideation, it is also a word (for - “all that - the word - was and without it nothing would have happened" 49). The world speaks in us, the whole universe, and not us, its voice sounds. Schelling's thought that the world is the identity of the subjective and objective, ideal and real, or, as we should translate it, verbal and non-verbal, logical and alogical, is a similar but twisted thought of Schopenhauer about antilogical will and logical ideas; Hartmann's similar thought about the unity of illogical and thinking in the unconscious; the thoughts of Plato and Plotinus about the world of ideas, shining through the dark illogical region - all these are historical expressions of the axiom that is silently implied about the word: they say about the world that the world itself says about itself. The word is the world, for it is he who thinks and speaks, but the world is not a word, or rather, it is not only a word, for it also has a metalogical, wordless existence. The word is cosmic in its nature, for it belongs not only to consciousness, where it flares up, but to being, and man is the world arena, a microcosm, for the world sounds in him and through him, therefore the word is anthropocosmic, or, more precisely, anthropological. And this anthropological power of the word is the real basis of language and languages. The adverbs are different and multiple, but the language is one, the word is one, and it is spoken by the world, but not by man, the world-man speaks it. Of course, this question about a single language as the real basis of the plurality of languages ​​has nothing to do with the historical question that is being discussed by scientists: whether there is a single proto-language and whether all adverbs can be reduced to it as their primary source. In essence, the language has always been and is one - the language of the things themselves, their own ideation. Therefore, by the way, the Babylonian pandemonium becomes understandable as a phenomenalistic multiplication of one and the same reality, similar to the decomposition of a white ray into a spectrum, as a linguistic multiplication and complication of one internal language, which initially did not differ in its sound body. In this sense, the story of the book is understandable. Genesis is about how God brought all the animals to Adam to see “what he would call them” (Gen. 2:19), i.e. otherwise one can say how they themselves will call themselves through him and in him, for he, as a man, as a microcosm, existentially had them all in himself; as the bearer of the divine Logos, as the image of God, he had within himself the power of the ideation of the world, the world word was born in him. That’s why it was added: “And as Adam called every living creature, that was his name.” No mistake could happen here, because there was no subjectivity: the names of creatures sounded in man as their inner words about themselves, as self-revelations of the things themselves. And, however, this naming was not passive on the part of man, he was not only the mirror of things into which they looked in order to recognize themselves in the idea, in their name, but also by the action of man, for only man has speech. Speech is the “Rubicon that separates man from animals” (M. Muller), in it is the logos of the world, which is why the Divine Logos itself could be embodied in it. And a certain feat of his humanity, a creative effort, a manifestation of his strength was required from a person. Moreover, like any real creative act, it can be performed better or worse, more fully or weaker. If in the primordial Adam, alien to sin, the ontological essence of his being resisted “psychologisms,” then in his descendants, in the human race, the sound of the world inevitably and naturally changes in the refracted atmosphere of distortions and obscurations. Language is given to man because the whole universe speaks in him and through him, he is the logos of the universe, and every word is not only the word of a given subject about something, but also the word of something itself. Man here is not free, he is forced by ontological necessity, he is free to say or not say a word, to evoke or not to evoke an idea, but once it is called to consciousness, he no longer has the power to change it, but can, at most, distort it in its implementation. So, words-ideas are the voices of the world, the sound of the universe, its ideation. Along with its illogical existence, it acquires ideal expression in words. Logos in relation to the ineffable and ineffable essence, transcendent for thought and word, is expressed in words. In relation to substance, it is that which is manifested, said, revealed from the ineffable depth of being, from which the cover of darkness is removed and multiplicity, relationships, individual traits are revealed in the light, the face of being, its word and words appear. These, in the most general and preliminary terms, are the ontological roots of language, the meaning of meanings, the word of words. From the previous follows an important conclusion about the ontological nature of the word itself. What are the words: realia or signa 50? An old age-old dispute in philosophy. The psychological understanding of words sees in them signa: abbreviations of thoughts or ideas as algebraic signs or some milestones in the process of consciousness and only in this sense signatura rerum 51. Arbitrariness, chance and subjectivism determine the nature of words here. We have already said that if this were so, the existence of language with its marvelous regularity, instead of a general chaos, would be an incomprehensible mystery. But what is much more significant here is the main idea of ​​psychologists, namely, that we speak, invent, invent words, and not that they themselves sound in us, are spoken. Meanwhile, in fact, words are the self-evidence of “things”, the actions of the world in us, awakening their corresponding ideas. Words contain the energy of the world, word creation is a subjective, individual, psychological process only in its form of existence, but in essence it is cosmic. Everything in the world, decaying, crushing and sparkling in the rays of meaning, reflects these rays, and this is the essence of the word. Words are not at all galvanized corpses or sound masks; they are alive, because they contain world energy, the world logos. The sun rolling across the sky constitutes the true soul of the word “sun”, and with its ideal energy it is present in it, speaks of itself, or rather speaks of itself in man; shines is also the idea of ​​luminescence, saturated with the luminous power of the cosmos; storm - here the cosmic storm speaks of itself; goes - speaks the language of world space, etc. In a word, when a person speaks, the word belongs to him as a microcosm and as a person, an integral part of this world. Through the microcosm the cosmos speaks, 52 but, at the same time, through man his living organic concreteness, a certain mental and historical individuality and a certain language, a definitely tuned, individually qualitative instrument also speaks. And therefore the word, as it exists, is an amazing combination of the cosmic word of the things themselves and the human word about them, moreover, in such a way that both are connected into an inseparable fusion. This fusion is something incomprehensible and antinomic: the infinite of thought is expressed in the finite sculpture of the word, the cosmic in the particular, meaning is connected with what is not meaning - with the sound shell; that which is not a sign at all, but the essence itself, its energy, its action, is inseparably connected with the fact that there is only a sign, this is that definite word that can be replaced by another sign. We call this mysterious, difficult to think and exciting for the heart fusion of the ideal and the real (material), phenomenal, cosmic and elementary a symbol. So, we have reached the point: words are symbols. The nature of the word is symbolic, and the philosophy of the word is thereby introduced into the symbolic worldview. Symbolism is more than a philosophical teaching, it is a whole life sensation, experience. A symbol is often understood pejoratively, as a sign, external, arbitrary, subjective: “mathematical symbol”, “verbal symbol”. This derogatory understanding also has an objective basis in the nature of the symbol, for its matter - that in which it is symbolized, is indeed imprinted by human subjectivism, “psychologism,” as they now express it; in art this is “commemorative” symbolism (V. Ivanov) 53. But what makes symbols symbols is not this, their arbitrary and deceptive use, but their realism, the fact that the symbols are alive and effective; they are carriers of force, some capacitors and receivers of world energy. And it is this energy of them, divine or cosmic, that forms the true nature of the symbol, thanks to which it is no longer an empty husk, but a carrier of energy, strength, life. To say that words are symbols is to say that in a certain sense they are alive. So, the cosmos speaks itself in words, gives away its ideas, reveals itself. The word as a world word, and not just a human word, is an idea of ​​the cosmos. But the cosmic meaning or idea never remains naked and naked, it is wrapped in a shell, and this shell is the word. Thus, in the birth of a word, a double process occurs, going in two opposite directions: a thought, its idea, is released from cosmic existence, but, liberated, it is immediately clothed in words, a hieroglyph of the world, its verbal microcosm. And she leads her further existence in the world of thought and words. Words are living and active hieroglyphs of things; in a sense, they are the things themselves as meanings 54 . The inevitable question arises: how does this embodiment of meaning occur, its wrapping in a sound shell, the birth of a symbol, how does a word arise? This is not the usual question in philology, although recently discarded with annoying irritation, about the origin of language as the ability to speak, as the appearance of words in homo alalus. Although it is related to the question that interests us, it is not so much about the origin of the ability of speech, consisting of words, as about the birth of words, or the symbolization of meaning. In this case, we can talk about both special cases or individual words, and the origin of the word in general, as a symbolized meaning. We distinguish in a word its phonetic side, its sound chord, what is sometimes called a phoneme, then its formal shell, the morpheme, which determines both the words, its place and use, and, finally, the meaning of the word, its blue, however, inextricably linked with both the phoneme and the morpheme 55. When we ask about the meaning of a word, we can talk about the relationship between phoneme and morpheme, which, in essence, are inextricably linked to each other in its synema. The morpheme imparts blue in the sense that it gives it formal elements (inflections, prefixes, infixes, suffixes), something that is repeated in many words; as such, it can be taken out of the bracket and separated from what is individual for a given word and is not repeated in other words, which characterizes this blue as such: this is, in a broad sense, the basis, what remains unchanged in the word minus the changing formatives; in a more precise and narrow sense, the word is decomposed into a root, complicated or uncomplicated by any morphological element. According to Gabelenz's definition: “Wurzeln sind die letzten erkennbaren bedeutsamen Lautbestandteile der Wörter” (I, p. 289) 56 . And the question of the origin of a word closely depends on the question of the root elements of words. It does not matter to us whether there was a root language period, as many people think 57 or not, or whether this is just a methodological hypothesis; all the same, in one case or another the individual meaning of the word is connected with the root. In linguistics, it is considered quite firmly established that the formative elements of speech: endings in declension and conjugation, prepositions, adverbs, even particles were originally independent words and had their own root core. In cases where this cannot be proven or assumed, they have the meaning of a shell or covers that clothe another word. One way or another, an independent word has its own root core, and this core is, at the same time, semantic: there is a fundamental principle of the word, in which the fusion of the word and the meaning-idea has a direct primordial existence. In the future life of an already born word or an embodied word, various events and processes can occur, all multiplications, changes and complications of meaning; this includes: tropes as metaphors, metonomies, synecdoches, what is called the “internal form of the word” 58, etc. No matter how far we go in our analysis of the word, we still inevitably run into its root primary elements, the primary words, which can no longer be decomposed. Modern linguistics reduces these primary elements to a relatively small number of roots 59 - several hundred with many thousands, or even tens of thousands of words. Each word can be fragmented and multiplied and, through metaphor and any other device (see their analysis in M. Bréal. Tr. de sem. 60), merge with another meaning, due to which an improper, indirect use of a word appears, in which the “internal form” of the word differs from its meaning, and the latter looks in someone else’s mirror. However, when the original meaning of a word is forgotten, or, what is the same, when its internal form is lost, which can be discovered either by comparative linguistics or linguistic paleontology, it is essentially possible, as it were, a new birth of an old word, a new symbolization or fusion of meaning not with a new, previously unsound sound chord, but with an old one that has sounded again, in a new way. So, long after its disappearance, a hermit crab can move into the shell in which the mollusk lived. In a similar way, verbal fossils can come to life again and be filled with other meanings, and then we can talk not only about the metaphorical use of an existing, still living word in various figurative meanings, but about the repeated, even multiple birth of an unchanged word according to the sound shell, and, however, according to the semantic content, forming a series of new words: non idem per idem or idem per non idem 61. In any case, here we come close to the birth of sound symbols of meaning. And this is the original secret of the word. How to understand it? The question is not only why certain sounds are chosen for the sound body of a word (which is what the “wah-wow” theory and partly the “ba-ba” theory 62 actually do), but precisely about the fusion of a certain sound chord with a certain meaning, about the densification of meaning. Any attempts to solve this issue by the hypothesis of rational invention, i.e. finding words to express certain meanings, whatever they may be, has the sin of destroying the question itself and giving it an incorrect formulation. The situation seems to be that there is a certain meaning, an idea to which a verbal shell is given, for example, there is the idea of ​​“water” and a word is sought to express it: water, moisture, and perhaps earth, land, stone, orange, etc., or, to express the same thought differently, for the idea water one will say water, another aqua, a third Wasser, a fourth ὕδωρ, etc. At the same time, a completely unacceptable assumption is introduced, which radically distorts the whole problem and turns the whole argument into empty phrasing about the non-existent, namely, that meaning exists separately from the word, and therefore previously on one side there is a meaning, on the other there is a word, or, more precisely, different words - a whole assortment of words, and that they are selected or adjusted. (Here, obviously, the “use of words by analogy” and metaphors are confusing, i.e. when a person, from existing words, by some free will, chooses certain colors for his shades of thought.) We are here looking for the primary element of thought and speech, a simple word-thought, which, indeed, is the fusion of two elements. But the fact of the matter is that there is no idea without words, meaning without symbolic embodiment, we cannot even think about it, but as soon as we think about it, we will say it, because thoughts are inseparable from words. Likewise, there are no ready-made words (roots) that could be selected and selected as empty forms or sleeves. The sound matter produced by the organs of speech represents an almost limitless supply of possibilities for new word formations (although we see that the language uses them sparingly and reluctantly, preferring to make do with a limited number of verbal themes or roots), but there are no ready-made, empty, meaningless sound words in it, and in principle there cannot be: this would mean reducing a person to the role of a bird, constantly repeating certain sounds, an entire phrase that has no verbal meaning (although, of course, it has its own meaning and meaning). But these are not words, and a person does not have such sounds in stock. Or such elements may be the letters of the alphabet and their various combinations, the number of which can be determined by the mathematical formula of combinations. But letters are the result of the analysis of a language consisting of already existing words; speech breaks down into them, and speech is not composed of them, and therefore this assumption already introduces what is subject to resolution. It turns out that the issue cannot be resolved. In other words, the process of the origin of the word cannot be observed. The word is not composed, not selected, not invented, but appears simultaneously and together with the meaning. This is why theories of the origin of words from onomatopoeia or interjections turn out to be so unsatisfactory, because they concern not the primary origin of words, but their outer shell. Imitation presupposes only the internal sound of a given word, consonant with those external meaningless and wordless sounds that exist in nature and are psychologically connected with the idea of ​​a specific bearer of a given idea. The fact that the cuckoo sings “cuckoo” does not at all explain the word “cuckoo”, because there is a qualitative difference between a word and a sound, and the fact that in this case the root corresponds to the cuckoo’s song explains to a certain extent the choice of the sound body for the word, but does not even touch on the mystery of how, from a bird’s sound, meaningless and wordless, a word-meaning is born in a person. We are forced to come to a conclusion that sounds not only paradoxical, but downright absurd: words give birth to themselves, the idea itself merges with the sound symbol, the meaning is embodied in sounds. And, however, this position that words speak themselves 63 (Gerber) 64, they themselves sound in a person, but are not created by a person, corresponds to the nature of the word, and it cannot be otherwise. This requires explanations to eliminate misunderstandings, both positive and negative. As explained above, words are symbols of meaning, specific, inseparable fusions of meaning and sound that do not exist separately from each other, which means that a word in its elements - meaning and sound - cannot arise in parts, consisting of these elements, but can only happen immediately, prove itself. Since the content of a word is a cosmic idea, we can say that its cosmos speaks through man. Since man is a microcosm in which and through which the entire cosmos speaks, realizes, realizes itself, we can say that this word arises or is spoken in man, but not in a psychological, but in an anthropological sense: words are monograms of existence flashing in the consciousness. And their fullness, cosmic nature, symbolic meaning are precisely connected with the fact that they are not invented, but arise, they are, as it were, forces of nature that manifest themselves or realize themselves 65. But don’t we know the genesis of many words, their history? Don’t we ourselves create language, create new words and don’t know how to do it? What kind of tautology, idem per idem, “explanation of x in terms of y,” is proposed here? And, however, one must concentrate on the central issue, without being confused or tempted by secondary and extraneous considerations. Indeed, in many cases we know the history of words, just as, for example, we know the biography of a person, but is it through this that we truly comprehend his spiritual origin, for example, the fact that the given person whose biography we are studying is Goethe or Pushkin? Or is it his parents who know him, who, on their part, have accomplished what is needed for his realization? But this is a lie and nonsense, because in order to want the birth of Goethe, you need to be him yourself, to foreknow him in yourself, but this does not and cannot exist not only with respect to genius, but also with any individuality to which the attribute of uniqueness belongs. So it turns out that a given person gives birth to himself (of course, by the will of God), he himself is incarnated from this material. Let it not be confusing that human will and action (in particular, sexual intercourse) also have a decisive role in some instance: of course, without human participation, without the presence of parents, people cannot be born, just as words cannot be born outside of a person, but a person does not conceive and does not invent words, just as he does not conceive and does not invent a child, but accepts him as he is, as he was born. And if children, as spiritual individuals embodied in a body, in a certain sense are born themselves, the parents only provide them with themselves, their flesh, and words for this, although they are clothed in sounds according to the entire totality of vocal and sound capabilities (about which below), but they give birth to themselves. And then, existing words that have already arisen, indeed have a biography and history, but going through this history regressively, in reverse order, we will certainly sooner or later come to the primary breed - the root, which can no longer be genetically explained, is subject only to ascertainment, and not explanation. And it is only about these primary elements of speech, about the words of words, about a certain initial number of them, in each language, perhaps differently, that we are talking. And there are not and cannot be sufficient empirical grounds to determine this quantity and even to say whether it is limited or unlimited, whether it can be fully counted. The actual presence of such root words, which we are able to establish and which, for example, is different for different languages, because it cannot yet be exhaustive, either because some words could disappear due to their low usage, or for other reasons that are not sufficiently manifested. Therefore, a hypothesis can be put forward of a certain complex or pleroma of these primary words, like a rainbow of colors, in which the sound colors of the whole world are included; this hypothesis can be supported on general grounds, but here, in the question that interests us, this problem can and should be set aside. It is enough for us to accept the empirically established fact of the presence in any language of a certain number of primary words, or roots, on which the biographies of words rest as their soil foundation and indecomposable fundamental principle. And it is precisely these words, these elements of speech that already exist in every existing language that has strength and vitality; they are the actual language in language, and about them all these theories of the “emergence of language” arise: “wow-wow”, and “ba-ba”, etc. Therefore, against the idea that words give birth to themselves, no objection can be made to the fact that we are constantly creating words and that our speech, like the history of language, is a constant creation of words. This instruction is absolutely correct, but the fact is that we are creating it from ready-made, already existing material. This is the most striking feature in the history and life of any language: in it there exists a certain primary givenness, to which all creatively, artistically realized tasks correspond. Language is created by us, it is our work of art, but at the same time it is given to us, we have it as some kind of original talent. And what we have, we do not create, but we create from it. And about these first words we assert that they spoke themselves. They are living, verbal myths 66 about the cosmos, cosmic events are fixed in them, the world says something about itself, and the original word-creation is cosmic myth-creation, the world's story about itself, a cosmic rainbow of meanings, verbal symbolism. And myth differs from ideas, concepts and their further logical processing in that the latter are created by us in relation to something, they are our creations, myth is not created or invented, but is given and is, and about it, in connection with it, further concepts arise. But we can remind you here: don’t we even now invent, create new words for different needs? Aren’t all our cars, locomotives, carriages, telegraphs, etc. the essence of newly created words? But the fact of the matter is that these words are not composed, but formed from old, already existing verbal material, and this is precisely their internal history. They are compiled according to a pharmacy prescription: so much of this and that. Suppose, in order to name a moving machine, we first take the word meaning place, for convenience and expressiveness in Latin, and then in the same language the word meaning movement, and we get loco-motiv. In this way, scientific terminology is generally created: to express a complex of existing meanings, concepts and words, words are invented as abbreviations that in their root meaning have exactly the required meaning, therefore the term is always an abbreviated verbal description, which then in use takes on the form of a verbal monolith. Even more than that, psychologically the term is experienced as an independent, new word, a new verbal birth, and, moreover, it is that new word that finds and creates a new meaning for itself. In other words, we must admit that word creation is possible not only through primordial, self-generated words, words-myths, living linguistic givens, but also through these already existing words, therefore, it can be primary and secondary (tertiary, etc.). This is of great importance for the life of language: through the broken windows of the first words, the elements of meaning, ever new expanding meaning is constantly poured in, just as the entire infinity of music arises from a few notes of the scale. Finally, others can also boast that completely new words are now being “forged”, for example, all these godless sovdep, vikzhel, zemgor, etc. But it is obvious that here we have only a particular, most mechanized and simplified case of the terminological process, adapted to written speech, to capital letters, and through this, so to speak, algebraic addition of them, new word dummies are formed. However (and this mystically is the hardest side of this matter) such mannequin words become vampires, receive their own life, their own being, strength. A whole cloud of such dead words-larvs, vampires, is formed that suck the blood of the tongue and serve their black magic. This is the occult meaning of this foul language. In order to more clearly express our thought about the sense in which words speak themselves, or give birth to themselves, let us compare it with some points that seem akin to it, but at the same time deeply different from it. And first of all, our thought is deeply different from the crude and now hardly defended idea that God directly imparted to man individual words or an entire language, just as a mother teaches her child to speak or how we learn a new foreign language. This crude anthropomorphism is, first of all, not anthropological, and therefore not theological, and not at all pious. According to this idea, words or language are reduced to the level of some kind of signs, and teaching speech resembles a parrot, and a completely passive, blindly assimilating role is assigned to a person. Meanwhile, according to the image of the book. Genesis, God brought animals to man to see what he would call them, or, according to our understanding, what they themselves would be called in him, through him. Words are taught to man not by an anthropomorphized God, but by the world created by God, the ontological center of which is man; the strings of the entire universe are stretched out to him and sound in him 67 . Of course, we also believe that the ability to speak is innate to man, and the idea of ​​homo alalus belongs to Darwinian nonsense, which, unfortunately, dominates the souls of many linguists 68 . However, asserting that man by nature is a man, in the full meaning of this word, i.e. a cosmic, and at the same time a thinking being: the ability of logos, as thought and speech, is precisely what makes him a man - however, this thought cannot be given such a twist, as if a person was endowed with the general ability of speech by God, and he invents individual words himself. This point of view was sometimes expressed, however, in polemical enthusiasm, and in patristic literature, in particular, for example, in St. Gregory of Nyssa 69. Here again the idea creeps in that a person, on the basis of a general indefinite ability of speech, invents a language, composes words, obviously guided by one or another onomatopoeic criteria; Thus, language is clearly reduced to a grammatical, instrumental, utilitarian meaning. The originality of words, the grains of meaning, the symbolism of language are tacitly denied, because its problem is not noticed. The thought itself is of such a vague nature (the completely vague concept of “speech ability”) that it cannot even be criticized. The same idea that language, as a general ability, thanks to which individual words arise for one or another particular motive, is innate to man, is shared by many representatives of linguistics, without any theological coloring and prerequisites. You can name Steinthal 70, Wundt 71 and others. More often this is combined with the evolutionary doctrine, and then the whole weight of the issue is transferred to the side of evolution, which generally does miracles and leads to completely new, unexpected results. In essence, the ancients already resorted to evolutionary ideas - Diodorus and Vitruvius 72, Lucretius 73. A variation of this are the onomatopoeic and interactional theories we have already mentioned - they only indicate the particular reasons for the natural, evolutionary development and emergence of language. For some it developed from animal cries, for others from onomatopoeia, but in any case the word here is produced from something that in itself is not or is not yet a word. At the same time, the main, central and only question: how a word arises from a non-word, or, what is the same, how the first word appears in its originality, is not answered here, but is dispensed with by referring to the gradualness of the transition, as if it is possible to build a future evolutionary bridge over the abyss. Ignoratio elenchi, evasion of the question, self-deception - this is the inevitable lot of evolutionary theory, here as in other cases. By this we do not at all want to deny the fact of the development of language, but we need to know why it occurs and where it leads, we need to know its entelechy purposeful cause, which modern evolutionists usually do not want to know, and in this bad infinity is the whole pathos of their theory. But doesn’t our view also seem evolutionary? Yes and no. Yes, in the sense that, of course, language has its own natural development in accordance with its nature, no - because this nature itself is not at all determined by this development; on the contrary, development follows from the nature of language, and ultimately the nature of man. The anthropocosmic nature of the word makes it a symbol, a fusion of word and thought, and that is why words are not composed, but are only realized, realized by the means of language in man and through man. But if this is so, if the first words are cosmic symbols or myths that proclaim themselves, then the problem of multilingualism, the Babylonian confusion of languages, the existence of several hundred of them, becomes especially acute. It would seem natural to expect that certain cosmic motifs should also have a homogeneous, if not directly identical, sound expression. However, this is not the case. Languages ​​are diverse, and it is still not possible to reduce their plurality to a single proto-language. And even if it were possible, the question of the current multilingualism would still remain in full force. On the one hand, only the internal word, the meaning, establishes the unified linguistic character of different languages, their internal unity as instruments of the word, and creates the possibility of translating a given meaning from one language to another. And the Babylonian confusion does not extend to the semantic side of the word, otherwise it would completely destroy the highest creation of God, man. But, on the other hand, this multilingualism indicates that there is such a refractive medium that multiplies the sound output of a single meaning. The organ of speech, or the body of the tongue, is not the same among different tribes. This difference concerns not only the roots, but also the entire structure of the language, its entire character or spirit, which is so difficult to define 74. However, here we are still talking about roots. This difference in the sound word, with the identity or at least unity of the inner word, meaning, forces us to postulate the equivalence of words in different languages ​​or these languages ​​themselves, which, indeed, there is no reason to extol one at the expense of the other, apart from personal tastes, sympathies and blood ties. Every language is good in its own way, 75 and in every language everything can be said, perhaps with varying degrees of difficulty, but this depends on the degree of development of the language or the skill of the speaker, on the performer, and not on the instrument. (We encounter this difficulty, for example, when translating philosophical or specifically scientific ideas from one language to another. However, no one will say that the Russian philosophical language is worse than German, although less developed. Probably, translating Hegel into the Hottentot language will encounter even greater difficulties, but, on the other hand, an accurate, good translation of some hunting expressions from the Hottentot language into German will also present no less difficulties, and if a Hottentot Hegel has not yet appeared, then one must think that this is not due to obstacles on the part of language.) If you listen to the inner meaning of the story of the Babylonian pandemonium, it becomes clear that the single, natural language was, by deliberate permission of God, as if veiled by the multiplicity and incomprehensibility of dialects, which, however, are by no means such as to make it impossible to learn and understand a foreign language. And, speaking in principle, it is possible to teach any language or, more precisely, all languages: the actual impossibility does not eliminate the fundamental possibility of this, the implementation of which would overcome the multiplicity of languages ​​and unity would be realized. And fundamentally in the narrative of Chapter XI. Genesis 1–9, it is important for us that initially and naturally, in essence, “there was one language and one speech” (1). This is the unity of language from the beginning; it lies in the nature of language, in its basis. Plurality is a state of language, its modality, and, moreover, a painful one, because it is associated with the state of sinful separation of people. “The Lord said: here is one people, and they all have one language, and they begin to do this, now nothing can stop them from what they proposed to do. Let us go, let us confuse their language so that they cannot understand the speech of one another” (Gen. 11:6–7) 76. Here we are not talking at all about the creation of new languages, but about understanding the speech of one language, which remains essentially one. If we also take into account that the event of this story took place when three branches of peoples had already formed, the Japhetids, Semites and Hamites, and entire nations had arisen, spreading across the face of the earth (Gen. 10:32), then the mystery may be not that they ceased to understand each other due to multilingualism, but that before this event they had one language and they completely understood each other. And then suddenly, as if the veil of multilingualism had fallen, and they ceased to understand each other, linguistics was born in Babylon. If you believe in the divine inspiration of the word of God and listen to the exact content of this story in the general context, it becomes clear that language and dialects existed before the Babylonian pandemonium, and however, there was one language, so that everyone understood each other: the linguistic properties of peoples prevented this just as little as now the individual features of pronunciation and speech do not interfere with this, for speech is always individual, and if you compare words under a sound microscope, it turns out, perhaps, that the unity of language does not exist even within the family, not to mention the structure of speech, about what the saying refers to: “le style c’est 1’homme” 77 . This means that linguistic differences, whatever they may be, did not obscure the inner word, and suddenly these glasses became opaque and only with the help of special efforts can an understanding of the meaning be achieved. The language, of course, remained intact at its core, but its internal meaning, previously open, was closed, and a painful sensitivity to the individual characteristics of sound speech, to the implementation of language, appeared. Humanity, which used its cosmic unity in words only to achieve its human goals, fell into psychologism (human pride is psychologism) and naturally found itself punished by the psychologism of language. For multilingualism is, in a certain sense, this psychologism that covers the ontological essence of language. And the opposite conclusion can be made that an integrated person, restored in his chastity, can accept the inner word through the linguistic shell, i.e. defeat multilingualism. We are told of one case of such a restoration of a person in his normal state in relation to language - this is Pentecost, when, after the descent of the Holy Spirit on the apostles, they began to speak in new tongues, as was promised to them by the Savior after the resurrection (Mark 16:17, cf. 1 Cor. 12:10), and the numerous peoples who were there listened to them in amazement and asked if they were not all Galileans ( Acts 2:3–11). The gift of tongues is then repeatedly noted as a manifestation of the grace of the Holy Spirit and special inspiration. (Wed. Acts 10:46, 19:6; 1 Corinthians 12:10, 28, 30; 13:1, 14:2.) How should we understand this wonderful gift of tongues from the nature of language itself? This only means that his illness, which consisted in the clouding of meaning, was healed, and his natural, primordial transparency and unity, which was characteristic of him from Adam to the Babylonian confusion, returned. As a result, the veil of multilingualism was removed. Perhaps the apostolic sermon is understood in two ways before many languages: either their own native Galilean speech became so intelligible, transparent regarding the inner word-meaning, that even those who had not studied the language felt as if they had learned it, and understood it as if they knew it, or, say, as if they understood some kind of expressive gestures without special translation and training. Or the opposite assumption is possible, namely, that the apostles received the ability to clothe their inner word in different clothes, in relation to individual sound characteristics, so that the apostles really spoke in many languages ​​(this happened according to the depiction of glossolalia in I last, to Cor. at prayer meetings, when not everyone understood the speaker in tongues, and an interpreter was needed). But in essence, this difference is imaginary or phenomenal, and both assumptions are equally suitable: the apostles spoke in foreign languages, because they were all transparent to them, and, on the contrary, speaking in their own language, but transparent with meaning, they became understandable to all peoples, for the language is one, and only its modes - adverbs - are multiple. And if that ontological, or more precisely, anthropological, primordial unity of language did not exist, Pentecost would have been an incomprehensible absurdity. A miracle is not hocus-pocus, which has no roots in being and even denies them, it is always the healing of nature, the revelation of its true nature and, therefore, its elevation to a higher level. In the miraculous we recognize the true nature of the natural, and in this case the original unity of language is revealed, which is as original as the unity of the human race. But the more acute the question of Babylonian confusion, or plurality of language, becomes. No matter how we understand the mutual relationship of languages, whether we trace them back to some primary source - a proto-language, or leave them in an irreducible plurality (at least of the language families that modern linguistics knows) 78, the issue of multilingualism remains acute. True, this multilingualism does not at all cancel the unity of the internal language, otherwise mutual understanding would be impossible, and languages ​​would split humanity itself, abolishing it; it is not a plurality of language, for there is one language and there is only a plurality of dialects. But how to understand this multiplicity? It is obvious, first of all, that it refers not to internal language, not to its noumenon, but to its phenomenal embodiment, to its realization, individuality. This is obvious first of all from the fact that language, in the sense of an adverb, can and is actually learned; We also learn our native language in childhood and, deprived of this training, we would hardly have invented the language of our people on our own. Language in this sense is a socio-historical phenomenon and belongs to the number of clothes put on and taken off by time, situation, environment, and society. On the contrary, we do not learn the internal language that lies under the adverb and at its basis, words as ideas embodied in sound, or symbols, but they arise in us, and, moreover, equally in everyone to the extent of humanity (here, of course, there is a fundamental, dynamic sameness, which in fact may not be realized to the same extent in different subjects). The basis of language is cosmic, or anthropological, its investment and implementation is a socio-historical matter. And language as an adverb is a matter of human creativity 79, art, psychology, history. Languages ​​as adverbs arise and die, have different ages and developments, and different individual properties. They are prisms that refract and color the rays in their own way. Language carries within itself crystals of history, national psychology; in general, there is always not only an organism, but also a conglomerate that studies linguistics, applying different methods to it 80. And, of course, this or that quality of a tool, its properties, development, state do not remain without influence not only on the implementation of language, but also on the very awakening of the inner language, its energy. Here we have a frequent case of mutual, bilateral influence. This is why, by the way, it seems to us that internal language is equally potentially characteristic of all people, including those who lack an external language, i.e. deaf and dumb, deaf and dumb. Their language fatally remains underdeveloped and inaccessible to us, and, however, the successes in language that are achieved by the alphabet of the deaf and dumb, the teaching that is being carried out in it, would be impossible if this internal language were absent. This muteness is external, not internal. But here the previous question about the symbolic nature of the word returns to us again. If the word is a symbol of meaning, the fusion of an idea with sound, and if this fusion or embodiment of meaning is a necessary condition here, then how can we understand the plurality of adverbs? Obviously, we have to postulate some meta-word, its noumenon, which is revealed in the sound shell. These shells in their totality form a language, and, of course, language is not a mechanical combination of words, but their organism, so that the whole language is manifested in each individual word. Languages ​​are like different resonators, tuned in a certain way, that vibrate to given waves, and, of course, their special tune is different, but, along with it, all other sounds resonate differently. We can and should talk about the equivalence of languages ​​in the sense that each of them in its own way serves its purpose - to be the logos of the cosmos and thinking, but at the same time we must keep in mind this difference. To define and grasp this difference is an incredible difficulty; We don’t even know how to approach this now, but immediate feeling testifies that this difference exists, and the rainbow of languages, which is a decomposition of the white ray, natural language, the true language of the world, for each language has in its spectrum a ray of a certain color and meaning. All languages ​​are natural, related to the language of things, but each in its own way and in different ways. And therefore, given the equivalence of languages, it is possible and should postulate their inequality, a hierarchy: just as everything is hierarchical, so is language, although we do not have the means to establish this hierarchy. After all, the rays of the solar spectrum have their own quality, and therefore a hierarchy, just like the sounds of the octave. Perhaps different languages ​​have some kind of language keys that we cannot and do not know how to unravel. (I say this about the main languages, and not about dialects, which have a sufficient vital or historical explanation and belong to the changeable, fluid element of language.) The structure of the organs of hearing and speech is now gradually revealed to us by science. From the recognition of these organs, perhaps, in the end, the secret of language and the secret of hearing will be subtracted. Undoubtedly, these organs represent some ontological cryptogram of the world, which we cannot read. We learn from phonetics how sound groups - words - are obtained from certain groups of sounds and movements of the laryngeal organs, what incredibly complex and subtle, of course, “unconscious” work is done here. If words are decomposed into sounds and noises, i.e. certain vibrations of sound waves, then we can consider the basis of words as certain rhythmic movements arising in the physical environment, so that words, or earlier letters, sounds, are certain qualified rhythms. The word is the rhythm of rhythms, and speech is a complex rhythmic organism. In any case, what remains here is to patiently listen to the work of descriptive, experimental phonetics and physiology. What can be considered the primary element of speech? Here is one of the damned questions of the philosophy of words: is it a letter, like Kabbalah, a syllable, a word? If a letter, then we must not forget that a letter only approximately denotes the class of given sounds and their character, but the number of variants of a given sound, denoted by the same letter, can be very large: it depends on the preceding and subsequent sounds, on the place in the word, even in the phrase, so we have to talk in concrete not about the letter, but about the syllable. Therefore, stylizing a letter as such is still a crude technique that can lead to misunderstanding. Apparently, Steiner's erythmia 81 now flows into it, where the letters of the German alphabet are taken as symbols of rhythms, and they try to comprehend the “absentuous” meaning of the word, translating it into the language of gesture or movement, which, in turn, expresses the desired rhythms with extreme coarsening. In addition, it is impossible to formally equate all the letters in a word as equal, conveying them by movement: the letters in a word are not equivalent, there is a radical stem, there is inflection, a suffix, etc. And reading all the letters in line without distinction, eurythmizing them in gestures is also wrong. (Eg.: For (preposition) bere-ov otch-iz-y gave-y-n-ey you po-kid-al-a, etc.) The rudeness of the eyrhythmic approach rather closes than opens the nature of the word. Kabbalah, as is known, considers the letters of the Hebrew alphabet (consonants and semi-consonants) as the primary elements of language, which also have cosmic significance. This is the basis of the Kabbalistic method of analyzing a word, various permutations, determining the meaning of a verbal number (gematria), etc. What are letters as a written sign or sound, or, more precisely, a well-known colored class of sounds? Is it only a vocal or linguistic means in order to have something to compose words from? Is it because certain letters exist because our vocal organs are structured in a certain way, and in the production of sounds, in addition to the lungs and vocal cords, the lips, palate, mouth, and nose are involved? Or is it the other way around, the structure of the speech organs is precisely this because they have the task of producing sounds of a certain quality, and in this sense we can say that labial or dental sounds exist before the lips and teeth? The organ itself is understood from the function, and not vice versa, and in this sense, aren’t the Kabbalists right in believing that letters, in a certain nature, exist independently and as if even outside of relation to speech, being, for example, the forces from which the world was created? Of course, science does not have the power to resolve this question of what constitutes a prius for what in this case: an organ for a function or a function for an organ. No matter how valuable and important the successes of experimental phonetics are, it still cannot resolve this question, and the answer to it is given only on the basis of general considerations. It seems completely impossible for us to admit that the structure of the speech organs and the resulting classification of sounds are accidental - this is too absurd and does not reconcile with all the amazing subtlety of these organs, which must be understood from their function. The vocal organs are like this because these are the letters: not pronouncing letters in general, but a certain quality of sounds is their task. And just as the eye, the organ of light, exists because there is light, so the organ of speech and hearing exists because there is sound as world energy. Sounds create organs for themselves in man, in which the entire universe must be inscribed. And therefore, abstracting from phonetics and the physiology of speech, we must consider letters (in the above sense) to have a truly independent existence, and not just flatus vocis 82. Letters, the sounds of letters, exist in themselves, and therefore only they exist in language. There is a great analogy here with numbers and numerical values, to which it is not in vain that letters are equated everywhere, forming a digital alphabet. Numbers do not arise in arithmetic, but, on the contrary, the latter appears for the sake of numbers. But this is in passing. Returning to letters, we must pose a new question that has not arisen before: until now we considered the primary element of speech to be root words, creating clots of meaning that express an idea. Now we recognize, along with them, or in addition to them, letters as primary elements. What is the relationship between words and letters, roots and the sounds that form them? Are words just aggregates of letters that can therefore be rearranged and replaced, or are they letter organisms? Is this connection mechanical or, so to speak, chemical, in which the old disappears and the new is formed? The methods of Kabbalah, in essence, deny and destroy words; for Kabbalists, language consists only of letters, moreover, of a certain class (i.e. consonants, because in the Hebrew language there are no vowels and are not included in letters). However, leaving these details aside, so as not to complicate matters, we can say that this understanding of the word, affirming the power of the word as a world element, abolishes its meaning, the idea of ​​the word, the word here is only a force, not a symbol. Meanwhile, it is necessary to retain both one and the other side of the word. That letters or vocal sounds really express some initial cosmic qualities, like colors, rhythms of a certain type, like numbers, perhaps like other things: elements of chemistry, minerals, planets, etc., we absolutely cannot doubt this. By the way, research on the instrumentation of verse, on alliteration, on the sound side of speech in general, in addition to the inductive-descriptive side, should also include a phonetic characteristic of the corresponding sounds, and then studies of their general, so to speak, cosmic meaning, and the current impressionism of simple “imagination” 83 used in revealing the meaning of a particular group of sounds should give way to a more accurate description. But at the same time, it is necessary to establish an axiom: although words consist of letters, being composed of them or decomposing into them, letters are not words, and words are not only letters. Here we have different qualities of formation: just like a painting consists of paints, and however, it is not paints or just paints, but a concrete fusion of an image and paints, just as a statue is not just a piece of marble, but again a known concrete image. This transition from one thing to another, from letters to words, is the secret of the birth of words, the embodiment of meaning. The letters are larger and smaller, higher and lower than the words. Letters are greater than words because there are fewer of them than words; one might even say that there is a certain limited number of them, while there are many words, even root words, and one might even say an indefinite, unlimited number. The letter is an expression of the power of nature, its quality, the original color, from the mixture of which the world was formed, the word is a flash of meaning, ideas, of which there are many, which have a fluid, iridescent existence, express, but do not form, symbolize, and do not create the cosmos. The letter is that primary matter in which and from which the word, the idea, forms its body; it is universal, primordial, just like any simple color or number. On the contrary, a word is higher than a letter because it is full of light and thought, just like a statue is higher than its marble and a painting is higher than its paint. In a word, a mysterious rebirth or transformation of sound occurs, in that it becomes symbolic, containing an idea. The idea in a word speaks itself in letters, but at the same time the letters already lose themselves, cease to be themselves, and form a clot, a sound crystal. In this sense, the word is not composed of letters, does not arise from them, but is divided into letters. And therefore, for a word, the first unit is not a letter or even a syllable as such, but the organic part of the word, even if it consists of just one letter, but this letter no longer belongs to itself, but is tied to the word, permeated with its energies, qualified by them, reborn. And the root of a word, which always forms a cluster of letters, a sound crystal, is a phenomenon sui generis, which does not disappear through the fact that it enters into new compounds; In order for the connection to be possible, this uniqueness of the connecting elements is necessary. And therefore, the sound nature of the word retains its meaning within certain limits; it constitutes a nocturnal, subconscious, feminine characteristic of the word, which is characterized by a masculine, daytime, sunny meaning. From here comes what constitutes the instrumentation of a verse or speech, i.e. with a given thought, there is a desire to accompany it with a certain sound timbre, which certainly has a qualitative meaning, although not entirely accessible to consciousness. And if we sometimes arbitrarily search for expressions and sounds, consciously instrumentalize words, in accordance with the general task - to express this or that mood, then the word itself, taken as the primary element of speech, is not indifferent to its letters, but in a certain sense instrumentalizes itself, by an unconscious or, better said, superconscious, organic selection of sounds, just as, again, for a certain artistic purpose, appropriate material and paint are needed. The selection of sounds, according to the corresponding key of a given language, is made not for only known words, but for their entire complex of a given speech. Therefore, it is difficult to grasp it and accurately determine it in any particulars. Related to the question of the relationship between words and letters is the question of the “abstruse” language revered by futurists, who try to run behind the word and peek at its back side, to see it before birth. They want to throw off the burden of the word as embodied meaning, an idea, so that, having extinguished the light of meaning, they rush into the impenetrable night of sound. They want to speak not in words, but in letters. But this is where the main misunderstandings and fiascos are rooted, because they still want to speak without saying words, throwing him into the literal chaos of sounds. The positive significance of this experiment (to the extent that it exists here) is that here the nocturnal element of the word is felt and through this the massiveness and primordial nature of its matter, sound, and letters are realized (a perfect analogy in painting is the desire to free oneself from the oppression of the content of a picture and reduce it to the singing of colors, just as in futuristic verse to the singing of sounds alone). The futurists are right: abstruse, or rather pre-smart, language exists as the primary element of the word, its matter, but it is not a language. The transformation of sound into word, its rebirth has irrevocably occurred; this is an irrevocable fact, just as the separation of primordial chaos and darkness is irrevocable. Likewise, abstruse language is a boasting about chaos, an inevitable flirtation with it, or - and this is much more interesting - experiments in the field of instrumentation of a word, its musical characteristics, which comes easier if one abstracts from the meaning, i.e. enter into abstruseness 84 . The method of Kabbalah, according to which the weight of words and phrases is calculated not by the meaning, but by the meaning of the letters (one way or another established) and their addition, is also a fundamental abstruseness and is either madness or nonsense, or can be justified if there is only one condition that the given language is an absolute language, coinciding in all its details with the structure of the cosmos, and therefore its key is an absolute key, coinciding directly with the sound of the world. Then we can and must admit that this language in all its parts, in all its structure, even in matter, i.e. in letters, transparent to the cosmos, reveals its regularity, cosmic. And therefore, the analysis of the letter composition of words is a cosmic study. As is known, Kabbalists had this belief regarding the Hebrew language, considering it to be the language in which God spoke in paradise with his ancestors, i.e. the only natural language. And this language as such conceals the nature of things and has immediate power. Or another assumption is possible, namely, that the issue here is not in language, but in certain word combinations, in this case belonging to the word of God and marked by divine inspiration, and in this case, based on principle, any language could be material for Kabbalistic research; however, the properties of the Hebrew language, its “consonantism,” make it the most transparent and suitable for this. If you look seriously enough at the ontological nature of the word, moreover, in an ontological and sacred language par excellence, one cannot fundamentally deny the possibility that words and the letters that form them have, so to speak, several dimensions, in particular, not only their physiology - the word, but also the anatomy - the letters, is instructive, and in the skeleton of the word one can read a meaning, not verbal, but another, equivalent to it, digital. And if numbers, perhaps, are also the essence of things-numbers, just as words are ideas-things, and both are symbols of being, then there can be no fundamental grounds to deny this path at all, although its use remains quaestio facti 85. So, on the basis of what has been said, the general question about the plurality of languages ​​can be answered in such a way that this multiplicity in no way cancels the ontological unity of language as the voice of a single world in a single person, but at the same time, language is realized individually in accordance with the numerous structure of humanity, showing unity in diversity; The analogy here is different organs and sensory centers in a single human organism, members of different sex and age, community, character in one human family. But it becomes multilingual, a clouding of the transparent depth of sound, a Babylonian confusion only in connection with the general isolation and disunity of humanity, its state of enmity and discord; however, this multilingualism is fundamentally, fundamentally already overcome by the Incarnation and the accomplished Pentecost. And in this sense, multilingualism, or more precisely, the mutual impenetrability and incomprehensibility of languages ​​(although not unconditional, but only relative) expresses not so much the nature of languages ​​as the state of humanity. And as a state that has its basis in what is not necessary—separation—there is psychologism. Ontological unity is obscured by psychologism, i.e. actual use of language. And if we look at how dialects and dialects emerge before our eyes with gradual and at first insensitive changes, becoming a new barrier, then it becomes clear that the possibility of this multilingualism is inherent in the human condition and is psychologism, a cloudy glass, a refracting prism. 1. Parts of speech (name, verb, pronoun) A word never exists in isolation, otherwise it would cease to be a word and would become an accidental sign. As the cosmic meaning of the word, its symbolic basis is only a certain, dimensionless point in the world’s everything, and everything exists only in the assumption of this and is connected with it as the starting point of endless world phenomena (cosmophanies). Also, its linguistic use is conceivable only in speech, in the living and incessantly flowing context of words, meanings, and sayings. We can say that one paint, taken by itself and isolated from everything, does not exist (for what can absolutely green mean if one completely thinks away and eliminates the entire rainbow of colors?). Likewise, one note, without relation to the octave or in general to the whole scale and mode, does not exist (for what does the absolute, irrespective of do mean when it exists in relation to all other notes?). In the same way, every word-symbol freezes and is destroyed outside of speech, for the word does not sound in us separately, but in the language; words look into other words, are spoken in them or through them, as in a system of mirrors endlessly reflecting each other. And this multiplicity of the word is captured by the genius of language when it calls a word not a single word, not individual words, but the entire life of the word, carried out in the verbal element. The word is alive, there is a living meaning only in speech, and an isolated word simply does not exist, it is an abstraction, but in the same sense in which an isolated heart or lungs, or other organs of a living body do not exist. Therefore, although we sought and found the fundamental principle of speech, its cosmic roots in symbols-words, everything in the world never speaks of itself with a separate symbol or fragmented signaling, but always with symbols connected with each other, merging, shimmering in their flashes. In a word, everything that is not static, consisting of a mechanical sum a+b+c+d+... expresses itself. = ∞, and each of the terms would correspond to a separate word-meaning, but always actualizing, dynamic totality, which always speaks about itself in coherent speech. Therefore, λόγος is not only a word, a thought, but also a connection between things. Human speech is this world connection constantly expressed by verbal symbolism. Λόγος - the word is λόγος - thought is λόγος; – speech as a person’s thought about the world, or the self-thinking of the world in a person and through a person in a microcosm. Speech devoid of thought is not speech to the same extent that a random combination of sounds that does not mean anything is not a word. A random collection of words, although each of them individually is not without meaning, does not form speech. If we randomly take several letters from the printing presses and combine them, we will not get a word, although it could be composed from these words. If we scatter the set and mix up the words, we will not have speech, but its torn corpse, although it can be composed of these words. In this sense, we can say with Wundt that not only the root is an abstraction, but also individual words are abstractions; there is only a sentence containing a coherent thought 86. You can even go even further and argue that a sentence is an abstraction, and there is only a whole of thought, reasoning, as you can clearly see if you mix up the order of phrases in any work. And, in essence, there can be no end to this expansion of the concept of speech-thought, since everything is in mental connection and correspondence and must be woven into a single context of world thought, or human thought about the world. And this is natural, because the basis of speech and its subject is the world’s everything, which has no boundaries and in this sense represents a bad infinity that has no end in “discursive” 87 reasoning 88 . In view of this, we need to establish a general scheme of the structure of speech, or those relationships in which words become here, those clothes or shells in which they are clothed, in addition to their direct meaning - to understand the nature of words as “parts of speech”, of course, in the ontological meaning of the latter. Words, symbols of meaning, in addition to their direct meaning, can also receive an indirect definition from their place in speech, from the special meaning they receive not as such, in their own coloring, but also from the connection of the whole, in the context. To establish this context, you need to pay attention to some passage that is large enough so that it already indicates the functional structure of speech, so that it represents a complete, living meaning. This is usually a grammatical sentence, or some complete element of meaning 89. There are usually differences in grammar between parts of speech and parts of sentence, and the doctrine of the former relates to etymology, and the latter to syntax. These divisions, of course, are conditional and “pragmatic,” and in many points they coincide with each other: knowledge of parts of speech is necessary to understand the structure of a sentence, and vice versa, determining parts of speech is even impossible outside of the sentence. (Since the section in which our analysis is carried out does not quite coincide with the usual grammatical division, we have to abstract from the latter to a certain extent, although, in essence, we are talking about the same thing.) So, we have to first of all understand and comprehend the nature of the “parts of speech” and, first of all, the name of the “noun” in its relation, on the one hand, to its replacement, and with it the associated pronoun, and on the other, to the “verb” and the adjective (other parts of speech will be distributed around this). Linguistics suggests 90 that root words initially did not have a specific grammatical coloring, were amorphous, or represented a rudimentary, underdeveloped sentence, and only later they were defined as a verb or a noun 91 (we will leave the adjective as a transitional and dependent form aside for now). Be that as it may, whether this assumption is factually true or false (it, of course, cannot be verified; in essence, it seems doubtful to us and probably rests on a misunderstanding), let us ask ourselves: what changes or what happens to a word when it takes on one or another, nominative or predicative, character? What does it mean if the same root in one case becomes a noun, in another a verb or an attributive word - an adjective? Of course, we must abstract here from the morphology of words, from those semantic units with which the word will be formed in both cases - prefixes, suffixes, inflections. All these particles only express a change in meaning that has already occurred, record its definition that has already taken place, but do not create it, their role is auxiliary, and seeing in them the source of this definition means the same as looking for the causes of high temperature in a thermometer showing it. In addition, these particles are different in different languages, and may be completely absent, as in Chinese, or replaced by a preposition, as in English, partly in French, etc. In a word, the etymological clothing of the word, in relation to our question, is secondary and derivative, and we can digress from it. So, what happens when the same word - the same as a semantic symbol, as a meaning, an idea, a meaning - is used in one case as a verb or an adjective (attribute) (which here is equivalent to verbosity, predicability), and in another - as a noun? For example, light and shine, light, bright; wind and blows, windy; relatives and relatives; writer and write; creator and create; hops and intoxicating; gold, gild, golden; earth and earthly; God and divine (to be god), etc. Obviously, in terms of meaning, in terms of what is said, there is no difference; The most careful analysis will not indicate it between light and light, relatives and native (relative), and at the same time the difference is colossal. And it lies, obviously, on the other side of the word, and is not expressed in the word. A noun means not only a quality, an idea in general, but its implementation in particular, its particular case, expresses not only an idea, but also the existence, objectification of this idea, its being in a certain object. It, in addition to its content expressed in words, has a silent but expressive mystical and, in its meaning, ontological gesture: it is. The nature of the name lies in this ontological gesture. It seems to some that every word has a general meaning, there is a general concept 92; this, by the way, also tempted Hegel 93. Even if we do not confuse the general with the abstract (which is usually done), one cannot help but admit that words as meanings, as ideas, of course, have a general meaning, more precisely, they exist in themselves, regardless of any particular being, their semantic existence is self-lawful and self-sufficient, they exist because they exist. But at the same time, in a noun they acquire a concrete character and become a living antinomy. As a name denoting an object, as a “noun,” the general is the particular, the specific. Moreover, an idea, a word fully expresses itself, it is transparent; on the contrary, a noun, although expressed in a word, is by no means fully expressed by it in its being, in its dark, unilluminated depth: this being is not at all exhausted by its name, on the contrary, it is characterized by cosmic universality, bottomlessness, it can be brought into an attributive connection with the whole world. And therefore, every name - whether proper or common (it makes no difference here) - is an antinomy: alogical-logical, inexpressible-expressible, a word born from the depths of being. On the contrary, the verb and, in general, the attributive or predicative use of a word are completely alien to this antinomy, but, at the same time, to these roots in being. This does not mean, of course, that the nature of the word as a cosmic meaning, in the sense explained above, is rejected here, but this symbolism here has only an abstract, albeit cosmic, meaning. It must be connected with world existence at individual points, which are then orienting in knowledge, in the verbal expression of the world, in thinking about it. If one could imagine a language consisting of only verbs, predicates in general, then no judgment could be expressed in it. It would be objectless, having only ideological shadows without flesh and blood. On the contrary, if it were possible to imagine a language consisting of only “subjects” - names, devoid of any predicativeness, it would be a language of dumb gestures, powerless and helpless (perhaps we have something similar in the language of the deaf and dumb, who alone, and moreover only by internal means, have to create a speech apparatus). Finally, if we imagine a pure root language, then to the extent that the required definitions in it would not be born from gestures, stress, word order, etc., it would be in the uterine state of unbornness, when the heart, lungs, and all organs are already ready for conscious life, but the air of the universe has not yet entered them. The distinction between a noun and verbality, subjectivity and predicativity is not some kind of invention that might not exist in the language, or an accidental property or state that can also change (such as, for example, the state of agglutinating, inflectional and root language 94). No, here the very meaning of language is expressed, which, in one form or another, cannot but exist in language. It follows from the ontology of speech. In the previous description of the word as a symbol of the world, we indicated that the word is not invented by man, but speaks itself in him. We have to apply the same ontological idea here to the distinction that concerns us. If we say what we know about the world, as cosmic beings, then these statements about the world have not only content and quality, but also objectivity. We not only listen to the world’s voices and proclaim them, but we experience this world and are with it in internal communication, which is expressed in the word, although it is not exhausted by it. Our position as beings in space condemns us to constant meetings with its agents - to pushes, calls, in a word, every vital interaction. It is this that binds our words into speech, organizes it into judgments, gives it real soil, objectivity, and takes it out of the psychological limitations of the impersonal “mood” that the root language with its “impersonal sentences” inevitably stumbles upon. The distinction between a noun and a verb, a subject and a predicate contains the primary act of thinking and cognition, with which critical work should begin, i.e. striving to maintain consciousness and self-accountability of thought, epistemology. Here the main and primary act of cognition takes place, from which, like from a grain, thinking then develops. (Kant and his school ignored this fact and began their analysis from the point where the whole thing had already been done.) The noun speaks by itself, testifies by its presence that something is not only said, i.e. there is a quality, an idea, but it also exists, whatever this existence may be. Even if it is only verbal, logical, abstract, this does not change its fundamental meaning. And this act - the generation of a noun - is completely indecomposable and immediate, we do not do it, but it is done in us. We can observe and comprehend it, but we also cannot change or cancel it, like, for example, our heartbeat or in general the actions of the organs of our body. Just as a word appears in us as a response to the voice of the world as a symbol of world existence, so a noun will be born in us in response to an impulse from the world, as evidence of a certain existence. It testifies not only that the world is qualitative and therefore it is thought and spoken in the word, but that it and its things are behind the word, on the other side of the word. There is something that is said. And this general property of the world - being, and not just conceivability and expressibility in words - is evidenced by the feature of language that every thought, every statement is associated with points of being, receives an existential character, is expressed about being through a subject - a noun. To clarify the question of a noun, various considerations regarding its psychological genesis, so beloved by modern linguistics, are completely insufficient. Let us assume that in the history of a noun the same features appear that are characteristic of children's thinking, when a child hits a bench and generally does not distinguish between animate and inanimate. Let us assume that the myth-making feature of primitive thinking, which populates the world easily and willingly with living beings, is also reflected here, and this feature is confirmed in language in the existence of a noun (we will not dwell here on the question of whether this feature is an advantage of primitive thinking, making it more real and concrete, or is it a property of a weak and undisciplined mind). Guides to psychological linguistics are filled with such illustrations of the genesis of speech. One can also cite living evidence in the language itself of a certain mythologizing of the world, in relation to its universal animation: this is a grammatical gender in which human differences of gender, male and female, are applied to all nouns. In other words, the mythological thought of the grammatical gender boils down to the fact that everything has a gender. And, as you know, this is not an accidental feature, but a deeply and consistently carried out view through the entire grammar and syntax that distinguishes the entire family of Indo-Germanic languages. The category of grammatical gender indicates the general massiveness of the logical image, the noun, if such heavy definitions as grammatical “gender” can be attached to it. A preliminary great solidification of this general idea is necessary so that this secondary and additional definition can appear on it. However, important as it is, this distinction of “gender” does not belong to the essence of language as such, but to the comparative history of grammar. The fact is that the category of grammatical gender is not at all universal, both in general and in particular. And, first of all, there are languages ​​in which it is absent, but the noun is not absent because of this: an example is the Chinese language. In different languages, grammatical gender exists in different forms, namely, in some cases there are two genders, masculine and feminine (French, Hebrew, etc.), in other cases there are three genders, masculine, feminine and “neuter”. The neuter gender, strictly speaking, is not a gender, but the absence or negation of a gender; this is the category of those cases when a gender turns out to be inapplicable. This seems to emphasize and deepen the meaning of the sexual categories of gender, although grammatical use wins, because in words of all genders there are designations of living beings of different sexes. In general, the category of gender is already a well-known psychologism in the ontological definition of a noun, because this introduces particular features into the general statement of an act in being in response to an existential impulse, and at the same time it is also a grammatical category and in this capacity relates to the morphology of the word, and not to its ontology. And it is no longer the universal nature of this category that frees us from the need to give it universal meaning. Be that as it may, for epistemological-ontological reasoning, research on the genesis of a particular linguistic phenomenon, the mechanism of associations, etc., has absolutely no decisive, fundamental significance. No matter how a given verbal-cognitive act, taken in its existential context, is realized psychologically, it contains as significance the fact that we attribute to a word or words the property and power to be not only an idea, a meaning that has only an abstract cosmic meaning, but also a name signifying being, indicating a specific place in the world. If in one case we have a horizontal section of being, then in the other it is vertical; If there we move along the circumference of the circle, then here we move along its radius towards the center. And the word that receives the meaning of a noun is the point at which the intersection of the horizontal and vertical, the lines of the arc and the radius, occurs. This basic testimony about meaning and being is no longer amenable to any genetic interpretation; it exists because it exists. It reveals our semantic verbal feeling and our ontological feeling, existential touch. One of the important linguistic phenomena that is of paramount importance for understanding the nature of the “noun” is the pronoun, which is, so to speak, the shadow of the name invariably cast by it. What is of interest to us here are personal pronouns, and together with their derivatives, i.e. possessive, demonstrative, to a certain extent relative. The meaning of pronouns in rough terms can be defined in such a way that some of them replace nouns - persons and things, others express qualities and in this sense replace adjectives or a verb (such, such, with the corresponding adverbs: so, so, etc.). Our attention is now drawn to the first category - personal or thing pronouns, the functions of which are reduced to the personal pronoun. What does the personal pronoun express: I, you, he, she, it, we, you, they? It expresses precisely that silent mystical gesture that is always present in the name: this is A. Every name contains a hidden existential judgment, which states the mystical act of the subject emerging into space or the space entering it, the contact of consciousness and being. This ontological act, dual and united, in which the depths of being, the ineffable are simultaneously revealed, and together the meaning, idea, word flares up, naming occurs - this act is carried out in its separateness thanks to the personal pronoun. Whatever the origin of the words expressing the pronoun, in its original meaning 95 the function of the pronoun, its meaning is precisely this: to express the inexpressible in a word-idea, to convey a mystical gesture, ontological points of contact. The presence in the language of the pronoun, which is one of the earliest and most universal forms of language 96, is eloquent evidence of the nature of the word, of the ontological meaning of the name, and the name of the pronoun, given to it by the Greek grammarians ἀντωνυμία, pronomen, fully expresses the essence of the matter, and it exists openly or hidden in conjugation, to a certain extent - in agreement. It cannot be abstracted from the composition of speech without fettering it, without tearing out the central core from it. For, if it is still possible with great stretches and difficulties to do without third-person demonstrative pronouns, then the language cannot do without the personal pronoun of the first and second person, just as it cannot do without conjugation. And this equally applies to languages, both synthetic and isolating, 97 in which the function of the pronoun is carried out by the general means of this language. Particularly important importance is associated, of course, with personal pronouns, in particular, the first and second persons. This is where the riddle I belongs. What am I? Is it amenable to any expression in a word, like every he or it, which is certainly something - a name? I occupies a special position here because it embraces everything and nothing: everything, because it can be brought into predicative connection with everything, and nothing, because it itself is not something in the world of ideas, is not a word-idea, but is a word-gesture, a mystical pointing gesture. I am the point from which the speaker looks and expresses the whole world in words, but he does not see himself, and therefore cannot express himself otherwise than as a general symbolic evidence of existence. In relation to the I, placed under the microscope of contemplation, actually spoken, the ontological argument is valid: essentia involvit existentiam 98 - although from here only a tautological judgment can be derived: I am I, or not even a judgment, but simply a logical gesture: I, - in itself is still mute and powerless (so that Descartes' je pense, done je suis 99 is, of course, a transition beyond boundaries of what is permitted). I, of course, can have a name, but I don’t see it, I don’t feel it, due to the egocentric attitude of consciousness, in which the speaker is the subject of speech and at the same time cannot be its object; To do this, he must talk about himself “in the third person,” i.e. not about me, but about him. (In childhood, my daughter resisted the first person pronoun for a long time, but she said: Manyunka I want, calling herself, instead of a personal pronoun, by her usual name: the cosmos held her, preventing her from highlighting personal self-awareness, which was accomplished only in the verb: I want.) What makes this unique meaning of “I” is that it is simultaneously characterized by opposite features. On the one hand, although I absolutely cannot be thought of in the plural, every I is “single”, unique, but it is just as much a common noun as a pronoun (i.e., a formal, conventional designation). On the other hand, it is the most proper of proper names: although it is not a name at all, it is at the same time the most intimate and closest thing that a person calls himself, feeling this funnel into the depths of being. Therefore, the disappearance of our self is completely unthinkable and unimaginable for us; it cannot go out, just as it could not arise: neither the beginning nor the end is visible from it: it is a motionless eternal point, in relation to which it is a misunderstanding to ask whether it can arise or perish. All people are mortal - Kai is a man, therefore he is mortal - but this one, about whom I speak in the third person, mentally leaving myself, as if closing my eyes - he is mortal, but I, who am speaking about him, am, of course, outside of this conclusion. Such is the paradox of I that we know I as inherent in all those whom we can call we (i.e. many I, or you, i.e. another I) or you, but all these other I have names for me, about them I have some statement, I name them, i.e. I am actually making an existential judgment. For me, they are, first of all, nouns, and only then and therefore do they become you, you, they 100. In the first person pronoun, I have something unnamable and at the same time absolutely indicated. If we can really talk about the egocentrism of language 101, then not in the sense of a fusion of pronouns, but in the fact that all speech and every speech is spoken, constructed, thought, experienced in the first person, and this egocentrism is a completely unthinkable prerequisite. I, having knowledge and consciousness of my existence, looks into the mirrors of the world and everywhere where it sees - in one sense or another - points of existence, speaks about them with nouns, but also with pronouns: from this egocentrism, and together from anthropocentrism, it is just as impossible to free the tongue as it is impossible for a person to see his own back. The self cannot be defined by anything, does not allow any expression through another: it is the eye through which we see the world, and can the seeing be defined through the visible? It is light in which we discern everything, and how can light be defined through that which can only be seen in it? Kant considered what he called the transcendental unity of consciousness to be motionless in the self, as opposed to the subjective, psychological self, i.e. its individual states. Let it be so, but the conversation does not end there, as is best evidenced by the history of philosophy starting with Fichte, who unexpectedly continued this conversation: what does “I” mean? Whether it is a flat point or whether it has depth, there is a being, οὐσία. And, of course, one cannot be satisfied with Kant’s answer due to its uncertainty and vacuity. Fichte tried to measure the depth of the I by pointing the mirror of the world at it, he wanted to define the eye through what it sees, to comprehend the I through the non-I (or, what is the same, to define the world through the I, for, of course, the positive content of the negative concept of the non-I is connected exclusively with the I). But the fact is that this plan, from which all Fichteanism was born, was false, because I cannot be translated into the language of the world, it is transcendental to it, and the whole enterprise was reduced to dialectical magic and the human-divine voluntarism of every “practical” self. There cannot be a bridge between I and the cosmos, on the one hand, because they are separated by a logical abyss, between the conscious and the conscious, and on the other hand, they do not need to be connected, for they are inseparable, like the eye and vision. If Fichte had wanted to understand the I in verbal nature, in the spirit of language, in the thought contained in it, his Ich-Philosophie would have naturally fallen away, but he, like all his brothers, did not want to do this, and paid for it with false wisdom. As a pronoun that has a specific task in language - to reveal the ontological basis of the word, I is an ontological gesture, which, however, is of paramount fundamental importance. In it, the ontological reality of the word is revealed, language gropes for its own soil, from I and through I it passes to every you and he, etc., knowing by inner experience that words are points of being, that they are not depicted only by sounds, but actually sound in the world or from the world. I, in a certain sense, is the root of language, a real abstruse word in which there is no idea, no word, other than the simple evidence of being, its ontological passport. And moreover, this is not done in a speculative system (which comes later), this is the self-testimony of the world logos in language, through I the world testifies to itself that it exists, and, therefore, everything exists. I, the linguistic pronoun I, turns out to be an ontological frame in which all being can be contained, and in particular, the being of this very I, as far as it enters the cosmos, is named, named. I myself am the naming of the absolutely unnameable, it is οὐσία itself, revealed in phenomena as primordial energy. I am simultaneously phenomenal and noumenal, transcendental-immanent. I am the orienting point of being, thought and words. Directions are measured from I, distances are measured by it. All personal pronouns are variants of I, its mirror reflections: you are another I, we are many I, he, they are those that have the nature of I: not consciousness and not “animation” (these are secondary definitions, states of I), but being. You and he can be said about any I, although not vice versa, not every he can be turned into you and I. Obviously, the meaning of the personal pronoun and its fundamental principle, I, is broader than just the expression of personal self-awareness, “animity.” It is also an expression of being, an ontological gesture, which makes the third person pronoun understandable in its special quality: the genius of language, logos, unmistakably testifies, and one must listen to this testimony. So, the pronoun does not express any particular idea about quality, but it is verbal evidence of the essence to which being and all its qualities belong. It expresses the ousia οὐσία, in relation to which every being, every utterance is a manifestation of energy, energy phenomena: this is the first hypostasis of being, in which the second will be born - the word, and which, realizing its connection with this verbal expression, seeing itself and its revelation in it, in the function of predication realizes its third hypostasis. Naturally, this eternal birth of the world, the stamp of trinity, lying on the entire universe, determines both the nature of speech and the basis of thought. The pronoun is a symbol of ousia, the inexpressible depth of super-being, original hypostasis. Therefore, a pronoun, compared to a word, means nothing, does not contain any color of being, and yet can mean everything in its faceless, colorless depth. The pronoun is a symbol of noumenality, a gesture in a word. You can, of course, interpret it psychologically, genetically, there is nothing easier, but this will not answer the question about the meaning of the pronoun. It should be noted that the nature of the pronoun as a word is fundamentally different from the nature of the word in general, as it was revealed above. We have defined the word as a concrete symbol, as evidence of existence, its action; in this sense, we said that the word is born, speaks for itself, that it is reality, etc., and rejected signifying symbolism, which reduces words only to conventional designations and turns meanings into signs or even icons, like algebraic ones. Now we must say that the pronoun is just such a commemorative symbol; It is not his world that speaks in us, but we speak it, denoting certain initial attitudes, positions: I, you, he. That is why the pronoun is a mystical gesture, according to the spirit of language, clothed in a word that does not have its own content. If we apply Kantian expressions, we can say that pronouns are transcendental categories of language that have no other content and purpose than to be a form: all world being is I or non-I (of course, not Fichtean), in particular, you and he (you, they). And outside of these categories, being is not given. But if a pronoun is a category of language that contains everything, then, of course, it itself has no content, there is only a form, and the word denoting it is a symbol. But this, of course, does not mean that this symbol is only flatus vocis: its symbolic nature, its muteness, which turns it into a sound gesture, does not make it empty and invented, invented for some use. This only means that he is the word about that which is not verbal, inexpressible, and yet lies at the basis of the word. Such a word can only be a symbol. All words in speech are massive, have weight, flesh and blood, while pronominal symbols are shadows from the afterlife, from the other world in general. They are transparent, permeable, do not fill space, they, like the shadows of the Odyssean story, must drink blood in order to receive the gift of speech, but then, having taken their place in speech, they become its central focal points, around which rows of words are located. It is obvious, by the way, that the nature of the pronoun also determines the nature of algebraic and, in general, any symbolic symbols, where a specific name-word is replaced by a demonstrative pronoun, a gesture, and this gesture, due to the complexity of reasoning, receives its names - letters or signs, which, however, in themselves have no meaning, but express relationships. As far as we are talking about different relationships, about categories, the pronominal function, commemorative symbolism does its job of simplification and reduction. However, it is still based on the invariable assumption that each symbol can only be understood as a pronoun. In this case, there may be several levels of this pronoun: for example, when people, instead of personal names, are counted by numbers (in prisons), by some kind of combat units - regiments, simply by letters - all this is more or less decisive, according to the goals, replacing words-names with a category. Of course, this only applies to personal pronouns and those associated with them: demonstrative, possessive, etc., but not to qualitative pronouns, where the function of a pronoun is purely algebraic - to actually replace a word, and is caused by the economy of language, the desire for reduction and simplification. Due to this meaning, the personal pronoun is obviously the ontological prius of the name. To use a crude expression, it is an ontological hook on which a name, a concrete, living word, is hung, and only thanks to this hook the word from its grammatical amorphism, from its root state, from an idea-meaning, becomes a noun. Every naming contains an implicite or explicite 102 judgment of the type: this (or it, he, you, etc.) is the name. When learning a language, this genesis manifests itself. The child sees an object and names it, an idea is formed, and it receives a name; all this: both the idea and the name are not the first, but the second, they obscure this first. The first is a pronominal gesture: he, you, I (because, by the way, all objects have a gender, where it is in the language, borrowing it from pronouns). So, a noun is an existential judgment in which the subject is a certain point of being, something that in itself cannot be expressed in a word, but is named, and the predicate is the name. The property of a noun is to be part of a sentence in which idea words are connected to it. The subject has a predicate, and all the power of existence rests on it, while predicativity constitutes its photosphere. The subject, which at the same time is also a judgment, in its simplest form: A is B (what the Germans call a naked, undressed sentence without secondary parts) is only a continuation and extension of the naming that is already contained in the noun. This is something, he who is A, in addition there is also B. A and B differ in the degree of their closeness to this he: one constitutes its inner core, the other its outer covers, but fundamentally - and this is evidenced by the history of language - each predicate can grow together and become a name. What makes a subject, and at the same time a noun, is not this or that content of the word, but precisely its grammatical, and together with the logical function associated with the pronoun, with an ontological emphasis: a snake is an animal; the animal (it) is a snake. Moscow is the (third) Rome; Rome is ancient Moscow and so on. Grammatically, the predicate here retains the form of a noun (although this is only in inflecting languages, not in isolating ones), but, in essence, it does not have all the power of a noun here, it is taken only as an adjective, as a word, an idea, in isolation from its pronominal base. The initial connection hidden in the name: this is A is broken here, and then only the predicative A remains, although in form it can remain a noun. The noun, as the subject of predication, receives its grammatical expression in the nominative case, which either does not exist at all and is simply a word in its amorphism, or has the task of expressing linguistic substantiality, is an inflectional expression of the ontological meaning of a given word 103. The variant of the nominative case is represented by the vocative case, which is usually similar to it 104: it differs from the nominative only in volitional, psychological accentuation. In both cases, in theoretical statement, as well as in invocation, something is affirmed as existing, although, of course, in a literal, not figurative sense, the vocative case can only be formed in relation to “animate objects” (for psychological reasons). The noun, however, is not limited to the nominative case alone, remaining only in the role of a grammatical subject, or subject of judgment. In a certain sense, to the extent that it preserves itself and does not become an adjective or verb, it always represents a hieroglyph of a nominative proposition in which the subject is a pronoun, the predicate is a name, and therefore wherever we can find a pronoun, there we have a noun. In the same place where it evaporates, the last one disappears. Therefore, an ordinary, common sentence, although grammatically and logically has one subject, which is the point of orientation, but at the same time it can have several ontological centers, nouns, and they can be associated with various specific relations. These relations are reduced by the genius of language to typical ones, which etymology takes under its jurisdiction and develops formal elements for their expression, semantic units. Here we have, as it were, an algebra of language, for which we need to substitute specific values. These are declensions: cases 105, i.e. typical cases of relationships between names, numbers, prepositions (we will have to touch on this below). Cases can express different causal, local, temporary relationships between names. Ontologically, there are as many subjects in a sentence as there are nouns, because the latter are inherent in being subjects, only they differ in the degree of centrality: the king sent an order to the governor. Who are we talking about here? About the king? But also about the governor and the order. These ontological points are brought into mutual relation, and one of them is made (at least grammatically) central, but this does not destroy their plurality, and the latter is almost always presupposed in a sentence-judgment, unless it consists of only verbal and adjective words. Although the difference between a verb and an adjective is grammatically very significant, ontologically it is insignificant and even completely absent. The fact is that an adjective with a connective as a predicate is no different from a verb, just as verbal forms often even have the grammatical nature of an adjective. In addition, where the adjective is a definition and agrees with the defined, it is a shortened expression of the predicate with a copula. The main thing is that both the adjective and the verb, unlike the noun, express qualities or states, ideas, not essences. They must necessarily be attached, or, grammatically speaking, agreed with the noun, must lean against it, therefore they have the nature of predicativity. The most remarkable property of verbal conjugation, with all the richness of its other meanings, is the pronominal character that permeates it through and through; its forms imply pronominal definition, the essence of persons and numbers. And where this is lost, verbality is essentially lost, as, for example, in the indefinite mood, which is half a noun, in participles, which are half adjectives, and so on. Even in the absence of a subject, an implied, imagined pronoun replaces it. Therefore, the area of ​​dominance of the pronoun as the basis of the noun and subject is immeasurably wider than can be judged only by its external prevalence. The hidden pronoun reigns in the language through conjugation. Verbalism is essentially completely equivalent to a copula that connects the subject and predicate, a noun and a predicate: the fact that in a verb there is “action”, passion, reciprocity, influence or other shades of action is only an expression of the connection between some pronominal sign-name and certain properties, as in a judgment, carried out by the copula. The type and meaning of these judgments is that words associated with pronouns, with entities that have an ontological meaning, are combined in them with words expressing an idea, world colors: its beads are strung on a thread of being, such is the essence of a sentence-judgment as an elementary linguistic and at the same time cognitive act 106. So, the stem of the noun is the pronoun, the clothing is the naming. The first is the subject, the second the predicate, the first is the subject of the judgment, the second is the predicate. A name is a hidden judgment, an undeveloped sentence. This is something that signals itself as a being, thereby raising a question about itself, and at the same time answering it. Therefore, it names itself and is called - the word. The word-meaning-idea, as we tried to find out, is not yet an expression of concrete being; it exists in general, but not in particular, as cosmic potency. The meaning of a word in itself is never objective, it is pure meaning, gilt, not ist 107, has significance, not being. It acquires real meaning, is objectified only when something says something about itself: this is A. Each something can have an indefinite number of verbal covers and be expressed by a corresponding number of words: a person, an animal, an ape, a biped, a king of creation, a thinking being, a political being, a being inventing machines, etc. etc. Each of these words can go from a predicative sentence in relation to a person to a nominative one, and the possibility of such a replacement or transition most obviously confirms that the name is initially a predicate, obtained as a result of a hidden judgment. Therefore, according to our understanding, there cannot be words that, by their very nature or original meaning, would be nouns, as opposed to verbs and adjectives. On the contrary, predicability precedes nominativity: serpentineness, and not the snake, which is what is the bearer of serpentineness; humanity, not man; woodenness, not wood, etc. In a word, it is not the idea-word that is born or distinguished by its carrier, but on the contrary, the idea embodies, realizes, and has for itself a particular case in one or another fact of existence. Ideas are verbal images of being, names are their implementation. This should also be valid in such cases when a given word-idea arises for the first time precisely in connection with this particular being: let’s say the idea of ​​serpentineness, a snake, is an expression of the property or impression of a real snake. Let us even assume that this is precisely the origin of the root words, that they all have specific reasons. This even must be assumed not only for reasons of psychological genesis or the specific history of the word in general (which does not interest us here), but also the ontology of the word: if words are really the sounds of the world in man, have an anthropocosmic nature, then they must really sound from the world and through the world and, in particular, have specific reasons for their emergence. However, this is not what is important, but the fact that from every such reason in a word, pure meaning, or an idea that has a general, self-sufficient meaning, peels off. Initially, words have the nature of predicates or verbs: seeing a snake and calling it a snake, a person, in essence, carries out the function of investing meaning into an unmeaning, dumb existence and says: this is a snake, a snake 108. That this is so is evidenced by our self-awareness of speech, when we constantly, at every step, make this translation of meaning from the general to the particular, from verb to noun. But the nature of the word is unchanged, we cannot admit that what was previously impossible is now possible for us, and vice versa: it is rightly said that the nature of language is comprehended from one act 109. True, with regard to many words we now do not feel at all the predicative function of the name; it sounds to us like a monolith, and it seems that it arose precisely as a name (for example, stone, water, iron, wolf, etc.). But such a feeling may have a purely psychological explanation (in the notorious mechanism of associations) or stem from forgetting the original meaning of the word; In general, the strength of an associative fusion is not evidence of its originality 110. On the contrary, the naming that occurs before our eyes usually leaves no doubt that they arose from the judgment that they are predicates that have become subjects, wrapped around a mystical trunk, receiving in it a coefficient of concreteness. Therefore, the most significant role in naming is played by the invisible, the implied, often forgotten and buried by history, but in other places it is exposed, protruding to the surface, there is a link. Naming is a link, however, not of ordinary, weak content, but of special strength, intimacy, exclusivity. The connective generally expresses energy, ἐνέργεια, by which the subject is revealed, revealed in one thing or another, and in particular, in a verbal definition. In relation to the subject, the substance ὑποκείμενον of this definition, it is its ἔργον. The word in which the name is expressed is attached by a connective to its nameless and unnameable bearer; it is a verbal action, the self-revelation of this bearer. He appropriates to himself, associates himself with a known word-idea. Here the concrete is expressed by the general (although not by the abstract: there is no need to confuse the general and the abstract; meanwhile, this confusion, which violates the best traditions of Platonism, is a special sin of modern philosophy). A fusion occurs, a noun appears. A common question for us regarding unknowns is: what is it called (“what is it?” – the question of my little son). It expresses this function, which, thanks to the psychological automatism of language, which closes down precisely the most important processes here, usually remains outside consciousness. Based on the above, the usual distinction between proper names and “common nouns” loses its meaning. Every name is a specific use of a general idea, and the predicate hidden in the name is by its nature an idea that has universal significance (or it means nothing at all, has no meaning). And here there is no difference between proper names and common nouns. Sergei is the same general idea as a person, perhaps more complex or obscure, but no less general (or it is not a word at all, but an algebraic icon, flatus vocis). A name in a calendar is an idea; on the contrary, given to a specific person, it is a name. (And even Europe, Asia, etc. there is a general idea that becomes a name: for there is Europeanism, European climate, etc.; in a word, Europe can be an adjective or a verb, and this reversibility of a name into a non-name best of all indicates that initially there is not a name, but an idea.) And vice versa, a word of general meaning can receive a completely unexpected and very colorful use as a proper name: “whites”, redskins, “son of heaven” - the Chinese emperor, etc. In proper and common nouns, the volume of concepts corresponding to the given nouns, or logical capacity, is usually confused with the nature of the idea-word, and the difference in this capacity, secondary and derivative, not even having a basis in the language, is transferred to the nature of the idea-word. Meanwhile, semantic universality outside a specific sentence is the very nature of the idea-word, and all names are neither proper nor common nouns, but, if we use this expression, proper common nouns, concrete universal ones: the copula makes them proper, and the name-meaning makes them common nouns. But the connective can have different strengths in different cases of its repeated use: one and the same thing can receive the nth number of names, be A, B, C, D, E, F... and all these words will be hung on the connective is, will be rays of its energy. However, the energy of this self-determination, its intensity, varies and makes some names more “proper”, others less so. And at the same time, there are obviously no absolutely “proper” names in such a sense that this fusion of the subject with the predicate belongs to it alone and cannot be used in any other “figurative” sense: the connective “is” does not have such strength and exclusivity, it is, as we have already expressed, ἐνέργεια, and not ἔργον. If the name were, indeed, a certain Epyov, i.e. would not be a predicate, then such absoluteness would be inevitable. Then the words would sit motionless on their nests, all nouns would be proper, singular names, but then there would be no logical and verbal connections, no thinking, no speech. The only form of logical and grammatical relation available under such an assumption would be through the conjunction and, i.e. an external connection of something that does not lend itself to any other more internal connection: the mutual impenetrability of these atoms of meaning and speech would be such that the world of thought and word would fall apart into these atoms that have no windows for each other. But this exists within the limits of anthropocosmic thinking - it is never absolute, it is an intensive quantity, allowing for endless differences in strength, density, intensity. Thanks to this, different ideas can be covers, sometimes internal, sometimes external, of the same essence, and vice versa, the same essence can merge with different ideas, be expressed through new and new names, which, thickening, acquire the meaning of names, first common nouns, and then proper ones 111. This, by the way, is the basis for the possibility of co- and renaming, both in the narrow and broad sense (i.e., the use of metaphors, which is discussed below). Every judgment is a naming in nuce 112, endowed with meaning. Various, endless petals of meaning curl, some of them occupying an internal place, while others are the outer coverings. But in essence, knowledge, which is expressed in judgments, is naming, and names as “parts of speech” are semantic clots or crystals. That this thought correctly states the nature of things is evidenced by the most basic facts of the life of language, revealed by linguistics, as well as those we draw from everyday experience. This is, on the one hand, a very limited number of original semantic roots from which all the many words of the modern language arose, and on the other hand, the “improper” use of words, metaphors and tropes in general. Language, like everything limited, where the wisdom of nature, and not human reason, operates, observes the greatest economy in means. If each noun really required a separate word, the number of words would grow immeasurably, and such word creation would testify not to wealth, but to the weakness of the language, its helplessness, as is sometimes observed in some barbaric dialects. On the contrary, the rule for a developed, mature language is to achieve the greatest result with minimal means. We have already mentioned 113 that the rich English lexicon, counting up to 100,000 words (excluding foreign ones), is derived from 461 roots; Also, 40,000 words of the Chinese language come from 400 sound groups, with different accents giving up to 1,200 basic words. The Hebrew language is reduced to approximately 500 roots. Sanskrit grammarians reduced all the richness of their language to 1706 roots, etc. 114 Meanwhile, if we take even only 24 letters of the alphabet, then the possible number of two- or three-letter roots would be 14,400: the language is so far from using sound resources 115. And of course, the possibility of limiting ourselves to so little is due precisely to the fact that all the basic meanings, root words, have a general meaning, express ideas, and are not at all proper names, icons that represent things, a kind of index cards or numbers. Moreover, these words can be used in different combinations and shades, which is connected, on the one hand, with their etymological and syntactic equipment, and, on the other, with their semasiological meaning, with their predicability. For a great master, who is the genius of language, expressing not personal wisdom, but the wisdom of the world, anthropocosmic wisdom, a limited number of colors on the palette is enough to extract everything needed from it. In connection with this limited number of linguistic colors is the multiplicity of uses of the same root word. Its connections with a given content, as we have already said, are not strong and not final: new and new connections of the same word are possible. This is the plurality of meanings of words - the basic and elementary fact of language, as well as the so-called. trails. If we take a dictionary, we will find there a number of meanings for each given word: scythe (hair), scythe (tool), scythe (geographer); head (physical), head (sugar), etc. What does it mean? This means that the same paint, the same word, refers to different things, of course, in a similar sense. In this way, the earlier, original meaning, and the later, given one are established. The first meaning in relation to the second is a means and loses its independent meaning. It is sometimes called the internal form of the word 116. Obviously, this very name already contains a hidden thought, comparison, identification, and generally a judgment is pronounced. “In the language (in the words of M. Muller) has its own fossilized philosophy,” and in its own way the remark of Jacobi (W. W. III, 550) 117 is correct, who says: “I do not know a better way to philosophically investigate the truth than to investigate the roots of words.” This internal form of the word is usually forgotten over time, and thus the original shade of meaning, the intuition that is embedded in the word, is lost. Meanwhile, if it is true that language reflects the soul and character of the people and word creation more initially than other creations of the national genius (like folk songs, epics, etc.), then how can one not listen to this creativity, which is language creativity? The different uses of words represent, as it were, a system of semantic equations, making it possible to look into the laboratory of thought, where its tools are forged, where it oozes like drops, grows like grass. In this or that naming, in which one is chosen from a large and essentially indefinite set of characteristics, and therefore possibilities, there is a thought, a stylization, a drawing included in the picture of the world. And due to the fact that naming is a judgment, it is perhaps even inevitable that there may be several, many, of these judgments that result in naming (and potentially this possibility is contained in every judgment). And from here it becomes fundamentally clear the possibility of not only the polysemy of one word (polysemy), but also the multiplicity of unambiguous or single-subject words, i.e. synonyms. “In ordinary Sanskrit dictionaries,” according to M. Muller (293), “there are five names for hand, And for light, 16 for cloud, 26 for snake, 33 for killer, 35 for fire, 37 for sun.” In any living language, this synonymy, of course, is constantly growing, and this struggle for existence between synonyms, leading to the preference or victory of some over others, to the establishment of different shades, is also full of meaning, it shows how thinking, perception of the world changes, it is an insensitive sketch of insensitive changes, a kind of chronicle of the spiritual world. Even more instructive are the tropes (metaphor, metonymy, synecdoche), thanks to which a given word is used deliberately artificially, in an “improper” sense that does not belong to it, used as a colorful means or image for expressing thoughts. Usually, tropes are considered a sign of poetic language (they are the ones that most characterize what is usually called “language” in a writer), and are even presented as such in textbooks on the theory of literature. Meanwhile, in fact, they form the “iron inventory” of language, without which speech cannot take a single step. The limitation of linguistic means (both relative and absolute) with the boundlessness (practical) of the tasks that are assigned to language, forces us to use words in the most free manner, to draw with words. Words do not normally cover their subject; they are sometimes narrower, sometimes wider than it, 118 and the tongue without hesitation cuts off what sticks out or pulls out what is too short on the Procrustean bed of a clumsy word. The simplest everyday speech is teeming with tropes and in this sense is constant stylization, and not even poetry 119. Comparisons and images are not at all the property of poets alone. The difference lies only in the nature of these images, their hackneyedness or freshness, colorfulness or dryness, etc., but that’s all. Language always draws. It is always poetic creativity, a picture of the world created in words. He is not a dead mirror, but a living cast. The requirement of accuracy, which can be placed on a language, has its meaning only when applied to this property, and therefore has its own insurmountable limits. Pedants often consider dry and poor language to be more precise and scientific 120 (this is probably why the scientific style is so clumsy). But language could be freed from figurativeness and brought to full precision, at least from the lexical side (leaving aside the grammatical one), only if for every new meaning and every smallest shade of it there was a new word at hand, that is, if the number of words were unlimited 121. But we know that the language would drown and choke in this abundance of words, memory would be torn, and, most importantly, the connection of things and the connection of ideas could not be realized with this victory of centrifugal forces. Or this precision would be achieved at the cost of eliminating all colorfulness of speech, verbal symbolism, specific meanings and reduced to relationships of symbols, signs of meaning, but not meanings. In such a speech, only relationships would remain meaningful. Such is mathematics and every mathematizing science; beyond the language of mathematics, the killing of living words and covering them with shrouds of mathematical symbols, apparently, is what modern language fighters dream of. But we must not forget that the simplicity and accuracy of mathematics is bought at the price of a certain stylization or narrowing of the circle of its field: it knows only relations in abstracto. But the most curious thing here is that from the point of view of language, the symbolism of mathematics is continuous paths based on the conscious and deliberate replacement of concrete words with abstract signs. And the usual beginning of any mathematical reasoning: let’s call this quantity “a”, etc. - is the beginning of a long chain of paths of a certain style. (A similar operation is carried out in so-called logistics and any schematization in general.) By the way, it is possible that on the basis of the properties of paths the so-called onomatopoeic theory, according to which words come from onomatopoeia. It is indisputable that such onomatopoeic words exist (cuckoo, wawawka), there are especially many of them in children's language, but it is equally indisputable that they occupy a certain and very limited place in the composition of words, and so far no one has been able to extend them to all words. Therefore, onomatopoeia, onomatopoeia characterizes some words, and the transformation of these sounds, which in themselves have no meaning, into words occurred through their tropical use: this combination of sounds could be used as a metaphor (in a certain sense, just as in algebra a letter replaces a quantity) to name a certain object, which could also have other names. How onomatopoeic word creation differs from ordinary one is its conscious, reflective character, which is what makes one see a path here, i.e. deliberate assimilation, rapprochement, reduction. Here a comparison arises, quite unexpectedly, with the latest word creation that adorns the Russian language: sovdep, sovnarkom, etc. Here we also have a kind of algebraic metaphor arising from the visual contemplation of the capital letters of these institutions. And what is obviously not a word (just like qua-qua, ku-ku is obviously not a word) begins to be consciously used as a word on the basis of this mathematical-metaphorical designation. In a similar way, one can understand the origin of words from involuntary, semi-articulate sounds (injection theory), which also cannot be denied for a certain category of words. Something similar happens here, as with onomatopoeia or the algebraization of words: known sounds, associatively associated with a given experience and reflectively accompanying it, consciously turn into a word by being attached as a known meaning to the subject, becoming its naming (a child calls the bench on which he hurt himself, bo-bo). And once this transformation is complete, once known sounds have received the meaning of a root, all possible formations arise from it in accordance with the general equipment of the language. But, of course, it is not language with its roots that is explained from onomatopoeic or interactional formations through the magic of “evolution”, which changes precisely where explanation is required and where the center of the problem is, but, on the contrary, words that have onomatopoeic roots arise thanks to the reflective, deliberate, conscious and completely free conversion of them into words, the combination of predicative meaning with them, their conversion initially into a predicate as an element of naming. The same thing happens now, when we consciously form a new word from any sounds, turning them into roots. The fundamental significance of tropes for understanding a noun is that the nature of naming is revealed here. The subject of a name is a pronominal gesture, always deeper than any predicate, because it is rooted in being, and, due to its universal connection, can be said in an infinite number of ways (more on this below). Therefore, any name that is given obviously does not exhaust the essence, but expresses something in it. If naming occurs before our eyes or is done by ourselves, then the idea of ​​naming is clear and does not require explanation. But if it happened in time immemorial and its meaning is lost, the internal form is forgotten and becomes incomprehensible, the word ossifies and takes on the character of a nickname; even moreover, since it no longer says anything about the object except a general indication of it, it merges with the pronominal gesture, becomes the hook on which all sorts of predicates are then hung. Such are the majority of our words of ancient origin: their meaning can only be revealed by the historical study of language, but such are not the words that reappear before our eyes. They, if they do not represent borrowings from a foreign language, are transparent to us in their meaning and, of course, represent paths. As they are usually classified, the tropes are: synecdoche, metonymy, metaphor. Synecdoche is associated with the expansion or narrowing of the meaning of a concept, but we have it with any naming. Metonymy 122 “takes the sign for the signified, the property for the bearer, the cause for the effect, and vice versa. Almost every naming is based on metonymy” 123. Finally, metaphor, which consists in transferring the name of one object or concept to another, which has a common point with it (tertium comparationis 124), rests on comparison, rapprochement, juxtaposition 125. This is the basis for the possibility of polysemy and synonymy, the use of different colors and different shades to express a given thought. The use of tropes in nouns is of particular interest for recognizing their nature. Here it comes out with particular clarity that naming is a judgment in which the implied subject is the predicate, connected by the implied connective is. Thanks to this predication, those words that have the character of nouns become like adjectives or verbs, playing the role of a predicate in a nominative judgment. They are removed from their pronominal nests and, becoming non-objective, free meanings, verbal ideas, are fixed on new nests, and thus the change in meaning that we have with the tropical use of words in nouns is obtained. And from here it follows that the gluing, “agglutinating” nature, thanks to which the name sticks to the object and the idea is attached to the pronoun, is the copula, which can be equivalent to both the verb form and the agreement in the adjective. With a different understanding of the nature of the noun, its “improper” or “figurative” meaning becomes an unsolvable mystery. Therefore, the word in its essence is a judgment, the word is a thought 126. So, two main questions arise in the philosophy of the noun: about the meaning of the connective and about the meaning of the naming itself, or the choice of one or another verbal idea to attach to a given subject of speech. Let's start with the last one. The addition of this or that predicate, or naming, is in any case some action of a person, whether we consider him as a separate subject or as a generic being (a “transcendental” subject), and every action is performed with the participation of the will, therefore, presupposes the manifestation of freedom. For will and freedom are inextricably linked in man (and questioning on the topic of freedom or lack of free will is the fruit of a misunderstanding). I can name or not name this thing that is looking at me and, as it were, asking about itself; this does not happen without my permission. And besides, I can name it - and practically I do - in a thousand different ways, in one way or another, and then freedom of choice always remains with me and constitutes the very essence of language, which is never a passive mirror, but a living, creatively realized process 127. And at the same time, undoubtedly, a person is not free in naming; he cannot give any name that comes to his mind, unless he suffers from a painful coordination disorder. He must obey the thing, listen to its self-revelation, listen to what it tells him. (Speaking of attention, we do not at all mean psychological states and, in general, we completely eliminate the psychological point of view as irrelevant, because it treats only a mechanism, and not a being, not what, but how. By attention we mean intention.) This intentionality can be directed or established in various ways, in other words, a different question can be posed about a thing and, accordingly, a different answer can be received, but the answer itself belongs to the thing. It cannot be made up, although it may be poorly or misheard. The name is the self-revelation of the thing; it belongs to the thing, not to the speaker. In this sense, the thing calls itself 128. So, here we have, as it were, an irreconcilable contradiction between freedom and necessity. In fact, this is the antinomy coincidentia oppositorum 129, we have it in every act of human creativity, which is both free and natural. The artist must be obedient to the material and idea of ​​the work: the more fully he surrenders to it, the more complete and artistic the act of creativity. He must achieve complete dissolution of his personal self, merging with his creative concept, extinguishing the personal and subjective - “psychologism”, and give triumph to the laws of the idea. And, at the same time, this is the pinnacle of his personal creative tension, because only by an act of freedom can this creative effort of self-giving be accomplished. Creativity is anthroposophical, and on the side of man is freedom, on the side of the sophistic nature of creativity is law. And the less a person names a thing and the more it names itself, the deeper, more significant, more penetrating the naming. However, a thing can only be called through a person, in a person, as a person. The names of all things are hidden in man; he is a microcosm, the being from which nouns are derived. The antinomy of a noun is that what is named is unnameable, transcendental to the word-idea expressing the mode of cosmic existence. That which is under the name, the underlying, or sub-jectum, ὑπο-κείμενον, is the transcendental noumenon, οὐσία, Kant’s “thing in itself.” What it is called is a predicate, κατηγορούμενον, a phenomenon in relation to this noumenon, its ἔργον, entirely belonging to the world of being and forms, immanent, noumenal-phenomenal. Here Kant, measuring with his epistemological ruler, declares a break in this connection, crosses out the dash expressing the connection: the transcendental remains in the transcendental, the phenomenal world remains self-legitimate and closed in itself; a great gulf is established between them, which is uncrossable on either side; through this opposition the Kantian system dissipates and the entire neo-Kantian heresy begins with its persistent desire to deepen this gulf and immanentize knowledge. Kant did not notice that, contrary to his system, in each naming his question is already resolved and an imaginary abyss is overcome, although it is not overcome rationally, i.e. statically, but antinomically, or dynamically, more precisely, energetically. A name, a phenomenon, is therefore a revelation of a thing, a noumenon, because its effectiveness is manifested here, ἐνέργεια 130. The thing comes out of itself and becomes a cosmic thing. And at the same time, what is most essential here, not in isolation and opposition, but in fusion and unity, the name is recognized in its day and night, external and internal essence. It is not that there is a separate noumenon, expressed only by a pronoun, a mystical gesture, and a separate name, arbitrarily given as a sign or nickname. No, there is a specific noun, which, despite its antinomy, is a unity. The bridge over the abyss, the glue connecting the noumenon with the phenomenon, in the word is the implied connective is, this ontological agglutination. There is, a grammatical connective, this is a sufficient answer to Kant’s skeptical questions about the thing in itself, in its transcendence, the answer of a living word and a living thought, which he did not hear or notice, although he wanted (or rather, said that he wanted) to reach the fundamental elements of knowledge and thought. Kant did not notice or appreciate the connective at all, but it contained the answer to his question. The noumenon does not “lie on the basis” of the phenomenon and is not completely transcendental to it (so it becomes a mystery how, in what sense and for what purpose it is attached to it). The noumenon is simply a phenomenon, it exists and is expressed in its naming. The transcendental-actual (the first hypostasis of being) is seen in immanent being, separate and dissected by ideas, in words (the second hypostasis of being) and is recognized effectively, τῇ ἐνεργείᾳ, affirms itself by naming, in conjunction recognizes its unity of the transcendent and immanent (third hypostasis). The act of naming, expressed in a link, has the deepest philosophical and mystical significance, for here the Gordian knot of Kantianism is cut by the act, the malice against God's world is overcome - an attempt to make the noumenon deaf and blind, and the phenomenon empty, dead and ghostly. Thanks to the noun, the original realism of thinking is established, which at the same time is also idealism, for in the noun the agglutination of res and idea is established by the connective. This overcomes the inevitable Kantian solipsism, which is a denunciation of “transcendental idealism” 131. The copula (copula), both in its pure form and direct grammatical expression of the auxiliary verb is, and in its disguised form, plays a primary role in the ontology of language, is its very basis, that cementing glue, without which there would be no language or speech, but there could be, at most, atoms of speech, its elements - individual words, roots-ideas, without significances and correlations. Any correlation or linking of words, an emerging thought, a judgment is reduced to the type: A is B, - and lexically “is” may even be completely absent, replaced by a punctuation mark (or a dash) and the arrangement of words, as in isolating languages (this type in Russian is found in a sentence with an implied connective, where the nature of the predicate and definition is recognized by the place: a kind person - a kind person; a fine day – a fine day; a man is an enemy – a man is an enemy, etc.). Much more important is that the function of semantic agglutination, the connective, is not actually absent from any phrase expressing a thought. Any judgment, i.e. every thought comes down to saying the ineffable, i.e. to naming, and is therefore justified by a connective, but it can not be given in bare form, but is included and therefore hidden in verbal form. The fact is that the copula is hidden in the conjugation (and even the declension): the ending, the inflection of the conjugation expresses precisely the attachment of the verbal predicate to the subject, albeit in a specific form - an expression of action. The personal verb form can be expressed as a participial plus copula. And whatever the historical relationship between them, the semantic one, undoubtedly, remains exactly this: the conjugation includes the connective, like the glue with which it sticks to the subject and from an idea becomes a name. For the verb also names by predicating. But more on that below. What does the copula express, what is it based on? This is not an expression of our psychologism, that we give nicknames and stick on different labels and words. Such an understanding would destroy language as a faculty of speech and thought. And the universal psychological explanation of their association is of no use here, because the latter, indeed, is the glue of memory, the automatism of speech, but does not in the least explain its content, what is then enveloped in habit. The connective must have an objective, cosmic meaning if it has language as a carrier of thought. In other words, the connection expresses the world connection of everything with everything, the cosmic communism of existence and the altruism of each of its moments, i.e. the ability to express oneself through another. Three axioms, more precisely, one in three images, are presupposed by the connective: 1) everything (as a modality or variety) is everything (as a totality) - of course, in the broadest sense of a universal connection, which is always concrete, individual, special; 2) every something is (potentially) everything, connected with everything; 3) everything (as a totality) is something, in each mode the universal connection of being is expressed. Based on this, every judgment with an innocent, specious is includes an antinomy and overcomes the gap between phenomenon and noumenon, which Kant declared insurmountable. The antinomy is that the law of identity is violated here. The proposition: A is B - consists of two members A and B. Each of them has its own sphere and is limited by it, closed in self-identity: A is A, B is B, and cannot escape from this self-identity (as Antisthenes and Stilpo said 132). And in this case, by the force of the law of identity, neither a judgment nor a grammatical sentence implementing it is possible. It is necessary to break its shackles, to break the imaginary “law”, which we do literally at every step, in every judgment assuring that A is not-A, and this not-A is B, but at the same time it is also A; it turns out that A is A and not-A, and it does not fall apart from this violation not only of the law of identity, but of the even more formidable law of contradiction, and calmly walks along the even more forbidden path of the “excluded third.” And all this is done by naming, the heart of which is the ligament 133. The copula expresses the ability of things to come out of themselves and be in another, and therefore express themselves through something else. But since in this being of everything in everything and through everything, in this universal totality, cosmicity, the cosmic universal connection of being is expressed, one can only bow to the fact that it does not obey the dictates of school logic and does not accept its axioms. Here, too, it realizes the threefold image, the trinity of being: the predicability of one through the other, the transformation of this other into the word of the first and the recognition of this transformation in a connection through which the first recognizes itself in the second as itself and together their connection and unity is comprehended: it recognizes itself not only in its motionless self-identity, but also in the dynamic antinomianism of self-negation, is expressed through the other, as a result of which a separate, enriched self-identity is affirmed. So far we have looked at the implied but grammatically non-existent connective in a noun, present in a sentence and absent in a verb. At the same time, we took very different grammatical phenomena into one bracket, which now need to be distinguished. If every noun is a hidden judgment or sentence in which the subject or subject is a pronoun - a mystical gesture, and the predicate or predicate is a word, an idea, then naming is generally an elementary primary act of both language and thinking. Naming expresses the essence of speech, and it also expresses the essence of knowledge (as evidenced by the original meaning of the word name). We speak in sentences and think in judgments. The content of both is an extended naming, the addition of an idea-predicate - a predicate by a copula. It is a mistake to think that words, by their grammatical and logical nature, were born or arose as nouns or as verbs and adjectives. Of course, a language that is already ready and developed has ready-made forms for expressing these “parts of speech”; it develops typical inflections or other “semantic units” corresponding to them (such as, for example, the order of words in a sentence). But these forms exist to express different functions that may fall to the same words, and do not characterize the words themselves. To be a noun or a verb is the function of the word as meaning, and not its essence. The essence of the word must be seen in the universal predicability, according to the universal, cosmic meaning of the connective. Thanks to this, the emergence of nouns is possible, through the addition of a name to a pronominal gesture, and the further development of naming through the addition of a name or names to a noun, sometimes to a proper name. Therefore, there cannot be words that would directly designate “objects” or “concepts”, for them or by them having been called into existence. All words are only meanings, ideas that can become predicates, names, but this naming, in the life of the word, is performed by man and in man, as his action: here is the anthropocosmic principle, microcosm, here is psychology with its psychologisms. Naming is primary and elementary knowledge, recognition of their meaning, ideas in things and consolidation of this recognition in a name. A noun is not only a grammatical form that appears in response to a certain need of verbal thought, but also a meaning, a gesture. And it is quite possible that the grammatical form remains unfilled with its mystical or ontological content and in fact does not have its meaning. In the word we have a crystal of linguistic development, a frozen and not always transparent clot, a fact of the history of language. But living speech uses it in its own way, directing its rays at it. A noun in form, receiving the property of predicability, ceases to be one in essence. It expresses only an idea, a quality, and not being. A horse is an animal and vice versa. Negro is a person (or vice versa: N.N. is a Negro) and so on. It is obvious that even the same word, depending on its syntactic position, loses its fullness and becomes either named or naming, equivalent to a verb. This is the basis, as we have seen, for the use of words in “improper meaning,” or tropes. This is also the basis for any predication, in which one thing is determined through another, and is called by it. Moreover, not only simple, primitive and transparent words that express voluminous concepts and even terms fall into this situation. Usually, any such name implies the fusion of concepts and ideas connected with it more or less closely. It is equivalent to their complex or conglomerate, it is a complex paint, brought, however, firmly or weakly, to a certain unity, therefore such a name is a substitute for this entire fusion. In the formula of the simplest judgment - a sentence: A is B or, what is the same, A does (= is the doer), endures (= is being in) B, - the first member A is a noun that has support in real, albeit silent, being, the second is the idea of ​​being, a quality, but has no support in being and is doomed to an ideal existence only in the sphere of significance; finally, the connective in a mysterious and incomprehensible way connects mute being with eloquent significance, accomplishes the revelation or cognition of meaning - naming. To that which did not have a name or had only one or several names, more and more new names are added: A is B, there is C, there is D, ...... is N. It is possible, parodying Kant’s well-known formula that Gedanken ohne Inhalt sind leer, a Anschauungen ohne Begriffe sind blind 135, to say here that a subject pronoun without a name is blind, and a predicate name without a subject empty, but their combination gives knowledge - naming, which is both the beginning of speech and the beginning of all meaning and thinking. The mystery of naming, which is also the mystery of language, contains the creative let there be: “let there be light” and “be light” 136. And let this divine be heard in endless echoes in the world, repeating itself in every judgment. Every judgment is reduced to a subject and a predicate, an ontological point and an idea-word-meaning. So many names, or rather, so many predicates, so many ideas. Conversely, one and the same idea can be a predicate for many subjects, as Plato taught: περὶ ἕκαστα τὰ πολλά, οἷς ταὐτὸν ὄνομα ἐπιφέρομεν. ? ταῦτα τὰ σκεύη δύο, μία μὲν κλίνης, μία δὲ τραπέζης (Rep. Χ. 596). Where words do not exist, ideas do not exist: δύ’ οὖν ταῦτα ἀνώνυμα τὰ τούτων ποικίλματα γέγονεν, οὐκ ἐκ πολλῶν οὐδ᾽ ἁπλῶν εἰδῶν ὄντα 137 (Tim. 67). An idea cannot be expressed about many things because it is abstract and because, as a concept, it can be applied to everything that is included in its scope. The latter is only a special case, the realization of what is given in the predicate as such. But this property of an idea is not associated with abstractness or volume, but with predicability, which always and essentially contains an idea. And that very noun (gram.), which was just concrete as a subject, subject, turning into a predicate, an idea, takes on the character of universality: for example. wolf . Ideas are never abstract or concrete (such are concepts, logical preparations of ideas); they are always volumeless, pure meanings 138 . A most difficult question arises: is every word that can be a predicate, as well as a subject (and, in essence, any word can be, and, moreover, the number of words is practically unlimited, they are created by the genius of language), is every word an idea? If not, then the quality of the word is lost, it becomes not meaning, but nonsense, an empty sound. If so, then, therefore, not only words are created, but also ideas. Is it possible to allow such arbitrariness or even outrage in a “smart place” τόπος νοητός? This question became acute even before Plato, although for him it did not have a special predicative formulation; it arose not in the analysis of words, but in the general analysis of ideas. And he had to ask himself: does everything have an idea? (In practice, this question is equivalent, coinciding with ours.) Is there an idea of ​​a hair, dirty, large, small, etc.? (See the excursion about Plato.) And Plato had to answer the question in the affirmative, although he knew how difficult it was to combine this with the doctrine of the kingdom of abiding ideas, about the “smart place” (“Phaedrus”, etc.). This question can only be answered on general religious and metaphysical grounds. Words exist only because the Word exists, and ideas-meanings exist only because the Idea-Meaning exists. There is Sophia, the Soul of the world, the Wisdom of the world as an all-perfect organism of ideas, as the Pleroma, the fullness of being. It is the intelligible basis of the world, the world as a cosmos. Here ideas look at each other, are reflected in each other, here the communism of existence truly reigns, here there is a closed number, a completeness of ideas. On the contrary, our world is this same cosmos in the process of becoming, melting into non-existence; it is sophien in all its being, but it is extra-sophien and even anti-sophien in its state. There are shadows and mixtures everywhere, the colors are dirty and mixed. Strictly speaking, ideas in their pure form are never available here and we can only talk about the ideological nature of ideas, in the sense of their validity in genuine pure ideas. Therefore, predicates, words, meanings, ideas, which are always parts of the whole process of meaning-speech, are both ideas and not ideas, but they certainly have a basis in ideas, are ideological in their positive core, even if this ideological content has been diluted, mixed, clouded. They always have a positive content, but at the same time they are pragmatic, random in their image. For they are taken from a discursive, logical associative process, and not from their ontological-hierarchical relationship. Discourse, i.e. The transition from one to another means that ideas-meanings are interconnected and reflect each other. But this connection, in any case, is only a modality, and does not express essence. Logical connection distributes ideas under headings of logical categories, i.e. concepts, but this distribution also takes into account the constructive needs of formal logic, with its negative prohibitive norms, the police of thought, but does not take into account the content of ideas. Finally, associative connections deal with psychologisms of all kinds, i.e. random or automatic side of consciousness. So, of course, words are ideas, predicates are pure meanings. But there are two areas of ideas: the world above and the world below. And all these difficult relationships, amenable to such imprecise definition, which imprecise measurement, which imprecision constitutes Plato’s Achilles heel (μέθεξις, κοινωνία 139, etc.), are felt here. Plato says that the world was created by the demiurge according to the model of ideas, and we create, “looking at the idea”: the model of ideas, and we create, “looking at the idea”: ἑκατέρου τοῦ σκεύους πρὸς τὴν ἰδέαν βλέπων οὕτω ποιεῖ ὁ μὲν τὰς κλίνας, ὁ δὲ τὰς τραπέζας, αἷς ἡμεῖς χρώμεθα 140 (Rep. Χ. 596). Predicate words are also created by looking at the creative primary words that shine through their covers in a system of mirrors, refracting, becoming clouded, distorted, but still being reflected, so that without them the words themselves would not exist. Obviously, words differ from each other both in the degree of their, so to speak, ontological saturation, ideological content (there are formal, liquid words, and there are sonorous, full-fledged ones), and in the ontology of their connection, in the strength of their predicativeness. A link can connect everything, and naming can express internal connections, or it can only concern surface layers. And the strength of such a predicate will vary. Finally, there is a hierarchy in the very kingdom of ideas, fundamental principles, of which meanings are a reflection. For us, this area, which Plato characterized only by negations, apophatically, remains beyond the limits, transcendental. Undoubtedly, ideas are connected with each other in an organic unity, but this connection is not a logical relationship of concepts, but their dynamic energetic conjugation, an ontological hierarchy, in which the highest contains dynamically (and not logically in the sense of volume) everything lower, without being encompassed by it, so that the content increases along with the volume, and not vice versa, as in the system of logical concepts (this was pointed out by V. Solovyov 141). On the basis of this, the entire grammatical processing of the word takes its place, its framing by inflections, semantic signs, without which the word does not exist at all. This framing belongs to the refracting environment that is created for the word by language. A word never exists in isolation in a language. (It can be taken under the hood of logical abstraction, but then it ceases to be itself, i.e. verbal meaning.) It always exists in a phrase, in a sentence, in a judgment, i.e. brought into relation with other words-meanings; it is pronounced in a known key or timbre. In speech we do not have ideas in their unity and isolation, but always mixtures or conglomerates of ideas. That is why such judgments as Wundt’s are possible that being can only apply to nouns, and only significance can apply to predicates. It is impossible to say about white that it exists, there are only white objects, and whiteness is an idea that has an ideal existence. However, this ideal being is not at all some kind of deficiency or minus of being, but only another sphere of it. Words as predicates, as ideas, are rays of the intelligent world breaking through the cloudy atmosphere. They stem from the fullness of another, otherworldly existence, where ideas have all the power of being and therefore shine even when not attached to the trunk of our earthly existence, although they are ready to attach and reflect their ray at the appropriate point. In the judgment-sentence, in predicativity, therefore, the connection between Plato’s two worlds is realized, it is a constant evidence of the multi-story nature of existence, so that what has the power of being in the higher world, through this receives the power of significance (i.e., timeless and spaceless, ideal existence) for this world. Therefore, the copula is, or in general the function of predicativity, it is a ladder between two worlds, and it is a mistake to think that words arise or are invented in relation to earthly things, as their mental reflections; on the contrary, earthly things are named according to their ideas, intelligible images. We name them because we recognize in them the idea that lies dormant within ourselves, as their ontological fundamental principle. This is that lack of freedom, that necessity, by virtue of which we name, obedient to some command of the thing itself that is revealed to us. Together with Plato, we can say that we remember, we perform anamnesis, naming things, so that, in the final analysis, naming, to which the living mystery of speech-word comes down, is nothing more than remembering 142. 3. Grammatical sentence: “parts of speech” and “parts of sentence” A noun that has a correlate in the subject of a sentence or the subject of a judgment, and a predicate in a verb or connective, determines the main content of speech and forms its skeleton. And its development consists in the development of these two themes: subjectivity and predicativity, to their expansion and complexity. And the process of this development appears and is fixed in grammatical forms; individual features of speech crystallize in a part of speech, which then, as part of the already established grammar, look like the primary elements of speech, as original and independent as these two elements. As “parts of speech” these are: noun, adjective, numeral, pronoun, verb, adverb, preposition, conjunction, interjection. As “parts of a sentence” this is the essence: subject, predicate, definition, circumstance (place, manner of action). The first ones, i.e. parts of speech are only different modes of subjectivity or predicativeness; the second, i.e. parts of a sentence represent their expansion and complication. The noun is a universal form of speech and thought: it expresses the existential emphasis, the bond of idea and being. A noun has its own grammatical form (and in this sense it is a “part of speech”), in which known words are used precisely in the meaning of nouns. However, the category of a noun (not only in thinking, but also in language) - not only in a judgment, but also in a sentence - is wider than this grammatical form, and at the same time narrower than it. There is an ideal form of a noun, with which any word can be clothed, if only it is considered in itself and by itself (as a subject), if it becomes the content of intention. And then, externally grammatically, this can be expressed either by a member, if the given language has a member (τὸ, das, le, the), or only by position in the phrase, i.e. syntactic means (in isolating languages ​​or even in agglutinating and inflecting languages, at least in Russian). Any word can be made - in one sense or another - a subject (examples: or there is a conjunction; in the city there is an addition; to go is an indefinite mood; it is difficult to write; kind are loved; good means joyfully; alas! it involuntarily escaped him, etc., etc.). Of course, such placing under the cap of a noun words that formally have a completely different meaning always represents some grammatical violence against the “parts of speech,” which has a special justification every time, but at the same time it shows the auxiliary and derivative meaning of the “parts of speech.” The latter are only grammatical auxiliary means of speech, which, in essence, could not exist, or, at least, there could be more or less. Given the purely root nature of language, as it is postulated for the early historical era, they would not have existed at all, 143 while the functions of subject and predicate have always constituted the element of speech. If a sentence-judgment always retained its simplest elementary form A is B, then there would be no room for the development of grammatical parts of speech in the richness and variety that we now have. But this scheme always becomes more complicated, both on side A and on side B, which is why intermediate parts of speech arise, adjacent to one side or the other, complementing the subject or predicate. The three parts of speech or states of words that need least explanation are: noun, adjective, verb - and all these parts of speech, representing full-fledged, completely independent words, can change in roles and functions: the same root word can freely change meaning, taking on the character of a noun, adjective and verb. However, the adjective and the verb are only two different forms of predicativity, which in the first case is expressed with the help of a connective, present or implied, as a property in general, regardless of space and time, aspect and “person”, and in the second case there is the same property taken from the side of time, as an action. Sometimes this grammatical difference is almost indifferent to the meaning (the mountain is white - the mountain is white, the sky is blue - the sky is blue), more often it has shades of meaning that more specifically determine the nature of the connection between the subject and the predicate. In general, all these three parts of speech determine the main function of speech - naming, which, according to the above, is judgment, and mutually reflect on each other, depending on the place of each. These are the essence, we repeat, full-fledged words, essential elements of speech that are not created by grammar, but are only formalized by it. They exist, so to speak, before grammar, setting it their own requirements, arising from the nature of the word itself. The pronoun is also included here. The personal pronoun, which represents the secret of the noun as being the hidden basis for it, has already been explained above in its meaning. This is a necessary shadow, which is outlined by opaque, ontologically filled words 144. Pronouns that replace adjectives and are actually used instead of a name, as a verbal gesture or an abbreviated, simplified naming, have a much more derivative, and therefore more formal grammatical meaning. These are demonstrative and relative pronouns; A special place is occupied by possessive pronouns, which correspond to personal pronouns and grammatically replace them: your house is yours and belongs to you. The so-called relative pronouns correspond to an already quite developed and therefore late state of syntax: in various Indo-European languages ​​they appear most late or even sometimes are completely absent 145. Their role, which consists in linking sentences, in replacing nouns or adjectives, is service-grammatical; it can be understood from the historical development of grammar, with its skills and means, but not from the basic functions of speech. In a certain sense, this is a grammatical luxury, an object not of necessity, but of convenience, without which, out of necessity, one can do, just as speech can do without long and complex periods and consist of only main sentences. In grammars, the “numeral noun” is usually considered a special part of speech. It is clear that the category of words of known content, namely, denoting number, is singled out as a special part of speech for grammatical-utilitarian and rather scholastic reasons, and, in any case, the independence of this grammatical category in essence can be disputed. The initial numbers, one, two and more - an indefinite set, are given in the language not as part of speech, but as inflection: singular number, dual (where it exists), plural always speak of quantity; on the other hand, there are languages ​​that are very poor in number words, not even having words to express numbers above 4 and already denoting large numbers as indefinite sets. In general, numerals are very diverse in different languages ​​in number and character. But even in languages ​​with developed calculus, words with numerical roots are either nouns (in potentia 146) - quantitative, or adjectives - ordinal, or adverbs (as discussed below). In any case, the originality of this grammatical category is not in its functions, but only in its meaning 147. An adverb, which currently represents, undoubtedly, an independent part of speech and a grammatical category, is quite late in its historical origin and arises as a result of the loss of a given word’s independent meaning in a phrase and the completeness of its meaning, and merging, as an additional meaning or semitone, with one of the words included in the sentence. Adverbs are formed either from adjectives that played the role of a determiner, or from verbal adjectives - participles, which are replaced by participial forms 148. Their meaning can only be understood from their connection with the word or meaning to which they are attached, and they have no other independent nature. Therefore, from the point of view of the difference that interests us, adverbs express the modality of the predicate and therefore are included in the general category of predicativity, being a means for it. The preposition, which becomes a special part of speech later than the adverb, has a similar meaning. A preposition arises from an adverb that loses its full meaning and is used only in a certain verbal combination. Although it is now sharply imprinted in our thought as requiring after it a certain form (case), initially, as the history of language shows, 149 the preposition had the independent meaning of an adverb, and therefore, in its meaning, merges with it and goes into the general broad category of predicate and its means. A conjunction has a similar origin, which, initially being also an independent word, then loses its independent meaning and plays a purely syntactic role in the structure of complex sentences. This role can be understood only from the purely grammatical functions of an already complex and developed language, has a purely auxiliary meaning and can be completely eliminated from the language without any damage to the meaning. This is a matter of syntactic comfort. Sometimes interjections are also considered parts of speech, i.e. exclamations that do not have the character of words as meanings, but emotionally charged sounds. They stand on the very border of speech in the precise sense: on one side there will be “onomatopoeic”, “injection” words, on the other there will be sound gestures outside the words, such as, for example, screams of pain, horror, etc. Interjections are only the germs of speech and, strictly speaking, of course, cannot occupy a place along with the actual parts of speech. This cursory review, which, of course, can be extended, is sufficient, however, to show that the grammatical classification of parts of speech and its corresponding complex organization in essence does not cancel or even limit our basic idea that speech consists of predication, or naming, and parts of speech either directly serve this task or play an auxiliary role. They represent organized and dissected predicativity, which, of course, is inextricably linked with subjectivity. The so-called parts of a sentence have the same meaning, which include, in addition to the subject and predicate, a definition, an addition, circumstances of place, time, and manner of action. First of all, let us establish that, although naming presupposes, as a minimum, a relationship between one subject and one predicate, there may be several of them on both sides. With a plurality of subjects, our judgment is attached to being at several points - nouns, and their connection with ideas-predicates receives a more complex, patterned pattern. The simplest example of this is given by any plural: we are waiting - or the so-called continuous sentence: we, I, you, (I and he, etc.) are going. Grammar allows liberties here that are of great fundamental importance, namely, sometimes the subject is expressed not by the classical nominative case, but by an “indirect object”: we go with him. Undoubtedly, “with him” is the same subject here as we are, and can be replaced by the nominative case: we and he. And the predicate applies absolutely equally to both: we are both good people. This simple example shows that, although the established, crystallized forms of grammar and syntax provide, so to speak, the simplest, normal naming schemes, they cannot be guided exclusively when investigating our question about its ontological roots. We will have to expand upon the usual grammatical definitions. Usually the subject is considered to be what is said in the sentence, and if it is inflected, it is in the nominative case and is a noun in form or at least in meaning 150. Let's leave aside the fact that this definition is not suitable for many cases 151, let's focus our attention on this duality in the definition of the subject. The first thing is that it must be in the nominative case - this formal constructive requirement of the structure of the sentence is fulfilled, of course, only to the extent that the given word is inflected or has a case; otherwise, it takes the quasi-nominative case (examples: “a cheer rang out in the distance,” “it’s difficult to study,” “pero is the instrumental case of “pero,” etc.). The second requirement - that the subject be a noun, being clothed in a grammatical form, generally corresponding to most cases, has not a grammatical, but a semantic meaning: it means that the subject is not only an idea-meaning, but also an existential center, a “noun”, and not only in form, but also in meaning. Any part of speech can fall into the category of a noun as a subject: verb, adjective, even all others. And, on the contrary, as we already know, a true noun, although standing in the nominative case, ceases to be a noun in meaning if it plays the role of a predicate (“hurray is a cry of joy”: here “hurray” is a noun, “cry” is, in essence, an adjective as a predicate). Therefore, when grammar puts forward its requirement regarding the “noun” of the subject, it is clear that here, in a formal and clumsily imprecise language, we are talking about the distribution of ontological accents, about the delimitation of the spheres of subjectivity from predicativity, and on the side of the subject there is, in addition to the general verbal meaning, an opaque core of being, while on the side of the predicate there are pure meanings, ideas devoid of this core, at least in form and related to nouns. When distributing these ontological accents, one has to take into account not only the grammatical form, but also the semantic meaning, and the category of the subject (subject) will have to be significantly expanded beyond the formal subject, standing in the nominative case. Let us first take the simplest case as an example: a boy broke a stick. This “real” phrase can, almost without any change in meaning, be conveyed to the “passive”: the stick is broken by the boy. Where are the subject and predicate here? What is being said here and what? Formally, grammatically in the first case it is said about the boy that he broke the stick; in the second case - about the stick, that it was broken by the boy. But, obviously, the actual content of this sentence and the judgment contained in it are not satisfied by either definition, because in reality it is not about only one stick and not only about a boy, but about a stick and a boy. Both equally represent the subject and stand under an ontological emphasis, and their connection is predicated by the idea of ​​breaking. The point here, of course, is not the grammatical form of the noun, but rather the semantic emphasis. Compare two more such examples: the scientist met a beggar. Here, both the scientist and the beggar are adjectives that have the meaning of a subject, but they already lose it in such a combination, for example: a learned researcher met an old beggar. Here this emphasis shifts to the researcher and the old man. And this can be not only with an adjective, but also with a noun: the thunderer sent his perun - Zeus the thunderer sent an arrow-perun; both nominative cases and nouns cease to be a subject only because they fall outside the ontological emphasis; While remaining a noun in form, they have a predicative meaning in meaning - a verb or an adjective. We come to the conclusion that the real, semantic subject of a sentence, that which is “about”, is by no means only the grammatical subject, but also the complement, direct or indirect - it makes no difference, as long as it is under the ontological emphasis; there is a full-fledged noun, not only in form, but in meaning. The subject of a sentence can be multiple and complex, the connection between them is predicated not according to a direct naming scheme - agglutination, but according to a complex one. The predicate is said about all subjects taken in their specific relationship. The sentence has several centers, of which one - the formal subject - is of paramount importance, the whole phrase is oriented towards it, it is the sun around which the entire planetary system revolves. So, an addition, both direct and indirect, can relate to the subject, and is included in the scope of the subject being spoken of. However, this cannot be said about every addition, even if it satisfies all the requirements, i.e. was a noun. As we know, not every noun in grammatical form is a noun in meaning, and only full-fledged nouns belong to the sphere of the subject. Here are examples: 1) He walked with his father - he walked with his head bowed. 2) He has a book - he feels joy (= joyful). 3) He carries his head high - he raised his head. 4) He moved his hand - he walked along the road - he walked along the road to Kyiv. 5) The forest is cut down with an ax - you cannot cut down what is written with a pen with an axe. Etc., etc. It is not always possible to easily and accurately grasp the ontological emphasis - the verbal criterion here is the reversibility or irreversibility of a noun into an adjective or verb, as well as the replaceability or non-replaceability of its pronoun. But one thing is clear that in fact the subject of a sentence is wider than the formal subject and subjectivity is always associated with a noun, semantic, and not just formal. The subject is someone or something and answers the question: who or what? Meanwhile, the predicate, at least in form and a noun, answers the question: how and which one? In a similar way, the sphere of predicativity is wider than its own predicate: the predicate is dissected and envelops the subject from different sides, overflowing beyond its boundaries. Let us reconsider from this point of view the parts of the sentence, of course, except the subject. Let's start with a definition. It is not difficult to see that the definition, no matter what it is attached to, in particular, first of all to the subject, is, on the one hand, an abbreviated or underdeveloped predicate, into which it can be turned, and on the other, it is part of the name of this subject, an extra verbal petal or cover. Example: a kind person is loved by everyone; what is emphasized can be developed into an independent phrase: the person (this) is good, or through a relative clause: who is good. But at the same time, kind here is the name of the subject, sometimes more significant than the noun: in the expression “good person,” a person can be omitted without prejudice, and the predicate is left as an independent name, then, of course, falling under the ontological emphasis and becoming the subject. The role of this underdeveloped predicate can equally be a verb form - a participle, an adjective, and a noun, of course, losing its ontological quality and being used as an adjective. Examples: Ivan the Fool rode the Little Humpbacked Horse. The terrible king ordered execution. The victors, burning with anger, destroyed the city. A donkey with long ears and a short tail hobbled along the road, etc. The definition relating to the subject introduces additional predicativeness, which can have a greater or lesser specific meaning depending on how much it is fused with the noun and forms, as it were, one name with it (Ivan the Terrible, Vasily the Dark, rose-fingered Eos, magnificent-legged Achaeans, etc.) or actually contains a continuous sentence, an additional predicate (the good king pardoned the city; the visiting father was all met and under). The definition relating to the subject is, of course, in the closest relation to the predicate and most of all complements it and competes with it. But the role of the definition does not fundamentally change even when it refers to the secondary parts of the sentence, enveloping them with a predicate and thereby introducing it into the general predicate: “he grabbed a large stick with his long hands” and so on. Definitions are like mixing colors on a palette, thanks to which each member of the sentence enters into a common connection in a complicated and somewhat modified form. In fact, of course, it is quite conceivable that in the definition, in some corner of the sentence, lies the main idea, or at least the central message for the sake of which it is being built. Example: my father’s illness, developing as a result of a severe cold caused by overwork, finally led to its fatal end. What is not “spoken about” in this phrase, while its semantic center is contained in the definition of the fatal complement: it is the central point of the predicate, around which all its other colors are located. Be that as it may, one thing is important: the definition as part of a sentence does not have its own independent semantic area, but belongs entirely to the area of ​​predicability. A sentence with many definitions can be considered as an organization of several sentences merged into one and at the same time mutually subordinate to each other. The degree of this connection and its nature - from the externally mechanical connection of simple continuous sentences to the organic fusion in complex periods - is by no means sufficiently captured in existing grammatical categories, which capture only external grammatical features. However, if we consider the entire area of ​​speech or, what is the same, a sentence as a relationship between two spheres: subject and predicate, noun and verb, then it is clear that the definition is entirely on the side of the latter. Every definition is an element of the predicate 152. Other parts of the sentence, such as additions and “circumstances,” should also be included there. As for complements, they relate either to the subject and form an extended subject, or to the predicate and form an extended predicate. “An addition is any indirect case of a noun with or without a preposition, no matter what it refers to” (Kudryavsky, ts. p. 116) 153, this is how it is defined in linguistics. School grammar, as is known, distinguishes between a direct object - in the accusative case and an indirect one - in all other cases (except, of course, star and im.), with and without a preposition. This distinction is not of fundamental importance for us, but we will use it for the sake of convenience and focus on the direct complement. Let's take two examples: I see Chatyr-Dag, I see the landscape, I love my father, I love work. Formally, there is no difference between these two sentences, and yet it exists and will be noticeable if only we translate them into a passive turn: for the first example (Chatyr-dag is visible to me, my father is loved by me) there will be no difference, except for a slight shade of meaning, a shift in logical stress; the second sounds unnatural (I love the work, I consider the landscape). The fact is that in the first case we have an ontological emphasis on the complement: in meaning it is also the subject, there are two ontological centers, two nouns in the proper sense of the word. On the contrary, in the second example the complement is devoid of this ontological emphasis and, in essence, represents an additional color of the subject (like gray-yellow, blue-red, etc.): love-work, see-landscape. This is a specification of the verb, a particular meaning of a general concept, and this is felt in the roughness of the meaning that is felt when a phrase is grammatically flawlessly changed into a passive phrase. And such a distinction can always, although with varying clarity, be established in a direct object: it refers either to the subject or to the predicate. Sometimes this ontological emphasis is not even associated with the word, but with the meaning given by the indicative gesture: I love work can mean in one case: I am hardworking (predicate), and in another: I love my, this work (“my long-term work is finished” 154). A noun in a predicative meaning, being a noun in form, actually has the meaning of an adjective or verb, just as it was in the definition. Here the idea, the meaning of a given word, is powerful, but not its ontological meaning. The same can be said regarding indirect additions - there is no fundamental difference between direct and indirect. Let's take two simple examples: I walked with my father (= my father and I walked), I walked absent-mindedly (= absentmindedly), I walked through the forest - I walked through this forest; I walked in the evening, at two o’clock, deep in thought, etc. In the same way, verbal words with additions: worship of idols (= idolatry) - worship of these idols, in this chapel; love for a person (philanthropy) - love for a person - this and below. Any addition, not always with sufficient clarity, can be tested in relation to its noun or verb and adjective, and then classified as subject or predicative. A general rule can be established that if the complement does not have an ontological emphasis (“what is being said”), then it is part of the predicate, and the general duality of the spheres of subject and predicate is not violated by this. Let us examine, as an example, the first prose poem that came to hand by I.S. Turgenev “Necessitas – vis – libertas” 155. The title, despite the grammatical form of nouns, is undoubtedly predicative, or more precisely, corresponds to the indeterminacy of the root language. (Ontological accents corresponding to the noun and entry into the domain of the subject are marked by discharge.) “A tall, bony old woman with an iron face and a motionless, dull look walks with long steps and with a dry hand like a stick pushes another woman in front of her. (In this long phrase, replete with nouns, only two really have this meaning: old woman and woman, all the rest can be replaced by adjectives or adverbs, that is, they are verbal definitions.) This woman is of enormous height, powerful, plump, with muscles like Hercules, with a tiny head on a bull’s neck - and blind - in turn pushes a small, thin girl. (In this phrase also, with the abundance of grams, nouns, there are only two: woman and girl - they are such; all the rest are adjectives or adverbs.) This one girl has seeing eyes; she resists, turns back, raises her thin, beautiful hands; her animated face expresses impatience and courage... (Again, with a very significant accumulation of nouns, fullness belongs to only two: the girl and the face, and the pronoun she. It is characteristic that the direct object, which formally can be turned into a subject, although this will be a deformation of the meaning, does not have the meaning of the noun, but the verb color: raises thin, beautiful hands - this can be combined into one verb.) She does not want to obey, she doesn’t want to go where she’s being pushed... And yet, she must obey and go. Necessitas, vis, libertas. Let anyone translate.” This random example shows how, in essence, the number of cases is small when the grammatical forms of nouns are taken in all their fullness, not being just a means of description, colorful strokes that have meaning only in the ensemble. Grammar, along with the indirect object, also distinguishes “circumstance” as a special part of the sentence - place, time, manner of action, reason and purpose, and we also have an analogue of these “circumstances” in some cases (see above). The only indisputable “circumstance” is an adverb (Kudryavsky, ts. p. 119) and also a gerund – a verbal adverb. All other circumstances in meaning can be considered as an indirect addition. However, this grammatical distinction, as well as its controversial nature, is not important for this issue. It is indisputable that everything that is valid regarding the indirect object also applies to the circumstance consisting of a noun in the indirect case with or without a preposition. Ontological emphasis may be absent or present here, the noun can be full-fledged, or be a semantic assignment. Let's take the simplest examples. A) Circumstance of the place: a tailor from Moscow charges inexpensively; from Moscow I moved to Tver. I walked through the field - I came through our field. Go along the road of honor - go along the Moscow highway, etc. (Italics indicate ontological accents). C) Circumstances of the time: In 1919 A.D. I am writing these lines, on the night of R.X. a star appeared in the east. During an eclipse of the sun there is general anxiety - during the eclipse of the sun an old man came, etc. C) Circumstances of the action: I shouted with a cry - with my cry I gathered the people; I achieved my goal through a deliberate course of action - it is by this method that scientific results are achieved. D) Circumstances of the cause: due to illness I had to leave school - due to the death of my father I had to leave school, etc. As for adverbs, their belonging to the verbal and predicative categories is beyond doubt. But all circumstances either contain an ontological core, one way or another perceptible, whether due to the construction of the phrase, or logical stress, or content, and in this case, as well as in the indirect object, here we have the domain of the subject, the extended subject; or they are common adverbs and are often referred to and replaced by them. Thus, the entire syntax of a simple sentence comes down to the distinction and division of two functions - the subject and the predicate. Complex sentences, main and subordinate clauses with their different types corresponding to parts of the sentence (additional, relative, adverbial) do not introduce anything new here either. On the contrary, their articulation concerns only the syntax of the sentence, i.e. the structure of speech from the perspective of the relationship of its already organized parts, such as sentences. In this case, such special cases are possible, of course, when the definition is decomposed into a relative sentence, turns into it, and the nature of the predicability of the definition and the name of the adjective appears with all clarity: for example, a kind person = a person who is kind; who did it = the one who did it, etc. Likewise, in “complementary” sentences the specific weight of individual elements of the complement appears more clearly: I see the kindness of this person (ontological emphasis on the subject and the definition of the complement) = I see that this person is kind; I heard about N's murder. N.’a by a soldier = I heard that N. N. was killed by a soldier = that a soldier killed N. N.’a. Likewise, adverbial sentences: when the anthem was sung, we entered the city = when the anthem was sung, we entered the city, etc. In other cases, subordinate clauses are only a way of connecting separate and completely independent thoughts, which have many different semantic connections among themselves and therefore can be connected at different points and in different ways. They can also stand as completely independent sentences, connected by conjunctions, or even without them at all. In a similar way, each period, in essence, can be divided into independent parts, and the vast canvas is divided into several separate studies. This is rather a question of style, artistic modeling, in which the role of colors is no longer played by words or parts of speech or sentences, but by entire phrases and thoughts with their tints and shades. Whatever the nature of this art of speech (about which below), it does not add anything special to our present question. Our general point of view remains in force that speech consists of a noun and a predicate, it comes down to the simplest formula A IS B, more precisely, a pronominal something is B. In other words, speech comes down to naming, carried out in complex, dissected and richly organized forms, but all this richness and splendor of decoration does not obscure or cancel the unity of the function, and this function is, we repeat, NAMING. III. Toward the Philosophy of Grammar 1. Grammar and epistemology. 2. Grammar and logic. 3. Kant and language The greatest one-sidedness of all Kant's epistemological constructions lies in the fact that he ignored language and completely did not notice grammar 156. But at the same time, of course, he has not freed himself from dependence on it; he always stands on the basis of grammar and actually uses it, however, unconsciously, blindly, and therefore dogmatically. Kant's critical knife did not reach that deepest layer of thought, which is language; it opened only the external, superficial and derivative layers. You cannot free yourself from the power of language and the influence of grammar. This would mean making thought free from language, transcendental to the word. But this is impossible, because thought is born in the word and is inseparable from it; there is no wordless thought. Here we can say, parodying Locke and the sensualists: nihil est in intellectu, quod non fuerit... in verbo, as well as vice versa: nihil est in verbo, quod non potest esse in intellectu 157. And this very opposition or distinction between verbum and intellectus can only be in abstraction, for the power of the word, speech is also the power of thought. What can be established by epistemological or logical analysis regarding the conditions or content of thought must also be found and shown when thought is realized in words, in language. Language practically carries out by its means the tasks of logic and epistemology. He is these latter in action, in actu. And just as thinking, by its nature, exists before any analysis or self-analysis of thought, before logic, epistemology, philosophy, it is a prius and basis for it, so in language we must find all these elements of thought in actual implementation, in concreto. For logic, epistemology, philosophy, for their purposes - and not only for the presentation of thought, but, what is much more important, at its birth - already rely on language, use grammar, see through its lenses. And it was this, although transparent, but at the same time unique, refracting environment that Kant did not notice when he began to look for the primary elements of thought, its roots, when he began to strive to overcome all prerequisites, to the voraussetzungsloser Gedanke 158, as to the beacon to which he led all neo-Kantianism. He did not notice during this exposure, during the removal of the veils of thought, that which had necessarily grown together with it - and envelops thought on all sides - language, grammar. Historically, Kant’s guilt has many mitigating circumstances in the fact that comparative linguistics in his time was just barely born and the opportunity it provided to see the veil of language was absent then. (These mitigating circumstances, however, no longer exist in Hegel, or especially in all of the newest and contemporary neo-Kantianism, which is directly obliged to account to the element of language in its pursuit of Voraussetzungslosigkeit 159, for without this it is in dogmatic captivity of language.) The absence of a “criticism of language” in the criticism of pure reason makes it completely helpless, and it would be possible to make a grammatical commentary on the works Kant and clearly show both Kant's actual dependence on language and the vagueness of his thought due to the absence of this analysis 160. We make this remark for future Kantians. So, language, by its means, fulfills the needs of thought, and in this sense, grammar - in both of its conventionally distinguished parts, etymology and syntax - is specific epistemology and specific logic. Epistemological and logical requirements are unchanging and universal; this corresponds to their formal nature, as we recognize it in abstraction. On the contrary, language is diverse, and its grammatical properties, both in grammar and syntax, are changeable and different. One way to get by is an isolating language, which does not have inflectional declension and conjugation; another way is to use an inflected language. But even here, within inflected adverbs, there are large differences in declension (by gender, number of cases), and in conjugation (by the number of forms of tenses and types), and by “parts of speech.” Partly, this difference is due to the different age and development of the language, and partly to its natural properties, which may or may not be subject to further explanation, but, in any case, presuppose their mutual equivalence. In other words, different languages, each with their own means, satisfy the tasks that are posed to them by thought, contain the same epistemological scheme, and give room to the same requirements of logic. The Critique of Pure Reason can be translated into different languages. For our task, it is not at all necessary to analyze these individual properties of languages, but it is enough to indicate the general connection between the requests of epistemology and the answers of grammar, to look at grammar, as well as at specific epistemology 161. Our guide will be the properties of Greco-Latin grammar, to which some of the modern European languages ​​(like Russian and Slavic languages ​​in general, Italian or German) more or less approach, or from which others (French or English) more or less move away, however, as from their prototype. Let's start with what Kant calls “transcendental aesthetics,” which explores time and space as forms of experience and “pure vision” (reine Anschauung). One may not at all share Kant’s general philosophical views in general, and on time and space in particular, and nevertheless recognize with him that both, whatever their nature in themselves, constitute the universal form of our sensory experience and internal comprehension. Spatiality is a general property of all sensory experience, our “external” (in relation to the internal processes of consciousness) world, temporality is the same property of not only the external, but also the internal world. This is an integral quality of everything we know. From the point of view of language, as shown above, cognition occurring in judgments is reduced to naming. The latter is supported by the ontologically logical connective is, present or implied or hidden in verbs; as such it has only one significance, “gilt”, without relation to space and time: the leaf is green, the sea is noisy and under. Kant distinguishes here the judgment of perception (Wahmehmungsurteil) from the judgment of experience (Erfahrungsurteil). Both 162 have an empirical character, come from experience, but the first is a purely subjective statement of a given state of feelings, while the second has a universally binding nature of necessity, the subject is connected with the predicate by the concept a priori, a causal connection. This initial distinction, which is, however, of decisive importance for Kant, fatally reveals his neglect of language. Judgment: it’s hot here, or: the room is warm, even simple: boring, fun - for him they are entirely subjective in nature (Wahmehmungsurteile). However, even for him the question should arise about how the subjective can become objective, i.e. universal, universally known through language? After all, as long as I experience boredom, it remains as my subjective state, as psychologism. But from the moment I publicly said or wrote: I’m bored, my subjective state received the force of a fact, forcibly entered into all consciousness, and became its ideal content. Kant sees the decisive feature in the category a priori, in particular, in the category of causality. But the difficulty of the question is not at all: why “I’m sad” is Wahmehmungsurteil, and “I’m sad because I love you,” squaring this subjectivity, will be Erfahrungsurteil, which, unlike the first, has Allgemeingiltigkeit 163. Obviously, the difference in which Kant sees the decisive sign of objectivity, namely, the connection of necessity, the category of causality, already relates to the particulars of content, can be established by criticism of this judgment from the side of content, and not by formal categories, not epistemologically. The epistemological question here could lie not where Kant sees it - in the difference of judgments in content, but in the very possibility of Wahmehmungsurteile, for as Urteile they are still distinguished by some kind of objectivity, can be communicated, become the content of universal consciousness no less than the most “experimental judgment” of science. This is where it turns out that Kant sees the primary element of thought in the wrong place: he looks for it in a category, and a huge, indefinite number of judgments, or thoughts, remains outside his categories and, therefore, outside thinking, and the difficulty of the question lies in the possibility of any judgment in general, whatever its scientific value. Kant first poses the question: wie ist die Erfahrung möglich? 164 - and here he substitutes a complex, controversial, imprecise definition, where each element raises doubts and the question: how are synthetic judgments a priori possible? Meanwhile, one would have to ask oneself in advance: how is any judgment possible, what is the power of a judgment - it is also a proposal - which, as a ready-made and already understandable without further analysis, lies at the basis of all knowledge? What is the power of a judgment or a grammatical sentence, what is the naming that occurs in each judgment? Kant passed by this basic and decisive question without noticing the problem here, as a result of which all his further problematics acquired a perverted character. In particular, this applies to the contrast between Wahmehmungs and Erfahrungsurteile. Kant here was carried away by the different content of judgments, of which one speaks about a state, the other about things, but he did not take into account that every state, even the most subjective one, which is described in words, clothed in a judgment, is already a thought, a significance, in its own way as solid as any Erfahrungsurteil. Allgemeingiltkeit for thought, knowledge does not consist at all in the category a priori, which Kant stretches at all costs, but in the word, for the word has significance, it is not a “concept”, beyond which Kant does not know, but that which is higher, for more real, concepts, idea. I say: "boring." Thus, I carry out the act of thought-knowledge in a judgment-sentence, for in reality I say: “I am bored.” Between the ontological point I, firmer than which nothing can be for thought (even for Kant), an immutable connection is established, agglutinating the idea of ​​boredom to this subject. In the judgment “boring”, no matter how poor or pitiful it may be in content (this is a different question), immutable connections are made, the same power of thought, judgment, naming is revealed, as in a judgment containing Newton’s laws. Kant does not notice and does not accept this, and therefore must look for the objective foundations of thought in its further secondary and derivative qualifications, which are the categories. So, in judgment 165 there is an element that is not only timeless and spaceless, but generally represents pure mentality. This is a copula, is, predicative; and there is an element that is unconditionally concrete and objective, this is the subject, the ontological center. On the contrary, in the predicate there is room for concretization in the sense of Kant’s “transcendental aesthetics.” Spatiality and temporality are the most general definitions of existence, and space and time are our contemplations, which color all our thought and cognition. And we cannot doubt that in the language that realizes our concrete thought, we will find an elaborate and developed form for expressing both. And, indeed, language has the richest means for expressing spatiality and temporality in their different shades: for this it has declension and conjugation as the main means; to this are also added, as auxiliary parts, various parts of speech: a preposition, this is verbal magic that imposes the stamp of place and time on both the noun and the verb, adverb, adjective. The means of language, in general, are twofold here: on the one hand, it has more or less extensive reserves of words that express the meaning of space and time in different senses, but on the other hand, it has formal means in the form of inflections or generally “semantic units” with which it can give the characteristic of space or temporality to any modified word, and this is of particular fundamental interest. This is precisely the role that declination and conjugation play with some of their tones. We must agree in advance that their epistemological functions, as will partly become clear below, are even broader than those indicated, but, among others, they serve these needs of “transcendental aesthetics.” Through them, spatiality and temporality, consciously or unconsciously, permeate all of our speech and thought, so much so that we cannot think about them, we cannot free ourselves from them, even if we want, etc. language is more powerful than our efforts at abstraction, and where we want to eliminate all concreteness and achieve the greatest “purity,” language laughs at us (and, of course, deservedly so). Case (casus, πρῶσις), according to the usual definition, indicates the relationship of an object to an action, to another object, etc. This formal, and, of course, meaningless definition only testifies to the complexity, vastness, and at the same time the extraordinary content and significance of mental and verbal wealth, sometimes downright luxury, which we have in this all-familiar and rather boring declination back in school. Due to familiarity, we have ceased to notice what a miracle of thought we have here in terms of subtlety and richness. Among these shades we have here, however, not in all languages ​​in a separate form, a special local case, which in the early state of the Indo-Germanic languages ​​even developed into a whole series of local cases: casus - a blativus, e lativus, i l lativus, a d essivus, super essivus, in essivus, pro secutivus. Not all languages ​​have these cases, but in this case they are replaced by local prepositions, which can express, in conjunction with a noun in the corresponding case, any shade of spatiality. Any being expressed in a noun can be projected on the screen of spatiality in any combination. Of course, in fact, not all languages ​​are equally developed and flexible for this purpose and use equally simple means. However, in general, we can say that with the help of case inflection and preposition all possible shades of spatiality can be expressed. Thought becomes spatial. That for which Kant invented clumsy and highly dubious “schemes of pure understanding”, which he fussed about with this “schematism,” language with the brilliant fidelity of instinct resolves - in declension (for the use of local and other prepositions refers in a broad sense to declension - and, in fact, in languages “analytical” or inflected according to this type, like French and English, the inflectional declension is replaced by the use prepositions or, what is the same, the preposition plays the role of inflection). One can consider prepositions as irregular inflections, which differ only from ordinary ones in that they also have an independent, although, however, also very incomplete existence. Prepositions give different shades of spatiality not only to nouns or adjectives, generally inflected parts of speech, but also to verbs - as prefixes. Here the role of prepositions for expressing spatiality in its own way is as great as in declension. It would be extremely instructive to subject to such epistemological-grammatical analysis, at least for any one language, the means for expressing “circumstances of place” or spatiality - what wonderful riches would open up before the mental gaze. The most important thing is that this wealth is such thunderous evidence regarding the spatial coloring of our thought (which, of course, has been noticed since ancient times), that one only needs to skillfully decipher these indications of a specific epistemology - grammar. Along with the spatiality of grammar, temporality is no less fully expressed in its various shades. Again, here, as in previous cases, in addition to words of special meaning expressing different concepts of time, the language has typical semantic means in the same declension, especially conjugation. As for the first, although there is no special temporal case here, as there is a local one, almost all indirect cases can be used to express “circumstances of time,” according to the case, both without a preposition and especially with a preposition. The role of the preposition in expressing temporality using cases is no less, if not greater, than in expressing spatiality. Spatiality and temporality are largely equated and merged as measures of the magnitude of one or two or three dimensions. However, the most original means of expressing temporality, permeating all our speech and thought, is the verbal conjugation with its “times” or “types”. At different times, both are equivalent to each other: different “types” in a certain ratio express the shades of temporality as successfully as “times” in the proper sense of the word. It is known that conjugation represents the greatest differences in different languages, both in the abundance of tense and aspectual forms, and in the richness of shades, and in the way of their grammatical expression - through inflection, an auxiliary verb, changes in vocalization, and various morphological features. It is enough here to compare, for example, the richness of the forms of the Greek verb and the business scarcity of English, the Latin conjugation at all times and the Hebrew with its rich forms, etc. But this diversity, which could constitute a worthy topic of philosophical curiosity in a monographic study, does not change the basic, fundamentally important fact: through verbal conjugation, temporality is realized by the word, which is internally and inherently introduced into the predicate. Every predicate expressed through a verb is already colored by time, qualified by temporality. Like any connective, the “auxiliary” verb, whatever it may be, in this respect is a verb, i.e. conjugates and, therefore, certainly takes on some temporary or specific form. This leads to a very important conclusion: the predicate always has the quality of temporality and is time-oriented. True, sometimes this qualification is neutralized - most often for this neutralization the “present” tense is used, which means not only time, but also the absence of thought about time (just as the nominative case means not only a definite case, but also the absence of a case). These are, for example, all the definitions: a straight line is the shortest distance between two points, God is the creator of the world and so on. However, grammatically, here too we have the form of time, which is, as it were, suspended, weakened in its action, but can always be introduced. This distinction leads to one very important idea, which we have already come across in a previous study, this is about the nature of the connective “is”. The fact is that being a grammatical verb and sharing its destinies and all its forms, the connective is and tense. Meanwhile, the function of naming, connecting, agglutination, which is expressed in it, is not subject to the qualification of time, it has gilt 166 significance, in a certain sense, timeless or timeless, like me. And if I say to myself: I am, I was, I will be, in the sense of shades of time, then in essence I say about myself: I am the former, the present, the future, i.e. temporary states are, as it were, separated into its core: I am supertemporal. In the same way, the copula is, which constitutes the glue for every predicate - verbal as well as non-verbal - does not contain time, and expression must be entirely attributed to the predicate. Therefore, I was means: I am the former; I will mean: I am the future; I did means: I am the one who did, etc. And therefore such sayings as God is good and under. do not have the qualification of time in their connective, if it is not directly and definitely expressed in the predicate. It is therefore necessary to more accurately determine the limits of temporality in language, not only its volume, but also its boundaries. It is remarkable that Kant, having made transcendental aesthetics the foundation of his entire epistemology and squeezed all cognitive categories into the schemes of space and time, mainly the latter, does not notice at all that he is passing by the very fundamental basis of knowledge, from which he himself starts, namely, judgments or propositions. Alien in general to the analysis of words, he provides a highly dogmatic equipment for his criticism. For his initial question is: how are synthetic judgments a priori possible? This question, in which there are as many as three unknowns: synthetic - x, judgments - y, a priori - z, is considered as consisting of certain elements. Meanwhile, the main question of Kant, as of any epistemology, would be: how are judgments possible, or, translated in the language of our research, how are propositions and naming possible? This weakness of Kant was noticed in his school (in the transcendental normativism of Windelband - Rickert), but the error was not corrected 167 . Instead of exploring the relationship of all further teaching about knowledge to this basic function of judgment, Kant, further forgetting his original beginning, squeezes all categories into temporality, using for this the “schematism of pure understanding.” Here, in the final analysis, all categories turn out to be a function of time: quantity, quality, relationship, modality. Kant wanted to define with them all kinds of judgments and formally exhaust the entire field of experience. He obviously silently introduced into the very core of the judgment, from which, we repeat, he proceeded, but did not explore it, pure contemplation of time and space, that is, according to his definition, forms of sensibility. Thus, Kant, who fought against sensationalism, is the purest sensualist in knowledge, but in the most subtle and, of course, poisonous sense, not through the content of sensory experience, but through its form. He strives to pass all thinking through the forms of sensibility, the consequence of which is universal phenomenalism or malicious positivism, while in reality thought and speech (which are the same thing) contain temporality and sensibility in general, giving it a place, but is not encompassed or exhausted by it, and therefore is not determined. Whatever the “legislation of reason” pleased, Kant smuggled in for his criticism the entire power of judgment—naming—and then phenomenalized it. Meanwhile - and this is the whole point - the initial, basic, exhaustive form of our thought - judgment - proposal - naming - is free from both spatiality and temporality, it is a timeless and extrasensory act, reproducing in infinite reflection the eternal birth of the Word and words. This crosses out Kant’s entire epistemology in his own work: the forms of “transcendental aesthetics” themselves only receive a place in consciousness and judgment, but do not determine it. And in this exclusive permeation of all knowledge by the forms of pure insight, on which all categories of knowledge are built and deduced, lies the entire essence of Kant’s teaching. All his efforts, all his energy comes down to tying together all the categories of knowledge and tying them to forms of space and time, “subjective” categories, and thereby subjectivize and relativize them. The dream is terrible (and it is, indeed, terrible), but God is merciful. The naming-judgment - the connective is - is not subject to time and therefore can precisely accept the predicate of temporality, enters into time. So, returning to the question of the nature of the copula, we must once again emphasize that although it, like any form, has a temporary form, this form does not express time here. In some cases, when the ligament descends, this appears with complete clarity. For example, two and two are four. Where time is actually introduced into a judgment, it belongs not to the connective, but to the predicate, although, due to the property of economy of means in language, it merges with the connective, so that its timeless, purely agglutinating character is obscured by the specific properties of the predicate. Therefore, temporality is introduced into the predicate and has a limited character, just like spatiality. The latter is not even in doubt, because the content of the judgment may have a completely extra-spatial character. The most important consequence of this is that judgment is at its core, i.e. in the naming itself, in the combination of the subject and the predicate, - free from time, although we can put it in temporality and consider it that way. Hence the duality of consideration: eidetic and psychological. The same can be added regarding the subject - a noun or pronoun: although it, as was indicated, contains a mystical gesture indicating the existence of an object in the world, in its mystical space, this does not at all imply empirical spatiality. Even if it means a direct place, for example. Moscow, the special content associated with place, with spatiality, belongs to the original predicate that was included in the name and identified with it. But Moscow, as a noun and subject, is first of all something that exists in the world, regardless of place and time, and then receives this qualification. Just as in the predicate the timeless element is expressed in a pure connective, so in the subject the timeless and spaceless element is expressed in its pure noun, associated with the pronoun, this demonstrative gesture. So, in language, in speech and thought, spatiality and temporality are expressed in the predicative function as its well-known coloring or quality. Therefore, they have their own limit, they are a special case of this predicativeness, its qualification, but they by no means constitute a universal form of knowledge, a frame for any thought. Kant is wrong about language, just as he is wrong about thought and knowledge. If he had listened here to the evidence of the thought-word itself, he would not have taken as the starting point of his construction the intuitions of time and space as the most universal form of knowledge, for it is not at all universal, but he would have taken the analysis of predicativity or sentence, naming. Then he would be freed from a whole series of problems and difficulties that arise along this path. Thanks to the idealistic sensationalism of Kant, who placed transcendental aesthetics at the basis of the theory of knowledge, a unique and very characteristic problem arose before him, the solution of which he sees in the “schematism of pure reason.” The question is that knowledge for Kant, on the one hand, is accomplished by the use of categories of reason (purely mental syntheses and logical acts), and, on the other hand, all of it is permeated with pure insight, spatiality and temporality. Therefore, it is necessary to build a bridge between reason and pure vision, to bind them tightly so that the act of knowledge is possible. Kant solves the problem in his “schematism” by the method of repeated investment: first he invests the categories of the understanding, and the appearance of investment is obtained. This part of Kant’s teaching is the most important and, it must be said, decisive, because if this investment operation fails, then everything will fall apart. But it is also the weakest part of his reasoning, where everything is a stretch. For the connection between sensuality and reason, “schemes” are invented, for which time serves as the material. It differs in duration, i.e. (?!) number; content, i.e. (!) quality; order, i.e. (!) attitude. Possibility, reality and necessity are squeezed in here under the sauce of time. In this way all the necessary categories are placed, and “transcendental idealism” triumphs. Reason is declared to be the legislator of nature, and criticism of pure reason is a law for the legislator. Everything here is strained and arbitrary: it would be possible, for example, to turn this same reasoning around, basing the schemes not on time, but on space: it would, perhaps, not be so convenient, but no less convincing. These schemes are, of course, self-deception; they themselves need explanation. Even if they are described with genuine truth, then knowledge is not grounded in them, as Kant says, but in them knowledge is only expressed and realized, the synthetic unity of which remains a problem. Meanwhile, it is maliciously denied by Kant, who is completely satisfied with his schemes and then declares the sum of these schemes to be the legislation of reason and nature. The synthetic unity of knowledge, in which various possibilities are embedded and given, in particular for Kant’s schemes, which by no means have such an indisputable and indisputable meaning, is established by naming, predication, and proposition. At the same time, predication itself is free from spatiality and from temporality, and from all categoricalities, and yet, it is so flexible and capacious that it gives room to all of them. The Kantian problem of schematism as sensationalism simply disappears at all costs, because both time and space, for all their importance in the field of sensory experience, for thought are also only categories along with others, to which language gives a place. It is not difficult to see how all Kant’s categories are provided for by language and how the legislator of reason actually followed grammar, the “criticism” of which, as a real instrument of thought, he should have given, if he was so overwhelmed by critical fervor. Kant distinguishes four forms of judgment expressed in a predicate (here, unbeknownst to himself, he immediately moves into the realm of grammar). The first case is when the predicate expresses the volume of the subject, and the latter can be under its predicate either as a single instance, or as part of a genus (?), or as a whole genus, hence the three categories of quantity: unity, plurality and universality. It is absolutely clear that the second category, due to its complete obscurity, has, as they say, got into the wrong place and only confuses the third, which for some reason received universality as a measure of volume (!?). In fact, here we are talking about the singular and the plural (here one could also add the dual and for this, with the generosity characteristic of Kant, give the category of duality). The genius of language in number places a truly general category of singularity or plurality in the subject. A special inflection, a semantic unit, expresses this category of quantity when applied not only to the subject in relation to the predicate, but also to any part of the sentence. Everything has a number, and sometimes it is passive, and then the singular (and in some cases the plural) only means the lack of application of this category, its neutrality, although not impotence. There is no opposition or exclusivity between the singular and the plural; on the contrary, the singular can express a known plurality (people, crowd, multitude), and the plural often expresses unity (glasses, gates, etc.). There are complex relationships between the singular and the plural in grammar, with one changing into the other and sometimes not being present at all. The plural can have a double meaning: firstly, a bad set, obtained by adding - and (fused sentence), and, secondly, an organized set, totality and wholeness. The grammatical plural expresses both. So, for example, in a continuous sentence, all its members are in the plural: both brothers; Peter-Andrey; nice guys and so on. However, it usually does not mean many, but plurality, and the dual nature of this plurality: one in many or many in one, surprisingly shines through thanks to the flexibility of language, in various transitions from one number to another. This subject deserves the attention of philosophical profundity. Returning to Kant, we can say that here he only said what is contained in formal grammar, and did not add anything other than the appearance of profundity. Meanwhile, this is where it is interesting how the category of number comes to life. It should be added that this category too—for some reason Kant turned out to be right—belongs to predicativity. This apparently contradicts the fact that numbers have all the changeable parts of a sentence, and first of all a subject that controls it and establishes agreement. However, this does not mean anything for the solution of this question: the subject, as we have already established, already contains the predicate in its name, and in it, along with it, the number is given. The grammatical category of number must be sufficiently flexible and transparent so as not to obscure anything, when in fact we are not talking about a number at all, and it is remembered only for the sake of order. In other words, although the grammatical form of number, at least in inflecting verbs, is invariably present (however, its absence in isolating verbs is no less expressive, where it therefore has a special expression), we can say that the judgment-sentence, i.e. naming only gives place to the category of number, the predicate of number or quantity, but is in no way connected with it, is not imbued with it, is free from it as well as from the forms of pure insight, to which number can be classified in the intellectual field. The connotation of the number may or may not be in the naming; it, as a universal and fundamental form in its being, does not depend on that. And it goes without saying that the “scheme of pure reason”, added here by Kant, is of no use here. The next distinction, introduced here in the footsteps of school logic by Kant, relates to the content of a judgment, which can be affirmed, denied, limited (in the so-called infinite judgment: A is not B); hence the categories of “reality” (?!), denial, limitation. (The question is, what does reality have to do with this and what does Kant mean by this name?) It is obvious that this distinction, too, in essence, has nothing to do with the “schematism of pure understanding”, but has a direct relation to judgment and proposition, with the analysis of which our epistemologist should begin, instead of chasing the utilitarian and particular result - the apotheosis of Newton and mathematics through the establishment of “synthetic judgments a priori.” It is obvious that negation, limitation, as well as affirmation belong to the sphere of predicativity. It should be noted that affirmative sentences, which correspond to the imaginary category of reality, invented for this purpose by Kant, do not exist at all as a special type; they are simply a connective, a predicate, a function of predicativity and naming. It is always positive, it cannot be otherwise, and negation or limitation is only a special case of affirmation. A purely negative judgment would be impossible because it would break the connection, destroy the naming, destroy the essence of the judgment, and lead to its absence. In this sense, any negation is a limitation, delimitation, qualification of a judgment, and is generally realized only in a positive context, in connection with and against the background of positive judgments. In terms of meaning, negations have different shades, which are expressed either by the general structure of the phrase or by individual words (as in Greek μή, οὐ, ἀ). In any case, negation comes from a previous or implied positive judgment; it is, as it were, crossing it out. Therefore, it is a function of a positive judgment, its variety, or a special case (as well as an “infinite” judgment, which, due to its uncertainty and incompleteness, plays a transitional or auxiliary role). Language gives place to a negative or restrictive function, localizing negation at certain points of thought where it specifically refers: for this purpose, along with negation, negative pronouns are also used. Of course, negation always refers to a predicate and lies in the sphere of predication. To apply negation to the subject would mean to cross out the very subject of speech and make judgment impossible. Meanwhile, according to Kant, affirmation and negation appear in the “scheme” of quality, namely: filled time - the scheme of affirmation; empty time is a scheme of negation. It should be said, first of all, that “empty time” is a contradictio in adjecto 168, for as a form, all time is empty, and as a content, negation is as complete as affirmation. But the main thing is obvious that both affirmation and negation themselves have nothing to do with time. The next group of categories is associated with the relationship between the subject and the predicate, which is either acquired by the former unconditionally or conditionally, or presumably (separatively). Accordingly, judgments are distinguished between unconditional or indicative (categorical), or conditional (hypothetical), or disjunctive. The categories corresponding to them are: substance, cause, interaction. In the “schematism of pure understanding” this corresponds to “schemas of relation” arising from the order of phenomena (so that their content is pulled by the hair only to the relation of order). These relationships boil down to the fact that either one phenomenon remains, others pass on (substance and accident), or one follows another (cause and effect), or they all exist at the same time (interaction or community). This most important group of categories, to which virtually all of them come down, is striking in its vacuity, and betrayal of the philosophical spirit of grammar is punished most severely here. Kant takes the function of judgment, i.e. an ordinary sentence containing a naming that connects the subject and the predicate, and declares this connection to be a substance, and in “schemes” a substance and an accident. This naming, when applied to a connective, because it is actually what is being discussed, is meaningless and meaningless: the connective is the glue that agglutinates the name to the named. Kant should have said directly that every subject is a substance, and every predicate is an accident, which he does not say; on the contrary, he seeks substantiality in the nature of the relationship between the subject and the predicate, i.e. in a bundle. Further, considering the predicate as an accident in relation to the subject, and the latter as a substance, is again meaningless and radically distorts the very essence of the judgment. From the point of view of logical assessment, the predicate contains constant, essential and accidental characteristics, but the difference between substance and accident is still not given here. Kant, delving into the winding alleys of the Critique, passes by the most essential question. Here the situation is no better than with the deduction of previous “schemes” of relation, where a threefold distinction was established: when one phenomenon remains, others pass - the scheme of substance and accidents; one thing follows another - cause and effect; they all exist at the same time - a pattern of interaction or community. These schemes are bursting at the seams and are no good from the point of view of Kant himself: does the relationship between substance and accident consist in the difference in the duration of the existence of signs, and can’t a random sign also be long-lasting? Is the relation of causality a simple consequence, post hoc ergo propter hoc 169, from which logic warns us? Is simultaneous existence therefore interaction, and what does it mean? This house of cards of schemes does not stand up to criticism. In a similar way, Kant produces the fourth and last group of categories - modalities. Depending on whether the connective of a given judgment means that A can be B, or there is B, or finally, there must be B, judgments are problematic, assertoric and apodictic, to which three categories of modality correspond: possibility, reality, necessity. This in the “schematism of pure understanding” corresponds to: either a phenomenon exists in time sometime (scheme of possibility), or at a certain moment (scheme of reality), or at all times (scheme of necessity). The situation with these schemes is most unfavorable from the point of view of Kant himself: how does the first category - possibilities - differ from the second - reality? Isn’t “someday,” if it really is a moment in time, the same moment in time as a certain point in time? From the point of view of time as such, the differences cannot be discerned here. In the same way, “existence at all times” (besides all the problematic nature of this idea) does not at all characterize necessity, which can be equally inherent in just one moment of time (Kant himself cites a lunar eclipse as a classic example of a pattern, which by no means exists at all times, but only at a certain moment). Kant, as in the previous schemes, mistakenly attributes modality specifically to the connective, while the connective is neutral to any categorical coloring, and that is precisely why it can take on it. Modality also relates entirely to predicability and is expressed by verbosity. Grammatically, modality passes onto the copula and merges with it, both in the case when the auxiliary verb is conjugated, and when the verbal predicate takes the corresponding form (Kant does not seem to notice the latter at all and speaks only about the copula, in which, therefore, he seems to see the main source of modal variability, while the copula, essentially being non-categorical, here becomes a victim of precisely its verbality, takes upon itself by force some verbal attraction of the form of the conjugated verb). The predicate gives place to categoricality, as well as spatiality and temporality, is clothed with it, but is not absorbed by it and does not merge with it, does not dissolve in it, preserving its originality - semantic, verbal agglutination, just as it retains its independence from spatiality and temporality. All Kantian categories are simply qualities of the predicate, its second, and not first definitions, while “schemes” are the fruit of Kant’s unfortunate misunderstanding, due to which he needs to squeeze them into the forms of space and time at all costs - a consequence of his “idealistic sensationalism.” They are of decisive importance for the entire further construction of Kantian philosophy, the fate of which we are not concerned with now, but they represent an annoying obstacle in the study of our question about the epistemological content of grammar. We just have to cross them out. Of course, you can classify categories in different ways, for us here this is not interesting. It is much more important to reveal the epistemological presence of grammar as completely as possible and to see by what means it copes with these needs. And then you can study the sequence of their appearance in language, which is equivalent to studying the history of forms; we can compare the grammars of different languages ​​in this regard (for, according to Gabelenz’s fair expression, die Grammatik eines Volkes ist die bündigste Darstellung seiner Denkgewonheiten 170, – 417), the subject of our attention is the most commonly used forms, in any case characteristic of both ancient and most modern European languages. Let's start with the category of substance, as an abiding and unchanging basis for various predicates. Its philosophical meaning ranges from the concept of a transcendent essence, Ding an sich, or ousia, which is knowable only through phenomena, to the concept of a stable center that resides in the midst of change. Both the broadest and the narrowest, the deepest and the most superficial meaning can be invested in the means that, as we already know, instinct or the genius of language has for this purpose, in the noun, and then in the subject. It is not at all in the connective, not in the relation that we must look for substantiality, but in the noun, in its difference from every meaningful word, from every idea as a possible predicate. The existence of a noun as evidence of the natural philosophy of language precisely makes possible the problem of substance and ousia, stable constancy and deep basis. However, this category itself could not be realized without being developed in the sentence, without turning into the category of the subject in it. The subject is a noun, substance, ἐνεργείᾳ in action. It is possible, applying to the Kantian distinction between categories and schemes as abstract possibilities and concrete forms, to say that the sentence, or more precisely, the connection of the subject with the predicate, gives a scheme of substance. We already know that this scheme, like everything living and concrete, is not simple; there are, on the one hand, grammatical nouns, which in their real meaning and role in the sentence are not real nouns, but adjectives, and there are, on the other hand, parts of the sentence that are not grammatical subjects, but in reality are such. But this applies to particulars and details. What is important is the basic relation, which is that the sentence reveals the scheme of the substance. In this case, what opposes substance on the side of the predicate is not accident at all, as it is meant according to Kant’s scheme, but any manifestation of a being stated by the predicate, i.e. energy, or phenomenal being. In this area of ​​the phenomenal, we further distinguish the permanent and stable from the transitory and accidental, essentiality and accidentality 171. The fact that every sentence is a judgment about at least two ontological dimensions, vertical and horizontal, is the basis, and at the same time the scheme for any philosophizing, in which for the predicate - the phenomenal world, the subject is sought - substance, οὐσια 172. Every philosophical system is in this sense a proposal, of course, more or less developed, or a system of proposals. So, we are convinced that the Critique of Pure Reason, in its essential content, turns out to be an epistemological commentary on grammar, despite the will and knowledge of its author. It could not be otherwise, due to the fact that thought is inseparable from the word and everything that can be found in thought should be sought in the word; all its forms are found here in grammar. Kant was late with his claim to legislation of reason in thought, for the place had already been taken: legislation in thought belongs to grammar. Kant wanted to spy on the birth of thought in order to become its legislator instead of an obstetrician, but he did not notice that he was late: thought had long been born and breathes the air of this world - in a sentence, in grammar. This relationship between different competing areas can be expressed in the following diagram: In our comparative description of Kant’s categories, we have omitted the most important and fundamental doctrine of the “transcendental unity of consciousness,” of the epistemological self, which holds together and connects the elements of knowledge and establishes the unity of the subject and the unity of knowledge. Without this unity, categories and schemes would crumble, falling from their nests, and categorical Bedlam, epistemological delirium would set in. We also find this most important point of Kantian epistemology, its center, in language. Here it occupies its rightful central place, which is where Kant borrowed the idea. This, of course, is the first person pronoun, I, around which speech and thought are oriented, around which it rotates, as if around its axis. If there is a transcendental subject of cognition, then even earlier there is a transcendental subject of speech, i.e. the speaker is also the thinker, in relation to whom every utterance is in a certain sense a predicate, he is also the subject of all speech. Due to the fact that the predicate contains or, more precisely, takes on all sorts of categorical colors, I as a subject is the center or master for all categoricalities, reigns over them, even when it remains invisible. All speech is internally oriented towards the speaker’s self, even if he does not name himself. It is enough to make a test - to deduce from speech and thought, and we will see how everything collapses, it turns out to be a madhouse. The ontological meaning of the self as an existential center, revealing to everyone in internal experience the unconditionality of his being and consciousness, is explained above (its problem is posed in various metaphysical systems such as Fichte). With the help of the I, the internal topography of thought and knowledge, its geometry, “transcendental aesthetics” is determined. I in language not only reigns over thought, extending its power and influence to all its twists, but also has its place as a point on the surface. It is not only the subject of speech, the speaker, but also the first person singular as one of the persons, as a private linguistic form, acting simultaneously both in breadth and depth, both horizontally and vertically. If this were not so, if the transcendental self did not have a correlate - verbal and grammatical expression in the first person singular, Kant could neither think it through nor describe it, and a sensitive lesson would be given to his epistemological arrogance. But, fortunately, the supposed legislator of reason had to submit to the laws of thought and speech itself, and we clearly see that the transcendental unity of consciousness is a function of what is expressed in grammar in the form of the first person singular. The Critique of Pure Reason remains a philosophical commentary on grammar in this particular case. It goes without saying that no matter how languages ​​differ from each other in their structure, this form of the first person singular cannot be absent, no matter in what verbal equivalents it is expressed. It would be instructive to look at the results of a comparative study of the first person singular in different languages. A common feature of Kant's critique of knowledge is the sharp opposition between the a priori and the a posteriori, which distinction sometimes merges with the opposition between sensibility and reason. At the same time, Kant does not sufficiently distinguish between the visual side of the soul, the material of knowledge, which is life in all its fullness and diversity, and thinking and knowledge, in which he is actually interested. “Our knowledge owes its origin to two aspects of the soul: firstly, its ability to perceive ideas (susceptibility to impressions), secondly, the ability to cognize objects through ideas (independent activity of concepts); through the first we are given an object in general (?), through the second it is thought in relation to the mentioned idea (as a simple state of the soul) (?). Representations and concepts, therefore, are the constituent parts of our cognition, so that neither concepts can form knowledge without a corresponding representation, nor representation without a concept. If we call sensibility the receptivity of our soul, which forms ideas as it experiences external influences, then the ability to spontaneously form ideas, or even amateur activity in general, should be called reason” (Crit. pure, diss., trans. Vladislavlev, 52-3. - 2nd part, Transcendental Logic. Introduction, I) 173. This fundamental for Kant and extremely vague distinction between “sensibility” or “representations” (i.e., an elementary cognitive act that has already taken place, but what kind? We don’t find an answer), and “reason” or “concepts”, is of fundamental importance for Kant’s teaching. Dividing the area of ​​knowledge and thinking into two levels, ideas and concepts, he is forced to look for their connections: the inclusion of raw, beyond the threshold of knowledge, standing “representations” in empty forms of “concepts”. To do this, he tries to pack all knowledge into “schemes of pure reason,” which he produces in the required quantity. However, all this construction is insufficient, because it poses the question in general, and not in a specific form of processing of this particular sensory material and concept. (Example: I receive impressions - shapes, colors, touch, etc., they are “synthesized” into a spatial form, which Kant packs into a temporal one, but how exactly a house turns out here, and not a tower, or a hill, the diagrams do not answer this.) Kant, carried away by his formal analysis, the distinction between a priori and a posteriori (and synthetic and analytical judgments), completely did not notice the question of the specific content of thinking, the question of How is knowledge possible or how is judgment possible? How can any judgment of general validity, “objectivity”, be obtained from the raw “subjective” (in Kant’s terminology), psychological mass of “sensibility”? “How is nature possible”? This question, posed by him only from the side of form, can also be posed from the side of content. Any judgment consists not of “representations” corresponding to “subjective”, and therefore not transferable, inexpressible states, but of intelligible, generally valid words, it is a judgement. “I’m bored,” what could be more subjective and formless than this state? But when I speak, I already express it in universally significant words-ideas, clothe it in universal human clothing. And my cognitive act, expressed in this way, stating an incident or state in my psyche, has in its way the same general cosmic significance as the fact that the entire solar system tends in the direction of the star α Vega (Kant could refer to the fact that there is no category of causality here, but it can also be added: “I am sad because I love you”). Kant did not notice here, as throughout his entire analysis, that between the “representation” or “sensibility” and the “concept” of reason, or knowledge, stands the word with its nature. Consequently, the critique of knowledge would have to focus on the analysis of this medium of thought (so to speak), which alone creates a bridge over the abyss between sensory representations and categorical concepts. Kant wanted to overcome the latter with his cardboard “scheme”. Inside knowledge, according to Kant, there is a gap, “pure reason” falls apart, etc. sensuality and categories are foreign. “Reason” becomes impossible; it is doomed to remain with empty categories, like a mill without grinding. Indeed, the bridge between “sensibility” in the most general sense, i.e. the whole mass of what is experienced, and between thoughts is created only by words. The ideological, ideal, conceivable content of experience stands out and crystallizes in the word. Everything is known and thought only when it can be said in words. The concepts of the mind are words, and the ideas are words, and this verbal connection can be established between words. That is why thought is possible and “mind” is not left without work, because there are words. Kant did not notice any of this. How would the transition from a subjective state to objective knowledge, to judgment be possible if it were not expressed in words, if the most sensory materials were not conceivable as ideas? After all, all knowledge and judgment is a continuous ideation, and that is why, and only because of this, and not at all thanks to the drawers of Kant’s desk or these diagrams of his, and thinking is possible, putting words into categories. In other words, logic and epistemology are possible only because there is grammar. If one rereads Kant's basic definitions from this point of view, one cannot help but be struck by his blindness to words. “Experience consists of views belonging to sensibility, and of judgments, which are exclusively the work of the understanding. But such judgments, which the understanding makes from mere sensory views, are still far from being experienced judgments. They connect perceptions only as they are given in a sensory view, while experimental judgments express the content of experience in general, and not of simple perception, the meaning of which is purely subjective. Consequently, experimental judgment must add something else to sensory perception and its logical connection (after it has become universal through comparison) that defines synthetic judgment as necessary and through this as universal... The result from here is this: the job of the senses is to contemplate, the mind is to think. To think means to combine ideas in consciousness. This connection occurs either only in relation to the subject, or it occurs in general, and then it is necessary and objective. The combination of ideas in consciousness is a judgment. Consequently, thinking is the same as judgment, or the attribution of ideas to judgments in general. Therefore, judgments are either only subjective - when ideas relate to the consciousness of only one subject and are combined in it; or they are objective when ideas are combined in consciousness in general, i.e. necessary” (Kant, Prolegomena, ed. 2, 75–6) 174 . This distinction, extremely important for Kant, exposes all the impotence and emptiness of his criticism. On one side is the idea, on the other is the understanding; on one side of the “connection of ideas” regarding the subject, on the other – “in general” (relative to the object). Not to mention the fact that the questions of what “subject” and “object” are, in this formulation of the question, are undecidable; the fundamental question of how thinking is possible inevitably arises. If thinking is a “connection of ideas in consciousness” (an association of ideas, or what?), then how does it differ from raw sensuality, which also does not flow past consciousness? And if “the combination of ideas in consciousness is a judgment,” then again, how does it differ from non-judgment, from sensuality? What, finally, is a judgment, both logically and grammatically, formally and verbally? These basic, initial and decisive definitions show how Kant did not perceive the very instrument of thought - language, and, completely overwhelmed by the pathos of mathematical natural science with its wordless and qualityless symbolism, ignored the question: how is judgment possible? If he had taken the theory of ideas-words as the basis of epistemology, then obviously its entire internal orientation would have been different and the “schematism of pure reason” simply would not have been needed, but would have been replaced by an epistemological analysis of grammar. Kant, and after him Cohen, was embraced by a deep materialism of quantity (cf. the latter’s doctrine of “pure emergence from infinitely small”, μηδέν, the desire to extinguish being in meonality) 175. A proposal can have a double aspiration: actual-energetic, in which the connective takes on a dynamic character, and contemplative-idealistic, in which the connective is given a static meaning. This is expressed in two kinds of predicate: verb or adjective. Again, speaking in Kantian terms, we can say that in the first case the scheme for the dynamic-energy relationship is the verb, verbal predicate, conjugation, in the second case - the adjective, agreement, inflection. The verbal predicate differs from any other in that it depicts the phenomenal discovery of a substance as its action, not as passive being, its involuntary emission, but as the will to be. And in this case, the appearance of modality is inevitable and quite consistent, which is not a property of the copula in general, as Kant believes, but specifically of the verbal predicate. This corresponds in grammar to voice and partly aspect, but mainly to moods with all their auxiliary particles. Indeed, what else is expressed by the indicative, subjunctive, desirable, imperative moods, which, moreover, vary in shades, types and times, with all the rigor and sophistication of the syntax of a complex sentence, as we have it in classical languages? It goes without saying that shades of modality do not belong to the iron inventory of language, therefore they allow the greatest variations in different languages, where the predominant means for expressing it are in one case moods, in another types, tenses, syntax. Likewise, the interests of not only the verb itself, with its need for modality, but also other parts of the sentence are mixed in: the addition of direct and indirect, various “circumstances”; For the sake of the closest connection with all this, the verb is colored in one way or another. But the most important relation still remains the same: conjugation contains, along with temporality and sometimes spatiality, categories of modality that are absent in declension and agreement, where only a direct connection between the subject and the predicate is established. The verb contains not only a dynamic predicate, therefore inevitably colored in modality (for action cannot be conceived without this certainty), but also the category of causality, and, moreover, not in the static sense of temporal succession, but also in the dynamic, energetic sense. Every active voice of a verb is such causing, states causality, just as the passive voice states causation or the object of causing. Therefore, if where one can really look for “schematism of pure reason”, i.e. the point of coupling of transcendental forms, pure view, on the one hand, and categories, on the other, then these schemes can most naturally be seen in the verb, which combines in its forms quantity, quality, temporality, modality, relation, causality, and with the help of adverbs of place, in addition, spatiality. Kant could have derived almost his entire table of categories from conjugation, although here they are arranged differently than in his presentation, for the living “rhapsody” (in his own expression, applied to the table of categories from Aristotle, Prolegomena, 103) 176 language does not agree with the formal and by no means indisputable arrangement of them in Kant. Kant attributed all categories to a bundle; outside of it he does not know the application of his categories. A language that does not take into account Kant’s prohibitions contains categories not only in conjugation, but also in declension. What really is number if not the category of quantity (and, moreover, in its three Kantian forms: unity, plurality and universality or integrity)? What is the instrumental case if not the category of causality, and other cases - in certain compounds genitive (disjunctive), dative, prepositional - what else if not interaction, but nominative, as we already know, substance? In combination with prepositions, particles, words, different cases are capable of conveying shades of different categories, being so-called “circumstances” or indirect additions and determining place, time, and manner of action. Subordinate clauses expressing different circumstances have the same meaning, i.e. place, time, reason, manner of action, as well as modality - conditional sentences. In life, thought and speech, categories are a multi-branched tree, intertwined with roots and branches, which contains different combinations of categories in their free and whimsical rhapsody, which takes little account of the Procrustean bed of Kant’s table. There is, by the way, one category in this rhapsody that is completely absent from both the table of categories in Aristotle and Kant; Probably the latter would have rejected her, not finding a place for her. This is a category of gender inherent to one degree or another in most languages, which, through coordination, permeates the entire structure of the language. In the category of gender, gender is elevated to this rank, i.e. a sign not of logical universality, but of an actual state. Extension of the gender category to all nouns, i.e. both animate and inanimate, there is an action by analogy and, undoubtedly, a certain abuse. The same abuse is the creation in some languages ​​of the third gender (third gender?) - the neuter, which corresponds to the category “etc.” or “and so on.” and means names that do not fit into both genders. But not to mention the fact that the formal category of gender is not always maintained even in relation to animate names, an indefinite number of inanimate names are assigned not to the neuter gender, but to the other two, and the middle one also includes animate names. Grammatical gender, which represents a certain luxury in language, burdensome for it, like any luxury, testifies in its emergence to the time when everything was animate for a person and had a gender or gender. As a category, gender is indeed a kind of psychologism, the transfer of empirical content into formal categories; in this way it differs from number, time and other categories, and one cannot be offended by Kant that he passed by this category without noticing it; after all, some languages ​​that do not have gender or have it only to a limited extent do the same. This example shows that the relationship between epistemology and grammar does not have such transparency and simplicity that it is possible to directly take each grammatical category as epistemological. This is prevented not only by their intertwining, due to which they must be unraveled and laid out, if not in a strict table, then at least in a free rhapsody, but also by the fact that grammar as a specific epistemology has in its concreteness indecomposable aggregates - historical or actual states of language with general postulates of epistemology. On the one hand, epistemology defines grammar, setting known requirements for it; subjugates it, forcing it to serve its purposes, for, as we know, thought is speech and speech is thought. But, on the other hand, epistemology sometimes faces an intractable, historically and psychologically overly saturated element, which must be overcome in order to achieve its goals by means of it. And we know that one method of masonry is used for brick, another for stone, one when laying on cement, another on clay, etc. Therefore, in fact, it becomes clear that a single epistemology, the same formal postulates of thought are realized in different ways in different grammars of different languages. For we know that grammars are different - etymologies differ, and even more, it seems, syntaxes. Therefore, it would be a mistake to directly take any grammar and turn it into epistemology. Among other things, grammatical elements: declension and conjugation, parts of speech, parts of sentences, etc. - they do not at all take into account formal epistemological categories, do not correspond to them, they are intertwined and confused. And this happens because language has its own historical flesh: in it, as in the human body, all organs should be present, if there are no deformities, but at the same time they all remain individual. Kant, who treated language with such disdain and completely ignored the epistemological problem of grammar, at the same time casually drops the following remark: “it presupposes little thought and understanding to look for in any language the rules of the actual use of words in general and thus collect the elements of grammar, without being able, however, to give a reason why each language has precisely this, and not another formal structure, and even less, why there are exactly so many - no more and no less - of such formal definitions of language" (Prolegomena, 103) 177. This casual thought seems to suggest that there may be an a priori (or philosophical) grammar which can be rationalized through and through, so that every grammatical category and form must have a formal justification. With such an understanding, the tasks of epistemology and grammar (as Kant notes here, although in different expressions) would converge to the point of complete fusion due to complete transparency in their entire composition, not only in their functions, but also in their forms. This would mean, among other things, that grammar can only be uniform for all languages, and the actual diversity of grammar becomes, from this point of view, both nonsense and a mystery. If several people are sent to a certain place and for a certain purpose, they will, of course, each go their own way and, in any case, not repeating one another in all their movements, and nevertheless will do the same thing. It is in this sense that only one can speak about the unity of the function or tasks that epistemology poses to grammar, or, more precisely, that thought resolves through the means of a given language. But in its concrete forms, grammar is not a priori, although it is built from the most transparent material - the word, and not even in the sense of words having specific content, but in the sense of the forms of words. In this concreteness, it is empirically determined by the entire history of the language, its psychology, age, etc. So we can talk about the autonomy of grammar in relation to epistemology, not in the sense of their independence from each other, for such independence does not exist and cannot be, but in the sense of the special nature of this dependence: this is a functional – teleological dependence, in which the unity of the task allows for a variety of ways and means, as well as a difference in the perfection of their resolution. Both the spirit of the language and the genius of the people can be felt here. The grammar of ancient languages ​​in this sense represents the unattainable peak of transparency of epistemology, to which some of the new languages ​​are only approaching in various respects. And it is right when studying a problem to take it in the most acute and transparent formulation. That is why we involuntarily, when speaking about the epistemological nature of grammar and grammars, in fact, most of all we mean this most perfect and minted instrument of thought and speech - the Latin-Greek, and not the Hottentot language. This is understandable and correct because both of these languages ​​gave place to the thought of both Plato and Aristotle, but we have not yet heard of the Hottentot Kant, and it is even permissible to doubt whether his treatises can be translated into this language, although, of course, the development of this language is possible if there is internal strength and need. But, at the same time, even with this concreteness, opacity, and massiveness of grammar, its basic categories and forms are so necessary for any expression of thought, as well as for epistemology, that they are more or less general. These are, first of all, the differences between a noun and a verb on the one hand, a subject and a predicate on the other: thought and speech cannot do without these elements. Almost equally universal are the basic forms of framing and equipment of a sentence: declension and conjugation, numbers, pronouns. In general, much can be taken out of the bracket and put as a general coefficient, both epistemological and grammatical, for all grammars, their a priori. This is the common part in which they are mutually connected and penetrate each other (although it is not easy to actually make this deduction); The area of ​​autonomy of grammar, its “a posteriori” nature, will remain in brackets. Nevertheless, although grammar is not completely transparent for epistemology, its epistemological analysis is in its own way irreplaceable and valuable precisely for epistemological purposes, because here we see before us the function of living thought, an organic process, and not a preparation. And the comparative neglect of this side of grammar, quite understandable from its general direction, testifies to its blindness. It is extremely strange and significant that this question about the relationship between grammar and epistemology has never been raised in its entirety either in philosophical or linguistic literature. Here another question became popular and much discussed - about the relationship of grammar to logic, and it is difficult to imagine greater ambiguity, double meaning and ambiguity than was shown during the discussion of this issue - it is enough to get acquainted with Steinthal's verbose and downright remarkable in its elementary reasoning, which was destined to become decisive on this issue. First of all, what are we talking about: what logic and what grammar? Sometimes this refers to various school disciplines that mutually defend their “autonomy”: grammar does not agree to turn into logic, and the latter into grammar, and a reassuring solution to the question is offered, that this is on its own, and this is on its own. This is what Steinthal's wisdom boils down to. However, we are, of course, least of all talking about disciplines, the fate of which should be decided by the faculty program, but about the essence of the relationship between the tasks of logic and the requirements of language. In a more general form, we have already considered the question of the relationship between the nature of thought and word and will continue to consider it; here we have a narrower question: the relationship between the requirements of logic and grammar. A significant part of the reasoning on this topic relates not to logic, but to epistemology. As for formal logic, the question is much simpler and clearer. The fact is that formal logic examines different forms of judgment and inference and, analyzing them, establishes their types or immanent norms, to the extent that it is normative. At the same time, its “laws”, under whose unlimited power grammar is so afraid to fall, i.e. those inexorable demands that it places on every thought, if it does not want to internally decay from contradiction, are not positive, but negative, prohibitive in nature. Logic is in this respect similar to the Socratic demon, who always only prohibits, but never commands, or, in a more vulgar comparison, the police, who intervene only in cases of violation of public decency, leaving one to live according to one's will in everything else. When they talk about the “laws” of logic, they imagine that it teaches one to think and express one’s thoughts in words, while it only monitors order and eliminates only its obvious violations. This, in essence, boils down to the teaching of logic about syllogism, which is nothing more than a chain of judgments or names, their comparison and convergence in a positive or negative sense. The theory of syllogism is the analytically derived rules of inference. It is unlikely, however, that language, for the sake of evidence of its autonomy, can ignore the requirements of logic to such an extent as is allowed in some unsuccessful examples. Likewise, logic will not allow itself, in the name of autonomy, to show its tongue to grammar (otherwise due to sincere illiteracy, i.e. due to lack of command of the language, due to the powerlessness or lack of power of the word), as is assumed in the same reasoning. In general, the question of the relationship between logic and grammar does not at all have the urgency that is usually attributed to it due to the fact that a truly complex and difficult question about the epistemological content of grammar is actually introduced here. The question of logic and grammar does not even have a content independent of it; it is resolved in the same sense as this general question. If grammar is a concrete epistemology, then it is also a concrete logic. It must, by means of a given language, determined by its entire historical, psychological, cultural status, perform the function of expressing thought, and, consequently, the requirements of logic, both positive and prohibitive, especially the latter. Logic is an internal norm for thought, i.e. for what is the content of speech, with which it is inseparably fused. But at the same time, these very requirements, especially negative ones, are not such as to prescribe an imperative course of action, dictate the rules of speech, i.e. become a grammar. After all, logic does not teach thinking, as others naively think, but only warns against formal errors. It is powerless to give positive instructions, just like epistemology. Grammar in this sense is inevitably under the control of logic, as is the content of thought; In the name of autonomy, grammar cannot allow meaningless, illogical combinations, and only abstractly, in the name of the same specter of independence, can the rights of grammar to nonsense be defended. Formally using grammatical sentence forms, we can say, for example: this fried ice is hot. It will be a sentence in form, but it is not a sentence, because the latter is not only form, but also content, and here the form obviously belongs to a madhouse or the inventory of the profundity of a philosophizing linguist 179 . And autonomy does not consist at all in this imaginary independence of form from content, which in fact does not exist at all, and should not exist, but in the unique nature of grammatical means, which, however, are connected internally by the unity of function and therefore cannot contradict the goal. If logic were connected with grammar, error would be impossible, for all judgments would thereby be logical. Indeed, the examples of round squares invented by Steinthal would be impossible. But precisely because language, and, consequently, grammar as the totality of its forms, is a free element, it can fall into false paths, which, in fact, logic, and not grammar, is called upon to recognize 180. Given the unity of functions and the identity of prohibitive norms, the same logic has power over all grammar, because the nature of thought legislates here, its laws, which are its immanent norms. But at the same time, the diversity and diversity of grammatical styles and norms that we have is possible and understandable. Therefore, of course, to express in a simple, crude and meaningless formula that grammar is autonomous from logic means simply tearing apart a thin fabric, and not separating its threads. The task of philosophical or logical grammar, which arose in history, can only be understood in the sense that it wants to highlight the logical skeleton, the irremovable logical foundation of grammar, from which it cannot leave. But anatomy can just as little be equated with the general doctrine of the human body as it can be rejected only on the grounds that the bones are covered in the body by muscles and skin. The relationship between logic and grammar is completely specific, arising from the nature of the relationship between thought and word. However, the critical requirements of logic in relation to grammar are so elementary and, one might say, self-evident, that grammar in its scientific work can forget about them, not in order to deliberately ignore and violate them, but in order to explore what is not at all self-evident, but belongs to the historically changing part of grammar. In practice, the saturation of grammar with logic and epistemology, resulting from the inextricable connection of thought and speech, is so great that we learn both from grammar, especially those of us who have studied the most intellectually developed and in this sense the most perfect grammars of ancient languages. In this case, of course, we mean mainly their syntax, which, no matter how much they talk about the autonomy of syntax from logic, is almost pure logic. And, what is most important and significant, this is not at all intentional or far-fetched, but due to the internal connection of thought and word. And if the very idea of ​​philosophical grammar appeared, it was, of course, inspired by antiquity or directly connected with it historically. On the contrary, in the age of comparative linguistics, when science was enriched by the diversity of grammatical forms inherent in different languages, it became impossible not to notice it, and this defense of the independence of grammar was the fruit of exaggerated linguistic resignation. A comparative study of grammar should reveal to us not only the diversity of its forms, but also grammatical equivalents, etymological and syntactic, for expressing the same semantic, in particular, logical functions. In practice, these equivalents are perfectly felt and sought in any translation from one language to another, and this is all the more instructive the further the languages ​​diverge from one another (I would like to know, for example, is it conceivable to translate in full, that is, with all shades of meaning, Plato’s dialogue into Chinese?), since we can talk about translation, and not about transposition or retelling of thoughts. Independentists, however, can take comfort in the fact that every translation is, to a certain extent, such a retelling, for translation can only be called such a transmission where phrases are conveyed step by step, form by form. But such a literal translation is not only ugly or even impossible, but also lacks accuracy at all, for si duo dicunt idem, non est idem 181 - and this expression has a literal application when applied to language. Obviously, during translation, thought actually undresses from one word in order to put on another, transforms itself, although not for a single moment (contrary to Schopenhauer 182) does it remain naked. The lexical and grammatical ontogenesis of thought is repeated in the translator’s mind, during which the equivalents of all those linguistic means that are given in the original are born anew. This unity of content, independence of thought from different forms, the problem of translation (is translation possible? and how is translation possible?) is an unnoticed subject for reflection by linguists. One of the consequences that clearly follows from this is that if we talk about the autonomy of grammar and logic, then we must talk not about grammar, but about grammars (as well as not about language in its general properties, but about languages). And grammar with its “laws” is an illegitimate extract from grammars, in relation to which these latter will also assert their autonomy, and this desire for independence becomes destructive for science, whether independentists want it or not, but the very possibility of discussing general grammatical problems, even raising the question of parts of a sentence and then comparing data from different languages, presupposes the exclusion of certain general grammatical categories. The latter cannot be coined by means of grammar alone, but require the active participation of logic and epistemology. And in general there would not be these scholastic questions if they took more into account the subject itself and its properties, rather than with the departments and disciplines in charge of the subject. Then it would be clear that with regard to language and, in particular, grammar, we can only talk about different aspects of the problem, but not at all about its autonomy, which kills its very essence 183. Kant’s problem about the foundations of experimental knowledge, about the nature of empirical knowledge, which combines general formal and concrete elements, is resolved by language in the sense that every experience, when dismembered, strives to be expressed in words, and words themselves take the form of a judgment, while judgments are formalized by categories (including spatiality and temporality). Words-ideas are separated from what they express by a mysterious, ineffable act. Words are born in the depths of human consciousness as the voices of the things themselves, announcing themselves, not at all “subjective” (although they can be subjectively colored), but universally significant, which therefore can be communicated, have the quality of general intelligibility. The last element of consciousness, which Kant’s analysis rests on, is mute, “subjective” sensibility, which, in an unknown way, is introduced into cognition, constituting a heavy, indecomposable, illogical load in it. It is this burden that Hegel subsequently strives to get rid of in his own way, and Cohen in his own way. The last element of knowledge, which our analysis rests on, is the birth of the word and idea from what is not a word-idea (although it is not the odious “sensibility”), which is being before the word. Truly, in every most elementary act of cognition - naming, we are present at the great and sacred mystery of human creation in the image of trinity: from the depths of being a word is born and this word is recognized not as invented, brought from the outside, but born of the thing itself, expressing it. Therefore, after the distinction that accompanies the birth of a word, there follows a synthetic consciousness of the fact that this is that, naming, judgment, cognition. And the cognizable remains undiminished in its existence, but, having entered our consciousness with its logos, it is illuminated and recognized from within, illuminating it, introducing into it its own difference and reason, as such. In cognition, from the elementary to the most complex, there is a threefold act: the dull voice of being, the sound of the word and the connection in the act of cognition of this impulse and this word - in naming. Here, from the time of Kant, and, in essence, before Kant, at all times, the question inevitably arises about the transcendence or immanence of the existence of thought, and in answering this question all the paths of philosophical thought are outlined. Being is transcendental to thought, the latter is a “superstructure”, its epiphenomenon, this is said by materialism of various shades, even metaphysical, like Schopenhauer with his blind and deaf, illogical will. From this point of view, strictly speaking, one cannot even talk about knowledge, but one can only talk about a functional adaptation: thought is an “excretion”, a means in the struggle for existence, empirical (Darwinists) or metaphysical (Schopenhauer). The problem of knowledge is, in essence, unsolvable. But Kant, in essence, comes to the same inconsolable conclusion with his “transcendentalism,” which is only a mask and a tool of agnosticism: the object of knowledge, the “thing in itself,” is transcendental to knowledge, yet experimental knowledge is not only conditioned by “pure reason,” but is also hermetically separated by it from the object of knowledge. Hence the question inevitably arises: what is the world we know, is it not a dream and an “idea” (Schopenhauer)? Therefore, it is natural that in the school of Kant, in the fight against the pointlessness of knowledge, the idea appeared that the “object of knowledge” is an absolute “ought” (Rickert), i.e. copula, voluntarily interpreted 184. This is a kind of cognitive skepticism and nihilism of the ancient sophists; the object of knowledge here has completely melted, like a piece of ice in lukewarm water. In its own way, this is a consistent – ​​in one direction – development of Kant’s phenomenalism, his “transcendental transcendentalism” in the field of knowledge. Instead of saying, like honest, sincere empiricism, that the object of knowledge is given by experience and includes the whole world, a skeptical and agnostic outcome turns out to be inevitable, and this is due to the fact that the word-meaning that stands between the “sensibility” of experience and the ideality of knowledge is not noticed. Experience as being truly remains transcendental to thought, but experience as an idea is entirely immanent to it, so that both the truth of immanentism and the truth of transcendentism are affirmed. This was the epistemological thought of Plato’s idealism: knowledge is “remembering,” which epistemologically is the realization of ideas in experience. The raw mass of experience gives up the gold of its ideological content to thought because “the Demiurge created the world by looking at ideas” (Timaeus). There is a sphere of pure ideas, the divine Sophia, according to Christian theosophy, and it is the ideal basis of creation. But these ideas as meanings are words, λόγοι, like rays of the Divine Logos. And “participation” in this Logos in man, who himself is the Logos of the world as created in the image of God, makes knowledge possible both in his separate acts and as a whole. The problem of epistemological monism, i.e. self-closed and self-generating knowledge, the very postulate of such monism is the pride of the mind, the Luciferic claim. Thought does not exist alone in itself, logos must be reflected from what is not logical (although this does not mean non-logical, extra-logical, anti-logical: on the contrary, being is in inseparable conjugation with logos). This thought is given in a clear metaphysical form by Plato, in a vague form by Schelling in his doctrine of the identity of the ideal and the real, in a distorted form by Hartmann in his idea of ​​two principles in the “unconscious”: logical and illogical. On the contrary, logical monism wants to produce being from itself. He is guided by a deep premonition that words are, indeed, power and reality, of a special order, of course - ideal. But the luciferism of this claim lies in the fact that in the name of daylight it abolishes the creative night of generative knowledge: for in the world there is light of the “non-evening light,” but this light shines in the darkness, that containing everything potentially, the darkness of chaos, from which being was extracted by the word of God. There are two Luciferically blinded minds: one in titanic intoxication, the other in the petty, creeping conceit of a craftsman: Hegel and Cohen. Hegel absorbs all the power of being into the thought-idea-concept-meaning-significance of the word. (True, it is precisely this definition of the idea through the word that he lacks, to his disadvantage.) Begriff - the concept - for him gives rise to the object of being 185. Hegel's teaching, instead of trinitarianism, is genohypostasis of the logos 186. More precisely, it must be said that Hegel, in the spirit of Sabellianism, allows trinitarianism, but not as three equally honorable hypostases, but as three modes or positions, or three moments in the logical beginning. It must be said even more precisely that for Hegel the second hypostasis, the Logos, is in place of the first, the hypostasis of the Father; it generates as its moment, “releases” nature as its other being as extra-logical, in order to absorb it again in the third hypostasis, in synthesis, to meet with it. Hegel overcomes the natural relationship between thought and being in the “phenomenology of spirit”, where, having achieved abstract, “pure” thought, he begins his logical cosmology and anthropology. Of course, this attempt to rearrange the relationship of hypostases: to make the son a father, and the father a son, being heretical, at the same time and therefore leads to mental deformities and absurdities. Hegel found himself forced to logically deduce being, empiricism and, of course, with this he broke his neck, fell off the scaffolding. The materialist reaction that Hegelianism caused was distinguished by the same spiritual blindness as the latter, but it is justified by it and nevertheless represents an attempt to return things to their place, “putting Hegel on his head” 187. The fact that being [determines consciousness], or that thought is a function of the brain, like the bile of the liver, and other materialistic formulas, still gives a rough diagram of the direct relationship of hypostases, and not the inverted one, as in Hegel. In other words, against Hegel in this, in order of correlation, the materialists are right, although they are wrong because of the genohypostasis they share with Hegel, monism: here logical, there materialistic. Cohen invented transcendental monism, “panmethodism”: since the object of thought for him is the method of “generation” or the rule of synthesis, and is logically transparent through and through, he would like the world, the support of knowledge and, at least in this sense, his subject, to also be only transcendental for him. A similar plan was characteristic of Fichte’s Luciferianism. But just as the latter could not do without the irrational “äusserer Anstoss” in the non-I, which generates objects 188, so the former had to compose “reiner Ursprung” 189, where being reduced to pure quantity in the unquantified quantity of the “infinitesimal” is μὴ ὄν 190, the saving Brett 191 for knowledge. But - alas! - no matter how to transcendentalize meon, philosophy knows for sure that it is still ὄν, a type of being, and therefore Cohen’s plan fails. Unlike Hegel, who strived for concrete idealism, i.e. to the logical hypostasis of the world, Cohen is content with formal, transcendental idealism, believing that having a form, he has everything. But hasn’t Cohen thought about the fact that, in addition to meon, his thought also uses the word (and uses it, it must be said, quite freely), while at the same time not stuttering anything about the right and meaning of this use? You can, of course, perform any kind of tricks if you have prepared the equipment for them in advance, but you cannot lay claim to some kind of supernatural “purity” of thought and not notice that you are passing it through the colorful, brightly colored glasses of words. From our point of view, the problem of transcendental and metaphysical monism is the problem of word-meaning, or, what is the same here, judgment and sentence, without which thought can neither begin nor be realized and which is therefore subject to analysis by critics in the first place. Thanks to the same reason, hopeless dualism arises, decomposing knowledge, i.e. Kant's theory of experience: how to put non-logical-sensual content into logical forms of thought and what “schemes” need to be invented to create these critical networks? At the same time, Kant, without any distinction, unites the entire complex of experience and its logical consciousness and expression. His epistemology wants to accommodate both psychology and the logic of consciousness, merges the act of perception, view, sensation, concrete experience in general and the act of consciousness, thinking, judgment about this experience, while they are completely different, non-merging faces of a single concrete consciousness. The fact that I am bored as a concrete state and my judgment “I am bored” are completely different moments, just like my impression of the mountain in all its concreteness and the verbal, semantic judgment: a mountain is visible in the distance. The difference between them is that in the first case there was a mountain in me or I experienced the mountain as being; in the second case, concretizing ideal being, I pronounce a completely transparent judgment in which spatiality is only the definition of a predicate. Therefore, no special question arises about how to accommodate sensibility in logical forms, because this does not include sensibility as such, but only the idea of ​​it, as transparent as logical forms. Kant psychologizes cognition by basing it on “representation.” The latter is a psychologically emerging image, as if an abbreviated and schematized reproduction of what is given in experience. It adapts it to knowledge, but it itself is not yet knowledge at all. The primary element of knowledge is not representation or sensation at all, but idea, judgment, naming. What Kant and the Kantians call an object, in which they look for a transcendental rule or method, all this is already carried out by the word, carried out by the idea, and therefore the main question of knowledge is still about the word-meaning, about the ideality of the real, about its conceivability and nameability. The impression is mute, the thought is always verbal, and it is this birth of the word that contains the secret and solution to the thought, and everything else is particulars and applications. This same question is not at all transcendental, although it appears with particular clarity in transcendental analysis; it is ontological or metaphysical or “transcendental,” if Kant wants to call it that. But he inevitably puts at the center of transcendental research the ontology of knowledge, the question of the birth of words-ideas, i.e. the question of the birth of thought itself, not as form, but as content. And the transcendental question, i.e. the question of form, there is also a question of content, why he cannot free himself from it. The word is born from being, or being is born from the word, Plato or Hegel? There can be no other alternative here. The problem of thought is not a problem of transcendental, “its pure generation,” but of concrete and formulated content. And here we come, forced by the immanent analysis of thought itself, to the word of revelation, in which, like a diamond cutter, the words of the Gospel about the Logos, wondrous in their immeasurable depth and the same conciseness, burn: “Ἐν ἀρχῇ ἦν ὁ Λόγος, καὶ ὁ Λόγος ἦν πρὸς τὸν Θεόν, καὶ Θεὸς ἦν ὁ Λόγος... Πάντα δι’ αὐτοῦ ἐγένετο, καὶ χωρὶς αὐτοῦ ἐγένετο οὐδὲ ἓν ὅ γέγονεν.” In the beginning was the word, and the word was to God, and God was the word. All that was and without him nothing would have happened 192. All the age-old perplexities and questions of thought about thought and the world, about the conceivability of thought and the conceivability of the world are resolved in this eagle takeoff, and back, always returning to it in exhausted doubt before the dominance of world nonsense or in rebellion against the logos and malice against it, conscious or unconscious. Such is Faust - Fichte, crossing out the word of God and putting in its place the word of human pride: Im Anfang war die Tat 193. And, indeed, isn’t the greatest Greekism, which seems alien to us and already philosophically outlived, this hypostasis and metaphysical exaltation of the word? Why words? Aren't words an empty sound or a conventional sign? “Das Wort kann ich so hoch unmöglich schatzen, ich muss es anders übersetzen” (Faust) 194. “I will write that reason was in the beginning,” writes Faust-Kant-Hegel, crossing out the logos. And in fact: isn’t this an accident, a historical whim of Alexandrian Judaism in the person of Philo, to whom the unknown author of the prologue to Ev. In.? Without a deliberate explanation, it is difficult to even understand why he did not directly put the well-known Greek speculation νοῦς or ἰδέα of Plato, or νόησις, if you like, even νόησις τῆς νοήσεως 195 of Aristotle, but dark, ambiguous, Alexandrian or Stoic logos? In the beginning there was the word - ἐν ἀρχῇ ἦν ὁ λόγος - at the beginning of world existence, in the cosmic archean, in the maeonal primary matter of being, in its potential thirst there was a word that fulfilled it, bringing light, in which everything received its name, its separateness. ἅπειρον took shape, everything arose into existence for itself and for another as a word-thought. This is the word of the world and in the world, the cosmic logos is the direct action of the Divine Logos: and the word is to God, καὶ ὁ λόγος ἦν πρὸς τὸν Θεόν. This is the appeal of the world logos to God, expressed by the preposition πρὸς (which textually excludes, in our opinion, the identification of the word in the first two uses of John 1:1 with the Word - God (“and God was the Word”, Gen. 1:2), although this identification seems to be predetermined both in the Russian Synodal Translation of the Bible and in English by the same transcription through a capital letter). In our reading, we get the following transcription: in the beginning there was a word, and the word was to God, and God was the Word. So, the world word is raised here to its source - the Divine Hypostasis of the Logos, which shines into the world logos and gives it all the power of peacemaking distinction: “everything came into being through Him, and apart from Him nothing came into being that came into being - πάντα δι᾿ αὐτοῦ ἐγένετο, καὶ "(Gen. 1:2). The root of the world logos is in the Divine Logos, abiding in the premium glory of intra-trinity being, but shining into the world and forming the intelligent region of words-ideas, the divine Sophia as the ideal foundation of the world. This is the idea that everything in its distinction and harmony, the multi-unity or mono-plurality of creation, the faces of being, were evoked in the first matter, “in the beginning” through the word. Everything was created not from non-existence, but already in the archean, called to meonality from the darkness of the non-existent οὐκ ὄν, but has not yet been raised to separate being, to its light, but remains in chaotic immensity - ἄπειρον. This potential being was named, marked by a thought-word. The same idea is contained in the narrative of Genesis, where God, by His word, calls all creation to life in the six days, and before this creative word the earth was formless and empty, and darkness was over the abyss (Gen. 1:2), everything was in the darkness of indifference, unthinkability, inexpressibility. And God said: Let there be light, and there was light. – And God called the light day and the darkness night (Gen. 1:3). And God said: let there be a firmament. – And God called the expanse heaven (Gen. 1:6, 8). And God said: Let the waters be gathered... and let the dry land appear. And God called the dry land earth, and the gathering of waters sea (Gen. 1:9-10), etc. What God says must be understood in the light of the New Testament revelation, in the spirit of the prologue of John’s Gospel: everything came to be, and without it nothing came to be. The naming by God must be understood as the ontological basis of thought and knowledge, which underlies human speech and thought, but by no means in the sense of empty giving a nickname. So, we must distinguish in the prologue Ev. In. two thoughts about the Logos: about the Logos in itself as the Divine Hypostasis, as God, and about the Logos acting in the world, although addressed to God, the energy of the Logos in the world, Sophia. And this Logos in creation has its abiding and focus in man as the image and likeness of God: in Him (in the Logos) there was life, and life was the light of men (John 1:4). This light, which resides in man as the bearer of the world logos, in the image of the Divine Logos, is the basis of why it has a central place in the world, dominance as a microcosm. Therefore, God can bring animals and birds to this man, “to see what he will call them, and so that whatever the man calls every living soul, that is its name” 196 . We already know what this naming means, regarding which God only wants to see how the power of the logos unfolds in him. But this world, human, anthropocosmic logos is immersed in the darkness of meonal half-being, formation, development: “and the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness does not comprehend it” (John 1:5). Further, here, in the teaching about the light of the world, as well as about the logos of the world, the mystic evangelist clearly distinguishes two sides: the light in man, derived from the energy of God, and the Non-Evening Light, Christ “He (John) was not light, but let him testify to the light. There was the true light, illuminating every man who comes into the world” (John 1:9). “And the word became flesh and dwelt in us” (John 1:14) 197. The world logos gave place to the incarnate hypostatic Divine Logos, which laid the foundation for the deification of all creation in man. So, it is necessary to distinguish the human, or more precisely, anthropocosmic Logos from the hypostatic Logos of the Divine. The first is the Logos in the world, Wisdom, Sophia, the world mirror of the Logos, the second is the supermundane Deity, which by the miracle of exhaustion is incarnated into the world. The power of thought and the power of speech are one - it is the world logos, residing in man as his entelechy essence, rising from the dormant half-existence of potentiality to energetic manifestation in world development. In this primordial unity of thought, speech and being, by the power of which everything that exists is fundamentally conceivable and expressible in words, and the connection of things is together a connection logically conceivable in words, lies the basis of thought and speech. Otherwise, the relationship between thought, word and being would represent not only incomprehensibility, but at the same time a strange, incomprehensible accident. Words would seem to be invented and composed as a signal for thought, thought would remain naked from words, and, finally, a triple correspondence of thought, word and being, i.e. all knowledge, scientific and philosophical, would disintegrate and become a mystery. There is only one outcome from all this, only one answer can be given to this question, the same one that is contained in the marvelous lines of the prologue of Ev. In.: at the beginning there is no word. If the connection between word and thought is broken, it could not be restored by any instrumentalism. The word could not be invented as an instrument for thought; thought would remain unborn and unembodied, unimaginable to the mind and not transmitted from person to person. But the word, before its adaptation to thought, had to be an empty, meaningless sound, and not a word - and how could it have arisen? But this connection is so inextricable that its elimination is unthinkable. If we look for epistemological axioms (which can also be clothed in the form of synthetic judgments a priori, kind to Kant), then this is precisely the axiom of the logism of being and words - the conceivability of being and the expressibility of thought in words. The word, expressing thought, in its form and content, as the thought of being and about being, is thereby exposed as the essence of being. However, the higher we raise the hierarchical meaning of a word, the more difficult and mysterious its actual meaning becomes. It is quite obvious that empirical reality does not fully correspond to the postulates of words and thoughts. Instead of words that are rich and full of weight, she knows words that are diluted and empty, lightweight - the problem of idle talk and vanity arises. Instead of the truth expressed in words, we drown in thoughtlessness, in lies, mistakes and misconceptions - the problem of emptiness of thought, lies, mistakes, delusions arises. Both of these issues require consideration. Cognition is naming, the act of cognition is accomplished in a judgment, a sentence, a combination of a subject with a predicate, which is naming in its statics. Thinking is a combination - in different ways and in different directions - of judgments, naming in its dynamics. The combination of sentences is speech; connection of judgments - thinking; both together - a speech, a lecture, a treatise, a book, and this book is always and endlessly written in different directions. The danger of idle talk and frivolity exists for us in knowledge, in expression; The danger of delusion lies in the combination of words and thoughts. Both dangers, more precisely, the disease of speech and thought, which is completely incurable in a person’s given state, must be understood in their ontological terms and explained as not contradicting the axiom of the logic of being, speech, and thought. Obviously, these problems do not lie in the field of formal logic or particular departments of linguistics, which as such does not even accommodate them at all, but rather questions of the general metaphysics of the word. First, about the idle talk. Words coming from the depths of being, spoken in us by the things themselves, have all the fullness of cosmic power: the spoken word resounds throughout the world, for logos is a universal connection, and everything finds itself in everything. If our language consisted of such cosmic words, it would be the language of the cosmos itself and the problem of idle talk would be completely absent. But this would be possible only insofar as man would be a man, i.e. microcosm, in all his glory, king, ruler and heart of the world. But man in the person of Adam had not yet had time to become such, had not, due to his minority, entered into the power prepared for him at the creation of the world, when sin already upset the balance in him and in all of nature and damaged the organs of cosmic speech, hearing, and language. The voices of things began to be heard dullly and incorrectly, their sound was refracted through different prisms of human subjectivity, psychologism burst into speech with all its devastating effects. Man began to hear and listen more to himself in his subjectivity, isolation from the cosmos, rather than to this latter. And his speech sounded more and more incorrect, fragmented. The word has been obscured by clouds of vanity, and now the only kind of speech that is common and understandable to us is that of vanity, idle talk: words, words, words. Meanwhile, the word, of course, is not a synonym for emptiness, thoughtlessness, or powerlessness. Primordial words, the language of things, are meaning and power. They, expressing the root of things, give, or rather, exercise power over things, they possess power - magic, commanding power - spells. Folk wisdom, which knows the magic of the word, its white and black magic, blessing and curse, conspiracy and witchcraft, keeps a faithful memory of this. She knows what it means to “know the word.” The poet, who knows that with his childish, deep wisdom, knows this. But in the church, in the middle of battle, Words are inherent in wisdom and power, natural witchcraft and witchcraft: this directly emerges from the ontology of the word. And one can be surprised not at the fact that the knowledge of this is stored in the people's memory, but at the extent to which it was lost and the words ceased to be words, became weak and drooped, passing through all the mists of non-existence and the veils of subjectivism or psychologism. Now the word is only an organ of communication, a “language”, and not the voice of the world, and the imperative mood (or exclamatory judgment) is applied only from person to person: only man now hears the word and obeys (or disobeys) it. This only shows how deep the disease of the word is, together with the disease of being itself: it has become visible only through reflections, diagrams, caricatures; where there were full grains, the husk remains, blown up by the wind. And yet, even this husk would be impossible and incomprehensible without the ear. Words would be impossible and incomprehensible even in their current, pitiful and bastard state, if they did not have a reflection from above. Words are not the essence of λόγοι, forming the kingdom of the Logos, but they are still logical (or, what is the same in this case, sophic) at their core. Just as all world existence is a mixture of being and non-existence, the illumination of creative light in meonal darkness, so words in their field are the same mixture of λόγοι things and “language” in the empirical sense in which practice knows it and studies linguistics. Pure words, λόγος, speaking fundamentally, do not and cannot exist in “language” to the same extent and in the same sense as there are no sinless people. However, the positive strength of a human being is health, chastity, natural holiness, while sin is illness, non-existence, deterioration. Likewise, the positive basis of language is still the original word as essence and language as power, as the logical (in the sense of λόγος and λόγοι) power of man over the world. The weakness and powerlessness of the word, its utilitarianism and pragmatism (transformation of words into terms or sound signaling), finally, all kinds of adaptation (and dilution) of the word with grammatical forms, semantic devices and nuances, all this makes logism only the basis of speech, but not its state. Speech may be thinner or thicker, the weathering, dilution and destruction of words may move more or less. It is not a tincture, but a mixture in which mixtures, surrogates, aqua distillata 199 play such a large role that sometimes the taste and smell of genuine essences become barely audible. Condensation of words and thoughts is possible not only, so to speak, in a quantitative sense (more or less compactness), but also in a qualitative sense, in the sense of the intensity of the word. If the Lord ascribes to faith such power that with a word one can send a mountain from its place into the sea, then this means that the word as such is inherent in this effective and commanding power: a miracle occurs above nature, but not contrary to nature; more precisely, it frees natural forces, in this case, the natural power of the word from its putrid, weak state, if faith gives it the power of support in another world. From what has been said it follows that idle talk is a general disease of the word, and at the same time that there cannot be unconditional idle talk: words have a root in being, they are involved in the cosmos. And therefore - it’s strange to say - they are not completely powerless in any condition. Words are never just “words, words, words”; they are always a force, a reality, an essence. Like clouds, they swirl and cluster, obscuring the intelligent sun, refreshing or poisoning the atmosphere. Known magic (or witchcraft) is inherent in the word 200; words have power, they are action. With an evil or unintentional word, but for some reason strong, you can kill or hurt a person. Words are always actions, at least to the same extent as the external actions and deeds of a person. You need to watch your words as carefully as your deeds. In the word, a person is given power, energy, constantly flowing out of him, like electricity, and he must master it. This explains the meaning that religious asceticism attributes to the word: both “idle talk” and slander, both the naming of one’s neighbor “cancer” 201 and “silence.” Hence, all witchcraft with words, conspiracies and slander is understandable: in a particular case, they may turn out to be powerless due to “ignorance of words,” but in principle it is possible to “know the word,” although another question is whether one should strive for such knowledge by any means. Due to the fact that the energy of the word is the most effective, penetrating to the ontological root of things, the danger in the abuse of the word is greater than when dealing with dynamite, which can only explode the outer shell, but not the inner grain of being. This, by the way, is the meaning of anathema, which is the most terrible murderous weapon of the word, if it has power over it, as the church has over its members, and between fathers and children (with a close relationship). This is the same meaning of the “word of honor,” which cripples and disfigures the person who violates it, and especially the religious oath, which brings upon its violator an anathema, which fell on Russia for treason against the Tsar and, perhaps, on the Tsar for abdicating the throne. The same is the incantatory power of the word, which, wielded, the sorcerer can bring about dryness or dryness, or black sickness, or gain power. Now this is called hypnosis or a subconscious state, but no matter what you call it, the energy of the word remains in full force: the hypnotist acts like a sorcerer with the magic of the word, and scientific terminology does not change anything in the being. It is strange that it was precisely the phenomena of hypnotic suggestion that did not prompt us to again pay attention to words as a tool of suggestion, i.e. as in strength, energy. Hypnotism is the magic of words, which is as dangerous as any magic. So, the problem of idle talk (and, in relation to full talk) is resolved as follows: although words speak in us the things themselves and this is their cosmic power, their sophic nature, participation in the whole and the wisdom of the whole, their chastity, and ultimately, their truth - but at the same time the words are spoken by us, or rather, their ontological grain is realized by us, like a song sung from a voice, and to that extent are plunged into the abyss of our subjectivity, psychology, history, relativity, powerlessness and, ultimately, untruth. Therefore, words have an inherent involvement (Platonic (μέθεξις)) in the truth of the world, a memory of it (anamnesis), but they are born and live in a darkened environment alienated from the truth. They are characterized by truth (together with untruth) in its greater or lesser approximation or distance from the truth. Our speech in its words, in the primary elements of speech, already carries within itself the source of error, distance from truth, but also contains participation in it. At the same time, the word is most susceptible to corruption, fornication, and idle talk. The ability of speech is in our hands, and it could not be more easy to transform it from an instrument of thought, influence, power only into an instrument of communication, for which there is no objective basis. Then the result is a psychological degeneration of speech as chatter, conversation, gossip, swearing, in a word, any psychological friction between people. All human weaknesses and sins appear in a rash of words, and in the atmosphere of this fall of the word such a contemptuous attitude appears towards it, which in any case compromises those who share it as blind to the word, since they see in it only an itching of the tongue, just as someone who sees in the lupanar the only possible and complete expression of sexual life testifies to their own depravity and blindness. A similar blindness is also characteristic of those who, due to the utilitarian-pragmatic use of a word, do not see its own nature and see in a word only a term or a verbal sign, like those who, studying the chemistry of colors and smells, would cease to notice them in nature and, in general, would consider everything organic as a special case or the absence of the mechanical. Of course, terms are also words, albeit hothouse, weak and sick. Language becomes poorer and weaker as it becomes predominantly terminological (contrary to the taste of other linguists), but the power of language revives even the most clumsy verbal creations, like grass pushing through a city pavement, and they still remain words. We have more than once had to liken verbal elements to paints, and here we have to say that the creativity of words, or the life of words, their use can best be likened to the mixing of paints for different shades on the palette, depending on different purposes. Moreover, the number of root words, as well as different possibilities for giving them certain shades or mixing them, significantly exceeds the number of colors. As you know, solid paints are used extremely rarely in painting, and even if they are used, they are still mixed on the canvas in that they are colored with the tones of all the paints placed nearby: in other words, not a single paint exists separately, separately from the others; their chords and combinations act. In the same way, individual words in speech do not exist, but the entire power of the word is realized in their connections, and this connection can both strengthen, deepen, and paralyze individual words. Therefore, all observations that can be made on a single word must be modified in relation to its use. But this idea that there are not words, but speech, not λόγοι, but λόγος, of course, does not in the least change the general judgment that words as such have truth, but not truth. So, words only participate in the word, but are not its pure faces; they are clouded and immersed in psychologism. They are not adequate - statically and dynamically - to their objects, they reveal them as much as they tear them down, they lie about it, they deceive, and this deception of the word is one of the sources of the limitation, relativity, infidelity of all knowledge, and therefore its evil infinity. Ars longa, vita brevis est 202, says Mephistopheles sarcastically; science, progress are endless, the followers of Kant or the modern theory of progress say chokingly, thinking to say praise, but in reality testifying to powerlessness; they are infinite not in the actual positive sense of removing and overcoming all limitations, but in the bad sense of inability, powerlessness to ever reach the end, i.e. a whole complete, united knowledge. The situation is as if we, having a sphere, instead of understanding each point in its relation to the center, connecting and subordinating it to the center, and thereby coordinating all the points with each other, moved in all possible directions along the surface, connecting its points with each other, and then boasted of the infinity of such progress. To overcome this infinity, you obviously need to change your attitude towards the world, gain possession of the word of things, instead of the horizontal or the surface of the ball, move vertically or towards its center. Obviously, speaking fundamentally, there can be different stages or states in the quality of a word or in the power of speech: a sudden opening of feelings and hearing a word, an approach to the voice of things is possible (“And my dark gaze was enlightened - and from now on the ear hears, which is elusive to others” 203, etc.). The state of the word in which science takes it - knowing the word only as a term, a tool - is distinguished by pragmatism, and although the most pragmatic thinking is still fundamentally sophistic, this pragmatism is, at the same time, psychologism - subordination to a private, preconceived goal, the main problem of this science: science is incurably sick with psychologism, although at the same time it fiercely fights against it, sweeping away all subjectivism. Scientific terminology is an unconscious resistance to the ontology of words, pragmatism in the name of regulated psychologism: meaningful words, meanings, cannot be invented, but can be adapted, and terms are such fabrications of words, adaptations to a given particular interest. That is why the terms of different sciences are different, and all sciences are surrounded by a high wall of their terminology, outside of which they crumble. The special terminology bears the stamp of the conventions of scientific knowledge, and at the same time the main fatal difficulty in the relationship of the sciences: science reveals a picture of the Babylonian confusion of languages, in which people speak about the same world in different languages. And that synthesis of scientific knowledge, the idea of ​​which clearly contradicts the very essence of the latter, would mean, first of all, overcoming terminology and, at the same time, multiple artificiality, a return to natural language. Science has a diseased word, and this disease of the word is the main source, and at the same time a symptom of its impotence, because it dooms all scientific knowledge to relativity, i.e. to a known half-truth. There cannot be any other knowledge given the state of man and his words, and scientific knowledge is, indeed, a regulated psychologism introduced into the shores and certain facets. Compared to the chaotic randomness of spontaneous psychologism, this is already overcoming. However, it is in vain that Kant and all the scholars of science attribute precisely this last thing to science. This illusion occurs only because they pay attention only to the formal elements of speech and thought, only to categories, and do not want to see what is contained in them, i.e. specific content, which remains imbued with the same psychologism within the categories. From the pragmatism of terminology, all that is required is fidelity and consistency to the accepted attitude of thought and task, but this very subordination of the word to a special task is psychologism. So, science is objective psychologism in its verbal, meaningful primary elements. She talks about the world, experiences the world every time through a certain prism. With the correctness and accuracy of word use and knowledge, this can give a meaningful way of being in its own way. But, in addition to naming, primary judgments, knowledge and thinking consists of a connection of judgments, their chains. And in this coupling and connection there are also possibilities for error. Cognition as a naming-judgment is a synthetic act in which a connection is established between a certain object (noun) and an idea (predicate). If we express this connection based on the subject, then we can say that it reveals itself, its content in the predicate or predicates. From the point of view of the predicate, we can say that the subject is subsumed under the predicate, the volume of which, i.e. the possibility of a predicative connection, of course, is never exhausted by a given subject. It was explained above that from each point of existence it is fundamentally possible to make connections to any cosmic being, and therefore one predicate only begins, but never exhausts itself, does not end the path of knowledge; also, every predicate, idea, due to the universal connection of being, can be brought into connection with an infinite series of points of being, and not just one subject. Therefore, a judgment does not represent something closed and complete either from the side of the subject or from the side of the predicate. And you can enter and exit through these doors, expand the judgment through the addition of new ones, or deploy its cash. Synthesis and analysis are two opposing logical operations, which correspond in formal logic to induction, expansion of the field of knowledge, and deduction, syllogism, ordering and correlation, clarification of what exists. A syllogism carries out an analysis of the content of judgments, and formal logic indicates formal, also analytically established, rules and warns against errors in this analysis. Inductive logic indicates some, however, partly experimental, partly also analytically derived rules for the synthetic combination of judgments and also warns against formal, “logical” errors. The danger of gross formal errors and logical errors always exists, and they, of course, distort the course of reasoning and more or less reduce the degree of its truth. However, in terms of its content, knowledge is completely independent of logic. Knowledge is generated by knowledge, i.e. the power of knowledge, as thought is thinking, the power of thought, as speech is word, the power of word. In other words, any knowledge is a new synthesis, a connection (or separation) of a given object and a given predicate, content. Thought is limitless, just as the word is limitless. And all knowledge, i.e. a word about the world is the awakening of an idea to connect with the subject. It is a demonic act (in the ancient, Socratic sense of the word), i.e. the influx of an idea, inspiration from the world, is not the work of a logical machine, but of ingenii 204, the cognitive genius living within us. Cognition is creativity, of course, not creativity out of nothing and in nothing, but it is the voices of the world in a person’s consciousness, the revelations of nature, as far as he can hear them. No matter how low we estimate the fatal pragmatism and relativity of scientific knowledge, nevertheless, in this knowledge the world in man recognizes itself - the world-man, and not man in his psychological isolation. Word-thought is the thinking of the world itself; here man realizes his central place in the world. Yes, the world is man, the universe is his body, and the word of man - we must finally comprehend this once and for all - is not empty chatter, but the word of the world itself, created by the word of God and storing this word within itself, and revealing it to man. Thinking is the combination of judgments in all possible directions, both from the side of the subject and from the side of the predicate. The accumulation of predicates around a given subject gives a definition, fixed by the term, and under this definition the concept also has its own predicates, or signs, names. In this way, concepts are classified, grouped, and ordered through connection and subordination, i.e. what as a result will appear as a scientific or philosophical system, i.e. system of concepts. Science as a product, as a textbook, strives to take on a finished form of the system; on the contrary, scientific research shuns the system and prefers to keep all its wounds open, for in this it draws the source of life and development. With this verbal-logical processing of this synthesis of scientific knowledge, a special verbal energy develops, in which words-terms, or concepts (the same “Begriff’σ” that Mephistopheles laughs at 205), instead of a pragmatic service meaning, receive a kind of independent existence. Thus, scientific idle talk arises, the husk of words, which from time to time must be swept away in the interests of science itself. However, its very emergence is indicative of the scientific isolation with which it creates its own world of words and concepts in its field. It is in this non-universality of scientific concepts-words that lies the limitation of science. In our world, scientific knowledge is the closest thing to truth, as it overcomes subjectivism, and yet its obvious untruth lies in the method of this overcoming. As soon as science begins to make claims beyond the boundaries of its field - and it constantly does this - it turns into a monstrous lie and slander against the universe, which is all painted in one color or a mixture of several colors. The synthesis of sciences (to the extent that this is possible and does not contradict the very essence of science) is prepared in some kind of “synthetic philosophy” à la Spencer or O. Comte, and is a styleless and tasteless concoction in which the own taste of each science disappears. So, even with the impeccability of logical operations and the absence of logical errors, the removal of scientific knowledge from the truth, its untruth is due to the general attitude of a given scientific point of view in its specialization, but it can also lie in the very implementation of this task, both through the violation of the immanent norms of thinking when combining judgments, and in their very content. According to our understanding of cognition as a naming-judgment, it remains thoroughly empirical, and, of course, there is no longer any reason to limit the area of ​​experience to “sensibility”, excluding from it the mental, spiritual, mystical area; in general, everything that is experienced enters consciousness. Kant, for the sake of his bias, trying to enclose all knowledge in the schemes of phenomenalism, recognized only sensibility as “experience” in order to drive it into the transcendental schemes of pure reason. In fulfillment of this malice (there is no other way to call it) he built all his waterproof partitions, which fall by themselves if only his basis - transcendental aesthetics - is rejected. Naming deals with the subject - the noun and the predicate - the idea, and being, the noun, is the general quality of every subject, whatever it may be, from the first approximate grasp of it by thought to its complete capture or understanding. The so-called abstract concepts (unity, quality, goodness, mind, property, nature, redness, distance, size, etc.) still have this quality of being; they are taken as existing in the existing, as a side of being. And in this sense, they are not fundamentally different, except in content, from all concrete nouns (and Kant himself, setting out his transcendental aesthetics, i.e., implementing a series of thoughts that deny the equal validity of these and other “concepts”, i.e. in fact, nouns, actually uses, indifferently, without noticing, concrete and abstract words equally). Criticism of words turns out to be the best reagent for criticizing reason. It is necessary to destroy Kant's entire structure and mix up all his cards, recognizing all our concepts and judgments as fundamentally identical and equal in rights: they may be true or false, but they do not belong to different drawers of the desk. There are only two “categories” of thought-words in the precise sense of the word: subject and predicate, noun and adjective-verb-idea. Kant was too wise, but at the same time he was not too wise: for the sake of artificial schematism, the simple, on the surface wisdom of the word remained alien to him. The use of certain qualifications of the predicate: circumstances of place and time, modality, circumstances of cause, mode of action, everything that is calculated by epistemology and formal logic, on the one hand, and grammar, on the other, all this is indicated by experience, has an experimental origin, tells or provides experience. But at the same time, experience is not a passive reflection, it is a product, a creative act carried out by the subject, i.e. psychologically conditioned, as well as psychologically limited. Therefore, experience can be of different quality, degree or depth, true or false, accurate or imprecise in its implementation. Here is the whole difference between everyday, chaotic experience and precise, systematic methodological argumentation, which - and this is the most important thing - gives experience a collective, or rather conciliar character, freeing it from the narrow boundaries of individual observation and consolidating it in the written and spoken word, book, lecture. A book is a mysterious and enigmatic scroll of meaning, but, like everything familiar, it has become invisible and as if taken for granted, and knowledge is, first of all, books, a library. But experience, knowledge, naming can have not only different depths, but also different directions: nodes of knowledge may arise at all possible points. Judgments can be vital, significant, in this sense true, but they can also be accidental, insignificant, in this sense meaningless and absurd (as in ordinary idle talk and chatter). In general, the ligament can be so elastic that it can contain everything, but it can also remain unfilled. Where is the criterion? There are two of them: practical - in the usefulness of this knowledge - its pragmatism; the theoretical one, as far as it concerns the content and not formal errors, is absent. It is contained in knowledge itself, in experience itself. The criterion of science is in science itself, and if there is any common one, then in the aesthetics of thought, in its beauty, which, undoubtedly, is inherent in all great creatures of the mind. Mathematics is beautiful, which itself knows beautiful problems and elegant solutions, every science is beautiful to the extent that it carries out knowledge, masters experience and at the same time gives it a coherent and complete form. This desire for the beauty of thought, for its harmonious combination, is a constant internal impulse of development - improvement of knowledge, a purely theoretical impulse that exists in a person in addition to the practical. Knowledge is not only useful, but also beautiful. Mathematics is a poem for the true mathematician. The beauty of self-sufficient thought is, in a certain sense, its criterion. This brings us to the question of the beauty of words. It is known from direct observation that a people, an era, a class, individuals have their own characteristics in language, their own style. It is also known that different areas of knowledge and science involuntarily assimilate certain features in language through terminology, through the symbolism of designations, so that it is possible to talk about the language of mathematics, physics, biology, sociology, philosophy, etc. The peculiarities of language are also characteristic of individual figures in the field of knowledge, scientists and thinkers, forming something personal and intimate in their work, which is usually spoken of in the words of Buffon: le style c’est l’homme. And this personal style is created, of course, not by grammar, not by the morphological elements of the language and in general not by what is its iron equipment, which constitutes the totality, so to speak, of the technical means of the language and its grammatical capabilities, but by the way it is realized by these means in these possibilities. This is clear from everything that has been said about the nature of the word and the logic embodied in it. Naming is not only the voice of things, and the world itself, but also our creative act, our answer to the question of thought thinking itself. The word is not born mechanically - the automatism of speech that we use in everyday life is a very faded, worn-out and greatly weathered word. Any automatism, including words, presupposes either that we do not master these functions for one reason or another (the work of our internal organs), or that we, having mastered them once, then handed them over to an automatic warehouse. Everything that enters there once passed through conscious mastery, even if it belongs to a very long time, for example, childhood, when the grammatical structure of the language is grasped (this is consciously repeated whenever a new language is learned). Automatism is a product of the psychological mechanism of speech with its powerful means of associative linking, which underlies habit. Of course, it limits the individual or creative area in the language, its style, and creates ready-made edges for it. However, only thoughtless chatter can get by with this automatism, while every emerging thought seeks a form for itself and thereby makes a hole in the automatism. From the nature of speech - naming, it follows that any verbal name is already a selection from an infinite series of possible designations of one, which can, being fixed, go into the automatism of language, but can also be completely new for a given object of thought. And this election inevitably expresses an act of not only mental, but also verbal creativity. It would be completely wrong, distorting the essence of speech and thought, to imagine the matter as if the person who thinks and puts his thoughts into words sees in front of him a series of things or objects with inscriptions on them, verbal labels, and only bending down reads and writes down these inscriptions, and his creativity is expressed only in the preference of some objects to others, one sequence of notes over another. In fact, such ready-made inscriptions do not exist at all; they are read by the thinker-speaker, getting used to things or taking them into himself, merging with them. Simultaneously with the thought, a word is born that expresses the thought as its known form. Form is inherent in word and thought, and it contains within itself the logic of form, the law of form, its requirements. And the main property of any form, both existing in the world and appearing in words, is that it is not indifferent to beauty, that it also has its own aesthetic criterion, just as the content of a thought is logical, the structure of words is grammatical. All human speech has a form, is a form, and therefore fundamentally allows for the application of aesthetic evaluation. Here we are completely distracted from the difference that is conventionally designated as poetry and prose and has an analogy in the difference between economics and art. No matter how deep this difference is, between selfish, utilitarian and disinterested, aesthetic work, between forced labor by the sweat of the brow and the free creativity of an artist, everything that a person does, he does as a free-rational, spiritually-actual being, and not an automaton, freedom and creativity are realized in everything, and therefore aesthetic assessment can also be applied. A table is a household utensil that serves a specific need by certain means, and it cannot retreat or violate this correspondence of means to ends, the utilitarian coherence of the form, its pragmatism. But at the same time, the table also has its own shape, and this shape can be different, meeting different tastes, styles, and aesthetic needs. And the same can be said about all economic labor and its products, which, as embodied human acts, have a form and, with all its connectedness, are not indifferent to the requirements of the form. When applied to the word, we can say that even the most prosaic, businesslike works of the word - a simple letter, a legal act, fluent speech - inevitably have their own form and their own style, and, of course, different forms and different styles: it is enough to compare works of this kind from different times and peoples. And this is not an accident, not a whim of history, but it is generated by necessity, for all speech has a form and the form is only concrete, not as a form in general, which is a diagram or shadow of a form, an outline of a form, an unfinished form, but as a given, defined, therefore, different form from all others. However, this form can be poor and simple, approaching a diagram, a stamp, if such is the content. But the more the complexity of the content increases, the more intense and palpable the creative element of man is manifested, the more individual, the more concrete the form, the more self-legal it is, depending on its immanent laws, serving its own nature. And the nature of every form is beauty, and the criterion of every form, as a form, is one - aesthetic; for that which is subject to a utilitarian purpose, it is double: utilitarian-aesthetic, and the second is not at all a negation, complication or obfuscation of the first; no, he is its realization, its declaration. Formalized, artistic speech best serves its direct purpose - to give birth and reveal a thought, and a thought that is sluggish and vaguely expressed is a premature thought. The coining of words is at the same time the coining of thoughts. Every work of thought is necessarily also a work of words; science is the creativity of the word, and not just the thinking mind. And to that extent, all thinking is verbal art, no matter how unartistic its execution may be. However, here there is no need to be narrow and apply templates of beauty where we are talking about the adequacy of form and content. An autumn foggy day or rotten swamps may seem to us the height of poverty of beauty, and yet in their own way, in their own uniqueness, both can be an aesthetically perfect form, completely adequate to their content. In the same way, the page of a chemical textbook or an algebraic treatise may seem to someone the height of the ugliness of language, and yet completely undeservedly, for it can be a high example of its style, a form that contains, and therefore generates, its content. You just need to remember that terrible chemical names, like algebraic notations, are not read on chemical and algebraic labels, but are the essence of the creation of the act of naming. In them the cosmos is algebraized or chemicalized, and therefore chemistry and algebra arise, and not vice versa, their lexicon is not created from algebra and chemistry of the world. And this has to be said about every area of ​​thought and knowledge. Here, the obstacle to understanding is often special scientific terminology, which has already been discussed above. Terms are words of craft use, tools, the instrumentalism of which is already imprinted by their appearance, their very structure, deliberateness. Further, they constitute the already familiar content of the speech of a given science, mastered by the mechanism of associative automatism, which has become tarnished from frequent use, so that one can, deliberately simplifying, say that scientific speech consists of terms and grammatical forms only necessary to put them into action. If this were so, it would not at all change our general judgment, according to which every thought clothed in words (and there is no other) is also a verbal form of a certain style. But no scientific terminology can free itself from the aesthetic criterion of form. When they do not notice the form behind the content, they usually mean the most artisanal, erased works, reduced to the level of the greatest verbal automatism, such as textbooks. But those works in which the very origin of thought takes place cannot free themselves from the tasks of form, which they give birth to in the difficult creative act of struggle with the unruly element of the word. Usually the form appears before us in a frozen form, enveloping its object, and therefore we do not see its own generation, just as we do not see on the finished statue the sweat, labor and torment of the creativity of the one who gave birth to it. The temptation to believe in the automatism of the form is especially great because the masters of this form themselves, scientists, are very vaguely and weakly aware of themselves as such, although in reality they are. Every work of words, and every scientific work is such, is also a work of art. This does not mean here an aesthetic achievement, its success or failure, but the very property of this creativity, its nature. It’s just that science cannot be done differently, and every scientist carves sparks of knowledge from the world’s granite and puts them into the refractory, gradually transparent form of the word. The vision of thought is also necessary for the birth of words. That is why it is possible to force and wear out a word in such a way that it generally does not allow an indifferent, mechanical attitude towards itself, but only an artistic one, which has its own up and down, plus and minus; just as vulgarity constantly fights poetry, and spectacle and “entertainment” fight contemplation, so the word can suffer, get sick, get dirty, fall into insanity and senility, because it lives, it has form, beauty, and therefore can be poisoned, just as this cannot be done with regard to dead things. Speech is always and essentially art, but this does not mean that every person is an artist and behaves like an artist, although this does mean that to a certain extent or in a certain field (whatever it is, whatever it relates to) every person can be an artist, and an artist is also a people who create their own language, with its verbal means, grammar and syntax, which is a marvelous work of art in its own way. And scientific creativity is not copying from nature, but genuine creativity, in which both form and content are carved out. This means, further, that in terms of its form, scientific knowledge can be achieved both better and worse, by different means, therefore there is no single universally binding form for science, although there are generally accepted ones. Simultaneously with the content, the form is created. Content arises as form and therefore it can never be indifferent to form, and if scientists turn out to be indifferent to form, then this manifests an excessive imbalance, artisanal utilitarianism, which ceases to see the meaning of form because of practical expediency. But the artistic form (if one can express it this way when applied to non-artistic works) also has the highest practical expediency, because thought achieves clarity and clarity only when it is clothed in a transparent and flexible form, and a scientific treatise in its own way must also be a work of art, have its own style. From the nature of logos as an inseparable and unmerged unity of form and content, word and idea, it follows that the unconditional adequacy, and together with the artistry of the work of word and thought (whatever it may be and whatever it relates to) is possible where their unconditional balance and harmony exists. Thought should not get ahead of the word, rush over it and in front of it, leaving the word to trample on the tracks already laid. The word should not get ahead of the thought, breaking away from it and carried away along the trampled paths of associative connections or habits (we say in such cases about a person that a word or phrase owns him). How is this possible and is it possible, if, indeed, there is this inseparability and non-fusion of word and meaning in logos, which we so insist on as the most basic axiom of the philosophy of language? Ontologically this is impossible, and no abuse, no corruption of a word can deprive it of its meaning, otherwise it ceases to be a word. However, all further use of the word, its specific meaning in a phrase, in speech, is subject to abuse, because the formal, instrumental elements of language - grammar, which exists for gluing together words, phrases and thoughts from a mosaic - can act as if automatically, working in vain, responding to fleeting psychological outbursts and moods. How many who constantly use the word are not involved in logos, and this is exposed by their speech, which is characterized by colorlessness, emptiness, associativity, moreover, of the lowest, most elementary order - by association of contiguity. This manifests itself with particular clarity in certain mental illnesses, where the centers of consciousness are weakened, but also in many cases of too “well-lunged tongue.” In the same way, a number of psychological states, whether they be known images, ideas, impressions, moods, mental sketches, observations, can press on a thought with such force that the thought is born half-baked or premature. The load of content is not overcome in the form, and the result is a heavy, leaden, deathly, careless, and often simply illiterate style of our learned treatises. This is also psychologism, although of a different type than the first: the apparent abundance of content, which can even give rise to the illusion that thought is independent of the word and only finds expression in it, is, in fact, insufficient mastery of it. Thought, having mastered its subject, strives to present it to itself in an adequate, artistic form, which is why certain artistic requirements are inherent in every work of word and thought. The structure of speech, which is based on naming, presupposes “paths”, i.e. convergences and comparisons, new and unexpected, and one cannot but agree that at the heart of everything original, i.e. truly being born again, the word lies in artistic intuition, so that in the proper sense prose in language does not exist at all 206. What are prose and poetry (ποίησις - creativity) in language? Here we are not yet talking about poetry in the narrow sense, i.e. about poetry, as opposed to prose, but about the art of words, or about the word as an object of art in general. The difference in the use of the word in both cases, regardless of the achievement of certain results, is that in poetry the word is a material for beauty, admiration; the goal here is the form itself, as in all art, while in prose the utilitarian goal, the heteronomy of the word, predominates; By defining poetry as the autonomy of word and form, we in no way want to separate it and contrast it with content; quite the contrary, here a balance is achieved between both, logos triumphs - hence such truthfulness, depth, and meaningfulness of works of art, completely independent of their particular content or plot. Here the logos sounds in all its strength and penetration - the sound of any one string at any one point makes the rest of the consonant strings vibrate, thereby giving a breadth of range. This is the nature of an artistic symbol, through which the depths of existence are revealed and the harmony of the worlds is heard. But the content in pure poetry is not determined utilitarianly - otherwise we have didacticism and a tendency, which is, of course, the same death of poetry as any other utilitarianism. Poetry is immoral, or rather, overly moral, beyond good and evil, naive and selfless, like a child. It arises and is conceived as a form. This does not mean the subordination of content to form, which is taken only as a reason or theme for aesthetic exercises, because this is the same utilitarianism as any other. Strictly speaking, in poetry the nature of the word as logos, i.e. harmonious fusion of the word-meaning, manifests itself most clearly: the psychological film is torn, and the word sounds like a world logos, like a Sophian word, but because of this it is also clothed with the beauty inherent in the creature in its Sophia. There is a state of expansion of consciousness - in a dream or in reality, when it seems that you hear some kind of world rhapsody, you hear how it sounds in you or through you, and it seems that with it you will go into the world and merge with the world, melt, and there is nothing sweeter than these sounds, flowing endlessly. This logos of the world is also the poetry of the world, the poetry of the word. That is why, by the way, it seems that a real work of verbal art has neither beginning nor end; it lives, continuing in both directions, radiating energy from itself, for every perfect form has a symbolic nature, strength and depth. It speaks of a different, non-utilitarian, non-slave, free relationship of man to the world, testifies to the humanity of the world, the anthropocosmos, the single logos in man and in the world. And everything in a person, cosmically, holistically, chastely realized, is the beauty of everything in everything. The difference between the art of words and other arts lies in the special material of this art - the word. This material is so unique and exceptional that it requires special attention. The word is effective by nature - it is form and meaning, sound and meaning. As a form, the word has its own flavor, its own aura, visible through the clairvoyant word of the poet. And not only a single word, but also a combination of words, a phrase has such a sound aura around itself, emits an aroma, it is impossible to rearrange or change a single sound in it without violating the beauty, the magic of the whole. Here the means of sound, image and meaning are united together, the most complex, subtle and gentle combination: all other arts deal with mute material, which they force to become transparent to the image, to speak its idea. Only the art of words deals with a material that has its own special qualities as a material, but in addition also has a meaning that speaks, not mute, and it is necessary to combine these meanings into a chord of meaning that would merge inseparably with the chord of form. Such complexity and subtlety of the task does not arise in any other art. (One can, perhaps, say that in singing it is repeated to a certain extent, but only to a certain extent, because in singing the word is given in an already frozen form and enters as given, and not as plastic material.) Such a task is possible only because we do not possess any material to such an extent internally and intimately as the word that sounds in us and through us. And at the same time - and this is the whole point - this is the word that lives in us, not us with our psychologisms, experiences and whims, the word is not even an experience at all, but the life of the world, superpersonal. Therefore, the poet must be obedient to the commands of the muse, forget about himself, surrendering to inspiration, and strive to cross the fence of personal limitations. Different types of word art or poetry are based on the phonetic nature of the word, on the one hand, and the semantic nature, on the other. A word is a known musical material that can be processed rhythmically into appropriate musical forms in relation to the properties of a given language. Thus, poetry in the narrow sense of the word, or verses, arises. Human speech in general has its own rhythm, clear or unclear, correct or incorrect, and therefore contains the possibility of versification. (In this sense, Molière’s nobleman could, to his discovery that he speaks in prose 207, in essence, add that he also speaks in verse, only very imperfect and confused.) But, in addition to the inexhaustible variety of forms, there is also a rhythm of meaning in the verse, there is colorful beauty and expressiveness of images, there is clarity and sincerity of content. It is this combination of forms of sound, rhythm, meaning, image that makes a poem a form of forms, introduces into it the exceptional power of beauty, gives the art of words a royal place among the arts as the art of logos itself (although, of course, other arts cannot be separated from logos. But still, their material is illogical, and their meaning is wordless). Only in the art of words is there a synthesis of logos, words (as a phonetic value), meaning, form. In the poem this is given in a brief and concentrated form, which is why it is considered poetry par excellence, although this does not deny other arts of words. And there the same power of form operates, the same principle that the content of a work of art is its form, which is, however, inextricably fused with the image, but the purity of poetry, its power is usually diluted and weakened along with volume. For the vastness of the volume indicates either the weakness of the form or its cumbersomeness. In this case, the instructions for form may be absent or modified, as, for example, in artistic prose there are no instructions for verse or word rhythm. However, this does not at all free prose from its rhythm: the form of prose in the uncertainty and irregularity of its rhythm can turn out to be no less refractory and difficult to forge, like verse, as other masters of words testify to this. But here different combinations are possible in defining the form: the content can entail the form, although without forcing it, but also without giving it development. This is the case in a novel, which is usually too meaningful and is more captivating by the form of the content, its development, than by the form of the word, so that we again get here utilitarianism of a higher, artistic goal. Such is the great novel of the 19th century - Hugo and Dickens, Turgenev and Dostoevsky. But even here, at the peaks, form wins in such a way and to such an extent that it is completely monolithic and stands before us as a work of nature. (Compare in this sense different and dissimilar to each other, but equally perfect pages of the epilogue of “The Noble Nest” by Turgenev and at least “Cana of Galilee” 208 of “The Brothers Karamazov” by Dostoevsky: here we have truly “poems in prose”, in which one cannot add or subtract.) Of course, certain quantitative proportions correspond to every plan, and for a battle picture other dimensions are required canvas rather than for an intimate landscape. However, with any volume the form must be internally connected and completely transparent, and with a large size the task becomes proportionately more complicated, and perhaps even blurred. In artistic prose of the miniature type (Chekhov or Maupassant), the assignments of form are so compressed and transparent that what should be given here is truly a “poem in prose,” which is what the best works of these authors are. In general, the area of ​​verse is not at all limited to the poem, and perhaps our blindness, our inability to notice the characteristic twists of form, makes it possible that for a long time the correct alternation of rhymes was considered verse. The expansion of the field of vers libres 209 demonstrates the insufficiency of such understanding. One may ask oneself: is science as poetry, or poetic science, possible? In other words, can a relationship between poetry and knowledge be established that is more intimate than the existing one? Even differently, can poetry become the rhapsody of the world, free itself from its dreaminess, and science renounce its prosaism? An important difference between a word in poetry and a word in prose is, by the way, that in poetry the life of the word itself is felt, it is born and carries within itself the immediate freshness of its cosmic birth. What happened at the dawn of the birth of language, when words spoke themselves in the soul, arose in it with elemental force as the voice of nature, were felt in their power, originality and beauty, had melodiousness and incantatory power, this is now, although to a weak extent, preserved only in poetry. The poet, a real poet, and not a grimacing esthete, trained in various verbal tricks, himself contemplates with sacred surprise the word being born in him (like a savage in the positive sense of the word, or like a child, or like a primitive man), and for us his images sound in a completely new way, different from all words. They take possession, conquer us, and regardless of the direct meaning, with their overtones and accompanying sounds, in them, or rather, with them, the voices of the universe sound for us, the sound of the cosmos is heard. In poetry, the word ceases to be just a sign that is used to signal meaning, “concepts”; here it is itself, i.e. symbol, and the waves from it spread out like a cosmic swell. It seems that in just a moment, Orpheus’ lyre will tame animals, move mountains—the word will receive its effectiveness, for it touches the roots of existence. Poetry directly borders on the magic of words; it, to a certain extent, is already magic, in the sense that every powerful word is magical. So, only in poetry the word itself is the goal, and not the means, as it is in prose. In every hostel there is a generally accepted language with its own stock of words and forms. They are familiar and ordinary, they are used to express thoughts, they are retained by memory in the same way as any foreign language that we have learned is retained. These words are not born in our soul, but are offered by helpful memory, the mechanism of associations, as needed, as ready-made signs for expressing concepts. Varnished and oiled from use, erased dead words have their own convenience for the purposes for which they are used, and the nature of the word is so not felt even by those who study the word that they only see true words in these dead signs and openly prefer them to living words 210. The language is algebraized, words from φύσει 211 become more and more θέσει 212, new words arise only as terms, i.e. is also θέσει, and the secret of the word is completely forgotten under the cover of this verbal husk. A word loses its taste, smell, color, just as its algebraic sign does not. Of course, all this has its limits; even the most prosaic speech still remains creativity and cannot be algebraized to the end, as the supporters of this algebraization themselves sadly admit. The roots of words still remain and are nourished by underground moisture. Sometimes you feel whether a word has these roots: we can, for example, know a foreign language well, master it within the limits of everyday speech, but any verbal creativity, even the most modest, is possible only in our native language: it requires the birth of a word, concerns the roots of the language, while the foreign language we have learned does not have these roots. It does not have the character of signs, which should not necessarily be words, but even gestures (the language of the deaf and dumb), or speech in a foreign language will be poor and limited in the number of forms or words. And this is not due to insufficient knowledge of the language, which can be very serious, but due to the fact that each person has only one native language, there is a correspondingly established apparatus. And all foreign languages ​​can be learned only through one native language. Even exceptionally linguistically gifted people who internally speak a foreign language do not constitute an exception to this rule, because, after all, history has not yet seen a significant writer in several languages ​​at once, and some knowledge of it does not mean anything here. Although we have to learn every language, including our native one, 214 the difference between our native, I would say, internal, deep, rooted in the soul, and a foreign, only learned language remains great. For the same reason, the art of words, poetry, in essence, is truly possible only in the native language, only then do words have all their power and depth, are truly symbols, and not just verbal signs. There is a difference between understanding the words and thoughts of a work of poetry and experiencing the beauty of its language. You can, to varying degrees, get used to this alien speech and its poetry, but its magic does not have all its power. This again brings us back to the problem of translation, which either is only a retelling of the content, as this is quite enough for prose works, or literary translation is also a new birth of the word. If every translation into another language is not a simple repetition of a thought, but its new comprehension, then this must be said about literary translation to an exceptional extent. In poetry, not only the life of the word is realized, but also its limitations. A real poetic work is at the same time a natural, primordial word that can be studied as if by a natural scientist. Such a study can concern different aspects, in particular, for example, phonetics, the body of the word. In Russian literature, at the initiative of A. Bely, research has been undertaken in this area, in particular about the “instrumentation” of verse 215, i.e. that phonetic coloring given by the predominance of certain vowels or a cluster of consonants, in accordance with the content of the work. Of course, this instrumentation is produced, or rather, not produced, but occurs unconsciously and unintentionally (otherwise it would lose all value and all interest). It is obviously rooted in the deepest rhythms of language, in its subtlest vibrations. Here the veils are lifted from the internal organs of the word, the connection that exists between the feeling and the individual sound, letter, element of the word is felt. The word-meaning and the word-sound look at each other here and reveal their cherished secrets. For the mystery of the word is the mystery of the letters and their combination into a word as a body of meaning. In prose speech, language no longer deals simply with born words, but also with fabricated words, where their nature is veiled by psychologism and utilitarianism; the unit of speech is not a word, but a semantic sign, even quite indifferently which one, as long as it satisfies its purpose. There, obviously, one cannot see the fabric of the word, just as one cannot see threads of flax in linen. In poetry, words grow in a free state, but, of course, microscopes - appropriate methods of observation - are required for this study. Peering into the organic combinations of words that poetry gives us, we penetrate deeper into the symbolic nature of the word, into precisely what makes a word a symbol. The art of words provides material for this, just as the material for the science of art and its theory is provided by works of art. The material that linguistics has in its observations is, after all, vivisection and drugs. It is not at all so easy to receive a living word that carries the warmth of life, even from a living person, because this latter too often uses dead words. Therefore, poetry represents a unique and irreplaceable material for our era for comprehending not only the veils of the word, its anatomy, embryology, but also the very life of the word, its mysticism and magic. The word has a symbolic nature, and in poetry it is revealed, for the word appears here as an independent essence and force. Poetry borders on the magic of words, the legend of which, now lost, is preserved in popular beliefs in witchcraft, slander, and in general the power of words. Here this question can be discussed only in a fundamental formulation: is the magic of words possible, otherwise - does the word have power, in addition to its direct meaning? The answer to this question can only be given as a conclusion from a general judgment: what is a word: a symbol or a signum, a root of being or a sign? Modern rationalism, which knows the word only in the latter sense, as an existing θέσει, a conventional sign, can see in the idea of ​​​​magic only superstition - however, even for it the question remains where exactly such a superstition arose. On the contrary, for the symbolic understanding of the word, the conclusion follows with compulsion that words can have power, being, so to speak, a force of nature, but not all words and not always, i.e. not in any combination. The magical use of a word, of course, is different from the semantic, logical use, because the guiding goal here is not to express a thought, but to develop energy, to manifest the nightly, subterranean, hidden energy of the word. Of course, it is inseparable from the meaning of the word, from its meaning, but here words do not express thought, but develop power. From the point of view of everyday, logical consciousness, the direct semantic use of the word, this magical use of it can be considered as an abuse, but it is not such, since it has a basis in the nature of the word, in its elemental power: why is the use of cotton paper for wrapping considered the direct purpose of paper, and its abuse in dynamite? An incantatory formula is, so to speak, a preparation of a word, a word expanded and framed accordingly. In its meaning, this formula must be fulfilled with the same accuracy as any chemical formula, because here, too, the forces of nature act, although not on the phenomenal surface, but in the subsoil depths. In principle, there is nothing supernatural in verbal magic, just like, for example, in the action of explosives, which do not exist in nature in a free form, but must be extracted from it. A sorcerer or magician is, first of all, a sorcerer, one who knows, has the natural science of words. How he got this knowledge and what he uses it for is another matter; we won’t talk about that here. It is completely absurd and incredible that all those techniques that are now being studied as primitive magic (including the magic of words) were only superstition and had no basis or justification for themselves. If anywhere, then here we should remember their favorite formula: ex nihilo nihil fit 216, and why not allow a completely different system of relations to nature, a different natural science than ours - so to speak, symbolic, and not phenomenal? And then this magic and witchcraft is an ancient legend, preserved from those times when man was much more deeply connected with nature and needed completely different means of influencing it: man was different, and nature was different. But modern positivism, in its arrogance, does not want to make such an assumption. In the word as an incantatory formula, according to the meaning of what has been said, there is a cosmic force at work, which becomes perceptible through the medium of the word, therefore, in a certain sense, transcendental in relation to the phenomenal world and the word in the usual sense. A symbol is a transcendental-immanent action of a certain essence, an expression of energy. And there is nothing incomprehensible here, because as a symbol the word has roots in the same depth from which reality stems, not only “mind”, but also “sensibility”, i.e. the whole experience. And it is no more, but at the same time no less clear, that one can act both with gunpowder and with words. Why is this or that combination of words, this or that formula required for a given purpose, or why is a formula required at all, “how is a formula possible”? This question cannot be answered in a general and rational form, because here we have a concrete action that has the force of a fact: this is the way it is and only everything. In fact, ask a poet why he chooses certain combinations of words, will he really say? or try in this sense to ask the poetic work itself, why this and not another word and expression is used here, is it possible to replace it, etc.? So it is, it will answer by the very fact of its existence in its fragrant beauty. A poetic combination of words, or, so to speak, a poetic formula, is a natural phenomenon, in its own way as immutable as Niagara Falls, and just as it is inappropriate to ask why it exists as it does, so is Pushkin’s “I remember a wonderful moment.” And the poet should be the first to abandon this question, unless he is really a poet, if he was present at the birth of this poem, and did not at all invent it, in a sense, is not even its author - it composed itself. Objective beauty is the exception of intentionality and rational expediency; it does not know our “why,” but only the imperative is so. And, obviously, we must take the next step in this reasoning, recognizing that this is the case regardless of the appearance to the world; objective beauty, which embraces all its rays and faces, and may not be revealed in these particular faces; they may remain in potency and not penetrate the veil of our reality, but creativity is the acquisition, the manifestation to the world of these super-temporally existing rays and faces. After all, we think in a similar way regarding the forces and laws of nature that we comprehend: the law of gravitation (of course, if in fact it exists) has been acting in nature not since the time of its discovery by Newton, but completely independently of it, and in the same way all the forces of nature. Returning to incantatory formulas, we must, if we only fundamentally assume the effective power of the word, apply to them everything that has been said above about the connectedness of the form of a work of art and the laws of nature: this formula is only discovered by a magician and put into action or transmitted as an occult legend (and again not due to any secrecy, but due to the essence of the matter: whether due to the conditions of the effectiveness of the formula itself, or for other reasons related to caution, and so on). There is a certain natural relationship and connection between words as keys to the forces of nature, and from this stems the subject of knowledge and occult tradition of that hoary antiquity, when people knew the language of things better. That Edenic, intact state in which our first parents were before the Fall, when they talked with God, when Adam could give names to animals and understand their language, generally remained in a closeness to nature that is now incomprehensible to us - was accompanied by an intensification of powers and abilities, including, of course, the subtlest ones, now called occult. This state casts a light on the first times of human history and after the Fall, the rays of Eden fade away only gradually as they move away, and incomprehensible, seemingly meaningless superstitions are, perhaps, the forgotten traditions of Eden. That is why the seal of antiquity, the gray hair of time, involuntarily speaks of mystery and wisdom. And therefore, there is no reason for us to deny the possibility of such legends as knowledge of words and formulas, although, over time, their use often becomes dark, magic becomes black and the sorcerer-sorcerer becomes an exclusively evil creature who uses his power not for good purposes. If it is true that words have a certain power inherent in them in themselves, even without regard to the speaker, we have to conclude that the utterance of words, so to speak, the release of their energy is not at all an indifferent thing. Words do not disappear without a trace after they are uttered, but live their own life, long-lasting or short; this depends, of course, on the words themselves and on the speaker. Words fill the atmosphere, although in a different way, but in the same sense as dust, odors, various bacteria that are inaccessible to the eye. They crowd into clouds, collide with each other and form an environment that has its own properties. Why think that the room needs airing after smoking tobacco, but not after some words? This point of view cannot in any way be adopted by anyone who believes in the power of the prayerful word and blessing, but even beyond this, anyone who sees in the word something more than just a means of communication, but also what is communicated, must think about whether the spoken word as such, and, consequently, the atmosphere of the word, does not actually exist? Anyone who professes the “law” of conservation of energy can and should accept that the word as a physical phenomenon, like sound or paint (written) exists and remains in the world, and its action is indestructible. But the physical understanding of this “law” is clearly not enough here, because although the word is also a sound, it is by no means only sound, and the difference between words as forces depends not at all on the sound (although it is connected with it), but on the meaning: with a word you can hit and kill a person, the meaning of the word here breaks into the forces of nature and mixes up the cards of a purely materialistic, physical worldview. And just as the word as an ideal meaning is also a physical force (it is also such as a means of communicating knowledge, for example, communicating the formula of explosives), so the word itself has its own being, its “mental” body. And these bodies have their action, even if we do not have the means to measure it, and ordinary measuring methods are not suitable for this. But a spiritually sensitive person, entering the hall, feels the pollution and mustiness of the atmosphere, and, on the contrary, a special lightness is felt under the roof of the righteous. Therefore, one cannot treat only the use of the word as such, in its objective existence, as absurdities and superstitions. For example, incantatory or sacred words inscribed on a wall or threshold (like other, and not only verbal, symbols of a positive or negative nature, for example, the sign of the cross or some kind of pentagram) have power, in a different sense, of course, than those spoken. And this is instinctively felt by humanity even when the connection with nature and comprehension of the word have already been lost. Various political parties, for example, hang out their slogans not only for propaganda, but also in obedience to an unconscious and unclear need for themselves to give force to well-known words, to cause their action. And if this applies to the dead and wretched slogans of the current parties, then immeasurably more to various prayer, sacred and occult inscriptions and signs both in homes and in churches. People have always felt their power and meaning without words, expressing this in the varied use of inscriptions. (In general, we need to think more deeply about the instinctive and unconscious actions of people.) It follows that the incantatory power of individual prayers or utterances, mantras 217, in principle should not be questioned. In general, we should always take the word seriously and carefully: although the commandment tells us only about not taking the name of God in vain, it must be understood - for our question, at least - in an expanded sense, namely, it applies to everything sacred, to all sacred formulas, and then to all words in general. Not a single word allows itself to be used in vain with impunity, and, therefore, the question of responsibility for the word and before the word must always be persistent before us. What has been said about the power of the word inherent in it as a symbol of cosmic essence leads us to the question of its divine inspiration, and from a somewhat special angle. Usually - since the times of Alexandrian exegesis - a threefold meaning of the word of God is distinguished: literal, figurative and spiritual. The first is associated with the specific content of the word in its most direct form, which reflects the language, the era, and the personality of the author. Inspiration is the highest degree of spiritual actuality, and therefore it does not imply the extinguishing of human individuality; on the contrary, its greatest tension. The Holy Spirit inspires the inspired writer, but in no way turns him into a passive tool or instrument. Therefore, works recognized by the church as divinely inspired do not cease to be monuments of writing, bearing the stamp of their historical era with all its limitations and properties. The very fact that they were written in a specific language, moreover belonging to a certain era, makes them a monument of this language, subject to philological study. Further, they represent a well-known literary form, characteristic of a person, an era, and a given type of work. Finally, it may also contain signs of purely human creativity, poetic inspiration, artistic talent characteristic of a given writer (for example, the brightness and beauty of the style of the prophet Isaiah, the extraordinary strength of Jeremiah, the colorfulness of the prophet Ezekiel, etc. - all these are their personal qualities). Therefore, even without the quality of divine inspiration, it will occupy its place in the history of human thought, and it occupies it even for non-believers, for whom these universal, universal literary properties exist. This is the significance for us, for example, of the Veda, the sacred books of Buddhism, the Koran, etc., and such is the significance of the Bible for an educated society as a monument of writing. It must be added, however, that human genius and literary significance in general are not at all a necessary condition for divine inspiration. Works of sacred writing can be completely average in literary terms: simply matter-of-fact, such as the legislation of Moses and the so-called historical books, ordinarily rational, like the parables of Solomon and Jesus son of Sirach, and even common and barbaric, like some New Testament writings before the court of the literary Greek style. There is not the slightest reason to deny this or turn a blind eye to it, because this would mean erasing the individuality of the person and era to which this work belongs. Or one would have to think that the Spirit of God does not breathe wherever it wants, but is in connection with a certain literary manner or requires special human talents for itself, while these latter play, in any case, not a decisive role in divine inspiration. But be that as it may, the divinely inspired work has its human content and shell. However, this content, according to the definition of the church, which includes it in the canon of sacred books, contains the truth and is in direct relation to it. The human content here is, on the one hand, free from error, and, on the other, positively involved in the truth, and this, according to the belief of the church, is under the inspiring action of the Spirit of God. Truth is all-encompassing, and what belongs to its kingdom may, in its particular content, not betray this affiliation (for example, individual articles of ritual law, historical narratives); This connection can also be revealed under the special influence of the Spirit of God. The Word of God, both individual books and the entire Bible, in this sense has a symbolic nature, is a divinely inspired symbol, has infinite depth, which, like a starry vault, becomes deeper and deeper as one looks. The meaning of a symbol is that it is never limited to its immediate existence; in it, through it and behind it, the depths of existence are revealed. And in this sense, the depth of the content of the Word of God is immeasurable - every thinking person who lives with the Bible and turns to it at different times of his life is convinced of this. This is what the teaching about the spiritual meaning of Holy Scripture speaks about, and this spiritual meaning, according to the teaching of the church, is also revealed under the special guidance of the Spirit of God in spirit-bearing men. The Bible is a book that is by no means read to the end, an always revealing symbol, and in such critical epochs as ours, this is felt with particular force. Is it not expressly said of Christ that He “opened the mind” to understand the scriptures and prophets? Therefore, the Bible is the eternal potential of divine inspiration, like a window into another world, from where the rays and sounds of the kingdom of God break through, why it can never simply be read like any book, but must be eternally read. In this sense, the Bible in the church is not a book, but a sacrament of the word, which is performed by the power of the Holy Spirit, like other sacraments, and the communion of the word is performed. Under the guise of data, historically arose words, believers receive spirit and life. The Word as a symbol, the unity of the transcendental-immanent in the Bible, is transubstantiated by the Holy Spirit; it no longer has only a cosmic, immanent nature, but a supernatural, divine one. All this represents, perhaps unusual in expression, but, in essence, a generally accepted idea that underlies the teaching of the church about the divine inspiration of St. scriptures. To this we must add the following. The Word, whether alone or in certain combinations, as a verbal formula, according to the practice of the church, contains special power, is a vessel of grace. This obviously applies to the words of the sign of the cross, to all rites, and in general to the entire church service, which is considered by the church as divinely inspired. Prayers, in addition to their content and the mood invested by those praying, have power, and this, by the way, is manifested in the fact that some selected prayers are repeated many times, apparently without any special relation to the content, but in some sacred numbers: 3, 12, 40 (Lord have mercy). This also applies to the repetition of a certain group of prayers at almost every service (“beginning”). Finally, it should be noted that such an exceptional place in private and public worship is occupied by the psalter in general and some individual psalms in particular. It is impossible, of course, to exaggerate the significance of this undying source of prayerful inspiration, which always fills the church field, and, however, it must be said that the significance of the psalter in practice is even greater than what follows from this assessment. The Psalter is repeated in church and at home, like no other group of prayers, from it the “rule” of monastics is compiled, it is that verbal air that is breathed at the heights of asceticism and contemplation, it constantly sanctifies the mouth of a monk and the very atmosphere of his cell. At the same time, one cannot help but say that the psalter bears an extremely pronounced imprint of the people, the era, and the compilers; Some, and many, psalms seem to have only historical significance for us in content. And yet the church, without stopping at this, prescribes the entire psalter in the “rule” of church and home prayer, as if it is even little interested in the content of individual psalms, while at the same time seeing in the psalter an irreplaceable, the only means of prayer exercise. Individual psalms, according to their content, are selected and placed in their place of worship, like other prayers, but along with this there is a reading of the entire psalter as a whole; The testimony of ascetics regarding this exclusive, unique role of the psalter, like this command of the church, makes us think that the psalter has a special power, and only thanks to this can we understand that it is possible to use the psalter as required by the church, that it - at the height of spirituality - does not bore or tire, but pleases and warms, so that in relation to the psalter, by feeling it, one can determine spiritual age and maturity. However, we can and must approach an understanding of its natural basis, which we see in the symbolic nature of the word itself and in its ability to be imbued with power. The word is, or more precisely, can be a condenser of power, cosmic or gracious, and such condensers of power are the sacred formulas of the sacraments. But this power is in no way determined only by the meaning or content of the formula, which would have, at most, the meaning of a wish, a thought, a mood, but would have no power. This power is given due to the fact that the word is not only meaning, but also a container of energy, a tool, a conductor. Protestantism only came up with the service of the word as meaning, but the Church also knows another service of the word - as power, and this service forms the basis of its mysterious life. All knowledge is naming, and the predicate, the idea, merging with the subject, with the subject, gives a name. This is the origin of all naming and names in general. Moreover, this fusion can be more close and permanent, or temporary and transient, depending on this we distinguish between the so-called “proper” and “common” names. Every name in its genesis is a common noun, as arising from naming (naming), but it is also necessarily proper if it sticks to its bearer as a constant predicate, so that its bearer is called by this predicate. Every name is proper in the sense that it selects one predicate from an infinite number of others that can be applied to it; this selection is naming in the narrow sense, as giving a name. When we call a given object a table, i.e., as the analysis of this word shows, we select for its name the attribute lay, a predicate of postlanity, arrangement, adapted surface, then of all the other attributes that may be associated with the table, we select only this one; in a similar way, coelum – κοῖλος – we call the sky as a concave, hollow space, leaving all other signs. In its further existence, this name in its meaning may have its own destiny: to expand, narrow, specialize, generally has its own history, but at this moment of its emergence the difference between a proper and a common name is not yet felt 218. Every naming is a judgment, in other words, every name has a meaning, this constitutes the so-called “internal form” of the name. However, over time, if a given name is destined for stability, it may fade in its meaning and begin to sound like a nickname, like a nickname, like a “proper name.” This is the fate of many names and geographical names, which were originally semantic designations, names through predicates, and then became simply nicknames that lost their meaning, forgetting their internal form 219. These are the majority of geographical names, as well as human nicknames 220. The difference between a “proper name” in this case is its meaninglessness, lack of internal form, so to speak, algebraic character. But this same name will immediately become a “common noun” if we fill it with content, give it an internal form, borrowing it from its bearer (“What can the Russian land give birth to its own Platos and quick minds of Newtons”, etc.; Khlestakov and Khlestakovism). The clot of words is melted and re-melted, receiving new life. This question of the difference between proper and common names is of paramount importance for the philosophy of names. It breaks down into two questions: about the nature of the name itself and the nature of its bearer. As for the first, we tried to show that every name in its occurrence is a word, i.e. meaning, idea, content: meaningless and meaningless names do not exist in their genesis. Those meaningless nicknames, which are sometimes equated with names, simply could not have arisen otherwise than as onomatopoeic ones, i.e. in its own way also in a semantic way (see above). This assumption occurred, undoubtedly, due to the fact that a special class of words arose with the development of language, in a certain era in the history of the word, that have no other meaning than to be the names of certain objects and persons, individual nicknames. Thus, the history of a word from its beautiful, semantic genesis to a meaningless nickname is a gradual weathering, fading of meaning, preservation of one sound. No wonder “intelligent”, i.e. having reached the point of complete rationalistic insensitivity to the word, parents choose names for their children, guided by sonority, like parrots, but the idiocy of the name among the intelligentsia (and now among the people), of course, speaks only of its spiritual drying out, and nothing else. A proper name is precisely such a nickname that has lost its internal form. It is like a gesture of a demonstrative pronoun, sound-colored, or a counting number, or some other insignia, an auxiliary means for our cognitive operations, in the economy of cognitive and verbal means. A proper name in the strict sense, from this point of view, is not even a word, just as an algebraic sign is not a word: it stands on the very edge of the word, it is a word only in its sound shell. And that is precisely why (here we move to the other side of the question of a proper name, to the nature of its bearer) it is absolutely individual: since it does not express anything, is a specific demonstrative pronoun or a demonstrative gesture, then its naming is an act of pure arbitrariness, which cannot be generalized, extended beyond the boundaries of a given case. It’s as if any sound can be a name, but it must be unique and singular in its kind: only the poverty of imagination, the powerlessness of ingenuity prevents names from being, in fact, absolutely individual and never repeated. In fact, names are repeated; in the language of a given society there is always a number of such quasi-words, nicknames, that can be used for proper names. However, one can go further and assume that a name is not only given arbitrarily, but also changes at a whim, so that there can be as many names as there are whims to change it: in other words, the name is torn away from its nest and crumbles into separate specks of dust. True, against this, reference can be made to utilitarian motives that contradict the plurality of names and their change at whim: stability is lost, and even social and legal interests that require the constancy of the name are violated. However, these motives, external and alien to the word, would be unable to suppress the tendency towards polynymy, polynomy, if there were a basis for it in the language. And if renaming, generally speaking, is a rare and exceptional act that should always be sufficiently motivated, this indicates that the situation with a name is not so simple and that a name is not a nickname, or rather, only a nickname. That in a name - and in every name - there is hidden a demonstrative gesture or a pronoun, we have seen. And the more strongly the indicative, nominative element is revealed, the more the proper character of the name is emphasized in the name; The more energetically the connection is asserted, the more, of course, the name is a nickname. But a name is still a word and as such cannot and does not become a nickname until the end, only a nickname, but retains its nature as a predicate, and naming retains the character of a judgment, which is a naming par excellence, as not only a theoretical judgment, but also a volitional action, as if a command: let it be. In this sense, naming contains a certain creative act, and it would be in vain to reduce it to the whimsical invention of a nickname, for which the naming of a name by “intelligent parents” is now revered. When naming, the one who names says: let there be a name. In some amorphous mass in relation to the name, a certain seed of the name is planted, which is about to sprout and manifest its vitality. Here we mean, of course, a person, because only he has a name, receives it in the creative act, while the remaining names either only appear, like the names of animals in Adam, or are nicknames in which whim and the all-bearing and all-connecting association with its glue operate. Before the naming of a name, the subject is not only indifferent to the name, or hostile to it, anonymous, but only amorphous, potential, and this potentiality, the ability to receive a name and a vague attraction to the name itself presupposes the absence of a specific name. This means that man, as a generic being, as an all-man, has all the potential names and can be called anything. This does not mean, of course, that in the specific implementation of naming the actual choice of names is unlimited - this never happens due to external conditions not related to the very potency of naming, but this means that all the names that have ever been applied to a person or will be applied, all human names, belong to a person not only as an individual, but also as a species, or as the primordial Adam, who contained within himself the names not only of the lower animal world, but also of the entire human race, which is why he carried out this force by private acts of naming - his wife Eve (Gen. 3:20), and then his children. But as an individual he can only have a certain name, which excludes and repels other names: omnis definitio est negatio 221. This idea is quite obvious, since naming is a judgment, i.e. predication of a certain quality, definition of the subject through the predicate, through the idea. We can call an object by various names, sometimes having hundreds of synonyms, 222 express it with an infinite number of metaphors, attribute it and thus call it all sorts of properties, and yet this naming is not a whimsical nickname, but an identification of the potential content of a given subject, its cosmic characteristics. Therefore, with any individual act of predication we push away, eliminate all others, but this also does not mean that we act here on a whim, although, undoubtedly, judgment presupposes an act of our mental freedom. This is the origin of all nouns, common nouns. But proper names in their prototype also have a specific meaning, as historical grammar shows, and in this case they do not differ from any judgment-naming: they belonged to common nouns, which determined their bearer as a permanent predicate: Ἀλέξανδρος, Θεόδωρος 223, Grozny, Dobrynya and under. What makes them a name here is the strong glue that connects the subject with the predicate, and the creative act: let such and such be the case, which consists in giving a name. However, when we lose our inner form, forget or lose the meaning of a name due to the vastness of historical distance, then doesn’t the name turn into an empty nickname for us? But it is not true that names that have lost their internal form over time do not have it at all in any given historical era. On the contrary, they grow in their meaning and content along with the loss of their original internal form, or rather, they acquire it anew, moreover, ever changing, updating, becoming more complex. A name lives in history, like any word, but unlike a word, because it becomes a symbol of some vital essence of a certain quality, a seed or yeast, it always has a meaning, and a very ponderous one at that. The name is a force, the root of individual existence, in relation to which the bearer, the earth or soil, is the named, and for him the naming therefore has a fatal, determining character. It may or may not succeed as a bearer of its name, but it will still be – good or bad – exactly its copy. A name is the idea of ​​a person in the Platonic sense. Here we approach the question of the nature of proper names from a different angle, namely, from the side of their volume. We explained that every predicate, predicate, expresses an idea, is an idea, not abstract or concrete, but an ideological definition. But the name, since it is a predicate, since naming is a judgment, must also be an idea, therefore, have a general significance, meaning. This idea, the name, is inseparably glued to its given owner; moreover, he becomes the bearer of the name. His name is his ideological core, his “own” name in comparison with other predicates, but it does not at all follow from this that he is the only owner of this name, its owner. If his power of possession is satisfied and exhausted by this name, then, on the contrary, the power of the name is not at all exhausted on one bearer, but can be poured out on an indefinite number of them. And then all of them are its bearers, but not one possesses it exclusively: the idea and name, contained in many, remain in themselves, without changing, just as many shoots can come from one root. This is Plato’s doctrine of ideas in general, but it applies with particular clarity to the doctrine of names. Due to the fact that many are bearers of the same name, this name is a common, generic attribute for them; it is no longer “proper,” but a common noun, denoting a special type of person, distributing the human race into classes, just as it is distributed according to all sorts of external characteristics. It is a mistake to think that this state of affairs is simply connected with the actual repetition of names due to the poverty of human imagination, which is unable to come up with its own unique name for each individual. This would be the case if the name were just a sound nickname that had no meaning, i.e. not a word, and the language would not be a language, but some kind of abstruse squealing. A name (new) always has one or another original meaning, there is a word, there is a predicate, there is an idea. And what is characteristic here is precisely the conscious, deliberate repetition of the name applied to new speakers: here the name obviously appears as an idea, meaning, predicate. And since no name is guaranteed from repetition, even if it occurs even once, this testifies to its nature as an idea. So, the property of a proper name lies not in the special nature of the name itself, which as a meaning is an idea, a word, like any other, but in the stronger glue of the bundle and in the ontological features that arise from here. But even when a proper name, losing its internal form, loses its original meaning along with it, it still never becomes just a nickname, but acquires its special exclusive meaning as a name. At different times of its existence, a name may have different meanings, changing almost to the point of opposites, but in each given era the name has its own specific meaning, which, with more or less clarity, mostly vaguely, can be recognized, just as the spiritual meaning of paint or sound is recognized. The name expresses the spiritual type, structure, variety of a person; according to names, the human race is divided into families and groups, this is its natural classification 224. Names can be simple and complex, usually a name consists of several elements, folded or connected, as if in a bud (first name, patronymic, last name - nomen, praenomen, cognomen, etc.), a chord of names, but in order not to complicate the issue for now, let’s take only one name. It is individual for a given person, but it is not at all individual in itself: as an idea it is realized in many phenomenal instances. All Sergei are through participation, μέθεξις, name, idea Sergei, among them there are different, bad and good Sergei, i.e. more fully or worse successful exponents of the entelechy of their name, and also different in the sense that the soil on which the same seed is thrown is individually different. Therefore, there may be successful, good Sergei in different grafts to different wild animals, there is a diversity of each name, sometimes overshadowing its unity. Names receive not only changing meanings, but also various additional definitions that complicate the very influence of the name. In the Christian calendar, names are given in honor of certain saints: this means that a name is not given in general, but of a certain quality, from different crops of the same name. And this qualitative connotation of the name does not remain indifferent; on the contrary, there are as many types of each name as there are specific implementations of it. Here we do not mean the meaning of the participation of the heavenly patron, the “angel”, to whose face, as if to a family, the bearer of this name belongs, but the effect of this name itself. However, this patronage of the “angel”, ontologically considered, is a variant of the reality of the name, because the special connection that exists between the saint and his namesake is based not on any special reasons (as there may be a special closeness to different saints for one reason or another), but precisely because of the same name: a common name also binds a common destiny, no matter how different the individual destinies may be. So the name is power, seed, energy. It shapes, defines its bearer from the inside: it is not he who bears the name by which it is called, but in a certain sense it bears it as an internal purposeful cause, entelechy, by the force of which an acorn develops into an oak, and a grain into an ear of wheat, although the fates of different ears may be different. A name is not a simple word (“an empty sound”) (although an “empty word”, completely powerless and ineffective, does not exist at all). The name is energy, strength, the seed of life. It exists “in itself” or “for itself” regardless of whether it is applied; just like the oak, the power of the oak exists on its own, apart from individual trees. And yet it exists only in its carriers, just like the idea of ​​oak only in oak trees, like Aristotle’s entelechy. As an object of speculation, a name is an idea; as a force it is entelechy. The Platonic-Aristotelian definitions here are completely compatible and equally appropriate: the idea is the ideal basis of entelechy, its existential root, entelechy is the concrete being of an idea, the idea is energy, entelechy is its hypostatic manifestation. If this is true, this implies an answer to the further question of the philosophy of names: how should we understand the origin of new names, are they invented, as it seems, or do they arise, speak for themselves the way things speak for themselves? Undoubtedly the latter. Only the outer shell of names is invented, constituting the realm of real or apparent arbitrariness, and not what is revealed in this shell. The “internal form” of the name, as far as it is preserved (Leo, Faith, Love, etc.), gives the theme of the name, indicates only the dominant feature, but does not exhaust its content, just as the name “rose,” indicating a pink (and then only initially, in isolated cases) color, says nothing about the structure, about the petals, or about everything that the name rose actually means. The meaning of a name as a certain root for a certain species is always wider and deeper than the content that its internal form has. And therefore, we can essentially say that the one who invents a name based on any one characteristic does not know at all what is really happening here, what kind of catch is on the hook of the nickname he has invented when it begins to exist as a name. Here there is a big, qualitative difference between the same word, used as a word or as a name: lion and Leo are completely different things, although lion is included in Leo as the character of the name, passing on one way or another to its bearers. When inventing completely new nicknames and names, some of which die without being born, turning out to be husks or barren flowers, a peculiar cunning of the mind 225 occurs, using human powers for its own purposes: the name is born through the namer in the named, but, having been born, already lives its own life. This can be said to an even greater extent when the name is not reinvented, but is chosen from existing ones for one reason or another, at least for “beauty”. The name allows itself to be taken, but it does not at all obey the stupidity of those who chose it, but lives its own life, doing its own work, since it has reached a new incarnation, seeded a new life. Even a more conscious choice of a name will be short-sighted, because it is difficult for a person to know the secret of the name, as well as the secret of his own being. He is often guided by an illusion or a limited appearance, and even if he has the correct intuition of a name, he is in any case blind as to what exactly constitutes the basis for a name, i.e. as yet unnamed bearer of the name. Meanwhile, this or that relationship and correspondence between the name and the named should determine the results: certain spiritual types ask for a certain name, they need it in order to blossom, and vice versa. There may be name losers who receive a difficult, impossible name for themselves and become exhausted under the weight of it. Therefore, naming is always more or less blind, and a special illumination of God’s grace is needed in order to correctly name, i.e. to realize the greatest correspondence between the name and its bearer, to reveal the name, the human idea in its purity and completeness. It is not in vain, therefore, that in certain, exceptional cases, a name is given according to the direct determination of God, moreover, even before birth, in the womb of the mother, even before conception. From this series of cases, abundantly attested in the Old Testament and in hagiography, we will focus only on two of the most important gospel ones, namely, the naming of the name John the Baptist and the Savior: both of them happened before birth, even before conception. About John we read that the angel said to Zechariah: “Your wife Elizabeth will bear you a son, and you will call his name John” (Luke 1:13). When the baby was born, they “wanted to name him after his father’s name, Zechariah; to this the mother said: no, but call him John” (Luke 1:59–60). Where does Elizabeth have this desire, which clearly goes against the natural voice of kinship and custom, which would require being named after her father, as is directly attested in the Gospel? However, it is not indicated in the Gospel that Elizabeth acted here by direct inspiration from above. Isn’t it more natural to think that in the state of this righteous woman, pure and chaste, the real name, most characteristic of a baby, and therefore the name John, predicted for Zacharias, was naturally born, asked, knocked in the heart? What was said to Zechariah about the future, how it would be, already meant, by the power of God’s omnipotence, it would be, but now it was already and became: a child, whose nature longed for the name John as the most appropriate for it, was awaiting the naming. And the mother’s feelings testified to this. Doesn't this tell us something about how names are given in general, how they arise, at least in pure, unperverted human nature? The name given by Elizabeth was also confirmed by her father, who wrote on the tablet a formula expressive in its conciseness: “His name is John” (John 1:63). Let all the name fighters think: is it really possible to be so indifferent to a name, to see in it an arbitrary nickname, when the Lord, in those cases when the paths of Providence are revealed to us and when it comes to the preparation of the Forerunner of the Lord, by a special act of theophany through an angel, by miraculous intervention, reveals the name? And after this they dare to say that the name means nothing, there is a simple nickname, so the Lord is busy inventing nicknames for reasons of convenience, euphony, or I don’t know what! No, naming is a new birth, a final birth (which is why it takes place in the Old Testament at circumcision, in the New at baptism), and then, when we are dealing with God’s chosen birth, we naturally deal with naming with the logic of internal necessity. The Gospel narrative about the naming of the Savior’s name must have irrefutable, unique meaning. (For now, we leave aside the divine meaning of this Name, and limit ourselves only to human naming.) Here this wondrous Name is named and predicted twice: for the first time, at the appearance of the Archangel of the Annunciation: he says to the Virgin: “And you will conceive a Son, and you will call His Name Jesus” (Luke 1:31). The second time the Angel of the Lord speaks about the same thing to Joseph, when Mary was already pregnant, appearing to him in a dream: “She will give birth to a Son, and you will call His name Jesus” (Matthew 1:21). And narrating about the naming itself, the Evangelist once again recalls the connection with this command of the Archangel: “and after eight days, when the Child should have been circumcised, they gave Him the name Jesus, which the Angel had named before He was conceived in the womb” (Luke 2:21). Naming a name, in certain deliberately significant and solemn occasions, is a direct work of God. Thus, it is natural to expect this at the very creation of man, for creation must also be a naming. And, indeed, we find, albeit a brief, but quite expressive indication in the book of Genesis: “(God) blessed them and called them the name of man on the day of their creation” (Gen. 5:2) (in Slavic: and he called his name Adam, on that day he created them). There are cases where God names individuals or renames them. So it was with Ishmael through the Angel of God. “And the Angel of the Lord said to Hagar, Behold, you are with child, and you will give birth to a son, and you will call his name Ishmael, for God has heard your sufferings” (Gen. 16:11). All three greatest forefathers: Abraham, Isaac and Jacob receive their name either directly (Isaac) 226 or through renaming (Abraham and Israel) directly from God himself. (This also includes the solemn prophecy of Isaiah: “Behold, the Virgin will be with child and give birth to a Son, and they will call His name Immanuel” (Is. 7:14), which has a direct parallel in the Archangel’s promise about the name of Jesus in the Annunciation.) God says to Cyrus in Isaiah: “for the sake of Jacob my servant and Israel my chosen one, I called you by name, I honored you, although you did not know me” (Is. 45:4). Naming is a matter of special care and honor here, even for a pagan. We find symbolic naming of names according to the direct command of God in the prophets: Is.8:3: “And I approached the prophetess, and she conceived and gave birth to a son. And the Lord said to me: call his name: Mager-shelal-khash-baz (the robbery hastens, the extraction hastened).” God says in Isaiah about Israel: “The Lord called Me from the womb, from My mother’s womb He called My name” (Is. 49:1) - is this really just a rhetorical expression, here, where, according to the interpretation of the publishers of the Russian translation of the Bible, the Divine Savior is also meant (judging by the capital letters in the transcription). And about the “eunuchs,” “who keep My Sabbaths and hold fast My covenant, to them I will give in My house and within My walls a place and a better name than sons and daughters: I will give them an everlasting name, which will not be cut off” (Is. 56:4-5). “And they will call you by a new name, which the mouth of the Lord will call” (Is. 62:2), says Isaiah about Israel. “They will no longer call you “forsaken” and your land will no longer be called wilderness, but they will call you “I am well pleased with him,” and your land “married,” for the Lord delights in you” (ibid., Is. 62:4), “... and they will call them a holy nation” (Is. 62:12). For now, we leave without attention those cases of naming as a renaming, which are narrated about the Savior himself in relation to his disciples (John - Boanerges, Peter - Simon); our goal here is to show that naming is a special creative act that can be carried out accurately only in one specific way. This problem allows only one solution, which is nevertheless or even more significant. The name may seem to come about randomly or arbitrarily. In order to free yourself from this illusion, you need to look at the naming of a name in the light of general anthropological principles that emerge in human life. One can see random reasons for the emergence of language, and yet language - hardly anyone doubts this - is a human ability, its irreducible property, without which a person could not be human. There are abilities for thinking, for science, for technology, economy, statehood, which, no matter how diverse they are or even random in their manifestations, can only be understood anthropologically: a person is ζῷον ποιητικόν, πολιτικόν 227, etc. In the same way, naming belongs to the number its main anthropological definitions: ζῷον ὀνοματικόν 228, a person has and gives a name, race, nationality. Names, as the roots of diversity, as nests of being, are inherent in humanity, although this division by name does not coincide or only partially coincides with its division according to other characteristics, for example, by race. If this characteristic division eludes human inquisitiveness, this is due to the difficulty of establishing this division, and also due to the general direction of modern thought, prone to abstraction, blind to everything concrete. Names do not arise by chance or arbitrarily, they are not invented without any internal regularity, they exist in man, the many-named First Adam, and are only found in naming. Therefore, naming a name receives meaning and completeness; the problem of onomatics appears before us in all its breadth. And once again the question arises: what is a name and what is naming? A name is first of all a sound word, say a phoneme. It can be one of a kind, individual, without synonyms and alien to polynymy, but it can also be polysemantic, replete with synonyms. In a similar way, the word spit, language (and most words), in their different meanings, despite sound uniformity, are, in essence, completely different words; their phoneme is filled with a completely different meaning, sinema. In the same way, the names: John, Jesus, Daniel, and most names, although they sound the same, are completely different names. Thus, the same phoneme does not exhaust or define a word, and only the insufficiency and inaccuracy of our transcription, however, compensated by the general context or meaning, allows us to write the same way, without distinguishing by any sign, different, although identical-sounding, names. Here we have a case of a metaphor for a name, just as the metaphorical meanings of words (braid, tongue), merging with the meaning, make them completely different words, and their consonance only reminds us of the history of the word. Human speech, as in other cases, strives here for the greatest economy of means and prefers to make do with old sonorities (phonemes), associating with them a new meaning. However, the phoneme, or a certain sonority, is a necessary accessory to the name, its outermost shell, which, in fact, is accepted as the essence of the name by those for whom it is only a nickname, “an empty sound.” Further, the name, or phoneme, is fused with the known meaning of the name as a word; this is what is sometimes called the internal form of the word, its original meaning. Of course, it is valid only in its native language, where it originated: Jewish names: Anna, Moses, Jesus, John, etc., Greek: Andrey, Alexey, Alexander, Irina, Sophia, etc. etc., Russians: Yaroslav, Dobrynya, Vladimir, etc. This meaning of the name, of course, indicates some general properties of his nature, but in no way exhausts them. It is further concretized in a special, private use of the name, corresponding to one of the meanings of a given word (for example, Xhosa): this is the meaning of the name in a given era among a given people. In the Christian calendar, this specification of the name is introduced by the saints, who give the names of the namesake their own characteristics. At the same time, of course, bearers of the same name have an affinity with each other, the name bushes and produces shoots, but individual branches can diverge far (for example, Paul the Apostle and Paul the “simple”). The name in all its concreteness is a certain living energy, which, like all living things, is perceptible by inner intuition and can only be identified, told, felt by the contemplator. This corresponds to the blueness of the word, its meaning merged with the phoneme. Names cross, mix, arise, disintegrate and are resurrected (renaming, a new name), but every human being is something that has a name. When given a name, they often grab only the phoneme, without thinking about a specific synema (“beauty” of the name), and act unconsciously. More often, however, although vaguely or through the veneration of a saint or “hero,” a specific name is given, with reference to the blue. But regardless of this, the name acts with its own power, once it is given, has taken root, and has seeded. So, what is the role of freedom or arbitrariness here? What kind of power is this that the namer receives over the named? Yes, this is power, although you need to delve into the nature of this power and freedom. A person has the power to enter into marriage or not, although neither conception nor birth depends on him, but only the elimination or non-elimination of their possibility through abstinence. However, it is typical for him to get married, it is an unfolding of his being, and only a Negro will be born from a Negro, and only a Tatar will be born from a Tatar. In a similar way, here he can name one way or another, although he cannot not name, because otherwise a surrogate for the name will still appear, i.e. an uncommon new name, which can only be new for the namer, but not at all in the nature of things. And this is his apparent freedom of choice. However, this freedom is in reality only the revelation of vaguely conscious naming potentials, hereditary, i.e. generic, attraction, the voice of blood and clan, forces in general, not at all individual in the sense of individual arbitrariness, but generic. Speaking about the inherited nature of the name, we do not have here a tendency at all costs to repeat and maintain the same name in the family (although this is often manifested in this), no, this heredity that we postulate can be very difficult to catch, because it manifests itself in repulsion from some names and attraction to others. And in physiological heredity there can be very variegated combinations of hereditary forces. It doesn’t really matter who gives the name: father, parents, relatives, priest. All the same, he “enters into rapport” with the named, and an onomatic current is established. And, perhaps, cases of the most arbitrary, whimsical choice of a name (“by beauty”) indicate the absence of a positive instinct for a name, speaking about the power of heredity, as well as degeneration or an outbreak of new talents in a given family. If a name is chosen for one or another scientific, national, astrological reasons, then this too has only a secondary meaning, it determines how, and not what. So, during conception, during pregnancy, parents can behave accordingly in order to achieve their goal, but it is achieved according to the mysterious laws of the wisdom of nature. And in naming, the choice of a name with its freedom is only like, the free implementation of what is already predetermined by nature. Instinct, the name itself, works. Freedom of choice can be allowed only within certain limits, between related names or their nominal equivalents, of course, not identical, but related (as synonymous expressions). This freedom of choice must even necessarily be allowed, as in all human actions that are internally necessary. But in the being, naming occurs organically, i.e. instinct operates. The further fate of the name, its healthy or sick development, strength, etc., depends on the soil on which the seed falls and on the fate of this creature. The name does not exist disembodied, as a transcendental idea, it is entelechy, which in the name is designated as potency, and the named becomes energy, acting as entelechy. Comparative and mass observation of naming does not seem to have been carried out. Probably, it would have discovered here a kind of “statistical pattern”, similar to other patterns of the same order (fertility, mortality, marriage rate, etc.), the probable expectedness of names would have been established, and in general the life of the race with its pattern of the whole would have eliminated the place of the individual’s whim. And the general relationship between freedom and the need for naming would be similar to the same relationship in the field of other phenomena of social life, which once so amazed A. Quetelet 229, making him a determinist. In fact, here the question of freedom and necessity does not arise, because both relate to different areas and do not collide with each other: freedom takes place in individual life, it is an image of revealing here a general, generic pattern, which for the individual exists only as an internal incentive for his freedom; necessity refers to the life of the species, although it is realized only in individuals, but is never limited to them, because it requires a multitude for itself: individual multiplicity and free (living) necessity - the question of statistical regularity leads to such polarities. It testifies that life is deeper than individuality, for it includes the generic essence, but at the same time does not detract from this latter. Each person is simultaneously an individual and a species, freedom and a law, something and everything, and this paradox manifests itself, among other things, in the so-called statistical law. So, it seems to us that a mass statistical study of naming, if it were carried out both in terms of the nature of the material and the appropriate methods, would reveal here something similar to what it reveals in other areas: a super-individual pattern, that very instinct in naming that manifests itself in individually free, arbitrary acts of choice. (Of course, the grouping here would have to be done more subtly: along with common names, random names, given “by beauty” or whim, etc., would have to be combined into a special group.) It would probably turn out that certain tribes in certain eras have a predilection for a certain group of names that express their onomastic characteristics 230 . Just as there is a structure of a tree or an organism, there is also an onomatic structure of the genus and species, although it refers to its ideological structure (ideological in the Platonic sense). Of course, a comparison of the naming pattern with a statistical pattern (which is a multi-valued and not at all self-evident phenomenon that has an indisputable interpretation) cannot be considered an exhaustive explanation; rather, it indicates the phenomenology of the phenomenon, its how, and not what. However, the nature of the onomatical pattern is precisely statistical, i.e. it refers to aggregates, while individual naming, considered separately, remains random and free, i.e. irregular in this statistical sense. Names are, therefore, sinews, bones, cartilages, in general, parts of the onomatic skeleton of a person, and the naming itself consolidates or reveals each of its parts: before it, a person is the possibility, thinking abstractly, of all names, more specifically - a certain circle of names, even more specifically - a limited number of them, determined by an instinctive attraction realized in parents or as a force of heredity, or a kind of decadence. However, due to this freedom in the implementation of naming, not illusory, but real, it is possible to obscure and distort the instinct and naming, obviously incorrect, inappropriate, onomatic monstrosity. And such an alien name, once given, becomes its own, becomes a seed that is destined to fertilize soil that is completely alien to it. The fruit will be strange and ugly in an unfavorable case, but in a favorable case it gives a variation of the name: from a given family of a name, which until now had only known features, a new branch stands out, a new meaning of the given name, in some way a new name. Any innovation is a monstrosity that deviates from the path of a given instinct, however, for the sake of a higher instinct. But what are seed names? Is it possible to express their essence as such? This is very difficult, it requires peering, getting used to it, a special act of intuition, and in some cases it is easier than in others. This difficulty or even actual impossibility (due to the lack of attention directed in this direction) should not confuse and be a fundamental obstacle to onomatology: does the language of colors, sounds, natural elements become more dull because we cannot express in words all its meaning? On the contrary, this rather speaks of the symbolic nature of it as going into depth and not being exhausted by any definition. However, ontologically one can be educated, develop, trying to express the potency of the name, to feel the name. Of course, the name with this understanding has the meaning of a Platonic idea, εἶδος, which has an intelligible existence and organizes, participates in phenomenal being. More specifically, names belong to the idea of ​​a person and are the essence of his strength, potency, content. The multi-named intelligible man is the basis of historical humanity. As has already been indicated, the name is individually real in a person in the sense that it is individual, especially in connection with its given bearer, but at the same time it is ideal, i.e. universal in relation to everything involved in it. A name is a word, a person’s word about a person. A person establishes a pattern of names and each name; individuals are specific instances of an idea-name, which is for them a theme, a task, and a hidden spiritual power. Nevertheless, the nature of the relationship between the name and its bearer is only μέθεξις - participation; the natural basis on which the name falls is Platonic matter as χώρα, the meonic medium, plastic matter, promoting and reacting, thirsty but also darkening. Therefore, there are no absolute correspondences between name and bearer, adequacy between name and matter (except for very specific exceptions, pre-established names of a divine nature, noted above). Otherwise, for this it would be necessary to assume that the world has become transparent in its ideological basis, in other words, it has become sophistic not only in its basis, but also in a state, in its being, which does not exist. On the contrary, the name as an organism of names is the Sophian man, one of the expressions of his anthroposophical essence. The philosophy of name, the doctrine of the harmony of names and their organism, leads to the doctrine of the harmony of the spheres of all things, the basis of which is the divine Sophia and the Sophia universal man Adam-Kadmon 231, who gives a name to everything as he finds in himself every name. Naming is an act of birth, more precisely, it is the moment of birth, connection, μέθεξις, name-idea with matter, its entry, imprinting by it. Therefore, the name is given, comes, but is not chosen by the named one. Likewise, a person cannot be born of himself, but only from parents who must be capable of giving birth, have the will to conceive, or at least consent to it. Of course, the question does not end there, because one can also ask about the will to incarnate, about the consent of the person being born, and finally, about the specific image of incarnation. It is possible and should postulate that it is not by chance that individuals are born in one or another environment with one or another trait of spiritual organization, as evidenced by a dull sense of guilt and responsibility for one’s character. This self-determination and self-will is beyond the threshold of empirical existence, is known only as anamnesis, the recollection of what was when we were not, and what we were when we were not yet there. Just as we postulate this will to being, or rather, it is postulated in us, so we postulate the will to name, a dull thirst for a name of one type or another, meaning, shade. At the same time, failure and error are possible in both cases. But all the same, the facts are inexorable and irreversible, and once a given name becomes, as it were, an ideal flesh, an image of the embodiment of a given spirit 232, which is doomed to settle in this name, live in it, develop its theme. He recognizes himself as already named; the name is his self-consciousness 233 with which he finds himself in the world. However, the name, although it belongs to the very core of individual existence, nevertheless represents only its shell, albeit one of the most internal. A name determines the existence of its bearer, however, only in its state, but not in essence. Man is clothed in the name, just as he is clothed in flesh. Although he cannot be incorporeal, as well as nameless (which in the spiritual order also means disembodiment), his corporeality is not exhausted by the given state of his body, just as his name does not merge inextricably with his current naming. Faith promises us the transformation of the resurrected body, both our individual and the entire planetary body, “a new heaven and a new earth.” But she also promises a new name, we read about this in the most joyful, solemn and reverent prophecies: “to him who overcomes I will give to eat the hidden manna, and I will give him a white stone and a new name written on the stone, which no one knows except the one who receives” (Rev. 2:17). And the same thing in Isaiah - (Is.65:1). And even about Himself the Lord proclaims: “And I will write on him the name of my God and the name of the city of my God, the new Jerusalem, which comes down from heaven from my God, even my new name” (Rev. 3:12). Even the Lord’s Divine Name, proclaimed by the Archangel, is not the only, exhaustive, final, for there is still a revelation of the New Name, a new revelation of Its Bearer about Himself. So, is renaming possible and what does it mean? If naming is a moment of birth, then renaming is a new birth, implying either the death of the old, or in any case a spiritual catastrophe, a change not in theme, but in the type, character of development. Therefore, it is clear that renaming is always a solemn act, filled with special mystical significance 234. Here we must remember and appreciate in all their depth and significance the solemn and sacred renamings that the Lord Himself carried out when calling His disciples, and, moreover, the most chosen and closest ones: the next three, to whom special secrets were revealed, which were on Tabor and in the Garden of Gethsemane, they were born again in the name, i.e. renamed - these were Peter, James, John. Mark 3:16–17: “(ordained) Simon, calling his name Peter; James Zebedee and John, the brother of James, calling their names Boanerges, that is, sons of Thunder.” The initial renaming of Peter is especially noted in the Gospel John 1:42: “Jesus, looking at him, said: You are Simon, the son of Jonah; you will be called Cephas, which means stone (Peter).” The renaming of Simon was especially solemnly confirmed at the most solemn moment of his life, during confession on the way to Caesarea Philippi. Matthew 16:16–18: “Simon Peter answered and said: You are the Christ, the Son of the living God. Then Jesus answered and said to him, Blessed are you, Simon son of Jonah, because flesh and blood did not reveal this to you, but my Father who is in heaven; and I say to you, you are Peter, and on this rock I will build my church, and the gates of hell will not prevail against it.” Is it really permissible to admit with blasphemous frivolity that the Lord simply changed nicknames, was busy inventing pseudonyms, and there was no action here that corresponded in its significance to its solemnity? (We should also recall the partial renaming of the Apostle of Languages, Saul, who, after an incident on the road to Damascus and his Christian rebirth, began to be called Paul.) But in their own way, no less significant and significant are the renamings performed by the Lord Himself in the Old Testament. They were performed at solemn moments when the spiritual revolution in the destinies of Israel was determined, over the forefather Abraham and Jacob, God, who calls Himself Jehovah. Abram was renamed by God as Abraham in the 99th year of his life after he proved himself a worthy feat of faith and obedience to become the patriarch of God’s chosen people, just before the conclusion of the “covenant” between God and man externally through circumcision. And this “agreement” of God with man organically includes a renaming: “I am my covenant with you, you will be the father of many nations, and you will no longer be called Abram, but your name will be Abraham, for I have made you the father of many nations” (Gen. 17:4-5). And this renaming is not limited to Abraham alone, but also extends to his wife: “Do not call your wife Sarah, but let her name be Sarah” (Gen. 17:15). The question arises: why is God inventing pseudonyms or more expressive nicknames? Or - which is the only thing that seems possible to think - here we have a creative act, let the divine be (let Abram be Abraham), for God's word is a deed and God's renaming is a new creation? In the same way, Jacob, after a significant night of struggle with God, in which both human strength and human weakness were mysteriously tested, received a new name along with God's blessing on the way to Mesopotamia. “And the mysterious fighter said (to Jacob): Let Me go, for the dawn has risen. Jacob said: I will not let you go until you bless me. And he said: What is your name? He said: Jacob. And he said to him: From now on your name will not be Jacob, but Israel, for you have wrestled with God, and you will overcome men” (Gen. 32:26-28). What is this ceremonial renaming - just a pseudonym or a new nickname? or a new birth, a new creation through the power that entered Jacob during the night struggle? And this new name is once again solemnly confirmed by God upon Jacob’s return to his homeland from Mesopotamia. “And God appeared to Jacob (in Luz) after his return from Mesopotamia and blessed him, and God said to him: Your name is Jacob; From now on you will no longer be called Jacob, but your name will be Israel. And he called his name Israel” (Gen. 35:9–10). By the special act of God's naming - and naming - a new name is given, and then follows in direct connection the revelation of the power of this new name, the confirmation of the promises given to Abraham. A similar case happened with Solomon: “And Bathsheba gave birth to a son and called his name Solomon. And the Lord loved him, and sent the prophet Nathan; and he called his name Jedidiah (beloved of God), according to the word of the Lord.” (2 Samuel 12:24–25). Solemn renamings performed by a person can be compared with this. Thus: “And Moses called Hoshea the son of Nun Joshua” (Num. 13:17). “And from that day on (Joash) began to call Gideon Jerubbaal, because he said: Let Baal himself sue him because he destroyed his altar” (Judges 6:32). “And she said to them, “Do not call me Naomi (pleasant), but call me Mara (bitter), for the Almighty has sent me great sorrow” (Ruth. 1:20). In this case, two degrees of absorption of the old by the new are possible: the first, when the old name is preserved and only a nickname is added to it, an accumulation and agglutination of names occurs, but, in any case, not a real, complete renaming. The type remains the same, only more complicated. The second occurs when a complete renaming occurs, and the former name dies: this happens during monasticism, some mysterial, occult initiations. And the Apocalypse speaks about the same thing, but only in the most radical sense, where it promises a new name written on a white stone. Transfiguration, resurrection, and should essentially be such a creative all-round renaming, the discovery of the true, not by people, only approximately, found name, but from eternity, by the divine creative act of the given Sophia name. For Sophia is the Name of names, the all-name of all man. And death is, on the one hand, the separation of a name from its bearer (why in the church names are remembered as their bearers themselves) 235. And at the same time, the death of the former name, which becomes only the potency of the past. Renaming is a transformation of a name. Just as everything has its parody in the prince of this world, this monkey of the Lord God, just as transfiguration has its parody in acting, so the sacred, mystical renaming, transformation of a name has its parody in pseudonymity, this very characteristic and fundamentally interesting phenomenon of onomatology. A pseudonym can have a dual character: renaming can be a conditional means of hiding one’s true name, an objective renaming, or it can refer to the person himself and in this case has the character of a pseudonym in the proper sense. As for the first, here we have either simply concealing a name, and a pseudonym can have a purely formal meaning, be only a means, although at the same time the nickname itself, having a known internal form, can have the accuracy and expressiveness of a comparison or metaphor - a nickname. (These are many school nicknames, thieves' nicknames, etc.) The distinctive feature here is that this nickname is obviously not a “proper” name, but a “common noun”; there is a means, a nickname, which, if necessary, is replaced by a number (in prison), or generally by some external affiliation (for example, a regiment, a company). Here we have not so much a pseudonym as an undressing from a name, and it is by no means replaced by an equivalent, but only, as it were, sealed: similarly, when released from prison or discharged from a hospital, a prisoner or patient takes off his prison or hospital attire and receives his own dress along with his name and passport. So, here the name is preserved, but for some reason its power is temporarily paralyzed, it is suspended in action. Just the opposite case is possible, namely, that one’s own name is doomed to destruction, which is destined to dissolve in the elements of someone else’s name, which obviously does not belong to its bearer. We have a classic case of this in the literature of Jewish apocrypha and pseudepigrapha, in which one or another historical person was attributed the authorship of works that obviously did not belong to them. Here a kind of spiritual adoption occurs, due to which the given author considers himself (in the case of conscientious naive pseudepigraphy) as an instrument of the one with whose name he signs, or as the executor of his covenants, the keeper of his tradition, etc. In this case, some Pushkin poet, in the spirit of ancient epigraphy, could sign Pushkin or some follower of Vl. Solovyov to put his name under his treatise. And in particular, this situation became even more natural when it came to figures with the reputation of a divinely inspired prophet, such as Moses, Solomon, Enoch and others. To assume an ordinary vulgar pseudonym in cases of pseudepigraphs would be completely unhistorical and unpsychological, etc. this would mean allowing senseless and daring blasphemy in that age when it was treated with horror (even in our corrupt age, would anyone who retained even a spark of faith in their soul dare to sign under their work the name of an apostle or evangelist as its author?). Therefore, the ancient pseudepigrapha must be understood as an expansive interpretation of the name, which lives not only in its bearer or owner, but also in everyone involved in it, imprinted with its spirit. On the contrary, an ordinary literary pseudonym has the worst psychological character: here a “more beautiful” name is invented, which is applied, like paint or rouge, to faded skin. Here we already have a second case of pseudonymy, representing a pure form of acting in a name. In naming, a name is given and seeded; when renaming, due to a spiritual catastrophe that has occurred, a new name is given and a new seed is sown. But when changing the name in a pseudonym (and all cases of spontaneous renaming are onomatologically suitable for this type), the new name is chosen by its bearer himself, and no spiritual catastrophe of renaming occurs; on the contrary, it is simulated. Pseudonymy is thus based on objective lies and pretense: the change of name here is completely unmotivated, it is arbitrary and deceptive. Here we have a kind of acting of a name: the actor, as said earlier, while simulating transformation, under this guise remains himself and is aware of his pretense. Personality is included here in the task itself: the closer his pretense resembles reality, the higher his art is considered, which must lie according to the task itself (before the sight of an actress dying beautifully on stage, the audience sheds tears of pity and admiration, but imagine that this would be a real, not an actor’s death - all aesthetic emotion would instantly disappear). Acting is in antagonism with personal life and does not go unpunished: the guise eats away the core, the “role” of the soul, which becomes loose on its axis and loses its integrity and density. The actor becomes more and more mediumistic the more “creatively” he devotes himself to his “art”. Pseudonymity is the acting of a name. And in general, pseudonymity for an unperverted feeling is felt as something ambiguous, deceitful, tasteless. First of all, this is violence against one’s own name, which does not cease to remain the spiritual energy of the person, although in distortion and paralysis. Renaming is only not a pseudonym when it is done by others, usually by legitimate authority. The current law, which declares the freedom of pseudonymy expressly, in essence abolishes the name, and if it were to penetrate into life as the only norm defining naming (which, of course, will never happen), then all names would be torn from their nests, and onomatological pandemonium would set in, people would cease to be individuals, but would become actors, pseudonyms of themselves. A pseudonym is, further, theft as the appropriation of a name other than one’s own, a grimace, a lie, deception and self-deception. We have the latter in its crudest form in national disguises through a name, which constitutes the most common and widespread motif of the modern pseudonym of the Trotskys, Zinovievs, Kamenevs, etc. There is a double crime here: desecration of the mother - one’s own name and the people who gave it (for national names are given through the mediation of parents by the whole people, and renunciation is also committed from the entire people), and the desire to deceive others, if not oneself, by appropriating someone else’s name. The consequence of pseudonymity for its bearer is, after all, two or many names: the true name is not destroyed, it retains its hidden power and existence, its owner knows about himself, in the depths of his soul, that there is his true, not stolen name, but at the same time he makes himself an actor of his pseudonym, who leads a vampiric existence, using for himself the vital juices of another name. There can be no healthy development for a pseudonym, no true greatness and depth with such laxity of its spiritual being, denationalization, and theft. Pseudonymity can have varying degrees and completeness. It may concern either some elements of the name, which are especially important and interesting for this purpose: in our days it most often concerns surnames that define the clan and tribe. This, of course, is practically the most difficult and important case of pseudonymy, spiritual diaspora, dispersion and penetration into someone else's body, and its results are both practically and mystically the most disgusting. However, here we are often dealing not so much with the mysticism of the name, but with impudence that deceives no one, simply dressing up in someone else’s clothes, and immense bad taste. Colorful, partial pseudonymity, underpainting, a simple and rather innocent translation of a name from one language to another, the dominant one, is possible. Often there are no elements of pseudonymity at all, if the renaming was not experienced and did not occur consciously, and the new transcription of the name occurred as a result of the acquisition of a foreign language. Finally, complete pseudonymity would be possible if all elements of the name were eradicated, but this would be a real renaming, which is unattainable without permission in pseudonymity. The latter is precisely different in that the old name here retains its power even in the consciousness of the pseudonym itself, which, although it “plays” someone else’s role, does not itself believe, and cannot believe, in its own personal name, and it is not for nothing that the genius of language calls it a false (pseudonym). And a pseudonym in this sense testifies in a negative way to the nature and power of the name, because instead of renaming, here only a pseudonym, a guise, is obtained. In reality, changing your name is just as impossible as changing your gender, race, age, origin, etc. Renaming occurs with spontaneous necessity and is accompanied by a change in the entire being of the subject, while with pseudonymity no change in being occurs. That is why every unobscured feeling turns away from a pseudonym, and this latter, if it achieves some kind of vampiric existence, is in obvious and fatal discord with its owner. So, although a name is given, just as a person is born, the given name, like a child after separation from the umbilical cord, lives its full life. A name is an expression of the essence of a person, his existential substance. That is why, by the way, there are not only good names, but also evil ones: “and on the heads of him (the beast) are names of blasphemy” (Rev. 13:1). It is, in a certain sense, the same as I, with the difference that the name is a concrete, qualitative, individual I, while the latter is individual only by the power of a mystical pointing gesture, and outside it is universal and therefore abstract. The name is an unchangeable predicate for every I, its equivalent, a revelation about the personality, not in its individual private definitions (which predicates do), but in the core: the name is the unconditional subject for all predicates, onto which they wrap themselves, as if on a trunk. The name is what a person is, and means, reveals what he is. They will say: this revelation is vague, it says nothing, it reveals less than any predicative judgment. Meanwhile, although a judgment is a naming, a name is not a judgment and a naming, just as I am, although it underlies all judgments of the subject, but it itself arose outside of the judgment, from the depths, in addition to predication (the judgment I am I would be imaginary, like an identity). But the name speaks of being, and not of quality: it contains that same ontological gesture, expresses the insight that we have in the implied demonstrative pronominal gesture in every noun: here is not only a predicative idea, but being, an idea that has become reality, a point in space. Therefore, the name gives a general, albeit dull, undifferentiated, sensation of being, by listening to which one can hear the logos. Who is this? This is me: a question and an answer, equally expressive and meaningful. It is not about what (predicate), but about who (subject), and is it I who is the content-determined answer? And yet it has its own depth and concreteness, unchanging and inexhaustible by any predicates. But in a completely equal sense with the “common noun” I, a name can also stand here. And it is obvious that no private predicative answers will answer our question, will not drown it out, will not calm it down. Who is this? so-and-so, so-and-so, so-and-so... but who is it? name That's it! This is how the name is felt, the trunk of being, which has no flowers, no leaves, no fruits, but without which they could not grow and feed. Therefore, we repeat, the individual is I, but in the same sense he is also the name. But how can one take for essence something that is not even a concept, which cannot be expressed through its attributes? For whom the idea as the energy of being in the Platonic-Aristotelian sense is something alien and unacceptable, for him the idea of ​​a name is also incompatible. For those who understand and accept the ideological roots of being, a name is an ideological concrete, individuality in its uniqueness, and therefore inexpressibility through attributes. Here, external, absurd temptations can also confuse, which, we hope, have already been eliminated and can only appear under the condition of a superficial attitude to the word and name. What is the name? in these sounds? but if the sounds are different in different languages, does the name differ? and if the sounds of different names are the same, isn’t the name the same? Here we must remember what was said about the three-part composition of the name: sinema, morpheme and phoneme. Of course, a name is a known cinemame, a concrete one, but it is clothed in a phoneme, and does not exist outside of it, inextricably with it, however, the phoneme can change without changing the name. Likewise the morpheme. But in no case is a name just a phoneme and a morpheme, which is why their changes and destinies are not of decisive importance and may not interfere with the identity of the content, like different photographic photographs, despite all the differences in taking and execution being the same in content. The difficulty in understanding a name lies in the fact that, on the one hand, it is quite independent of its phoneme, which can change, and on the other, it is more closely connected with it than any word. It is the word that has its own meaning and meaning, which can be conveyed by another word or in another language, can be described, while the name does not have such a meaning and does not allow substitution. Therefore, the question involuntarily arises: what is the core of a name, its sinema, if we abstract from the mobile phoneme? Obviously, here there cannot be the same answer as for each word, and even in those cases when the name has an internal form, this latter does not have independent existence and meaning, but is absorbed by the phoneme of the name (Benedict cannot be replaced by the Blessed, i.e., make a translation of the internal form, for the name is precisely Benedict). The answer about the inner core of the name can only be this: the name is power, energy, the embodied word. Here a very special ἐνσάρκωσις 236 word occurs, the mystery of which is incomprehensible, like any mystery of nascent life, fulfilling the command of let there be. But the consequences are clear: the word became flesh, the ideal became real, the idea turned into energy thirsting for its entelechy, the name entered the cosmos of names of being. Let it not be taken as blasphemous or frivolously bold to bring naming closer to the incarnation of the Word, to the incarnation of God, for this boldness is empowered by our faith in the incarnation of the Word, which presupposes and at the same time postulates the incarnation of words. The source of the word in the world is the Divine Word, by which the heavens were established, and if the Lord deigned to incarnate and become a man with individuality and a Name, then this presupposes human individuality and a name as a general form of life: the divine incarnation presupposes the human name-incarnation. The Lord has two natures, two wills, but one hypostasis and, therefore, one Name. The name does not abolish the general law of the name of incarnation, but fulfills it, uses it. Human naming and name-incarnation exist in the image and likeness of the divine incarnation and naming (as it is narrated that on the 8th day, according to the law of Moses, the Lord was circumcised and received his Name). In general, the image and likeness of God in man, through whose power alone the incarnation of God became possible, presupposes complete human likeness to God, and in particular, with regard to naming as the embodiment of the name. In the Sophian order, every person is the incarnate word, the realized name, for the Lord himself is the incarnate Word and Name. Therefore, it is clear why in natural self-consciousness the name has a kind of independent existence, is the most stable thing in a person, has a life that needs to be restored (levirate 237), honor that can be defended (duel), and has an eternal destiny. The names of men are written in heaven, i.e. not only in this being, but also in the intelligible eternal, as the Word of God directly and irresistibly testifies to this: Luke 10:20: “Nevertheless do not rejoice, that the spirits obey you, but rejoice that your names are written in heaven.” – Phil.4:3: “with Clement and with the rest of my fellow servants, whose names are in the book of life.” – Rev. 3:5: “He who overcomes will be clothed in white robes, and I will not blot out his name from the book of life, but I will confess his name before My Father and before His angels.” May he be blessed and glorified forever and ever All the previous reasoning was intended to lead to a correct and clear formulation of the great and terrible question that has emerged with irresistible force in Orthodox theology: about the Name of God, His sacred mystery 238 . This question falls into two parts: on the one hand, the Name of God is a name that is characterized by all the general characteristics of a name, on the other hand, it has unique and exclusive features that are associated with its theophoricity 239. Every judgment is a naming, and every judgment is, or rather, potentially is, a name, can become one. Every predicate that we attribute to the Divine is at the same time a name for God: Provider, Creator, Good, Eternal, Blessed, Holy, etc. The teaching of St. Dionysius the Areopagite on the Names of God refers specifically to naming. The ineffable, mysterious, unknown, transcendental being of God reveals Himself to man in His properties, these properties are predicates, predicates to the Divine Being, and, as predicates, they, becoming the subject, so to speak, pars pro toto 240, become names of God - in the plural. The latter is not accidental here, but follows from the essence of the matter. Any subject can have an indefinite plural of predicates or predicative names, and the Deity here is no exception to the total number of subjects. If God “manifold and diverse” revealed himself to people in the “canopy” of images 241 and in a more direct way, then these numerous revelations are at the same time the names of God, and the meaning and meaning of each of them can be revealed more fully and deeply, which is what St. Dionysius the Areopagite in his treatise. The general character of predicability or attribution does not change here: the noun, the subject, as shown above, is not at all equal to its predicates, is revealed, but is not exhausted in them, remains transcendentally by them in its ontological core. A noun is something transcendentally immanent, thanks to which its relative predication is possible as its revelation about itself, its immanent disclosure. In the same way, the subject of all subjects, and the subject of κατ᾿ ἐξοχήν 242, the basis of all predicability, the subject of all predicates, the Divinity, is revealed as transcendental-immanent; every revelation of God, every theophany 243, is a new predicate, a new name for the ineffable and unnameable. God reveals himself to man and in man, and man names God, gives Him names, by analogy with how he gives them to his own kind. Of course, it is God who calls Himself in man and through man His revelation, but this is accomplished through religious experience, mystical contemplation, philosophical speculation, scientific comprehension, moral achievement, in a word, through human creativity and life. And it may seem (as it seemed to Feuerbach and many before and after him) that man creates God in his own image, as an objective projection of himself. This illusion is possible precisely because the naming of God takes place in man and through man, it is his act, the awakening of his theophoric and theophanic potentials, the realization in him of the enclosed image of God, his original God-manhood. Strictly speaking, in this too - in the revelation of oneself through another, in its predicability - the subject, the Divinity, does not differ from any other subject to which the predicate is added. For it makes the one pronouncing the judgment speak about himself, it speaks in us, in anyone judging or speaking, there is a revelation of the thing in us and through us. Predicativity is ontologically based on this ability to find everything in everything, in universality, world connection. And at the same time, every subject is not exhausted by a given predicate, because everything, the whole world, is potentially predicable for it. Predicates are names of things that arise in the acts of revealing a thing about itself, judging and naming. The difference between the Divine and the world with its things lies not in this moment of transcendental immanence of every subject to its predicates, but in the metaphysical hierarchy. The transcendence of the Divine and the transcendence of a thing to its predicates are of a completely different order: the Divinity is transcendental to the world itself, supreme, It exists in Himself and for Itself, absolutely self-sufficient, and His revelation in the world, expressed in peacemaking, is an act of unconditional love and condescension of God, His entry into the created world, God's exhaustion. Therefore, we have here the absolute revelation of the Beginning, beyond the cosmos, in the cosmos, through this latter: here the transcendence is not intraworldly, not cosmic, in which the relationship of substance to attributes, subject to predicate is expressed, but premium. Here is the relationship between “negative” (apophatic) and positive theology: the supermundane Deity, the Absolute, becomes God for the world and is revealed in it. However, this distinction lies outside the relation of predicativity underlying naming. The fact that God is the Absolute, which does not tolerate any definitions, the absolute NOT, which denies all naming, lies beyond the boundaries of the propositional judgment, which knows only the relationship of subject and predicate. The Absolute, which has become God, is transcendental-immanent, subject-object, the bearer of a predicative connection. The revelation of God in the world is the action of God, the manifestation of Divine energy: not the actual Deity itself, transcendent to the world, but His energy is what we call God. And if the actions of God in the world and, in particular, in man, are revealed, according to the wisdom of Dionysius the Areopagite, as divine names, then these names are revelations of the energy of God, which speaks itself, names itself in man through naming. If it is not man who names things at all, but they speak themselves through man, and this is the ontology of the word, then, of course, a fortiori 244 we must admit that God, revealing himself in the world through man, testifies of Himself in His consciousness, names Himself, albeit through his lips; naming is the action of God in man, the human response to it, the manifestation of God’s energy. This manifestation is simultaneously and distinct from this energy and inseparable from it. It is different from it because it is realized in man and by human means. It is inextricably linked with it because, according to the general nature of the word, Divine energy itself speaks about itself in man, is revealed in the word, and the word, the naming of God, turns out to be its incarnation, human embodiment. “And the Word became flesh” 245 here receives a broad interpretation: the incarnation of the Word is accomplished not only in the incarnation of the Lord Jesus Christ, but also in the naming that is performed by man in response to the action of God. For this reason alone, the names of God cannot be considered as purely human creations, as nicknames invented by man. To believe so at the same time means not only a misunderstanding of the nature of the name, but also the greatest blasphemy. And the helplessness with which name fighters try to reconcile their psychological understanding of the nature of the word and name with that reverence for the name of God, to which their Orthodox sense of church reality or even external correctness forces them, is forced to them is extremely characteristic. They are constantly confused between the assertion, on the one hand, that the name of God, like any name, is given by man and therefore can be reduced to letters and sounds, but that at the same time it is sacred and befits to be treated with reverence, and not even an attempt is made to clarify the motives of this latter and the nature of this sacredness. The question of the Names of God and the meaning of their veneration, secretly, in connection with other issues, was once already considered and received an indirect decision of the universal church at the VII Ecumenical Council. The problem of the icon, at least with the image of God, has many features similar to the issue under discussion. The main difficulty of the issue is that the meaning of icon veneration can fluctuate between two equally false and unacceptable extremes: between the understanding of icons as purely psychological, human signs, images, to which, nevertheless, veneration is given to God - the sin of idolatry, which is what the Orthodox iconoclasts accused; and between their complete deification, in which the tangible difference between the icon and the Divine is lost - and the same idolatry is obtained, aggravated by the overthrow of the dogma of the inseparability and non-fusion of two natures in Christ, for here the created and the human are absorbed by the Divine. The objective basis for resolving the issue of veneration of icons could only be the same as about the nature of the name of God: the doctrine of divine energy and the embodiment of the word, which has an objective, ontological basis in the image and likeness of God in man. Image and likeness is the real basis of all iconography carried out by man, whether in word or in any other way, with paint, with a chisel, etc. Due to the fact that the image of God is the image of man, and in him and with him the whole world (for the world is man, the macrocosm is the microcosm), an icon is fundamentally possible as a consequence of theophany, revelation of God: God could not reveal himself to stone and in stone, but he can reveal himself to man both in man and through man (and therefore in stone). The energy of God, acting in man, is united with human energy, embodied in it, and the result is an inseparable and unmerged combination of the power of God and human action, and the latter is, as it were, a carrier for the power of God. Therefore, the icon is dual, divine-human in its special sense: it cannot be merged or identified with what is depicted, but it cannot be separated from it - an embodied antinomy, like any combination of the divine and the created. It is characteristic and inevitable that in the question of the icon, the question of the name received central importance and the entire dispute had the hidden, unconscious nature of a dispute about names and their meaning. In fact, in what way can divine energy undeniably manifest itself in an icon: in the image? but it has only an auxiliary character, we can’t talk about any kind of portrait resemblance (which is even impossible in relation to the indescribable Divinity of the first and third Hypostases, and, in essence, impossible - although another impossibility - also in relation to the Savior and the Mother of God). Here only the requirements of the canon of the scheme, the iconographic original, often conditional, must be met, and not a single picture with its expressiveness has become an icon, a bearer of divine power, but has remained only a human psychological document. Iconicity in an icon is created by its inscription, the name as the focus of the embodiment of the word, revelation of God. The entire icon is an overgrown name, which is clothed not only in the sounds of the word, but also in various auxiliary means - colors, shapes, images: the image in the icon is a hieroglyph of the name, which therefore must be definitely stylized according to the original, and it receives the meaning of the hieroglyphic alphabet of sacred names. And in connection with this hieroglyphics, the possible extinction of the personal, psychological, objectification and intentional schematization, the requirements of iconography are understandable. On the contrary, without names, without inscriptions or without hieroglyphics, an icon would be completely impossible. This is what is said in the resolution of the VII Ecumenical Council: “the icon is similar to the prototype not in essence, but only in the name κατὰ τὸ ὄνομα and in the position of the depicted members” (i.e., in hieroglyphics, which can use for its purposes not only a schematic image, but also deliberately allegorical symbolism: fish, lamb, shepherd and etc.). And from this same definition stems not only the filling of the icon with Divine power, but also its isolation from it, duality: “the visible icon has communion with the prototype only by name, but not by essence κατὰ τὸ ὄνομα... οὐ κατὰ οὐσίαν. The true mind does not recognize anything more in the icon other than its communication by name, and not by essence, with the one who is depicted on it” (Mansi III, 241, 244, 258). Therefore, the iconoclasts even then already turned out to be name fighters, ὀνοματομάχοι, as Patriarch Nicephorus calls them (ibid., 178). Of course, these formulas cannot help but wish for more in terms of accuracy and clarity, but the central meaning of the name in the icon appears quite prominently here. The same question naturally arises in the theology of St. Theodore the Studite on the veneration of St. icons, which he associates with the unity of the indivisible name κατὰ ἀμερὲς τῆς κλήσεως 246. What has been said so far has applied only to the icons of the Savior, God the Father, the Holy Spirit, and the Holy Trinity. But in a similar way, obviously, one should understand, within the meaning of the decrees of the VII Ecumenical Council, the nature of other holy icons, first of all, the Mother of God, and then various saints. The peculiarity of the iconography of the Mother of God, which arose historically, lies in the multiplicity of types of images or originals, corresponding to the multiplicity of icons: the different schemes that these originals are correspond to different motives or events in the image of the Mother of God (as well as the Savior). However, here too, what makes an icon an icon is not the pictorial quality of the design or portrait resemblance (which is obviously impossible), but the name, which is externally made in the form of an inscription. It establishes the unity of the icon with the Depicted, calling on Her power. The name is that essence, the energy that pours out onto the icon. Therefore, in the image, in the drawing for the icon (of course, not for the painting), the schematism of the original matters, so that the entire icon, in essence, consists of a name, an inscription - hieroglyphic and alphabetic. At least, this is what is essential, everything else, i.e. artistry, which actually has an auxiliary and secondary character for the icon, is human (sometimes too human) in the divine. As an icon, the Sistine Madonna would be no different from the most ordinary work of the Vladimir god: its artistic merits, acting on the human soul, elevating and warming it up through the means of art, would act in the same way as... well, good singing or a church organ acts, although the decisive factor is not how they play, but what they play 247 . Moreover, of course, the power of grace can act regeneratively, changing the image itself, not at all in the artistic sense, but in the sense of the spiritual face, which, generally speaking, is what iconography seeks, as opposed to painting (Renaissance paintings, for all their artistic merits, in most cases are completely unsuitable to be icons). Finding artistic balance in an icon, maintaining the iconic style without sacrificing the laws of artistry, is one of the most difficult tasks of icon painting, which can only be resolved through a happy combination of art and reverence. The same must be repeated about icons of saints, the hieroglyphs of which are given in the “original”: here the name, alphabetic and symbolic, is decisive, and here too there can be different hieroglyphs in accordance with different aspects of the life of the person depicted. This hieroglyphic nature gives scope to the picturesque, to the pictorial element in general, which has all the more room here since people are depicted who acted and lived in a certain historical setting. However, here too the naturalistic element in psychology and history, no matter how artistically expressed it may be, may turn out to be unnecessary, even alien to iconicity, to the extent that it draws attention to itself and contradicts the hieroglyphic nature of the image, making it a painting. The icon hieroglyph gives, albeit schematically, an image of spiritual completeness, and not formation, incompleteness, which is inevitably conveyed in a historical picture. Therefore, from the point of view of historical naturalism, in the iconic interpretation of the plot there is convention, stylization, even falsehood, and vice versa. In the judgments of St. Theodore the Studite on icons especially highlighted the issue of St. The Cross, which is also considered in the spirit of the general teaching about icons, i.e., that here too the name is of decisive importance. “The cross on which Christ was ascended is called so both by the meaning of the name τῇ σημασίᾳ τῆς προσηγορίας and by the nature of the life-giving tree. Its image τὸ ἐκτύπωμα αὐτοῦ is called a cross only by the meaning of the name, but not by the nature of the life-giving tree, since the image of the cross can be made of different materials. But still, it participates in the name of the prototype, and, consequently, in the name of worship and veneration given to this name” (Migne, 99, 361, A). Here, obviously, what is meant is not the image of the cross itself, but the crucifix, which for Christians has merged inextricably with the symbol of the cross. For the latter, not a letter, but a hieroglyphic inscription would be sufficient and essential, i.e. the very shape of the cross, embodied in this or that material. This is how the cross is usually depicted where it has an independent meaning: on churches, on walls, with the sign of the cross, with a blessing - here one sign is enough; on the contrary, a cross-crucifix, in addition to the corresponding image, also requires an inscription, i.e. Already merges with the icon completely. So, if the name of God is, in a certain sense, a verbal icon of the Divine, then vice versa, the real icon of the Divine is His Name. And there are as many of these icons as there are names, and there are as many names as there are names. In the Old Testament we have a whole series of such names of the Lord, derived from appellations. Elohim, Tsebaoth, Adonai, the Holy One, the Blessed One, the Most High, the Creator, the Good One: each of these names can be made predicate to the subject - the Divine - and in fact it was, it is an imprint of the name of God in the word, like any icon. In the issue of veneration of icons, the question arose not only about the meaning of any veneration, but also its boundaries, i.e. about the difference between an icon and a non-icon: a non-icon can simply be due to the absence of iconic elements in it (in an absolute sense, this is, however, impossible, and a person, and through him the whole world, bears the image of the Divine, is a natural icon, a divine symbol, a hieroglyph). In a special sense, it is chosen persons or even peoples. So Israel is repeatedly called bearing the Name of God on his forehead, i.e. especially His chosen icon. The non-icon may also be due to the fact that we have more than the icon. What's more than an icon? That in which the duality of the icon, its humanity and hieroglyphics is overcome, [that] where we have the most real presence of the Divine. These are the Holy Gifts, which are not an icon, but more, for there is the One who is depicted in the icon, the Lord Jesus Himself under the guise of bread and wine, with the Divine Body and Blood. Such absorption of the natural by the divine, i.e. we do not have transubstantiation in the icon; it is alien in nature in relation to such holiness, and always remains such. (In this sense, the teaching of the name fighters that the true icon is the Eucharistic bread and wine was rejected: it was explained that here we do not have an icon, but the true Body and Blood of Christ.) (Mansi, I, p. 260.) But we have a non-icon not only in that unique and exceptional case when it comes to the Holy Gifts, but also when we have a consecrated and transubstantiated matter: St. water, St. myrrh, St. bread. Here there is such an outpouring of the gifts of the Holy Spirit that does not take place during the consecration of the Holy Spirit. icons, nature is sanctified here. Not a name, not an image, not a symbolic penetration, but the flesh itself, or matter, here becomes alien to itself, belonging to another world, while the icon belongs to our world, or rather, is located at the intersection of two worlds. Matter of St. the icon remains itself: a board is a board, and paints are paints. Their use for icons also gives them a special reverence or sacredness, requiring a reverent attitude, but this is due to the image to which they give place. He, this image, is above them, through them, but not in them: he lies as if in a thin, barely perceptible layer, which, however, can be separated, although it also sanctifies its bed. Therefore, by the way, there is a tangible difference between the veneration of different icons, to which, of course, no analogy can be given between the sacredness of the Holy Gifts or even holy water, etc. in different churches. The Holy Gifts are always equal and unchanging, so that even the very thought of their difference would be a sign of wickedness. On the contrary, it is clear to everyone that icons differ in their effective power, have, so to speak, different intensity, which is expressed in the veneration of revered, miraculous icons, the compilation of special services for them, etc. Here we can give an analogy with a living icon - man and the holiness of saints: star differs from star in glory 248. And if the icon is only the place of the presence of the power of God, and not the power itself, then the possibility of difference is natural and fundamentally understandable - not only veneration (which is a subjective consequence), but also effectiveness itself, holiness (which is an objective basis: all icons are holy, and, of course, potentially miraculous, but by the will of God this is effectively revealed only in certain, pre-indicated cases). We have deviated from the immediate question of the names of God towards the question of the meaning of icon veneration, but this is not accidental, for it turned out that in essence this is the same question. For St. an icon is not just a picture, a human product, a photograph, but is a bearer of the power of God and a sacred hieroglyph of the Name of God, and the very name, the naming of God is not only a means of designation, chosen for reasons of convenience, is not a nickname or an empty “symbol” (as is sometimes expressed, distorting and humiliating the idea of ​​a symbol), but there is also a divine icon in the word, a sacred symbol, the essence of which is in its two-nature. The name of God is not only a means of designating the Divine or invoking Him, but it is also a verbal icon, therefore it is holy. So, the names of God are verbal icons of the Divine, the embodiment of Divine energies, theophanies, they bear the stamp of Divine revelation. Here, as in the icon, divine energy and the human power of speech are united inseparably and unmergedly: a person speaks, he names, but what he names is given and revealed to him. It is this human side in naming that gives rise to the skeptical naming movement to consider the name of God to be a human invention, a nickname, or something like an algebraic sign (and in this sense, a “symbol”). But in order to be consistent in this point of view, it is necessary to bring it to the end and recognize that the content of the naming word is an entirely human affair, an act of human cognition, completely immanent to it. Therefore, this will mean that God is completely immanent to the world and man, in other words, that the world and man are God - the pathos of Buddhism and modern monism, which is hostile to Christianity with its belief in a transcendental Divinity revealed to man. With such a worldview, the name of God expresses concepts and judgments, like any other; there is no difference between it and other words-names, except in content. You can go even further in this monism and take the point of view of skepticism or outright atheism. What can the name of God mean to an atheist? It is obvious, first of all, that it is not a revelation, which has its own objective content, since no reality corresponding to the name of God exists for an atheist. For him, the name of God means some abstract concept that serves to express a certain “transcendental illusion,” for which he may or may not have his own theoretical explanations. Here, in any case, the meaning of the name of God is entirely confined to the subjective human sphere, is closed by it and is generated by it. With a favorable attitude towards this illusion, it receives an ontological interpretation as an expression of the highest and innermost human essence, the Divinity in man, in the spirit of the religion of man-theism, as developed by Feuerbach and O. Comte. When viewed unfavorably, the meaning of this name is reduced to the same ghost as hallucinations, dreams and “superstitions.” In this and other cases, the same powerlessness is attributed to the name of God. Objectively, here we are dealing with religious insensibility, blindness, for which, for one reason or another, the sensation of light is inaccessible. Here, although the word for denoting the Divine, borrowed from the general verbal wealth, remains in the lexicon, strictly speaking, the name of God is absent, there is only a sound, a nickname, completely in the taste of name fighters, religious emptiness, one sound husk without grain. However, it should be noted that we have such emptiness only when religious equality is observed, i.e. with complete blindness, indifference and drowsiness. Such a position is so unnatural for a person that he can only be in it as an exception. Much more often, hostile blasphemy and atheism are hidden under the mask of indifference, and the name of God is trampled and blasphemed, like an icon, when it is broken, destroyed not as a simple board, but precisely as an icon. In this case, one can no longer talk about emptiness, hibernation and deadness; there is an evil will: evil blasphemy combined with unbelief. As contradictory as this condition may seem, it is psychologically very common. Blasphemy against God is not atheism, but antitheism, enmity towards God, and the name of God, although blasphemous, actually burns the blasphemers. For demons who, belonging to the spiritual world, do not have the protection of the body and relative blindness, the Name of God, with all their hatred towards Him, acts like a flame to which they cannot approach. Let us take another case of immanentism in the use of the name of God, which differs from the previous one. This is a philosophical, and not a religious, use of it, when the idea of ​​God is meant: for example, in Aristotle, Spinoza, Hegel, this generally includes the philosophical mind, no matter how pious it may be. For the philosophical mind, all problems are immanent in thinking, and it encounters God only as an object of thought on the field of thought. Strictly speaking, here we can only talk about the same revelation in the immanent as any noun or subject (as explained above), and the idea of ​​God, differing from other ideas in content, does not differ qualitatively from them. If the name of God is also an icon of the Divine, then only as a natural icon, in the sense that the image of God is in man and in the world, and it is recognized by philosophizing thought, which, however, inevitably brings with it limitations and psychologism. However, even the philosophizing mind, having comprehended the Divine at a certain height, begins to perceive it not only as its own idea or problem of thought, but as a living, active essence, and for it the name of God increasingly becomes not only subjective, but also objectively the power of God. He is filled with reverence for it, it becomes for him a miraculous, albeit natural, icon. We must not forget about the relationship that naturally and inevitably exists between philosophy and religion, in which the first is only a derivative, a “superstructure” over the second and differs not so much in its subject as in its special way of considering or relating. The next question that arises on this same path, and a tempting question, is about the names of God, not in philosophy and not in atheism, but in religions, just not “revealed” ones, i.e. pagan. What do they mean? A philosophical idea? obviously not, because they arise in religion and have liturgical, cult significance; illusion, nothing? also, undoubtedly, no, this contradicts everything: first of all, the fact that in many names of gods their naturalistic origin and meaning shines through with complete clarity, 249 and then this would be a generally religious absurdity, in which one would have to face a certain view of the Bible, which does not at all consider gods to be a simple illusion, and their names to be empty sounds (“do not mention the names of other gods, lest they be heard from your lips.” Ex. 23:13; “And it will come to pass in that day, says the Lord of hosts, that I will destroy the names of idols from this land, and they will be mentioned no more.” Zech. 13:2): there is as little basis for this in biblical views as for considering idol sacrifices and idols themselves as empty space. Moreover, we must take into account the fact that in paganism, in the so-called. In natural religions, which present enormous differences and shades, we are dealing precisely with the religious, prayerful, incantatory use of the name of God or the names of gods. Sacrifices are made with them, sacred hymns are filled with them. This can only be answered essentially in connection with the fact that we think about pagan religion and the objective nature of its revelation and pagan gods (see the corresponding chapter in “The Unevening Light”) 250. That the pagan gods are not empty space, and therefore their names have some power, is sufficiently evidenced by the “jealousy” with which the jealous God treats the constant deviations of the Jews to the path of idolatry. The presence of unrevealed religions, along with revealed ones, is a providential mystery that remains unsolved to this day. But even to this day it would be madness and blindness to deny the realism of religion outside of Christianity, and if falling away into paganism from Christianity is serving demons, then the initial stay in paganism, especially in the ignorance of Christianity, can be natural piety and, moreover, a “natural” revelation - of divine powers, of the sophia of the cosmos. Therefore, we cannot say that Zeus, Athena, Apollo, Isis, etc. there were simple illusions and fantastic creatures, and even more so we cannot say this about the sublime worship of Hindus - Vedanta, about Islam (although in relation to Christianity it already has anti-Christian and anti-Christ elements), in general about any specific religion. The names of the gods here are the real powers of the revelation of these gods: in each particular case, this reality and this revelation can vary in quality - from real demonism to elemental naturalism, from orgiastic ecstasy to the high divine inspiration of Socrates. The Prophet speaks about this with calm, laconic realism: “all nations walk every one in the name of their god, but we will walk in the name of the Lord our God forever and ever” (Micah 4:5). The ways of God are inscrutable. One thing seems indisputable to us: a name-fighting skepticism is not applicable even to the names of pagan gods. According to all the explanations made, it is blasphemous and meaningless when applied to the Name of God in revealed religion, in the Old and New Testaments 251. After all, if the true God really reveals himself to people and these revelations are imprinted in the Names of God, how can one allow the blasphemous thought that the Name of God is only a human invention, a nickname? Then the name fighters, in order to be consistent, must return to iconoclasm and see here, together with the Protestants, only human illustrations of sacred events. Prayerfully falling down on these illustrations is idolatry for them. But the name of God is not only a cognitive, theoretical judgment, but it is also a means of prayerfully invoking God, it is a ladder connecting heaven and earth: a person turns, calls, and God hears His Name in this call. This is the power, holiness, mystery and trembling horror of the Name of God, for by calling on Him, we appear in the presence of the Divine, we already have Him in the Name itself, we create His sound icon. If God were distant and alienated from us, “transcendental” and cold, like the abstract deity of deists, then our word, which names Him, would be theoretical, inactive, abstract, would be likened to our abstractions ending in -ness (unity, quality, plurality, etc.) or -ness (teaching, patience, etc.). And if the deity were our whim and illusion, then his name would be powerless. But in the Name of God the Lord names Himself in us and through us, in it thunders sound for us and lightnings of Sinai flash, the energy of God is present, which (according to the conclusion of the Constantinople Council regarding the Palamite disputes 252) is inseparable from the Divinity itself, although it is not identical with Him. Our sinful indifference, absent-mindedness, blindness prevent us from fully realizing all the greatness of the Name of God, by pronouncing which we, as it were, partake of the power of God. Name-worship is an unconscious, half-thought-out man-godship or atheism. Let us return to the question of the sacred Name of God. Until now, when speaking about this, we mean only the names of God (in the sense of St. Dionysius the Areopagite), i.e. names in which the revelations of the Divine or His properties are fixed: predicates, which turned into subjects, became nouns, acquired substantiality, i.e. divine power, inevitably inherent in every name of God. In this sense, the name of God is a general category that embraces many names, each of which, however, is in its place a Name. The name is the basis, so to speak, the ontological place for various names of predicative origin. However, along with these naming - predicate names and predicative names resulting from this, it is possible, at least, to think of the “proper” Name of God, which, like any other “proper name”, as explained above, is not predicative or does not have such a meaning. It is no longer a crystal of naming, but a name as a subject, subject, substance for all other names. It would be bold to raise the question of what this name is, whether it is the only one. Even when, out of misunderstanding and ignorance, apparently out of undue curiosity, godly men honored with theophany asked about this Name, they received the answer: “Why are you asking about My Name? it’s wonderful” 253. This was the answer that the forefather Israel, the God-fighter, received when he asked the One who fought with him about His Name (Gen. 32:29), and Manoah was also answered by the “Angel of God,” who predicted future events to him (Judges 13:17–18). The Divine Name was not communicated to them. The Name of God in the proper sense of the word, not as a revelation about God, but as the direct Power of God, the energy of God emanating from a substantial being, cannot be found by man in himself, neither in his thoughts, nor in his life, for it is transcendental to him. Every name of God, received as a result of the revelation of the Divine about Himself, natural or deliberate, is anthropomorphic in the sense that man in himself or through himself, as a macrocosm or microcosm, cognizes the being of God. And therefore, such names always have both a human meaning and meaning; they are a projection of the human onto the divine or, conversely, the divine onto the human. This is a legitimate and inevitable anthropomorphism, for man has the image and likeness of God, and through the human the divine is revealed to him. That is why all the names of God, written not with a capital letter, but with a lowercase letter, are also human names and can be applied to a person; these are: Lord, Hosts, Adonai, Creator, Provider, Father - all of them have human meanings and they become names of God only through reference to the Divine as the subject, they are made such by the agglutinating ligament. On the contrary, a proper name, even if it has a verbal, human origin, cannot be a predicate - no one’s, but only a subject. And just as a person’s own name is his non-pronominal I, so the Name of God is the I of God, terrible and wonderful. It is quite obvious that such a name, the proper Name of God, or at least one of the endless veils of this terrible NAME, can be communicated to a person only by revelation, moreover, revelation in the proper sense, the communication of the transcendent in the immanent. The bridge through which the transcendent can open without destroying the immanent, without tearing it into pieces, is the word-name, the logos in man. The sound mask of the word in this case covers the sun and protects a person from being blinded and caught: just as we look at the sun through darkened glasses, so the NAME of God is hidden for us, and at the same time it is revealed in the word, our human, sound word, which turns out to be some kind of absolute Icon of the incontainable, unbearable, transcendental Name, the very being of God, the Self of God. Here we need to return to the already familiar distinction in words - phonemes, morphemes and sinemas. The phoneme corresponds to the colors and board in the icon, the morpheme corresponds to the hieroglyphics of the “original”, which gives the scheme of the image, cinema is the very name, the power of the image. Regarding sinema, we have another two-fold distinction: the direct meaning of the word as a human word - that which corresponds to the “internal form of the word” (for example, Jehovah - “Existence”: this is the participial form of the verb to be and has a corresponding meaning), and the meaning of the regenerated, transubstantiated word, which has become the Name of God. The difference between the names of God and the Name of God as such is due to the fact that in those there lives their independent, verbal, predicative meaning, whereas here it is completely absorbed by the name, existing only as a name. In this and other cases, the grace and power of God is present, which is why the name of God is always and everywhere sacred and venerable. But in the first case, we have only the grace-filled consecration of the elements - namely, words, we have, so to speak, the holy word, just as we have holy water, holy blessed bread, or prosphora, antidor, even St. myrrh; although the grace of the Holy Spirit descends here, the element still retains its own nature: this is St. water, St. bread, etc. She, this element, is a natural vessel for receiving the grace of St. Spirit and, even more than that, perceives it precisely with his nature, like water or bread and so on. In the second case, when we have, as it were, our own Name of God, the I of God, the own nature of the word, its “inner form”, or meaning, seems to evaporate. Jehovah is the Name of God not at all because it means existing, for the attribute of being does not yet express the being of God in any exclusive sense; it stands here along with other attributes or names. This word makes the Name of God the exclusive presence of the Power of God in him. It can be assumed - of course, purely theoretically - that for the Name of God one of the other names of the Divine could be chosen: Elohim, Hosts, Creator, Father, etc. (we understand how impossible this assumption is in the real essence of the matter in the face of the accomplished revelation of God about His Name, but we dwell on this assumption as an auxiliary hypothesis to illustrate our thoughts); however, once the revelation has taken place, and the Lord has proclaimed: I am Jehovah, then the independent meaning of the word existent is completely dissolved, becoming only a verbal form for containing the Name of God, that which, being a word for human containment, is a Superword for the human language. We can say that the proper meaning of the word Existence no longer has the meaning that it had at the time of choosing this word for the Name. After this, it becomes transparent glass, and only transmits rays, but does not reflect them. If we return to our comparison, we have to say that the proper element of the word was not preserved here, as it was preserved in St. water or bread, but was transubstantiated, just as bread and wine are completely and completely transubstantiated only under the guise of bread and wine. What had its own spontaneity and nature now becomes only “under appearance”, ceases to be itself, and is transubstantiated to the end. And, however, to continue this analogy, from bread and wine to the celebration of the sacrament, certain, very strictly established qualities are required, which are retained even when they become only their own appearance. So the word, which served as the substance of the Name of God, retains its verbal nature and its significance. But just as an immeasurable distance exists between these definite and predetermined qualities of bread and wine and the Body and Blood of Christ, and this abyss can only be erased by the miracle of God’s grace, so between the meaning of the word “existent” in itself, which has long existed, and continues to exist, in the human lexicon as one of countless words that have its own specific meaning, and between the Name of God Jehovah lies an abyss that is being filled by the will of God, inscrutable to us, having the power of absolute revelation. We are aware of all the daring of arbitrary analogies and rapprochements with such a shrine as the terrible Mysteries of Christ, but it seems to us that the very essence of the matter forces us to this analogy. In a sacrament we always have an absolutely indecomposable concrete, therefore here too we can only talk about analogy, about explaining by bringing together or contrasting one miracle of grace-filled transubstantiation through another. And in the Name of God we have such a unique, irreducible sacrament of the word, its transubstantiation, thanks to which the word chosen to become the Name becomes the verbal throne of the Name of God, more than an icon, a church, an altar, an ark, the Holy of Holies, a place of the presence of God and a meeting with God. And the Lord commanded to build a tabernacle, a “sanctuary,” and “I will dwell among them” (Ex. 25:8). “I will reveal myself to you and speak over the mercy seat in the midst of the two cherubim, which are over the ark of the testimony, about everything that I will command through you to the children of Israel” (Ex. 25:22). This sanctuary, the tabernacle, and later the church, were built in order for the Name of God to dwell there (as discussed below). All the seductiveness of the thought of the word-icon and the transubstantiation of the word in the Name of God disappears when we cease to consider the word as some kind of human creation, moreover, not even having a natural (I will say, even material) character: on the contrary, we need to realize and feel that the human word is an element, natural and unique, which is accessible to enlightenment, rebirth, transubstantiation, transformation, like any other natural element, like any other human force and energy. The word is a symbol, it is appropriate for us here to recall this initial basic formula of ours, and the symbol is not in the nihilistic sense of an icon invented by man, as name-wrestlers and iconoclasts always understand it, but in the sense of the union of two natures, and therefore strength and depth. Not only the word is a symbol, it can also be the forces of nature, and the elements of nature, becoming a container of other content, other forces. In this sense (and not in the sense of some kind of allegory), worship is symbolic, the sacraments are symbolic. And in this sense, the only sense worthy of the idea of ​​a symbol, the co-presence of different natures, is the most sacred of symbols - the inseparable and unmerged unity of God and man in Jesus Christ, and then the sacred Name of God is the most sacred verbal symbol. It is based on the idea of ​​a symbol and the symbolic nature of the word that one can understand the symbolic meaning of the Name of God and the real presence of the Power of God in it. And this form, and this Name, spoken in human language, this embodiment of the Name, the verbal incarnation of God in the exact sense of the word, could only appear as a special action of the will of God, God’s love for man and God’s condescension, His free kenosis. And according to the two covenants, there were two revelations of the name of God, the Old Testament Jehovah to Moses and the New Testament Jesus to the Virgin Mary, and in her to the entire human race: two miraculous images of the name of the Divine. Let us recall in our memory the features that describe this unique and amazing event in the Old Testament. ( Exodus 3:13–14 ): “And Moses said to God, Behold, I will come to the children of Israel, and will say to them, The God of your fathers has sent me to you. And they will tell me: what is his name? what should I tell them? God said to Moses: I am who I am, I am who I am. And he said: Thus shall you say to the children of Israel: Jehovah (Jehovah) has sent me to you”; Exodus 6:3: “I appeared to Abraham, Isaac and Jacob with My Name ‘God Almighty,’ but with My Name Jehovah I did not make myself known to them.” God communicates His Name as a new revelation, which is then kept as a Terrible Mystery, Shrine and Power, being known only to the High Priest, who, according to legend, pronounced it on the feast of purification when entering the Holy of Holies for sprinkling with sacrificial blood. For any reverent or even simply attentive and conscientious reader of the Old Testament, it should be clear that the expression “The Name of God” occupies a very special independent place here. To say that this is only a way of expressing the idea of ​​“God” means to say nothing, to show only a blasphemously frivolous attitude towards the biblical text, leading to its direct distortion. For, even if this verbal equality were true: the name of God = God, then even then the question would arise about the meaning and origin of just such a descriptive expression. But, of course, this summary characterization is incorrect; it can be understood from a reluctance to look closely at the biblical text, where various cases and nuances in the use of the Name of God are completely obvious 254. And first of all, those cases are striking when the expression The Name of God can in no way be interpreted simply as a synonym, a descriptive expression replacing God, but denotes a special way of the presence of God, His power precisely in His Name. I.1. The Name of God is united and brought closer to the concept of the Glory of God, which even by lovers of simplified synonymy cannot be attributed simply to descriptive expressions (Ex.16:7, 10; Num.16:19; 1 Kings 8:10–11; Isa.35:2, 40:5; Sir.45:3). Exodus 32:18–19: “And Moses said, Show me Your glory. And the Lord said (to Moses): “I will make all my glory known before you, and I will proclaim the name of Jehovah before you, and I will have mercy on whomever I will have mercy on, and I will have compassion on whomever I will have compassion,” - Exodus 34:5: “And the Lord descended in the cloud, and stood there opposite him and proclaimed the Name of Jehovah.” Here the manifestation of the Glory of God and the proclamation of the Name of Jehovah are compared as two sides of theophany, as theophanic Energies. In this light, the commandment receives its meaning, which not only prohibits an irreverent attitude towards the Divine, carried out through the word, but deliberately protected the shrine of the Name of God, just as the shrine of the Glory of God, which appeared in the tabernacle of testimony, was deliberately protected (as evidenced by the history of the “Protestant” speech of Korah, Dathan and Abiron: Numbers 16). (The text of the third commandment in the book of Exodus is exactly in the context where the story just given stands.) Exodus 20:7: “You shall not take the name of the Lord your God in vain, for the Lord will not leave without punishment the one who takes His name in vain” (parallels: Lev.19:12, with a different nuance and narrower restraint; Deut.5:11 is the same with Exodus; Proverbs 30:9). If we pay attention to the general context and content of the 10-word, the specific content of the third commandment becomes even clearer: after the proclamation of faith in the one true God and the prohibition of idolatry, the veneration of the sacred Name, which had just been solemnly revealed and proclaimed at Sinai, is established, in order to move on in the fourth commandment to the establishment of sacred dates (Saturdays and weekdays). This also includes, for example, a comparison by the prophet. Isaiah (Is. 48:9): “For the sake of My Name I put aside My wrath, and for the sake of My Glory I restrained Himself from destroying you”; at the prophet Daniel (Dan.2:52): “Blessed is the Name of Your Glory, holy and highly praised and exalted forever.” I.2. The expression “Name of God” has a very special meaning in connection with the church and cult in general. Here we can in no way talk about pars pro toto, about the use of this expression directly instead of God (although this, as already indicated, would require its explanation not only by means of the theory of Jewish literature, but also theology). No, here the Name of God is taken directly as a real living force, Divine energy, residing at the center of church life. The church is the habitat of the Name of God, it is built for the Name of God. If we remember what is known about the great reverence of Old Testament Jewry for the sacred tetragram and the place that it occupied in worship, forming its heart (as pronounced by the high priest at the most solemn and mysterious moment of the entire liturgical life - when sprinkling the ark with sacrificial blood), it will become clear to us that for Jewry with its religious realism there was no way to think of the church as anything other than a place dwelling of the Name of God, as the sacred chronicles testify to this. Even in Deuteronomy (Deut. 12:11) we meet the testament of Moses: “Then (after settling in the Promised Land), whatever place the Lord your God chooses for His Name to dwell there, bring there everything that I command you.” 1 Kings tells the story of Solomon building the church. Initially, before this construction, “the people were still offering sacrifices on the high places, for the house of the Name of the Lord was not built until that time” (1 Kings 3:2). Although David was still thinking about this, he was told through Nathan the prophet that Solomon “will build a house for My Name” (2 Samuel 7:13), 1 Chronicles 17:12: simply “he will build a house for Me.” The time comes for this construction, and Solomon sends Hiram, king of Tire, to say: “You know that David my father could not build the house of the Name of the Lord his God because of the many wars with the surrounding nations, until the Lord subdued them under the soles of his feet; now the Lord my God has granted me peace from everywhere: there is no enemy and no more obstacles; and now I intend to build a house for the Name of the Lord my God, as the Lord spoke to my father David, saying, “Your son, whom I will set in your place on your throne, he will build a house for My Name” (1 Kings 5:3-5). (This includes, as a parallel, the story of 1 Chronicles, where David himself speaks about building the church, and also in exactly the same terms as Solomon: 1 Chronicles 22:6–8: “And (David) called Solomon his son and commanded him to build a house for the Lord God of Israel. And David said to Solomon: My son, it was in my heart to build a house in the name of the Lord my God, but the word of the Lord came to me and said: You have shed much blood and fought great wars; You must not build a house for My Name.") 1 Chronicles 22:10: "He (Solomon) will build a house for My Name." 1 Chronicles 22:11: “And now, my son, the Lord is with you, that you may prosper and build a house for the Lord my God, as He spoke of you.” In exactly the same terms, David speaks about this before a meeting of elders (1 Chronicles 28:3): “God said to me: Do not build a house for My name, because you are a warlike man and have shed blood.” (6): "Solomon, thy son will build my house and my courts." 2 Chronicles 2:4 is a parallel to the story of the embassy to Hiram: “Behold, I am building a house for the name of the Lord my God, to dedicate to Him, to burn sweet incense before Him,” etc. Next, the liturgical, cult purpose of this house is more precisely defined: 2 Chronicles 2:5–6: “The house that I am building is great, because our God is great, above all gods. And will anyone have the strength to build a house for Him when heaven and the heavens of heavens cannot contain Him? and who am I that I could build a house for Him? Is it only for incense before Him? Next we need to dwell on the description of the consecration of the church. When the priests brought in the Ark of the Covenant, the Glory of the Lord filled the church in the form of a cloud. 1 Kings 8:12-13: “Then Solomon said: The Lord has said that He delights to dwell in darkness; I have built a church for Your habitation, a place for You to dwell forever.” The following is the story of the construction of the church: “God said: from the day that I brought my people Israel out of Egypt, I did not choose a city in any of the tribes of Israel, so that a house would be built in which My Name would dwell (but I chose Jerusalem for My Name to dwell in it)... David my father had it in his heart to build a church for the Name of the Lord God of Israel, but the Lord said to David my father: it is in your heart to build a church for My Name: It’s good that this is on your heart, but it’s not you who will build the church, but your son... who will build the church of My Name. And the Lord fulfilled His word which He spoke. I... built the church of the Name of the Lord God of Israel” (1 Kings 8:16–20) 255. In the national prayer of King Solomon we also read: “Let Your eyes be open on this church day and night, on this place about which You said: My name will be there” (1 Kings 8:29). Parallel: “where You promised to put Your Name” (2 Chronicles 7:20) and further asks God to hear those praying who come there and “confess Your Name” (2 Chronicles 7:33, 35) (cf. 2 Chronicles 6:24, 26). “Even if a stranger who is not from Your people Israel comes from a land far away for the sake of Your Name, for they have heard of Your great name and of Your mighty hand and of Your outstretched arm... hear from heaven... so that all nations may know Your name... so that they may know that this church which I have built is called by Your Name" (1 Kings 8:41-43) ) 256 . (See further in the same prayer: 1 Kings 8:44: “and to the church that I have built for Your Name”, the same 1 Kings 8:48). After the consecration of the church, God appeared to Solomon (second). God said to him: “I have heard your prayer and your request, which you asked of Me. I have consecrated this church, which you have built, so that My Name may dwell there forever; and they and My heart will be there always” (1 Kings 9:3) (2 Chronicles 7:16). 1 Kings 9:7: “the church that I consecrated to My name” = also 2 Chronicles 7:20). Also cf. 2 Kings 21:4: “And (Manasseh) built altars in the house of the Lord, of which the Lord said: In Jerusalem I will set My Name” (= 2 Kings 21:7 “in Jerusalem I will lay My Name ... forever”). So, the church is the dwelling place of the Name of God, where it is “placed forever.” In other writers we sometimes come across the definition of a church as a place over which the Name of God is given. This includes the text of Is. 18:7: ​​“to the place of the Name of the Lord of Hosts on Mount Zion.” Also, for example, in the prophet Jeremiah: “Come and stand before Me in this house, which is called by the Name of God, and say: “We are saved,” so that from now on you will do all these abominations. Has not this house, upon which My name is called, become a den of thieves in your eyes? ... Go therefore to My place in Shiloh, where I first appointed My Name to abide, and see what I have done to it... I will do the same to the house (this) which is called by My Name" (Is. 7:10-12, 14) 257. The above texts themselves sufficiently demonstrate that the expression “Name of God” in connection with the church is not at all just a replacement or synonym for the word God, but has a completely independent meaning, to deny which would mean doing violence to the text. We are talking about the deliberate presence in the church of the Name of God, along with the Glory of God, as the power of God, as the energy of God. For the Jewish religious consciousness there was nothing strange or contradictory in this; this is clear from the central significance in the cult that belonged to the solemn proclamation of the Name of God. It was not only proclaimed, but existed as living energy even outside of this proclamation, having a special place of residence in the church as the center of worship. (If the voice of skeptical rationalism says that there cannot be a special place for the presence of the Name of God, because it, as an ideal quantity, is not connected with the place, then it should be pointed out that exactly the same consideration can be applied to the church as a place of deliberate residence of the Divine, the house of God, for the Divinity is not connected with the place. If the condescension of God to man, expressed in theophany and revelations of God, includes the corresponding anthropomorphism (or anthropologism), then there are just as no obstacles to seeing in the church the house of God as the place of residence of the name of God.) The deliberate connection of the church with the Name of God, which for the fight against names should seem like some incomprehensible whim of language, actually follows from the connection of cult mystery and worship with the Name of God, which is the ladder leading from earth to heaven. And therefore we must treat with complete confidence and realism the testimony of the sacred text that the Name of God dwelt in the church. II. The understanding of the Name of God as force or energy is also manifested in a number of texts in which the mark or presence of the Name of God is a sign, and at the same time the basis, of special election and grace. In this sense, the chosen people of God are called by this Name. “So let them call on My name on the children of Israel, and I (the Lord) will bless them” (Numbers 6:27). “And all the nations of the earth will see that the Name of the Lord (your God) is called upon you, and they will fear you” (Deut. 28:10). “And My people, who are called by My name, will humble themselves” (2 Chronicles 7:14). “Everyone who is called by My name, whom I created for My glory, formed and formed” (Is. 43:7). “We have become such as over whom You never had dominion, and over whom Your Name was not named” (Isaiah 43:19). “I have revealed myself to those who did not ask about Me; Those who did not seek Me found me: “Here am I, here am I,” I said to the people who were not called by my name” (Is. 45:1). “You, Lord, are in our midst, and Your Name is called upon us” (Jer. 14:9). “Behold the city upon which Thy Name is called...do not delay for Thy own sake, O my God, for Thy Name is called upon Thy city and upon Thy people” (Dan.9:18-19). “Thy name is called on Israel and on its descendants” (Bar.2:15, cf. 26). (Here 3Ezra.3:34: “Your name will not be found anywhere, only in Israel.”) This also applies from the New Testament texts of Revelation 3:12: “And I will write on him the Name of My God, and the name of the city of My God, New Jerusalem, which comes down from heaven from My God, and My new Name.” Also Rev. 14:1: “one hundred and forty-four thousand, having the Name of His Father (the Lamb) written on their foreheads.” In a similar sense, in the general meaning of the Power of God, the expression The Name of God is used in a number of other texts. “In every place where I place a memorial of My Name, I will come to you and bless you” (Ex. 20:24). “And behold, I send My angel before you... He will not forgive your sin, for My name is in Him” (Ex. 23:20–21). “Lord Almighty...who closed the abyss and sealed it with Your glorious and terrible Name” (2 Chronicles 35, prayer of Manasseh). “Behold, the Name of the Lord comes from afar, His anger burns” (Is. 30:27). “And I will manifest My Holy Name among My people Israel, and I will not allow My holy name to be profaned, and the nations will know that I am the Lord, the Holy One in Israel” (Ezek.39:7), “I will be jealous for My Holy Name” (Ezek.39:25), “and the house of Israel will no longer profane My Holy Name” (Ezek.43:7). “From the east of the sun to the west, My Name will be great among the nations, and in every place they will offer incense to My Name, a pure sacrifice; My name will be great among the nations, says the Lord of hosts... My name is terrible among the nations” (Mal. 1:11, 14). III. There are numerous cases when the expression “Name of God” is used in the literal and proper sense, sometimes referring directly to the names of the Deity, and sometimes explicitly designating the Deity itself and therefore being a descriptive expression. It is indisputable that not all expressions, even in addition to the above categories, apply to this case, which name fighters consider typical, but even here this usage in itself requires and presupposes an explanation: why, in fact, the genius of the language (in this case, Hebrew), moreover, through a divinely inspired writer, allows such a replacement, why exactly the name turns out to be such a substitute? There is a sufficient answer to this question in all previous discussions, but here we can only add that it is this abundant use of words with the replacement of the Divine by His Name that does not at all testify in favor of name-fighting, but quite the contrary, speaks of the significance of the name, its weight, its essentiality. And therefore, our extreme opinion regarding these texts is essentially such that even where explicitly “name” is only a synonym, this expression introduces a real shade into the very meaning, testifies to the touch of the Name of God, the Divinity in His Name, through the photosphere of the Divine Name. In other words, the Divine most easily and naturally addresses His worshipers and becomes accessible to them through the Holy Name. That is why, for reasons that are quite real and ontological, and not rhetorical, the expression that interests us turns out to be so widespread in the biblical language. A number of examples (by no means exhaustive) are given in note 258. The use of the Bible in this comparison of expressions: God and the Name of God - expresses the relationship between the transcendental, incomprehensible and nameless Being of God, the Divinity in Himself and for Himself, and the God of religion and cult, which practically is the name of God. Therefore, this expression essentially means nothing more than God worshiped by man. The names of God, including the sacred tetragram 259, are only symbolic projections of the transcendent in the immanent, only touches of the Divine, like lightning, illuminating the darkness, the rays of the sun, blinding and not allowing anyone to look at themselves. This is a schematic imprint of the Divine on the human, in which, simultaneously with the approach and revelation of the Divine, the unconditional abyss separating the Creator and the creature is felt with new force. That is why there are many Old Testament names of God, and if there is a Name primarily, as if the proper name of the Divine, then the reason for this is in the incomprehensible will of God. The names of God are methods of revelation of God, theophoric theophanies, divine condescension. In a certain sense, it is a person who names the Divine, feeling His revelations on himself, responding to them with the name-creative power of his spirit. He gives a name to God, and this even in the case when God directly proclaims His Name Jehovah, for nothing is said that this is the Name of the Lord Himself, but only His revelation to man (“I appeared to Abraham, Isaac and Jacob in the Name of the Almighty God, but with My Name the Lord (Jehovah) was not yet revealed to them” (Ex. 6:23). The Name of God exists for man and in man, is there is an echo of the Divine in it. And nowhere is this line dividing God and man felt with such clarity and sharpness as in the Old Testament, due to the purity and unobscurity of God-consciousness here, due to the intensity of its transcendentism, paganism, due to its obscurity and laxness, brings God closer to the created world and to man to a very significant extent: here anthropomorphism becomes inevitable. trait, and divine names come closer to human ones, just as the incarnation or deification of a person is accepted quite easily. The most convincing examples of this are, of course, provided by the Hellenic religion. But here there are as many true forebodings and omens as there are lies and misconceptions, and in any case, now these well-trodden paths of religious psychologism must be abandoned forever. The ladder between earth and heaven was erected through the incarnation of the Most Pure Virgin of the Son of God: Jacob’s dream became reality: “from now on you will see heaven open and the angels of God ascending and descending on the Son of Man” (John 1:51). The Lord Jesus Christ is a perfect Man and true God: in Him two natures and two wills were united inseparably and unmerged, with the unity of hypostasis. The unity of the hypostasis, among other signs, also means the unity of the name, in which individual being, personality, i.e. is expressed. namely hypostasis. The Name of the Lord Jesus Christ belongs, within the meaning of the basic dogmatic definitions, to both natures; it is the Name of God and Man in their unity. This means that here this name has a completely different meaning than the Old Testament Names of God; there they were for man, but did not belong to man, had a basis in the Divine, but did not belong to God, but were only given to Him by man in response to His revelation. Now the Name must belong, be inherent in the very essence of both God and Man, united in the God-Man. The Name of the God-Man is the Name of God for man in a completely special and new sense, for it is the Name of Man, penetrating into the very depths of His being, forming His core, and at the same time this same Name is also the Name of the Divinity embodied in man. Therefore, here is not only the revelation of God to man, deposited by the Name of God in man or through man, here is not a symbolic roll call, the question and answer of the Transcendent in the immanent, but their perfect unity, interpenetration. How is this possible? This is the incomprehensible mystery of the incarnation of God, which is at the same time the incomprehensible mystery of the Name of the God-Man, the unity of the hypostasis and the unity of the name with two natures and wills, inseparably and inextricably united. This is a mystery for the mind in the sense that here it comes up against some initial, primary fact, which cannot be further deduced, which remains to be accepted as such in all the incomprehensibility of its facticity. But this mystery of the incarnation includes (and this has not yet been sufficiently revealed and felt in dogmatic self-consciousness) also the mystery of the unity of the name of the divine and human, theanthropic, this living and true ladder between heaven and earth. The Incarnation is and must necessarily be, it cannot but be, and the name is the Incarnation. And the sacred, terrible, transcendental name of Jehovah, the Old Testament revelation, already became ancient when the Only Begotten Son, who is in the bosom of the Father, “revealed” God (John 1:18) and gave “to those who received Him, to those who believe in His Name, the power to become children of God” (John 1:12). “In many ways and in various ways God spoke of old to the fathers in the prophets; in these last days He spoke to us in the Son, whom He appointed heir of all things, through whom also He created the worlds. This one, being the radiance of glory and the image of His hypostasis and upholding all things by the word of His power, accomplished with Himself the cleansing of our sins, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of the Majesty on high, being so much more excellent than the angels, inasmuch as He inherited the most glorious Name before them” (Heb. 1:1-4). It is “the name that is above every name, that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth” (Phil. 2:9-10). The name of the God-man, associated with the unity of His hypostasis, obviously cannot have only a temporary, episodic meaning for earthly existence only (to be a nickname, almost a nickname due to the practical need to be called something - this is what, in essence, name fighters think). On the contrary, this divine Name comes into this earthly life and accompanies its Owner in it, but it also passes beyond its limits, into the transtemporal and supratemporal, into eternity. The naming of the name Jesus is not done by a person, but by an Angel sent by God, in other words, by God himself (for, of course, the messenger of heaven did not pronounce this Name according to his own will, but doing the will of God). The Annunciation (and this must be very sharply emphasized) was the Annunciation not only about the conception of the Divine Child and the approaching incarnation of God, but also about His Name as an already occurring incarnation. The Annunciation was also about the Name of Jesus (and this same gospel was repeated by an angel in a dream to Joseph). So, the Name of Jesus preceded His conception and birth from the Virgin, it was born before its Owner. More precisely, it must be said that as divine - theanthropic it was not born, but is eternally in God, and therefore only in the fullness of time does it appear in earthly incarnation. For the Lord becomes human, incarnates in His Name, His Name becomes incarnate, and crystallization, compaction, and coverings are formed around this core of the personality. This Name accompanies Him in earthly life and in death, on the cross, on which it is inscribed forever and indelibly. “It was written: Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews” (John 19:19) - “And there was an inscription over Him, written in words - Greek, Roman and Hebrew: This is the King of the Jews” (Luke 23:38, cf. Mark 15:26); “This is Jesus the King of the Jews” (Matthew 27:37). And if St. the cross, “the incomprehensible divine power” of it, will appear as a sign of the Son of Man in heaven, as a sign of the end of this age, then the mark (about which Pilate, not knowing what truth he was speaking, said: “he who writes - writes” 260) of the divine Name from him is already inseparable, passed into the heavens of heavens, the eyelids of ages. And the Lord Jesus rose from the dead with the same Name, or rather, the same Name passed through the gates of death and life, the gates of the underworld, being inseparably, one hypostasis with the one who “in the grave carnally, in hell with the soul like God, in heaven with the thief, and on the throne you were, Christ, with the Father and the Spirit, fulfilling all things indescribable” 261. And just as usually names, after the death of the bearers, their departure from this world, share the fate of their bearers (which is expressed in church commemoration by name: the name lives its own special life, outliving its bearer, and is with him in an internal, mystical connection, still forming the core of the personality), so the holiest of the Names remained inseparable from its Bearer, in whom there is no change and who will remain the same always, now, and ever, and forever centuries. Therefore, the Lord ascended into heaven in His Name, sitting at the right hand of God the Father, and will come with glory to judge the living and the dead: “This Jesus, who was taken up from you into heaven, will also come in the same way as you saw Him ascending into heaven” (Acts 1:11), therefore we must “look for His Son from heaven, whom He raised from the dead, Jesus” ( 1 Thessalonians 1:10). This, of course, should not mean that Jesus is the only Name of the God-Man; on the contrary, the revelation of His new Name is still conceivable, which is what the Apocalypse directly speaks of, but this second, new Name cannot in any way eliminate or weaken the first, just as the names: “Son of God”, “Son of Man”, “Son of David”, “Teacher”, “Lord” - were not canceled and not weakened His own Name Jesus. Of course, the revelation of the new Name should be the greatest religious event, the revelation of a secret, a new revelation, but this is how it is depicted in the Apocalypse (Rev. 3:12). So, simple attentiveness and fidelity to the entire Gospel story and Orthodox dogma in no way allows us to treat the sweetest Name of Jesus with the blasphemous frivolity that our name fighters showed, seeing in it only a nickname, instrumentum vocale 262 (and for obvious reasons they trampled and destroyed the letters depicting the name of God 263). The Name of Jesus in heaven, written and lives in heaven and on earth and embraces the destinies of the world and man, is the Name of man and God. So, in the Name of Jesus we have - our faith tells us this, and all of it is vanity without this sweet truth - we have truly the eternal Name of the Second Hypostasis, the Word of God, the Heart of God, and, according to the inseparability and unity of the entire Holy Trinity, this Name, inherent in the Son, is inherent in both the Father and the Spirit, the entire Holy Trinity. And, in contrast to the Names of God as stages of revelation of God, the Name of Jesus is not one of the names of God, but the Proper Name, the Name of God. So, what is the evidence of the great mystery of the Divine? The Nativity of Christ, the Incarnation of God, was for people the revelation of the secret of the Holy. Trinity: the Son showed the Father and asked for the Holy Spirit - Theophany was first solemnly performed at the baptism of the Savior, it turned out to be evidence of another mystery of the Divinity: it has a Name (or names), and this Name (or this is one of the names) Jesus. The Name of God, the naming and self-naming of the Divine, is, of course, an unknown mystery for us, before which we can only remain prayerfully silent, and yet this mystery is revealed and witnessed by the Name of Jesus. God had names in the Old Testament. He revealed His Name of Jehovah, and yet this was not a revelation of the mystery of the Divinity itself: it was for humanity an act of economy (oikonomia) of our salvation. For man it was necessary to name the Divine, just as for man the law was needed, and although the whole law is the canopy of future blessings, the canopy of the image of heaven, this canopy was impenetrable. And the very name and naming could be considered as a human fabrication and invention (as name fighters still look at it now), existing only for man and in man. The Annunciation of the Archangel about the Name of God, which is also a human name, revealed to the world and humanity that the Name of God exists, and therefore - it should be concluded further - there is also human naming, therefore there are names of God, the boldness of naming. The very ability of name-creation, naming turns out to be ontologically substantiated, loses its exclusively psychological flavor, but becomes a feature of the image of God in man, ontologically inherent in him. In fact, it becomes clear why this person is the name-bearer and name-creator, why he gives names to everything and everyone and has a name himself. The name (and naming) rises to an ontological height unattainable for psychological criticism: it is the Image of God in man and belongs to his ontological composition. And vice versa, the incarnation of God, which has the task and consequence of the deification of man, presupposes as a precondition the godlikeness of man. And among many other traits that are inherent in man - an immortal and free spirit, reason, will, love - there is also the trait that interests us: a person has a name (and therefore gives, gives names) as the core of his personality. The entire philosophy of naming and name, which has hitherto been presented abstractly theoretically or analytically-anthropologically, now receives an objective basis in fact, in revelation. The name of Jesus is a stone of affirmation for the Christian philosophy of the name. It is clear why a person gives a name and receives a name: because he has it as the potential for name-creation. And thus the naming acquires a mysterious, deep and realistic character. In this statement that the name enters into the image of God in man, there is this image, i.e. belongs to the idea of ​​a person, to his mental being, lies the ultimate ontological justification for naming: thought rests here on the force of fact, before which all sorts of why stop and become meaningless? Why does the Lord have a name? But this is the same as asking: why is God trinitarian in Persons? One can endlessly understand the full meaning of this dogma, reveal it in all its consequences, see its imprint on the entire world and human life, but every reason here is insane and even counterintuitive. This revealed fact that there is a Divine Name has a similar force as a primary basis for thought. The rays of this Name can be found everywhere, but its very existence does not need to be bothered to be substantiated. The Name of Jesus is the Name of God, but at the same time it is also human. The Lord is the absolute perfect heavenly Man, in Him dwells all the fullness of the Divine bodily, but in Him also lies the whole fullness of humanity heavenly. It has a basis in Him, everything that is characteristic of man, as a positive force, belongs to Him (therefore, except for sin). We must understand not allegorically, but quite realistically and ontologically, those speeches of the Savior where He identifies Himself with each of the people. This also means the unity of all in Christ, realized in one communion, and in this sense the Church is the Body of Christ. But this same unity necessarily extends to the name, in which the substantial core of the personality is expressed. It would be unnatural and incomprehensible if, united in everything, in this essential people would separate from Him, in other words, this means that all the diverse, endlessly fragmented names in their essence, dynamically, form one Name, or rather, are able to enter into it, join it, become one with it, its rays, inseparably existing from the sun. If Christ lives, or rather, can live and wants to live in each of the believers (“I stand and knock that it may be opened” 264), this indwelling of the Savior does not mean depersonalization or dissolution of the personality, but its highest, only true manifestation in grace-filled enlightenment; in each of the people the bright Face of Christ must be reflected, or everyone must find himself in it and through this see his own, and all names substantially, dynamically converge or emanate from the Name of Jesus, for we cannot imagine anything inherent in a person and lying outside of Christ, except for the dark region of sin, non-existence, satanic evil. The general anthropological, and therefore Christological principle: to comprehend everything human in Christ and through Christ, to see everything in the light of the Filial Hypostasis is A.M.’s favorite idea. Bukharev, which he served with inspiration and unfailingly, must certainly be extended to the Name of Jesus in relation to human names. The sweetest Name Jesus, through the Son of Man, lies inscribed on all humanity, and belongs to everything. All of us, apart from our unworthiness, participate in this great and holy Name, in a certain sense we bear it, we partake of it. Let them not say that this is boldness or blasphemy, for is there really a measure of God’s love and condescension, and the Lord, who gives Himself, His Body and Blood in the sacrament of the Eucharist, will really deprive us of the grace-filled power of His Holy Name? It won't happen. And just as the Lord took upon Himself everything human (except for sin), why every person can have in Him their own personal Savior and Redeemer, then in Him, in His Most Holy Name as the center, all human names, the substantial nuclei of all individuals, are united. And if the Lord, in whom everyone finds themselves, is all individuality, then the Name of Jesus is the all-name, the Name of all names. There is a hierarchy of names (as the word of God directly testifies to this: Heb.1:4; Phil.2:9-10), based on their dynamic relationship. And the names of all humanity are only the manifested name of Heavenly Adam, and the Name of this latter is the true name of all humanity, of course, to the extent that it finds itself in its being, i.e. in God. But true humanity forms the Church, there is the Church. And only such humanity, of course, and not sinful, temporary, empirical humanity, finds its names in the Name of Jesus, and also vice versa: The Name of Jesus as a creative power, as a single human principle is the Church, i.e. integral, divine being of man. It goes without saying that this must be understood not linguistically, which would simply be meaningless, but mystically. Therefore (using the above-established distinctions), we are talking not about the phoneme of the name, and not about the morpheme, but their mystical sinema, the individual energy inherent in each name and living in it, its core. These forces, these color rays are united into the rainbow of the Church and are contained in the white Tabor ray of the Most Illustrious Name of Jesus. These are the ultimate foundations of human names. The Name of all names is the Name of Jesus. But this Name is also a human name, moreover, a specific human name, one of many names, common and widespread among its people: Jesus (sort of like the name Ivan among Russians). The mystery of God's condescension, kenosis, an incomprehensible mystery, before which one can only bow reverently, is that the blessed Name of God, becoming a human name, is clothed in the image of a slave, in the rags of humility. And yet, why do at least those who do not stumble before the appearance of God in the flesh, the divine kenosis, stumble before this? The Lord took upon Himself a human body, capable of being mortal, subject to fatigue, suffering from hunger and cold, susceptible to wounds, in a word, not a ghost, not just a semblance of a human body, but truly an ordinary human body, which only after the resurrection, and at the moment of transfiguration, took on and revealed a different nature. And it is clear that the incarnation of God could not have happened otherwise in order to be salutary and regenerate human nature: the manger, the den, and wretchedness, poverty, homelessness, suffering and death - all this lay on the path of human salvation. But in this case, why are name fighters so tempted by the fact that the Name of the God-Man, which was, therefore, the Name of God, was, by human nature, a completely ordinary human name? But this name - name fighters continue to be tempted - was widespread, belonged and now even belongs to many (Athos name fighters all pointed at some monk who bore the name of Jesus, and blasphemed the sacred Name of Jesus on this occasion). But, of course, and this goes without saying, that a name is absolutely “proper” and does not exist and cannot exist, as explained above: all proper names are also common nouns, since they are words, therefore, express an idea, i.e. general. No exceptions to this are names, which constitute a special type in meaning or purpose, but do not lose the properties of words because of this. Names are the qualities of people, the ideas of these qualities, and they can inevitably be repeated and will be repeated, and there is no force that would establish a monopoly on a name and guarantee its non-repetition. And yet, a name becomes a proper name only in concrete, that is, on the one hand, in connection with all generic cognomen, and on the other, due to the connection that is established between it and its bearer. As for the first, we should not forget that the name in its concrete completeness carries not only one central core of the name: Jesus, John, etc., but in concrete connection with the patronymic, surname, and family tree. Therefore, a personal name, strictly speaking, is always complicated and specified by a generic name, genealogy, which in this sense is nothing more than an extended name, a full name, a personal coefficient of a proper name. Thanks to her, a personal name truly receives all the specificity and individual uniqueness. Therefore, name fighters who stumble over the prevalence of the name Jesus must keep in mind that this specific, genealogical determinant of the name, which already excludes any repetition and confusion, is given in the Name of Jesus: precisely such a determinant is the “book of the kinship of Jesus,” a genealogy, which, as is known, is given in the Gospels of Matthew and Luke according to two different plans. At ev. Matthew as “the genealogy of Jesus Christ, the Son of David, the Son of Abraham.” Here is the genealogy of Joseph the Betrothed, in descending order from Abraham. At ev. Luke sets out the same genealogy in ascending order and ascends through the patriarchs to Adam and God Himself. It is clear that all the names of the ancestors are in an expanded sense and the names of the Son of David and the Son of Abraham form the photosphere, the outer covers of the name (so that the wicked slander and blasphemous doubts of Athonite and non-Athos name-wrestlers can be weakened by a simple question: does a certain monk Jesus have the corresponding genealogy and, therefore, are the additional colors of his name the same as the Name of Jesus?). And let them not point out that all this genealogical examination is usually absent and the name is taken in its simplicity: it is all potentially given in that indicative gesture or agglutination that connects the name to its given bearer. That is why - and only because of this - we can say that proper names, not being proper, but general, become singular in the specific photosphere of the name, its genealogy. But this same connection, established between the name and the bearer, fills the name with individual color and smell, gives it the living force inherent in a given person, from a predicate word or nickname makes it a name in the true sense, which is inherent in substance. And in this case, the name (even if we ignore all considerations regarding its concretization through genealogy), even with complete sound identity, in different cases of use appears and acts as different names. Here we must not forget what has been said about the difference between a phoneme (and morpheme) and a sinema. If the phoneme makes up the sound body of the name (in this case this also includes its “internal form”, i.e. direct verbal meaning, which is of interest only for its genesis), then the blue name is constituted by its given bearer, and it is inseparably connected with it. Therefore, to take abstractly one sound form or the body of a name without soul and without strength, to turn a name into a nickname, as name fighters do, means not understanding the essence of the name. Sounds: Ivan, Peter and other “proper names”, not related to anything, are not names either, but are words predicated without a subject, ideas without implementation. No judgment can be made about them at all until they become names, i.e. will not receive a specific individual blue. Name-wrestlers are precisely seduced by the abstractly taken phoneme of the name, which, as it turns out, does not represent any differences in different cases of its use. But such would be the fate of not only the name Jesus in view of its commonness, but also of any other name: Napoleon, Nebuchadnezzar. After all, you can give a dog such a nickname, and Napoleon (leader) and Napoleon (dog) are simply different names, different words, just as there are different words: sole (legs) and sole (mountains), key (of the castle) and key (water), despite the same phoneme and even “internal form.” The latter is important for the genesis of the word and its historical comprehension, but does not destroy the existing differences between words. Therefore, generally speaking, identical names are not synonyms, but have a specific character: families, ideas, tasks in which the life of the bearer of the name takes place. It is a common predicate for various subjects, which are all connected with it in their own way. And, however, it must be said that this connection, similarity or sameness, can be paralyzed by difference. This is also the case in the case of the sacred and divine Names of the Savior and the Mother of God - Jesus and Mary. The Orthodox Church has established that there can be no namesake either in relation to the Name of the Savior or the Mother of God, the latter is sometimes practiced as an abuse, but at the same time the naming: both Jesus and Mary, belonging to various saints, remain in the Orthodox calendar. Nevertheless, only the Names of the Savior and the Mother of God stand out in a particularly exceptional position: they are, as it were, not identical to their homonyms, they are not the same, but different, the only names, not specific, and individual, not family, but personal. The namesake is a secondary indicator in the name: in the general gender - genus, expressed by the name, several families are distinguished that have a common ancestor - a saint. This introduces a specification into the names: A 1, A 2, A 3, A 4 ... B 1, B 2, B 3. The names of Jesus and Mary, although according to their phoneme they are part of their own genus, they stand completely apart, not forming any family of relatives and similar ones, obviously, because there can be no talk here of either similarity or property: like peaks that, although they belong to a mountain group, are not located in a chain of mountains, but rise above all of them. However, this uniqueness, quite understandable, does not eliminate the fact that these Names, by their phoneme, belong to their own gender. The Lord became incarnate and truly became man, not disdaining the human name: he became man not only in the flesh, but also in the Name, which was clothed in a humble, human name, common among pious Jews. So, the name of the Lord Jesus is the Name of God, but also of man. It is inextricably linked with human nature and the human name, and, being immanent in human nature, it introduces the power of God into it; it is the incarnation of God in the Name. Through this Name of Jesus, it has for us a completely unique, exclusive proximity and accessibility: if the Name of God is terrible and wonderful in the Old Testament, then the Name of Jesus is sweet, although powerful, in it we partake of the love of God, we taste the grace of the Divine Name. If in the names of God, as we tried to show, the power of God is present, then in the Name of Jesus it is especially tangibly close to man. As the Divine Name, it contains the power of God, there is the energy of the Divine, but it is also the energy of human nature, it belongs to the God-Man. There is no transcendence here, a breakthrough from the immanent to the transcendent, from the world and from man to the non-world and to the non-man, into the Divine realm. We have this in the Old Testament, where only the high priest, protected by all sacred means - the solemnity of the liturgical moment, vestments, incense, the shrine of the place - entered the Holy of Holies to pronounce the Name of God. In the Name of Jesus, we are all called as a royal priesthood, entering the Holy of Holies of our hearts, to pronounce and call upon Him, and He is present in His Name. For the ancient Jews, the Name of God was like the pinnacle, and almost any invocation of the Name of God - except for the legalized ritually, liturgically - was a sinful use of it in vain. But the name of Jesus allows itself to be called upon “at every time and at every hour” and to be continually drawn upon in one’s heart. It is necessary to realize and feel with all its strength and acuteness this difference, even the opposition, between the Name of the transcendental Divinity, which was far away and terrible, and only dwelt in the church, according to the very definite testimony of the Word of God, and the Name of Jesus, the church of which is every human heart, and every believer has the priesthood of this church as sealed by this Name. It, of course, remains scary and demands reverent awe as the greatest shrine, for truly it is the Name of God. But it became close, accessible, not separated by the ontological abyss that exists between the Creator and the creature. A bridge has been erected across this abyss, the divine and the human have already united inseparably and unmerged: we repeat, only to the priest or high priest, since he is singled out, transcendental to this world, and, moreover, in the most transcendental moments, the majesty of the Name of God was accessible, but the Name of Jesus is accessible, given to everyone “who believes in His Name.” And in this alone the entire gulf between the two covenants, the power and saving power of the Incarnation, is already revealed. We, of course, do not want to belittle the difference that exists between the priesthood and the world in the New Testament, for secret action and sacred rites here also require transcendental conditions and the main transcendence of the individual - dedication. But the points of this transcendence are moving here. So, since the Name of Jesus is theanthropic, divine and human, it accepts everyone as its priests, it is accessible to everyone by its human proximity, it is immanent to man; but since it is divine, it is the Name of God, not in a lesser, but even superior (according to the above) sense in comparison with other Names of God, it is a terrible fire that scorches the presence of God, the power and glory of God. Name fighters are confused and seduced by precisely this closeness and accessibility of the blessed Name; they are jealous of God’s goodness towards people. It seems to them that God, as it were, puts Himself at the disposal of the person calling on His Name, and there is no barrier between Him and this person. Yes, this is exactly so, such is God’s love for people, such is God’s condescension. But why are name fighters so confused only in relation to the Name of God? In every sacrament, and especially in St. Eucharist, the Lord gives Himself to man according to the latter’s desire: consent, Divine readiness is always given, as if it were implied by itself, all that is needed is the human desire to take advantage of the grace of the sacrament. The situation is similar with the grace of the sacred Name of God, which is given to everyone who calls on it with faith and prayer. But the name fighters are confused here, on the one hand, by the possible familiarity with the Holy Name, which they themselves showed by inscribing, tearing, even trampling on the name Jesus, and on the other hand, by the immeasurable significance that stems from invoking the Name of God. The first doubt is easily resolved on the basis of everything previous: the name has a phoneme and blue. The phoneme, firstly, differs in different languages: Jesus, Jesus, Jesus, Ἰησοῦς, and secondly, it is not yet a name, but only its shell, cover. As a word, this phoneme may not yet represent a name, it may only be a predicate, not related to the subject, and therefore alien and unfilled to it. Therefore, the word: savior or even Jesus is not yet the Name of the Lord. From this word, or rather, using it as a means, a shell or cover, it is obtained, being related to its Carrier, being filled with His power, accepting the energy of the subject. Therefore, different verbal variations or modes of a given word in different languages are not essential, because although the Name, having complete concreteness, in any given case also has some kind of verbal mode, it is not this mode, equivalent to any other mode, that makes the Name a name, but all the fullness and richness of it, living in it, like fragrant myrrh in a meager vessel, power: the vessel can be polished or rough, painted in any color, this does not concern the world, but the vessel will inevitably have some specific shape, because without this it cannot fulfill its task - to hold the world contained in it. The religious lie (and not just a misunderstanding) of the struggle against the name lies in its “psychologism”, in the fact that here the effectiveness of the Name of God is associated exclusively with the mood: a person will pray fervently and sincerely, and the power of the Name of God will be felt to him, otherwise not. They transfer the conditions for the perception of grace and the nature of this perception, associated with the subjective moment, with personal disposition, to the objective meaning of what is happening here, in exactly the same way as their Protestant predecessors rejected essentially the sacrament of the Eucharist, giving it only a subjective meaning, and, depending on the mood, one receives communion, and the other does not, as if any disposition could give the missing sacrament, compensate for the power. In the same way, the power of the Name of God, they think, is communicated by the mood of the person praying, thanks to which the prayer will be heard or not heard, as if God needs to be especially convinced and called upon to hear a person. But God hears everyone who calls, but not everyone who calls turns to God with his heart and hears this hearing of God. And just as the Holy Gifts are the Body and Blood of Christ equally for those who partake for salvation and for judgment and condemnation, so the Name of God is the Power of God, no matter how we treat it, reverently or blasphemously. To imagine that the distance between earth and heaven can be covered only by human will means to introduce psychologism, anthropomorphism, subjectivism and, ultimately, man-theology into the very heart of religion, into its holy of holies. Just as it is impossible to be saved by human power, so it is impossible to pray to God by human power if the Lord does not incline to this prayer before we open our lips, if He is not present in it with His power contained in His Name. Prayer becomes a prayer to God and receives its objective meaning of uniting a person with God precisely through the presence of God in prayer itself, the transcendental-immanent presence of the Name of God in it. The Name of God is the ontological basis of prayer, its substance, power, justification. Therefore, in its essence, prayer is the invoked Name of God. But since the Name of God contains divine energy and gives the presence of God, then practically, energetically we can say, although with great inaccuracy, that the Name of God is God. More precisely, God’s Power is present in him, which is inseparable from the Being of God; in this sense, there is God himself. Prayer would be impossible, incomprehensible, without this condition. Every prayer is also a miracle, if a miracle is called a gap in the immanent, permeated by the transcendent, and this miracle is the Name of God, which is Divinity. From here it follows, of course, what madness, blasphemy, sin our cold, scattered prayer, calling on the Name of God in vain is, for in it we always deal with the fire with which we are scorched, although we are not aware of it. Prayer becomes a joyful and scary, but also immensely, exceptionally significant matter as standing in the presence of God. Why be surprised if it turns out that the experience of great ascetics, “smart work,” the Jesus Prayer, in particular, and such a great prayer book of our days as Fr. John of Kronstadt, testifies to this truth that “the Name of God is God himself,” as a kind of axiom, and not a controversial theologem, theological opinion, philosophical idea. It is necessary to read this in the full context of at least the religious diary of Fr. John “My life in Christ” in order to see all the self-evidence of this truth for him. To the same extent, it is self-evident that if God Himself is present in the Name of God, then they themselves are present in the names of the Mother of God and the saints. If this is indeed the meaning of the Name of God in prayer in general, i.e. and in private and personal prayer, then it is even more so in worship, in cultic use. Strictly speaking, every prayer is a sacrament, since it is really prayer, i.e. turning to God and calling upon Him through the Name of God. It may seem that the decisive sign for us is the psychological animus 265, the mood, because outside of this the name will not be the Name of God, but a simple predicate or just a word. However, this is not so: the decisive factor here is not the psychological, but the ontological moment, that mystical intention that makes a subject out of a predicate, and a noun out of a verb. Although this intention also has a psychological side, its own how, this does not destroy its own nature, does not dissolve its core. It is in this intention that the living touch of the Divine takes place or, in other words, God Himself is present in the Name of God. After all, the simple vocative case contains a particularly strong intention; it contains not only the presence of the named, but also gives it some spiritual impulse, of course, not only psychological. And this has an immeasurably greater force in relation to the Spirit, not bound by space, time and shell: always and wherever we call Him, we have His presence in the Name, and it depends on us, on the transparency of our soul, how we feel this presence: here, indeed, psychologism persecutes us and cripples us. So in private, separate prayer. In worship, there is no place for psychologism at all; there is only one ontology at work here: what is said is done, and what is done symbolically here is done in all worlds, reaching the heavenly and mental altar. We must understand the real meaning of worship, i.e. its ontological objectivity, due to which there is nothing here just as a mood, but everything actually happens, everything is symbolic, illuminated and sanctified by the presence of God in the Name of God, which stands at the center of the service. We can say that all of this is done “in the name of God” - St. The Trinity, the Lord Jesus Christ, the Father, the Holy Spirit, and this is not just a metaphor, as name fighters want to assure, but a mystical reality. Worship is a continuous appeal to the Divine, which He hears through His Name. And it is in the power of this hearing that the divine service is performed as a sacred rite, full of real meaning and content, and the sacraments are performed - not by the force of the mood or psychological tension of the clergy, but by the power of the Name of God, in which the Power of God is present. Without this condition of religious realism, worship would turn into a theatrical performance on religious themes, mysteries, well or poorly played depending on these very “moods.” Meanwhile, only the extent to which we perceive, use for ourselves, and assimilate what is happening depends on our mood. If we continue this analogy with the performance, no matter how shocking it may seem, it must be said that if the actor playing Napoleon actually became Napoleon at that time, moreover, regardless of his art, but only by virtue of his role, then it would depend on both him and the audience to comprehend his character to one degree or another; and on the contrary, without this condition there would still be fakes, even talented ones, i.e. not Napoleon, but only a perception about Napoleon, a “mood” about him, i.e. empty nothingness. There is an abyss between the “representation” and the reality of the symbolism of the ritual, the same one that generally exists between being and non-being, allegory and reality. And the basis that fills the sacred liturgical rite with reality is, undoubtedly, the Name of God, by the power of which everything here is accomplished and sanctified, and having already been sanctified, it itself becomes complete, authentic and effective. The Name of God is the basis of worship, its heart, and here, in turn, the heart of the heart is the Name of Jesus. For in connection with him and according to his power we have the most holy and magnificent Name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit, the revelation of St. Trinity, Name of the Mother of God and all saints. If only this power of the Name of Jesus is hypothetically eliminated, the entire divine service, all the secret activities will fall apart. All of it grows from the Name of God, as its grain. That is why the Lord gives to the apostles, and in their person and to the whole church, His Name as strength and authority: “In My name the demons will be given birth, tongues will speak new tongues” and further (Mk. 16:17; cf. Luke 10:17: “Lord, even the demons obey your name,” cf. Acts 16:18: “In the name of Jesus Christ I command you to come out of her”). And the first miracle of healing, which demonstrated apostolic power, was performed by Peter and Paul on the lame: “in the Name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, arise and walk” (Acts 3:6, cf. Acts 4:10), “for there is no other name under heaven given among men by which we must be saved” (Acts 4:12). “And because of faith in His Name, His Name has strengthened him whom you see and know” (Acts 3:16). And this realism of the Name was clear for the Ephesian pagans, about whom it is said: “and fear fell on them all, and the Name of the Lord Jesus was magnified” (Acts 19:17). Therefore, the evangelist says that “to those who believe in His Name he gave power to become children of God” (John 1:12), or: “but you were washed, but you were sanctified, but you were justified in the Name of our Lord Jesus Christ and the Spirit of our God” 266. And this same Name, as the power of God, as the real presence of the Lord Jesus himself, was also witnessed by the practitioners of the Jesus Prayer from their experience. That is why we say with the boldness of faith that our worship is not only service to God, but also God’s service, in which we have Christ himself as the High Priest, and the priests are consecrated in His Name and demonstrate the power of His presence. And in the sacraments of the church God is present and performs them by the power of the Name of God. In general, the sacraments are power and reality, which is affirmed by the Name of God. Is it possible to be tempted, like those who fight against names, by the fact that all this is given to man? If I want, I will call the Name of God and have God Himself, they say. Yes, this is truly so, such is God’s love and condescension. And yet, if they mean simply a phoneme, an empty verbal husk emptied of content, then, of course, this is not true. After all, to perform a sacrament requires, in addition to objective conditions, the grace of the priesthood, also animus - the desire to perform the sacrament. Likewise, those who wish to experience the action of the Name of God also require a desire to pronounce the Name of God, and not the sounds i-i-i-s-u-s. Therefore, let them not be embarrassed or tempted by the closeness and accessibility of God in His Name, called upon with faith: it cannot be otherwise, for the Lord is near to those who ask Him. Blessed be His Name always, now and ever, and unto ages of ages! The name of God is God, - this is the expression of Fr. John of Kronstadt was heard in our days from the Caucasian desert 267 and from Mount Athos and became the subject of fierce bickering, strife and the most serious misunderstandings (it seems that most of all it was the latter). Some, fanatical “name lovers,” read this formula even with this variant: “The Name of God is God Himself” - and, apparently, the link is brought closer to the meaning of complete equality: The Name of God = God. But from this follows the opposite conclusion, perhaps not fully recognized by the “name-glorifying” people, made by those who are tempted about “name-glorifying”, i.e. as “God = the Name of God” (which is why name-glorifying people are called “name-worshippers”). Therefore, it is necessary first of all to establish the irreversibility of this judgment: the copula is by no means means equality or sameness. A judgment is fundamentally irreversible, because a reversed judgment is a completely new judgment, with a new subject and a new predicate. We explained in our place that predicativity, the quality of the subject, is associated with ontological emphasis, the subject is always a noun, and the predicate, even having the form of a noun, dissolved in a connective, becomes an adjective and a verb, expresses not ens, not res 268, but the idea as a quality, as a universal: hence the irreversibility of the judgment. Those who make the judgment reversible do not take into account the adjective of the predicate and are guided only by formal grammatical and etymological features, ignoring syntax with its internal forms. Therefore, in the expression The Name of God is God, the word God is a predicate (and can, of course, with some approximate meaning, be replaced, approximately: divine, deity - Θεῖον, Θεότης),), in Greek it must stand without a member, so the whole expression has the following form: τὸ τοῦ Θεοῦ ὄνομα Θεός ἐστιν (but not ὁ Θεός). Therefore, the opposite judgment is completely unacceptable, which could read something like this: ὁ θεὸς τὸ τοῦ Θεοῦ ὄνομά ἐστιν - such a truly name-theorizing formula would mean not only a blasphemous heresy, but also complete nonsense. So, the real meaning of the predicate is God does not mean the substantial identity that exists between the divine being and its name, but the entry and presence of the Name of God into the realm of divine existence, power, manifestation of what the Constantinople fathers called the energy of God. And in this sense, the Name of God occupies the same place in the ontological hierarchy as the Light of Tabor, although, of course, from this the Name and Light do not become identical with each other in their phenomenon, being consubstantial in the noumenon. We can calmly compare side by side: the Name of God is God, the Light of Tabor is God (to this we can also add: the grace of God given to people in the sacrament is God) - in all these cases the predicate is God does not at all establish identity with the hypostatic being of God, but only introduces us into the realm of the Divine, marks the quality of Divinity; how metals or stones passing through fire receive the light and heat of this fire and themselves, being in fire, become fire, and yet still differ from the original, imprecise fire. The formula The Name of God is God does not and cannot mean anything more in its direct meaning and by the very nature of words and sentences. That name-worshipping nonsense that frightens and outrages name fighters is simply not allowed here by the language, the nature of the word, and it would be better for the essence of the matter, as well as for the world of the church, if this formula did not focus undue and premature attention on itself. In any case, in itself it by no means contains an exhaustive answer to the question or a doctrinal definition; it must be expanded or fulfilled, because divinity (is God, Θεός ἐστιν) still does not sufficiently determine the specific feature of the case under consideration and, as we have already indicated, is also inherent in other types of divine energy, the self-revelation of the Divine. It follows from this that the formula “The Name of God is God” cannot in any case be considered even as an attempt at a doctrinal definition about the Name of God, for here only the most general teaching is given, which, properly understood, is, of course, correct (and in no way causes in such an understanding those reproaches for name-worship, which in their own way have even rightly been put forward against it), this general teaching must be carried out in the direction that it must be clarified in what sense “is God", i.e. divine, the Name of God. So, in our understanding and in our interpretation, the formula “The Name of God is God” only means that the Name of God is divine and enters the sphere of the Divine, His energies. This, of course, in no way weakens the fact that when invoking the Name of God, prayerfully-ontologically (vocative or nominative case, in the sense of subjectivity or substantiality), the Lord Himself is present with His power, His simplicity, His inseparability, and the invocation of the Name of God in prayer is an unceasing communion of the Divine, simple and indivisible. But this presence of the Divine in His Name, which forced the reverent prayer-book to exclaim in amazement: “The Name of God is God Himself,” does not at all mean that God is the Name itself, does not introduce fetishism of the Name, but reveals the eternal and incomprehensible mystery of the incarnation and condescension of God, the presence of God in His Name, which is satisfied in the sacrament of prayer 269. Sophiological understanding of the dogma of the Name of Jesus (Post scriptum to the essay on the Name of God) The name of God, in accordance with the nature of any “proper name,” comes from naming as a continuous sentence in which the subject (named) is connected to the predicate (name) through an implied connective (is) as a logical and verbal agglutination: A, named, is B (name). The connection between the named and the naming, agglutination, becomes so strong that the name as a meaning (“internal form of the word”) to a certain extent loses its meaning, partially ceases to be a sinema, but becomes, as it were, only a phoneme, a nickname, a pronominal sign, a “name,” a logical or, moreover, an ontological (and therefore psychological) gesture. The matter does not always come to the complete loss of the semantic meaning of the “proper name” due to the strength of agglutination or oblivion, the loss of its original verbal meaning, however, it approaches this, the more “proper” the name becomes, the more saturated with the power of being, the more ontic it is. It indefinitely approaches insofar as it approaches a pronoun, an internal pointing gesture, a wordless word: (c)-place-nominal. Such is the power of one's own name, its character. And yet, with all this “property” of it, it still remains a name, does not lose the character of predicability, at least in intention, but always retains it. To the extent that a proper name is dual, it combines a subject and a predicate. If you think “pronominally” as a subject: I, you, he, we, you, they - and this is always and inevitably imagined - then in this character of a proper name one can see not only the nature of the word, as something said about something, but also the image of hypostatic being, expressed in every judgment: A (name) is B. This is the universal image of being, which is always objective, but also has its own verbal revelation, one’s own word, which is precisely what is objectified in one’s own name. This is the duality of meaning that is characteristic of a proper name, since it remains a word as a naming, but at the same time it also has the meaning of a wordless gesture of a pronominal one. The name of God does not differ formally from other proper names: it, like them, is a naming that in a special way grows to its subject and is identified with it. This subject itself, i.e., in this case, the hypostatic being of God (according to the insight of the pseudo-Dionysius the Areopagite), is nameless, because it is super-name. It can be expressed either by a silent mystical gesture, or through NOT (ὰ) “negative theology” as a subject, however, along with this, in an indefinite series of names, different in their predicability, but equivalent in the intention of correlation to a single subject. Anonymity is combined here with polyonymy - this is the main idea of ​​pseudo-Dionysian onomatology, which is also accepted by Christian dogma, which faces the same fact in biblical revelation. However, such polynymy has its limits beyond the general anonymity of negative theology. In the Bible (as in theology), from the general set of names of God, some of the most important, “great” names stand out, as if more “proper” than others, namely seven, and among them is the most sacred and greatest of all the Old Testament names of God, revealed and given by God himself to Moses at Sinai, namely Jehovah-Yahweh, Sy. However, this name, with all the exclusivity and solemnity of its revelation, bears within itself the obvious features of that dual character that is generally inherent in proper names, on the one hand, as words that do not lose their semantic, verbal meaning (Sy), and on the other, having received “pronominal” use and, to that extent, having lost their direct meaning, from sinema becoming a phoneme. To this extent, we can say that even Jehovah-Yahwe is not the “proper” name of the Divine, but only a common noun, one of many, although it has become unique in its application. “I appeared to Abraham, Isaac and Jacob with (the name) ‘God Almighty,’ but with the name ‘Jehovah,’ I did not reveal myself to them” (Ex. 6:3). To that extent, its own, semantic meaning is not lost, but resounds, shines through, and is clearly contained in this name, although it is a hypostatic name, Sy, Jehovah-Yahwe. Here the subject is clearly connected with the predicate, the subject with the predicate and the copula (implied). One may ask, in what relation does this revelation of the Name - I, He - stand to the revelation of the Holy Trinity, as I - We, which already exists in the Old Testament as a kind of cryptogram (the story of the creation of the world and man, of the appearance of God to Abraham, of the confusion of languages, and other texts)? Is this Self of the divine tetragram a one-hypostasis Self (and if so, which hypostasis?) or a trinitarian Self in its trinity? There are no direct instructions to answer this question. In different contexts, the Old Testament revelation, which speaks of the face of God, is applicable to different hypostases in accordance with the general meaning, but this name Yahweh is used only in relation to the hypostatic existence of God in general. Doesn’t this use force us to attribute this sacred Name in general specifically to the trinity of the Divine hypostasis, in which the three divine hypostatic lights merge (“one in the Trinity and Trinity in one,” according to the word of the great canon 270)? Does not the sacred cryptogram contain a revelation of the personality of God, which is revealed in the fullness of Divine existence: I am who I am? If this theological-exegetical conjecture is true, then the volume and content of the revelation about the Name of God Jehovah-Yahweh should be understood as simultaneously including the fullness of ontological naming. This also gives an indication for the sophiological explanation of the Name of God, which unites personal character, hypostasis in an inseparable, but also unmerged unity with the divine essence, ousia, in its self-revelation, wisdom, and also glory. (The latter is clear from the text in which it is said that God, revealing His Name to Moses, reveals to him His Glory (Ex. 33:19) in their dual unity and ontological inseparability, identity with distinction.) Therefore, Yahweh, the One, means the divine trinity in its sophia, in the Wisdom and Glory of God. The name of God means simultaneously both its hypostatic Bearer and the Divine Sophia; it expresses not only the hypostatic, but also the sophian existence of God, however, still in the Old Testament, preliminary and unclear outlines. To this we must add the fact that it has a premium, transcendental character, although through revelation it becomes immanent in human existence. However, despite this touch and meeting of the transcendental with the immanent, which is inherent in all revelation, the latter still remains turned more to the transcendental nature of God than to created being. If we express this thought in terms of sophiology, then the Name Jehovah refers more to the Divine Sophia than to the created one. In the New Testament revelation about the Name of God, the name Jehovah-Yahweh gives way to the name Jesus, with which it is, as it were, obscured and abolished as abstract by the concrete, although it is assumed by it and is even included in it, but already loses the meaning of a “proper name” primarily. First of all, the question is, what is the hypostatic meaning of this New Testament name? Is there a single, albeit trinitarian, divine Self, a divine trinity, called here, as in Yahweh, or is only one hypostasis singled out, namely the Second, so that the entire Holy Trinity remains anonymous or super-named, 271 and therefore the name of Jesus belongs only to the Second Hypostasis? Or is this not so, and the moment of three hypostases in the name of Jesus is not absorbed by the unity of the directly named Second Hypostasis, but is contained here in the concrete meaning of this name in a special, corresponding way? Of course, it is the latter that is taking place here. The name of Jesus directly belongs to the Second Hypostasis, but in it and through it it names the entire Holy. Trinity, being in this sense similar to Yahweh, the Existent. This meaning of it stems from the personal property of the Second Hypostasis, which is both the Word of God, and in this capacity the word of the Father and the word of the Holy Spirit, proclaimed by them and revealing them. The Father-Beginning resides in transcendence and in the Holy Trinity itself. He is silent himself, but His word is about Himself, His self-name is the pre-eternally born Word of God, and this Word is not only the word of all words, the all-predicable, but also the proper name of God, the all-subject, everything in it is about everything. In this sense, as the Word of the Father, the name of the Son also names the Father; in the unity of the Holy Trinity it belongs to the Father, although not as its own. But the same can be said about the Holy Spirit, who, not having his own word, rests on the Son of the Father, as the Spirit of Truth reveals the word as the real truth. Insofar as the Name of the Son belongs to the Holy Spirit, as does His, although not a “proper” designation. Therefore, the name of Jesus is the single Name of the Holy Trinity in Its unity as a specific triple self-consciousness. Just as the Second Hypostasis itself is not separated from the trinity of the Holy. The Trinity through Its hypostatic properties, and only in it differs, so does Her Divine Name, inherent in everything, in each of the hypostases in its own special sense. However, these are not three different names, but one. Moreover, it is not even a general three, which could in this capacity be bracketed out as being repeated three times. It is not general in this sense and is not repeated, but for each hypostasis it sounds in its own way, in the divine trinity: not three completely identical names: A 1, A 2, A 3, but a triune name, a triple context of the single Divine Name Jesus. It is, therefore, the “proper” name of the Son alone, but at the same time it is not the “proper” name, but the triple name of the entire Holy Trinity. In this “improper” but threefold naming, each hypostasis shows its relationship to it: the Father – His unnamability or super-namability as the Beginning, the original hypostasis; The Holy Spirit is just as unnameable as not having its own word and name, but only the Son; and, finally, the Son has a name and gives it through Himself to all three hypostases, in trinity. Therefore, it is impossible to answer the arithmetically posed question: how many names does the Holy Trinity have, three or one: not three and not one, but triune or one-three, which are all the definitions relating to It. To this we must add that the three hypostatic names of the first, second and third hypostases: Father, Son, Word, Holy Spirit, are not proper names, but only names expressing their hypostatic properties or character. They can also be used as proper names for each of the hypostases and, indeed, in such a capacity they are used, however, along with other names, although not so exceptional in their meaning, but this does not make them proper names in the exact sense. Yes, to this, however, it must be added that even in this nominal character they still remain triplicate, or triune, concealing a trinitarian context full of its meaning: the Father is the Father of the Son, on whom the Holy Spirit rests, coming upon the Son; The Son is the Son of the Father, begotten by the Father and overshadowed by the Holy Spirit from Him; finally, the Holy Spirit proceeds from the Father to the Son and rests on Him. Thus, each of these hypostatic names can also be revealed as a trinitarian name, taken only in any one initial definition or aspect. This is where the threefold relationship comes into play. However, this is not in the “proper” name of Jesus, although in its meaning it is revealed in a threefold aspect, only based on the already given hypostatic character, which establishes their relationship. In the sophiological understanding of the Name of God in general, both the Old Testament name Yahweh-Jehovah and the New Testament name Jesus, the following main question arises: what does the divine revelation contained in the name of God refer to: to the hypostasis only, the Divine Person, or to the essence, nature, “energies”, wisdom, glory, in general, the Divine Sophia? The very first and most immediate meaning of the Name of God refers to the Divine hypostasis. A name is a synonym or force of a personal pronoun, a hypostatic I, spoken in a word, and not just an ontological gesture, essentially wordless. As a proper name, pronominal, it is devoid of any verbal content, predicativeness, it says nothing about its bearer, which, although it is the basis of being, its noumenon, cannot itself be expressed in exhaustive phenomenality. From here comes the conclusion that the name as a “subject” (or, what is the same: subject) is, as it were, external to its own sophia, although it is inseparable from its existential photosphere. And this leads to the paradoxical and, of course, contradictory conclusion that the name refers to the Personality of God outside, or without, or in addition to the Divinity, that it is asophic. Obviously, there is a misunderstanding underlying this conclusion that needs to be cleared up. In Western theology 272 of the 11th century, in connection with the teaching of Gilbert de Poiret, condemned at the Council of Reims 273, the question arose about whether and how God (hypostatic) and the Divinity - Divinitas differ. Gilbert distinguished them and, as it were, contrasted them, but the council, on the contrary, identified them. It was essentially, obviously, about the relationship between hypostasis and ousia, or self-revelation in God. The question was not brought to full theological and sophiological clarity and was not so much resolved as, rather, chopped up and, of course, thereby prohibited from discussion, of course, prematurely. It is impossible to completely agree with either side. Hypostasis and ousia, the divine personality and its self-revelation, are distinguished, but not opposed, so as not to give room for duality in God. God is hypostatic in His being, but being (nature, essence, self-revelation) is always hypostatic and cannot be non-hypostatic. The connection between hypostasis and ousia is such that they cannot be separated and opposed, just as they cannot be merged or identified. Here are two different sides of the single divine hypostatic being. This difference is expressed in the trinitarian dogma as the trinity and consubstantiality of the one and self-identical Deity. Thus, the question does not allow a rationalistic solution: either - or, but requires the antinomic identity of both definitions: both - and. In the question of the Name of God, this same distinction and identification also applies. A name as a mystical gesture or symbol does not name, but only indicates what is named, the subject, but it does this predicatively, in a predicate. It itself is a predicate that has become a subject, an antinomy of identity. This is clearly clear regarding the Old Testament name: Jehovah-Yahweh, the One (as well as the whole series of names of God, expressing divine “properties”, moreover, in human language, immanently). They are as much names as they are Naming of a certain content, and therefore of a sophiological nature. But isn’t this the case differently with regard to the name of the New Testament, the name of the God-man, Jesus? Isn't it a proper name par excellence? As the name of the God-man, it is at the same time the Name of God, pre-existing in heaven and brought to earth from God through the archangel at the incarnation, in this sense it is transcendental in a special sense. Along with this, by its very nature, in the absence of a special “internal form”, semantic meaning, in any case, its direct meaning does not correspond to its uniqueness so much that it cannot be considered in any way adequate to it. It gives the impression not even of a Name in the exact sense, but of a nickname. Therefore, the name Jesus can be perceived as a proper name par excellence, devoid of any special meaning or content. Both considerations raise the question of its Sophian meaning: how do Deus and deitas relate in it? Is the Name of Jesus Sophia, like the Name of God in general, is it also a predicate for the divine subject or not? Obviously, in this application of naming as a “hidden” name, we have the unity of subject and predicate, named and naming (in an implied connection). Due to this unity, the Name of God expresses the unity of the hypostatic subject and the sophic predicate or definition in their unity and indistinguishability, but, however, at the same time, difference. The name as “proper” expresses hypostasis, has a pronominal meaning, namely a Personal pronoun, but also a meaningful meaning, which retains its power as the self-revelation of the hypostatic God. Depending on the context, on one or another semantic combination, the emphasis in a name refers to its first or second meaning - subject or predicate, subject or predicate. The name itself, in the fullness of its meaning, is not only the first or the second, but their duality and inseparability. Even in the Divine Name of the Holy Trinity, this same connotation is manifested, in the names of the three hypostases: The First Hypostasis, the Fatherly, is the Name of God as “proper” in the exact sense. The Father is the Revealed, the hypostasis par excellence, subject in all the threefold self-revelation and self-determination of God. Therefore, the logical emphasis here falls on the hypostatic meaning of the name. On the contrary, the Son, the Word of the Father, who reveals, shows, does the will of the Father, is a hypostasized predicate, to that extent He is called the Word of God, God's Wisdom. Likewise, the Holy Spirit names the Divine Being, Life and Power, also hypostasized, but in the primary sense of the connection between the Father and the Son. To this extent, the Third Hypostasis also tends to express the Glory of God, the Father in the Son. This explains the Old Testament usage by which the Name of God is identified to such an extent with the Glory of God, as we read in Exodus 33:19: “And the Lord said: I will bring all My Glory before you, and I will proclaim the Name of Jehovah before You” 275 . We can therefore say that the proper name, the divine I (= God the Lord) belongs to the First Hypostasis, which is revealed, and in relation to It, the Second and Third Hypostases have a predominantly “common noun” Name, they are the ones who reveal God’s nature, Wisdom and Glory, in this sense they are predominantly Sophian names, although in hypostatic application. Such is this distinction in the threefold naming of the Holy Trinity. But how is it defined in the Name of Jesus, the Divine-Human? It is one not only for the Second Hypostasis of the God-Man, but it contains the secret name of the entire Holy Trinity, it is Her sacred cryptogram. The essence of the matter does not change both here and in this secrecy. The dual meaning of the Name of God is fully preserved in the Name of Jesus, since it is also the proper name of the Second Hypostasis, the God-Man, and in it and through it the entire Holy Trinity is named in Its threefold relationship, but at the same time it expresses the power, depth and self-revelation of the Divine, revealed in Wisdom and Glory, in one word it is Sophian self-determination. And one meaning, as a proper name, hypostatic, is inseparably united with another, sophia, usiy, in all the power and fullness of the Divine. Jesus is also the Logos, the Word of all, the word about everything, “by him all things were,” a unique and contentless catholic name, but it also means God’s Power, Wisdom and Glory. It is, as it were, the divine Title of all Genesis, which in the Old Testament language reads: I Am, I Am, and in the New Testament language it reads Jesus. This is the universal-symbolic name of the Divine Sophia, eternally existing in the heavens and revealing itself in the created formation as being, becoming existing, in the emergence from nothing in creation. From here we come to the general conclusion that the Name of God and the Name of Jesus, which proclaims the hypostatic existence of God, is at the same time sophian. It must be understandable not only trinitarian-theologically, but also sophiologically, theophanically, anthropologically, cosmologically, as applied to all definitions of divine and created existence. This corresponds to the dual nature of the name, on the one hand, as a hypostatic subject, silent “underlying”, and, on the other hand, as a Sophia self-revelation, an existential predicate: It implies in itself: “I am who is”, “Existing”, but also “in the Beginning (Divinity, Sophia) there was the Word (hypostatic ὁ λόγος) and The Word was with God (the Father, τὸν Θεόν), and the Word was God (divine, Θεός),” and as the divine essence, nature, wisdom, glory, being in beauty, the real name. The names Logos and Jesus are identical in their power, just as they are self-identical in their hypostatic correlation. This identity of the meaning of the name of Jesus can also be expressed in terms of the Chalcedonian dogma of a single divine-human hypostasis and two natures. The Name of Jesus as a hypostatic one is one: the Son of God and the Son of Man, who came down from heaven (John 3:13), the Heavenly First Man. But it is characteristic of two natures and in that sense is dual, belonging simultaneously to His deity and humanity. Thus, it is one-two, in accordance with the entire Chalcedonian definition. But at the same time it remains one, like the God-Man himself. In conclusion, we must once again confirm that the “Name of God” is not only a word, the Divine word, in all the depth and inexhaustibility of its meaning, but also Divine power and essence. “The name of God is God” in the sense of God’s presence, God’s energy. In this most essential meaning it must be understood in prayer and in life. It is inscribed on the entire universe and on all humanity, as well as in the angelic world. All worlds and their abysses, heavenly, earthly and underworld, are not closed to him. It permeates everything, for “everything was by Him and without it nothing would have been.” It is a naming that carries the Name of God. To him be glory forever and ever. Windelband V. History of new philosophy in its connection with general culture and individual sciences. T.2. From Kant to Nietzsche. 3rd ed. St. Petersburg 1913. P.42. On Florensky’s attitude to Kant, see: Galtseva R.A. Thought as will and representation (Utopia and ideology in the philosophical consciousness of P.A. Florensky) // Galtseva R.A. Essays on Russian utopian thought of the 20th century. M. 1992. pp. 168–169. Back in the 30s of the last century, Kant’s philosophy was included in the curriculum of not only theological academies, but also seminaries. Florovsky cites a somewhat curious excerpt from a letter from N.V. Stankevich M.A. Bakunin on November 7, 1835: “What a painful situation! You read, re-read, rack your brains - no, it doesn’t work! You give up, you go for a walk, your head feels heavy, your pride is tormented, you see that all your dreams, all your ardent vows must perish... I began to look for some seminary professor, some priest who would help, explain to me what was incomprehensible in Kant” (Arch. Georgy Florovsky. Paths of Russian Theology. 4th ed. Paris. 1988. P. 242). Bulgakov S.N. From Marxism to idealism. St. Petersburg 1903. P. XI. The author immediately adds: “Kant turned out to be the strongest reagent that disintegrated Marxist dogmatics.” Windelband V. Decree. Op. P. 14. Bulgakov S.N. Non-Evening Light. Contemplation and speculation. See this edition, vol.1. P.210. Windelband V. Decree. Op. P. 33. Bulgakov S.N. Non-Evening Light. Decree. ed. P.139. See also about this in the preamble of N.K.’s commentary. Bonetskaya to the “Philosophy of the Name” in this edition. “Statement of the antinomies of reason” is “the collapse of epistemological immanentism”, the collapse of “the claim of neo-Kantians to the complete generation of the object of thought by thinking.” – This edition, vol.1. P.100–101. See this edition, vol.2. In the future, references to the “Philosophy of the Name” will be indicated within the text in parentheses. Here is another passage that is very characteristic of the “symbolic philosophy of language”: “What is under the name is the subject, or sub-jectum, is the transcendental noumenon, the ousia, the Kantian “thing in itself.” What it is called by is the predicate phenomenon in relation to this noumenon, its immanence. So, a noun is something transcendental-immanent, noumenal-phenomenal. Here Kant crosses out the dash that expresses the link. Through this opposition, the whole neo-Kantian heresy begins with its persistent desire to deepen this gap and immanentize knowledge” (p. 60). Windelband V. Decree op. P.45. I note that the “magical” absolutization of language later led Bulgakov the theologian to diminish the role of mystical extra-verbal experience and apophatics in general. It is not without reason that in “The Philosophy of the Name” he makes a rash assertion that “everything that exists is fundamentally conceivable and expressible in words...” (p. 104). This edition, vol.1. P.101. Here and below, notes marked with numbers and parentheses belong to the author. Typically, definitions of words in treatises on linguistics are either completely absent or replaced by a definition of language. Here are some examples: Die Sprachwissenschaft, ihre Aufgaben, Methoden und bisherigen Ergebnisse. Leipzig, 1891, p.3: Menschliche Sprache ist der gegliederte Ausdruck des Gedankens durch Laute – Human language is the articulate expression of thoughts through sounds (German). (Quote from the work of G. Gabelents “The science of language, its tasks and the latest conclusions.” Cf.: D. N. Kudryavsky. Introduction to linguistics. Ed. 2, Yuryev, 1913, p. 14, where Gabelents’ definition is simply reproduced.) Buslaev. Historical grammar of the Russian language, §115, I: “Language is the expression of thought using articulate sounds.” In extensive articles by Prof. Baudouin de Courtenay “Language” and “Linguistics” (see Kudryavsky, 19) in Encycl. Dictionary of Brockhaus and Efron, 1st ed., v. 81, independent definition of language and words is characteristically absent. Prof. A.I. Thomson. General linguistics, ed. 2, Odessa, 1910, pp. 4–5, is limited to only a preliminary definition of language as “a means of communicating dissected thoughts through the sounds of speech.” Prof. S.I. Bulich in lithograph. course of lectures on the Russian language (ed. 1902–3) defines language as “a means of communicating our thoughts to other people” (13), and “a word is only a symbol of a known idea or idea” (25), and further explains that “the connection between a word and a known idea is purely external, and only with frequent use, the idea of ​​a word and the idea of ​​an object, meeting side by side in our brain, are associated on the basis of the mental law of association by contiguity, and thus the word becomes a sign of an object or idea” (27). The one who thinks most about this central question of the philosophy of language is A. Potebnya, who, although due to philosophical helplessness is not able to give his thoughts proper clarity and falls into psychologism, nevertheless concentrates on the problem of the word as the primary element of thought. See especially “Thought and Language” (2nd ed., Kharkov, 1892), ch. VIII: “The Word as an Instrument of Apperception” and ch. IX “Representation, judgment, concept.” Later we will have to return more than once to the treatise of the Kharkov linguist. Müller Fr. M. Vorlesungen über die Wissenschaft der Sprache. 2 Aufl. Leipzig, 1866. Goethe J.W. Faust. Der Tragödie. Erster Teil. Studierzimmer: “Precisely where concepts are missing, a word is inserted at the right moment.” (“Vanquil speech / It’s always easy to put words into words” / Translated by B. Pasternak.). “Language is an organ that forms thought”; “There is not a single thought outside of language, and human thought first arises through language.” – Humboldt V. On the differences in the structure of human languages ​​and its influence on the spiritual development of mankind / Transl. G.V. Ramishvili. // Humboldt V. Selected works on linguistics. M., 1984. P.75, 77. Actually, the Stoics themselves called the voice (Plut. de plac. phil. IV, 20): δρώμενον ἢ καὶ ποιοῦν, σώμα (Plutarch. Opinions of philosophers. IV, 20: “The Stoics call sound a body: in fact, everything that affects or produces some effect is a body”), etc. (Km. Gerber. Die Sprache und das Erkennen (“Language and Cognition” (German)) Berlin, 1885, p.55, 1). Sign language. Gestures are a kind of surrogate for language, which is still based on the inner word, although not brought to such a degree of dissection and perfection as in the spoken or written word. This is the basis for the intelligibility of gestures, or the fact that language is formed from them, i.e. a system of ideograms of words in which the outline is depicted by movement. But thanks to this, the comparative accessibility of this language also becomes clear, which is due to its not only intelligibility, but also its elementary nature, as follows from a number of examples. “According to Muller, the American natives communicate completely freely with the deaf-mutes: when in 1873 different tribes of natives inspected an institution for the deaf-mutes in Pennsylvania, they understood the gestures of the deaf-mutes more quickly and easily than, on the contrary, the deaf-mute gestures of the natives, which in turn were distinguished by a greater pantomimic effect. No less striking is the coincidence of the gestures of other peoples with the gestures of the deaf and dumb. Tylor tells how a native of the Hawaiian Islands, having come to an American institution for the deaf and dumb, immediately started a very lively conversation with the children through gestures, telling them about his travels and homeland. A Chinese man who, having no one to talk to, fell into despondency, but came to life as soon as he was brought to an institution for the deaf and dumb, where he could talk through gestures to his heart's content. Mallery tells how a teacher from an institution for the deaf and dumb, having met with the savages of the North. America, could communicate with each of them without understanding a word of their language" (Prof. V.I. Shertsl. Basic elements of language and the beginnings of its development. Voronezh, 1889, pp. 40–41). This remarkable fact, reminiscent of the intelligibility of Chinese characters with the difference between adverbs and words, although to a superior degree, stands in connection with the elementaryity, and at the same time the clarity of this volapuk of gestures. But it also presupposes the inner region of language, the unity of the inner word, which was not touched by the Babylonian pandemonium. Strictly speaking, our language is always realized not only by words, but also by gestures, which play an auxiliary role in speech; we speak not only with our tongue, but with our whole body. However, this universality and elementarity of the gesture, which appears in a person of a previously articulated word, does not allow one to explain or derive the word from the gesture (like Wundt and Scherzl): the incomplete and underdeveloped can only be understood from the whole and revealed, and not vice versa, as supporters of evolutionism and generic explanation usually do, forgetting that ex nihilo nihil fit - nothing arises from nothing (lat.). Sound and word. “A person compels articulate sound, this basis of speech and the material instrument of the gift of speech, from his organs by the power of the soul. Animals could do this if they had the spiritual motivation to do so. So, already in this very, first and necessary element, language is completely and exclusively based on the spiritual side of man, so that only its action, only its penetration is necessary in order to transform the cry of an animal into an articulate sound. But the action of the soul is absolutely necessary for this transformation. Because the purpose and ability of sound to be significant and, moreover, not only in general, but in the sense determined by the details of the thought depicted - only this purpose constitutes the essence of articulate sound, and to distinguish it, on the one hand, from an animal cry, and from a musical tone, on the other, it is impossible to point to anything other than this purpose” (63). (Wilhelm Humboldt. On the differences in the organisms of human language and on the influence of this difference on the mental development of the human race. Translated by P. Bilyarsky. St. Petersburg, 1859). – Humboldt V. On the differences in the structure of human languages... P. 84–85. Pronoun. Humboldt refers to his monograph Über die Verwandschaft der Ortsadverbien mit den Pronomen in einigen Sprachen (Abh. der hist. phil. Classe der Berl. Akad. der Wise. 1829 – Humboldt’s monograph: “On the relationship of adverbs of place with pronouns in unifying languages” (German). Cited pp. 113–114 of the edition indicated by Bulgakov), where he showed that “personal words in any language must certainly be primitive and that the pronoun is incorrectly mistaken for a later part of speech... For the speaker, the very first thing, without a doubt, is his own personality: constantly and directly in contact with nature, he, naturally, cannot do in language without expressing his self. But I contains the concept of another person, you, etc.” (107–108). Compare: “The external form is that unchanging, universally binding, solid composition that holds the whole word together; it can be likened to the body of an organism.” – Florensky P.A. Word structure // Florensky P.A. At the watersheds of thought (Appendix to the journal “Questions of Philosophy.” Vol. 2). M., 1990. P.233. Telepathic communication is also possible through direct mutual influence, without the help of words, and, of course, it has its natural explanation, albeit an occult one. But even in this case, what resounds in the soul is what is given to it and what is usually dressed in linguistic form; the whole difference here comes down to the fact that this content, instead of being perceived as communicated by another, is felt as its own, completely independent of this external transmission. If we refer to the language of the deaf-mute and to various cases of aphasia, then these exceptions by no means refute the general rule, but, on the contrary, confirm it. That lack of form, which is deaf-muteness, prevents the expression of the fullness of humanity; As a result, to achieve this goal it is necessary to use not direct and corresponding paths, but surrogates and equivalents. As a result, the form of the word (i.e. correlation, rhythm and sign) receives its expression in images not of hearing and vision, but of touch (in this case, Bulgakov apparently has in mind the incident of blind deaf-muteness.). However, here, as elsewhere, the word remains form and meaning. Of course, genetically, words and ideas do not arise in complete clarity and dismemberment. They are subject to further crystallization, specialization, fragmentation, and this life of the word is expressed in various semasiological manifestations. One of the interesting and paradoxical manifestations is the use of the same word with different shades of meaning, and sometimes it can be directly opposite; the same word takes on two directly opposite, mutually exclusive meanings, the so-called. enantiosemy. An interesting essay by Prof. is devoted to this issue. V.I. Scherzl: About words with opposite meanings (or about the so-called enantiosemy). Voronezh, 1884. Scherzl sees the main reason for the emergence of this phenomenon in the fact that “from the general sphere of a given concept, through further differentiation, more specific shades of the basic meaning are distinguished, gradually moving into the area of ​​words opposite to each other” (4). A vague, amorphous idea, when concreted, receives additional features that are mutually exclusive (for example: to go as a movement in general, can mean coming and going, stench (glor.) as a smell in general, can mean in concrete fragrance and stench, etc.). For numerous examples from different areas, see Scherzl, op. Op. In a similar way, one word often denotes different colors, as Scherzl shows in detail in his interesting monograph: Prof. V.I. Scherzl. The name of flowers and their symbolic meaning. Voronezh, 1884. Primary, preceding; premise (lat.) Apperception is a term introduced into philosophy and psychology by Leibniz and consolidated by Kant: the impact of the entire content of a person’s mental activity on the perception of newly acquired experience; joining new perceptions to the old circle of consciousness. Association in psychology is the connection between mental acts, between perceptions. Perception, objective judgment (German) - the terms of the “Critique of Pure Reason” by I. Kant. Definitions of the word as the primary element of thought, as an idea, in works on linguistics usually have the pathetic character of mixing different points of view and different logical aspects. Let us give two or three such judgments as an example: “Each word denotes a general idea or concept of an object, and not the object itself. This abstractness of the word presupposes repeated repetition of homogeneous perceptions that a person has learned to identify. A general idea can only be created when a person has already learned in each new perception, e.g. of a given tree, to find commonality with all previous perceptions of other trees. A general idea is always a conscious or unconscious conclusion from a whole kind of homogeneous perceptions. All this undoubtedly indicates that the creation of a word is preceded by: 1) long experience and 2) the classifying work of the mind. Indeed, thanks to words denoting general concepts, the entire world of phenomena for every person who has a language is already analyzed to some extent, divided into more or less large groups. Thus, already from these considerations it is clear that for the first time the rudiments of a kind of scientific thought are reflected in the word” (D.N. Kudryavsky. Introduction to linguistics, 36–37). Here, obviously, the word is defined in logical and psychological terms, as the result of mental work, which, of course, can only be done in words and already presupposes them. Therefore, here we have ignoratio elenchi (literally: willful ignorance (lat.) - a term of logic: an incorrectness in proof, consisting in the fact that what is being proven is not what is required, but something else; a conscious substitution of the thesis being proven), the author explains how words of a known general meaning, the nature of the terms, but not words in general, can arise. We are talking, therefore, about the use of the word, and not about it itself, not about its birth. And what the author calls the abstraction of a word, meaning its meaning, its idea, he explains as a logical operation of abstraction. Meanwhile, logic already presupposes a language, which in this sense is logical and, if it can be explained from logical needs in its use, then by no means in its emergence, in its fieri, but not in its esse - i.e. in its becoming, but not being (lat.). Here is another example of the same mixture of different points of view and different aspects of the problem, due to which a characteristic of a word is obtained in terms of concepts (Thomson. General linguistics, 278–279): “The meaning of a word, consisting of a general concept, is called from the point of view of language (!) abstract meaning. And “a hand washes a hand” or “a low chair is uncomfortable” – all words have an abstract meaning. The specific meaning of a word is something represented as really existing within space and time, i.e. individual idea or concept. In “this chair is low”, “the capture of Kazan by John”, pay attention to this relationship - all words have a specific meaning. In its content, a concrete meaning may not differ from an abstract one; the same unclear, random, fragmentary elements that make up the mental content (!) of the general concept may emerge in consciousness. The essential difference between a concrete meaning and an abstract one is the consciousness that accompanies a concrete idea that such and such a phenomenon is meant there or somewhere.” Here, the quality of judgment, the content of thought, is explicitly attributed to the words, and the author himself sees that “in its content, the concrete may not differ from the abstract,” more precisely, the word “chair” or “hands” is exactly the same in both uses, and the distinction does not at all relate to words. Potebnya comes closer to the problem, breaking through the thickness of psychologisms and still not completely freeing himself from them. He realizes that in the word there is something primitive and indecomposable: “Just as the grain of a plant is neither a leaf, nor a flower, nor a fruit, but all of these taken together, so the word at the beginning is still devoid of any formal definitions and is neither a noun, nor an adjective, nor a verb” (Language and Thought, 147). “The word is a means of forming a concept, and, moreover, not external, not like the means of writing, chopping wood, etc., invented by man, but inspired by nature itself and irreplaceable; the clarity (separation of attributes) that characterizes the concept, the relationship of substance to attribute, the need for their combination, the desire of the concept to take a place in the system - all this is initially achieved in the word and is transformed by it in the same way that the hand transforms all kinds of machines” (166). “The word belongs equally to both the speaker and the listener, and therefore its meaning lies not in the fact that it has a certain meaning for the speaker, but in the fact that it has a meaning in general” (186). “A word cannot be looked at as an expression of a ready-made thought... On the contrary, a word is an expression of a thought only to the extent that it serves as a means to its creation” (188). “Finding that a work of art is a synthesis of three moments (external form, internal form and content), seeing in it the same signs as in the word and, conversely, discovering in the word the ideality and integrity inherent in art, we conclude that the word is art, namely poetry” (198). “The word is an organ of thought and an indispensable condition for all later development of understanding of the world and oneself, because initially it is a symbol, an ideal and has all the properties of a work of art. But over time, the word must lose these properties, just as a poetic work, if it is given such a long life as a word, ends up ceasing to be itself” (205). Potebnya wants to say that a word is, first of all, a word, an embodied image, an idea that has its own existence, like a work of art, and is not at all “abstract”, abstract or concrete, etc. – In the modern edition of “Thoughts and Language” Potebnya (Potebnya A.A. Word and Myth. Supplement to the journal “Questions of Philosophy”. M., 1989. P.17–200), the given excerpts correspond to pages: 134; 150; 166; 168–169; 176 (the quotation is given with an omission; in Potebnya, after the words “... and content” there is “the result of meaningless creativity, a means of developing thought and self-awareness, that is”); 182. This, for example, is the opinion of W. Wundt (Völkerpsychologie Band. I. Die Sprache. I–II, 2-te Aufl. Berlin, 1901). Wundt does not recognize roots as having independent meaning; they exist only in abstraction; it is within the word that there are Grundelemente (roots) and Beziehungselemente (I, 599) - basic elements, elements of relationships (German). But the words themselves are not the primary elements of speech, they are part of the sentence, Satz, which corresponds to Gesammtvorstellung, Einzelvorstellung - a general representation, a separate representation (German), and the word is distinguished only by isolation. Wed. also W. Delbrück. Grundfragen der Sprachforschung. Strassb., 1901, V Car. 115–20. On the contrary, others consider the root period in the history of the language to be undoubted (e.g. M. Müller, op. cit. 272 ​​- i.e.: Müller M. Vorlesungen über die Wissenschaft der Sprache. 2 Aufl. Leipzig, 1866). From earlier Pott (cf. A. Giesswein. Die Hauptprobleme der Sprachwissenschaft. Freiburg in. B., 1892, 216–17). A sufficient analysis of the theory of onomatopoeia (“wah-wow theory”) and interjections (“ba-ba theory”) is given by M. Muller, op. cit., lecture IX. Wed. also in Giesswein, Fr. With. II Th. See also a detailed analysis in Potebnya, op. cit., pp. 9 et seq. Also from D.N. Kudryavsky, cit. Op. page 53. See note above. From die Interjection (German) – interjection. This includes Wundt's idea regarding the origin of words from Lautmetaphor, in turn related to Lautgebarde: "Organe und Tätigkeiten, die zur Bildung der Sprachlaute in Beziehung stehen, sehr häufig mit Wörtern genannt werden, bei deren Artikulation die gleichen Organe und Tätigkeiten mitwirken" (1, 34). Natural Lautmetaphorn are those, “die auf dem Wege der natürlichen Sprachentwicklung entstanden sind und zugleich eine durch den Gefühlston des Lautes vermittelte Beziehung zu diesem und seiner Bedeutung erkennen lassen (337). – Sound metaphor, sound gesture. “The organs and activities associated with the formation of certain sounds of the language are very often called words, in the pronunciation of which these organs and sounds are involved”; “...which arose in the process of natural development of language and at the same time make it possible to recognize, with the help of the sensory tone of sound, the mediating relationship to sound and its meaning” (German). These sound metaphors are, according to Wundt, the bridge to the creation of language. A voiceless person, dumb (lat.) - from Greek. ἄλαλος; see, for example, Mark 9:17: “...I brought to You my son possessed by a dumb spirit” (ἔξοντα πνεῦμα ἄλαλον). Ignorance of content (lat.); here: question avoidance. Refuge of ignorance (lat.). “Thoughts without speech and feelings without names” is the beginning of V. Solovyov’s poem “In the Alps” (1886). This point of view is also characteristic of some linguists. This is, for example, M. Muller, who says: “language and thought, thought distinguishable, are inseparable, no one truly thinks who does not speak, and no one truly speaks who does not think... Both philosophy and philology had established the fact that language is thought and thought is language.” (Science of thought - “Although language and thought are different, they are inseparable; whoever does not speak does not really think, and who does not think does not really speak... Both philosophy and philology have established that language is thought and thought is language” (“Science of Thinking”) - (English), 63, 82. Quoted in Giesswein, op. p. 159). However, this opinion is far from being considered generally accepted among language psychologists and linguists; the opposite opinion can be considered much more widespread: see Giesswein ibid. The most annoying, albeit typical, confusion is brought here, as usual, by Steinthal. His own point of view is expressed in the following vague words: die behauptete Unzertrennlichkeit von Denken und Sprechen ist eine Übertreibung; der Mensch denkt nicht in Lauten und durche Laute sondem auch und in Begleitung von Lauten (Steinthal. Einleitung in die Psychologic und Sprachwissenschaft, 2-te Aufl. Berlin, 1881, p. 52). – “The asserted inseparability of thinking and language is an exaggeration; a person thinks not in sounds and through sounds, but also accompanied by sounds” (Steinthal. Introduction to psychology and the science of language. 2nd ed. Berlin) - (German). Some of his arguments are curious to characterize Steinthal's greatest obscurity and confusion. The first: “an animal thinks without speaking” (48), proves that das Tier denkt - the animal thinks (German) - in the same sense as a person, for this is the whole point - he considers it even unnecessary to prove. What follows is a reference to the deaf and dumb, to whom inner speech is supposedly alien. Further even better: “wir träumen, und Träumen ist doch ein Denken” - and, moreover, ohne Worte - “We dream, and a dream is also thinking” without words (German) (48-49). This is followed by a reference to wordless contemplation of a work of art, technology, and so on, and finally, there is a triumphant reference to “strictly scientific, logical thinking, mathematical thinking, using numbers and signs or drawings.” "Geometrisches Denken ist sprachloses, anschauendes Denken." “Alle solche Formein werden nicht gesprochen, sie werden gesehen und gedacht” (51). – “Geometric thinking is extra-linguistic, visual thinking”; “All such formulas are not pronounced, they are seen and thought” (German). What this means is unclear, but if it speaks of a developed automatism that creates a path of thought, then its development was preceded and contained in the previously accomplished work of verbal thought. In this hopeless confusion of the psychological mechanism of thought and words, abbreviations, conventions, then breaks in thinking, when the thought has not yet been born, but is just being born, of course, it is difficult to even recognize the essence of the word-thought problem. Giesswein, who praises Steinthal, cites another engineer's testimony that plans and inventions are made without any words. This is also accompanied by a reference to the creative process of a work of art, which is conceived and created without any words. All this is true, but what does this have to do with thought? After all, a work of art is not a thought, but an embodied image, which, by the way, awakens thought, and then it is expressed in words, but, of course, this is not its element. There is even greater uncertainty when, for example. Preyer. (Preyer. Die Seele des Kindes, p. 273), also denying the connection between word and thought, suddenly asserts: “Denken ist zwar inneres Sprechen, aber es gibt auch ein Sprechen ohne Wörter” (!). – “Although thinking is inner speech, there is also thinking without words” (German). Preyer's monograph: “The Soul of a Child” (German). Wed. reasoning and Giesswein himself (ts.s.). In general, chaos reigns in this issue, because they have not looked closely at the word as such, and everyone speaks about his own, and all the time there is a blatant quaternio terminorum - quadrupling of terms (Latin): a logical error consisting in the appearance of a fourth term in a syllogism and arising when the term is used in a double meaning. In P. Florensky's doctrine of language, a slightly different understanding of the relationship between the sound and meaning of a word is revealed. If, according to Bulgakov, the meaning of a word is essentially, ontologically not connected with its sound “shell”, the quality of the sound as such is not fundamental to the expression of the meaning, then in the eyes of Florensky, a very important part of the meaning of the word is immanently connected with its sound: “As a name is embodied in sound, then its spiritual essence is comprehended primarily by feeling into its sound flesh” (Priest Pavel Florensky. Names. M., 1993. P.15). With this view of Florensky on the relationship between meaning and sound is associated his interest in the “philology” of Kabbalah - the mystical teaching about the spiritual essence and meaning of sounds in the Hebrew language. It was not possible to identify this passage as a verbatim quotation from Humboldt. Perhaps this is a free adaptation of the following Humboldtian maxim: “This is not a play on words when they say that language creates itself by its own power and is divinely free, and languages ​​are connected because they depend on the peoples to which they belong...” (Humboldt von W. On the differences in the organisms of human language and on the influence of this difference on the mental development of the human race. St. Petersburg, 1859. P.7). An argument based on a conclusion from a position that itself requires proof (lat.). Result of activity; activity (Greek). Imprint (designation) of things (lat.). Bulgakov’s image for the event of the emergence of a word – the image of the cosmos, which “speaks” through a person – is interesting to compare with a parallel representation in Florensky’s philosophy of language. In the work “Dialectics”, the word is understood by Florensky as the fruit of “marriage”, “erotic dialogue” of thought and world mystery (see: Florensky P.A. At the watersheds of thought... P. 143–146). The most important difference between these two approaches is Florensky’s more direct indication of the active participation of man in the creation of words. This is exactly the term in the aesthetic works of Vyach. Ivanov could not be found. Contrasting two types of artistic experience (“right ascent” to a higher reality and “dreamy soaring”), Vyach. Ivanov talks about “realist” and “subjectivist” artists. The symbols that arise have varying degrees of involvement in the spiritual reality they signify. See, for example: Ivanov Vyach. Borders of art // Ivanov Vyach. Furrows and boundaries. M., 1916. P.189–229. See also the section “Idealistic symbolism” of the treatise “Two Elements in Symbolism” // Ivanov Vyach. By the stars. St. Petersburg, 1909. P.270–274. Modern edition: Ivanov Vyach. The face and disguises of Russia. M., 1995. pp. 106–145 (second of the title works). Compare: “In the word and through the word we perceive reality, and the word is reality itself. Thus, to the highest degree, the word is subject to the basic formula of the symbol: it is greater than itself” (Florensky P.A. Name-glorification as a philosophical premise // Florensky P.A. At the watersheds of thought... P.293). Bulgakov's understanding of the symbol, however, is different from Florensky's. For Bulgakov, a “symbol” approaches a “hieroglyph”, the outline of which is conditional (“the symbol” in Florensky’s concept is ontological down to its most external aspects). The difference in the concepts of symbol between Bulgakov and Florensky affected not only their teachings about the word, but also their theories of the icon. If, in Florensky’s opinion, the icon is extremely realistic - ideally there should not be the slightest “gap” separating the image from the prototype, the most holy one (see: Florensky P.A. Iconostasis. M.: Art, 1994. P.153), then according to Bulgakov, the icon is only a “hieroglyph of the real prototype” (See. in this volume his work: Icon and icon veneration.) The symbolic realism of Florensky and Bulgakov, so to speak, has different degrees: Florensky does not always stay within the boundaries of the philosophy of symbol and moves on to myth-making based on the occult idea of ​​reality; Bulgakov's realism is more moderate, not going, in any case, beyond the boundaries of Platonic metaphysics. Wed. with Florensky’s ideas about “phoneme”, “morpheme” and “sememe” in “The Structure of the Word”. Gabelentz G. Die Sprachwissenschaft, ihre Aufgaben, Methoden und bisherigen Ergebnisse. Leipzig, 1891. S. 289: “Roots are the last meaningful elements of a word accessible to knowledge and expressed in sound” (German). So eg. Giesswein, o. With. 217: Den uranfänglichen Charakter dieser (originally) Sprache kann man sich jedoch nicht anders denken, als dass sie aus lauter Wurzel bestand – The original character of this language cannot, however, be conceived otherwise than in such a way that the language consists of only roots (German). Eg. Pott believes that “die Wurzel sind historisch nicht vor der Rede und rein in der Sprache vorhanden zu denken, sondem bereits in den Verbindungen eingegangen” (ib. 210) – “One should not think about roots that they historically preceded speech and were present in a pure form in language: they were already part of compounds” (German). Delbrück (Einl. in d. Sprachst. 73) considers it generally accepted that the roots were originally words. Also M. Müller, Steinthal, Curtius, Whitney (for comparison, see Gerber, pp. 77, 6). The internal form of a word is a category of A. Potebnya’s philosophy of language, going back to the ideas of W. Humboldt. Bulgakov’s mention of “internal form” along with various kinds of tropes indicates that this is a rather polysemantic category (for a review of its various interpretations, see A.L. Toporkov’s notes to A. Potebnya’s treatise “Thought and Language” // Potebnya A.A. Word and Myth. Supplement to the journal “Questions of Philosophy”. M., 1989. P.589. Note to p.97). Bulgakov put the following meaning, presented in “Thought and Language” by Potebnya: the internal form corresponds to the etymological meaning of the word (see: Potebnya A. Thought and Language // Potebnya A.A. Word and Myth. P. 97–98). At the same time, the available word represents one or another development, modification of its given “first principle”. The rich vocabulary of the English language, counting up to 100,000 words (excluding a small percentage of foreign words), is derived from no more than 461 Indo-Germanic roots (Giesswein, 219). The Chinese language, with its 400 sound groups, which due to various stresses give about 1200 basic words, has more than 40,000 words (ib. 221). Most likely he means labor: Breal M. Essai de sémantique. (Science des significatives). P., 1897. Until 1911, five Parisian reprints of this book were published, and any of them could have been available to the author of The Philosophy of the Name. Non idem per idem, idem per non idem (lat.) – different by means of the same; the same through another; modifications of the expression idem per idem (the same by the same). Gerber's main idea, which he develops in his work on the nature of language - "Die Sprache und das Erkennen" (Berlin, 1885) - a work that in any case deserves serious attention - is diametrically opposed to our point of view. For he considers language to be the result of human creativity, and symbols to be subjective signs. From our point of view, such a theory completely destroys language. The objectively ontological nature of language does not at all contradict the fact that in its implementation, in each of its specific manifestations, language is art (as Gerber also believes). Gerber G. Die Sprache und das Erkennen. Berlin, 1884. M. Müller expresses a similar thought in a naive form: "'How can sound express a thought? How do roots become signs of general concepts?' I will try to answer as briefly as possible. The 400 or 500 roots that make up the main parts in the languages ​​of various families are not interjections or onomatopoeia. They are sound types produced by a force inherent in human nature. They exist, as Plato put it, by nature; but, speaking with Plato “by nature,” we must add that by this we mean “by Divine providence.” There is a law, common to almost all of nature, according to which everything that exists has its own sound. Every entity has its own special sound. We can judge the more or less perfect structure of metals by their sonorous vibrations. Gold sounds different from tin, wood different from stone, different sounds are produced according to the nature of each stress. The same thing happened with man, the most perfect of organisms. Man in his primitive and perfect state was gifted not only with the ability to give more articulate expressions to the rational ideas of his mind. He did not create this ability in himself. It was an instinct, an instinct of his mind, as involuntary as any other. Language so much belongs to the kingdom of nature, it is so much a product of instinct” (Lectures: The Science of Language, 294–295). M. Müller completely confuses his already unclear thought with these comparisons and, most importantly, is not aware of its ontological significance; nevertheless, the idea of ​​​​the involuntary utterance of a word as a certain natural meaning is correct. Potebnya, c. pp., 165–166: “In certain periods, the liveliness of the internal form gives thought the opportunity to penetrate into the transparent depth of language: a word denoting, for example. the old age of a person, with its similarity to the words for a tree, indicates the myth about the origin of people from trees, in its own way connects man and nature, and, therefore, introduces what is conceivable with the word old age into a unique system that does not correspond to the scientific one, but is presupposed by it.” – Potebnya A.A. Thought and language. Decree. ed. pp. 149–150. The opinion that language originated by divine will is also considered by Plato, although it is not accepted, at least not entirely. given by Plato, although not accepted, at least by the leader. Οἶμαι μὲν ἐγὼ τὸν ἀληθέστατον λόγον περὶ τούτων εἶναι, ὦ Σώϰρατες, μείζω τινὰ δύναμιν εἶναιἢ ἀνθρωπείαν τὴν θεμένην τὰ πράγμασιν, ὥστε ἀναγκαῖον εἶναι αὐτὰ ὀρθῶς ἔχειν. (Cratyl. 438 C). - “I think, Socrates, that those who say most fairly about this are those who claim that some power, higher than human, established the first names for things, so that they must certainly be correct” (translated by T.V. Vasilyeva. - In the ed.: Plato. Works. In 3 volumes. T.1. M. 1968. P.487). A certain denial of homo alalus by Renan (“De 1’origine du language”) deserves attention: he notes that “inventer le language eut été aussi impossible que d’inventer une faculté.” “S'est un rêve d'imaginer un premier état où l'homme ne parle pas, suivi d'un autre état où il conquit 1'usage de la parole. L’homme est naturellement parlant, comme il est naturellement pensant, et il est aussi peu philosophique d’assigner un commencement voulu au language qu’a la pensée.” (Cp. Giesswein, o. c. 143, 3, 5). – “On the origin of language” “it is as impossible to invent a language as it is to invent a property”; “It is unrealistic to imagine that the initial state, when a person did not speak, is followed by another, when he mastered the word. Man is a being who by nature speaks as well as by nature thinks, and from a philosophical point of view it is unconvincing to establish some kind of intentional principle for both language and thought” (French). (Hereinafter, translation from French was made by M.L. Zlobina.) The corresponding opinions of St. Gregory of Nyssa expresses in his polemic with Eunomius. “Eunomius ascribes to God a language composed of name, verb and conjugations as something great, leaving without attention that it is not said about God that He separately performs all our actions, although He gave efficiency to our nature. Although He gave this ability to our nature, the house, bench, sword, plow and our other vital needs are made by us. Hence each of our individual affairs, although it must be reduced to our Creator, insofar as He created our nature capable of any art. In the same way, the ability of speech, although it is the work of the one who created our nature, the acquisition of individual words, the acquisition of individual words. εὕρεσις occurs in accordance with the need to name what is present and must come from it... Things, not names, arose from one’s own will. Therefore, an existing thing is a matter of creative power, and sounds that have meaning for the existing, through which language brings everything particular to precise and clear knowledge, the essence of the matter and invention of the thinking ability εὑρήματα, this same ability of our speech, like nature, is the work of God.” Gr. Nyss. contre Eun. - Gregory of Nyssa. Against Eunomius (lat.). With a certain talkativeness and confusion of thought, Steinthal had a hopeless task of giving his thoughts coherence. Here are examples of his “theory” of the origin of language. “Sprache ist Reflexbewegung. Dies ist sie in keinem andern Masse, als auch jede andere Bewegung es ist. Denn erstlich wissen wir, dass jede absichtliche Bewegung auf einem Reflex beruht; und dann kann auch wohl jemand, der sich die Lust des Schwimmens vergegenwärtigt, in welcher Lage oder Stellung er auch sein mag, Schwimmbewegungen ganz oder teilweise machen. Wir dürfen in ganz eigentlichem Sinne sagen: der Mensch spricht wie der Hain rauscht. Luft, welche Töne und Gerüche trägt, Lichtäther und Sonnenstrahlen, und der Hauch des Geistes fahren über den menschlichen Leib dahin, und er tönt” (Steinthal, 1. pp. 361, 366). – “Language is a reflex movement. It is no less so than any other movement. For first of all we know that every intentional movement is based on a certain reflex; Thus, everyone who imagines the pleasure of swimming can, in whatever position he is in, perform the swimming movements completely or partially. In fact, we can say: a person speaks like a grove rustles. The air that carries sounds and smells, the light ether and the sun’s rays, together with the breath of the spirit, pass through the human body, and it sounds” (German). See Wundt's opinion about “innere Lautmetaphor” above. He establishes Klanggebärde ("Inner sound metaphor"; sound gestures (German)) by analogy with other gestures; sound gestures form the foundation of language, which is obtained when they are used with the intention of communicating one's ideas and feelings. According to Diodorus, “the first people would have led a fickle animal life, they would have gone alone to the meadow, where they would have eaten tasty grass and the fruits of wild trees. But being always threatened by the attack of wild animals, they were forced to support each other, and out of fear a society was formed. Gradually they began to gain knowledge of the things around them. At first they uttered only disordered, meaningless sounds, but gradually they learned to pronounce articulate words and then gave names to things, until they finally achieved the ability to express all their thoughts with language” (Diodorus Sic., Bibl, histor. - Diodorus Siculus. Historical Library. I. 8. In Giesswein. 148). According to Vitruvius, people who initially lived alone were united by fear. When the first human society arose, from the different sounds that people made, they created through the constant use of words (vocabula). Since they meant well-known things by this, they began to speak randomly, etc. created speech among themselves (sermones procreaverunt). (Vitruv. De Architec – They created speeches (Vitruvius. Ten books about architecture) (lat.), I, In Giesswein. 149). Lucretius depicts the origin of language in the following verses: At varios linguae sonitus Natura subegit Mittere et utilitas expressit nomina rerum: Non alia longe ratione atque ipsa videtur Protrahere ad gestum pueros infantia linguae; Quam facit, ut digito, quae sint praesentia monstrent. Proinde putare aliquem tum nomina distribuisse Rebus, et inde homines didicisse vocabula prima, Desipere est: nam cur hic posset cuncta notare Vocibus, et varios sonitus emittere linguae, Tempore eodem alii facere id non quisse putentur? Postremo, quid in hac mirabile tantoperest re, Si genus humanum, cui vox, et lingua vigeret, Pro vario sensu varia res voce notaret; Cum pecudes mutae, cum denique saecla ferarum, Dissimilis soleant voces variasque aere Quom metus, aut dolor est; et quom jam gaudia gliscunt? Ergo, si varii sensus animalia cogunt, Muta tamen cum sint, varias emittere voces; Quanto mortalis magis aequumst tum potuisse Dissimilis alia atque alia res voce notare? Sic unum quidquid paulatim protrahit aetas In medium, ratioque in luminis eruit orus. (Lucret. De natura rerum, I vol. 1028–1388.) As for the sounds that the tongue makes, nature Called them, and need suggested the names of the objects In approximately the same way as small children, obviously The inability to speak leads to body movements, forcing Use your finger to point them to what is in front of them. Therefore, to believe that someone provided names Things, and people learned words from him for the first time, - This is madness, because since he could mean in words Everything, and make various sounds with the tongue, then why? To think that this couldn’t have been done to everyone at the same time? What is so strange about it, finally, if the human race Gifted with voice and tongue, he signified objects Do they all sound different, according to their different sensations? After all, dumb cattle and even all wild animals They do not emit the same scream, but different sounds, If you are gripped by fear or feel pain or joy. Therefore, since the different feelings of animals force Even when they are mute, emit heterogeneous sounds, How much more natural is what primitive people could Each thing is meant using different sounds! So inventions bring everything out little by little Time brings the human mind to full brilliance.” Lucretia. About the nature of things (Translated by F.A. Petrovsky // M., 1958). Gabelentz, speaking about the difficulty of this task, wants to impose a universal tax on specialists. “Jeder müsste es versuchen, die Sprache, die er am besten beherrscht, lebenswarm zu schildem, wie er sie selber empfindet” (o. c., 458–9). - “Everyone should try to vividly describe the language that he speaks best, how he feels it” (German). Whitney finds that "there is no human language which is entirely devoid of the expression of forms, and it cannot be defended if certain languages ​​are called 'languages ​​of forms,' unless this expression is to be understood in the sense that they possess this property in a special and exclusive degree, while at the same time actually sharing it with all others." (In Giesswein, 193). Also Giesswein: “Im Grunde genommen gibt es weder vollkommene noch unvollkommene Sprachen. Es gibt keine Sprache, die in jeder Beziehung und unter allen Umständen an und für sich selbst den Gedanken ganz genau zum Ausdruck zu bringen vermöchte” (192). – “In principle, there are no perfect or imperfect languages. There is not a single language that, in all respects and under all conditions, could express with perfect accuracy the existing thought in itself and for itself” (German). Bulgakov quotes the Book of Genesis in a translation slightly different from the Synodal one. Style is a person (French). A saying attributed to J.L.L. Buffon. These classifications are presented in general and special works on linguistics. Currently, there are the Indo-Germanic group of languages, Semitic, Finno-Ugric, Turkish-Tatar, Bantu family, etc. The main idea regarding the nature of the word, developed by Gerber in his treatise, which in any case deserves serious attention, Die Sprache und das Erkennen, Berlin, 1885, is completely opposite to ours, because he understands language as our creation, and symbols as subjective signs. “symbols as subjective signs. “Und eben dies, dass sie nicht aus selbst stammen, dass sie von uns geschaffen werden, macht die Lautbilder zu Trägern unseres Erkennens, denn nur dadurch sind wir befähigt, sie zu fühlen, als ein Gegenständliches, welches uns angehort. Auf ihrer formbestimmten Festigkeit beruht die Möglichkeit, dass die Vielen sich in ihrem Vorstellen und Denken zusammenfinden, dass anerkannt werde der Begriff der Wahrheit also ein für die Gattung geltender. Aus der Seele des Individuums wird Sprache geschaffen, und infolge der Sprache wird die Seele der Gattung mächtig in der Seele des Individuums” (5). “And it is precisely the fact that they do not come from ourselves, that they are produced by us, that makes sound images the bearers of our knowledge, since only thanks to this we are able to feel them as an objectivity that belongs to us. The certainty of their forms is the basis for the possibility that diverse objects are grouped according to representations and ideas, and the generic concept of truth is also recognized. Language was created by the soul of the individual, and thanks to language the soul of the race gains power over the soul of the individual” (German). This point of view, in our opinion, denies language. The objective-ontological nature of language does not contradict the fact that in its implementation, in each individual case of a specific language, it is art, according to the definition of the same Gerber. “Die Sprachgesetze bilden unter sich ein organisches System, das wir den Sprachgeist nennen. Der Sprachgeist bestimmt die Art und Weise, wie der Sprachstoff gestaltet wird, –die Wort-Form und Satzbildung; insofern ist er Bildungsprinzip oder innere Sprachform.” (Gabelentz, 63) “Jede Sprache stellt gewisse Denkgewohnheiten dar, auf denen sie beruht, und die sich vom Geschlechte zu Geschlecht fortpflanzen. Der aüsseren Form entspricht die sogen. innere. Diese begreift ein Doppeltes in sich: erstens die Art, wie die einzelnen Vorstellungen mit den vorhandenen Hilfsmitteln dargestellt werden, z. B. Mond, μήν als messender, luna als leuchtende, – und zweitens die Art, wie die Vorstellungen geordnet, geschieden und zu gegliederten Gedanken verknüpft werden” (ib., 160). – “The laws of language in their totality form an organic system, which we call the spirit of language. The spirit of language determines the way linguistic matter is formed - the form of the word and the structure of the sentence; in this respect it is the principle of structure or internal form of language.” “Every language reveals certain habits of thinking on which it is based and which are passed on from generation to generation. The external form corresponds to the so-called. internal. The latter involves two things: firstly, the way in which individual representations are revealed thanks to the available means, for example, the month as a unit of time, the moon as a luminary, and secondly, the way in which representations are ordered, divided and associated with structured thinking. Eirhythmy, or rather eurythmy, is a special art that is part of the practice of anthroposophy, a system of occult worldview developed by R. Steiner. At the heart of eurythmy is the belief in the possibility of expressing the deep meaning of cosmic rhythms and sounds, in particular linguistic ones, using special gestures and body movements. With the help of this unique ballet, they strive to convey the inexpressible by their own means of the corresponding arts, as if additional spiritual content of musical and poetic works. About eurythmy, see, for example, the chapter “The Visible Word” in M. Voloshina’s book “The Green Snake” (M.: “Enigma”, 1993). Here: empty sound (lat.). Imagination (from Latin: imago - image) is an act of imagination. Wed. with criticism of the futuristic “abstruse language” in Florensky’s “Antinomy of Language” (Florensky P.A. At the watersheds of thought... P.171–186). Lit.: question of “establishing a fact” (lat.); a matter of actual application. Discursive (from Latin: discursus - reasoning) - rational, conceptual. A fundamentally different – ​​personalistic approach to language in Russian science is demonstrated by M. Bakhtin’s “metalinguistics”. It is based on the idea of ​​an “utterance” that has its own “author” and is the real primary unit of speech communication. Bakhtin contrasts “utterance” with “sentence,” a unit of language that does not have actual existence. See, for example: Bakhtin M. The problem of speech genres // Bakhtin M. M. Aesthetics of verbal creativity. M., 1979. P.245–280. “Allerdings lebt die spezifisch menschliche Rede erst im Satze; dieser ist ihre erste organisch eigenlebige Einheit, und seine Teile empfangen ihren besonderen Wert aus jenem Ganzen. Sie würden aber auch diesen Werth nicht empfangen, ja das Ganze würde gar nicht zustandekommen können, wenn dem aufbauenden Geiste nicht die allgemeine Bedeutung der Teile wenn auch nur dunkel und unbewusst vorgeschwebt hätte" (Gabelentz, o. c. 210). – “Of course, human speech, first of all, lives in a sentence; it is the first organic, actual speech unity, and the parts of speech receive their meaning from the given whole. But they would not have received this meaning and the whole would not have been able to come to the desired state if the builder spirit had not felt – at least vaguely and unconsciously – the general meaning of the parts” (German). According to Humboldt, in this part shared by Potebnya, “just as the grain of a plant is neither a leaf, nor a flower, nor a fruit, nor all this taken together, so the word at the beginning is still devoid of any formal definitions and is neither a noun, nor an adjective, nor a verb. Activities, says Steinthal, underlying nouns are not verbs, but adjective names of characteristics. A sign is an attribute through which instinctive self-consciousness understands a sensory image as a unit and imagines this image. Just as our mind does not comprehend an object in its essence, so language does not have its own, initial nouns, and just as a combination of signs is taken by us to be the object itself, so in language there is only the name of the signs. The Word at the beginning of the development of thought does not yet have the meaning of quality for thought and can only be an indication of a sensory image, in which there is no action, no quality, no object taken separately, but all this is in indissoluble unity. It is impossible, for example, to see movement, rest, whiteness in themselves, because they are represented only in objects, in a bird that flies or sits, in a white stone, etc.; in the same way, one cannot see an object without known signs. The formation of a verb, name, etc. is already such a decomposition and modification of the sensory image, which presupposes other simpler (?) phenomena that follow the creation of the word. So, for example, parts of speech are possible only in a sentence, in a combination of words that we do not assume (?!) at the beginning of the language; the existence of an adjective and a verb is possible only after consciousness separates from random attributes that unchanging grain of a thing, that essence, substance that a person thinks to see behind a combination of attributes and which is not given by this combination” (A. Potebnya, Thought and Language, 147–8 - Potebnya A. Thought and Language. Op. ed. pp. 134–136. Quoting from Bulgakov is not always accurate). The correlation of parts of speech, that is, a purely grammatical point of view on them, is also put forward by Schleicher (Kompend. d. vergl. Gramm., 2 A., 513): “Da Verbum und Namen sich zu einander verhalten, da sie als nähere Bestimmung früher unbestimmter Sprachelemente zu betrachten sind, so kann eine ohne das andere nicht vorkommen. Entweder scheidet eine Sprache Nomina und Verba in der Form, oder sie hat keins von beiden. Man kann daher auch nich von einer Priorität des einen oder des anderen sprechen; Nomen und Verbum sind beide zugleich entstanden" (Gerber, op. p. 78, 7). – “Since verbs and nouns correlate with each other, since they should be considered as the closest definition of previously undefined elements of language, then one cannot act without the other. Language either formally separates names and verbs, or does not have them at all. Therefore, it is also impossible to talk about the priority of some over others; names and verbs arose simultaneously" (German). Wed. Steinthal, Typen der Sprache, 285. Typical opinion of Gerber (op. p. 69): “Der Unterschied zwischen Nomen und Verbum ist überhaupt nur syntaktisch, d. h. durch die Satzbeziehung gegeben, und wir haben zunächst von Nomen und Verbum nur in dem Sinne zu sprechen, als sie Subjekt und Prädikat im Satze sind.” – “The difference between names and verbs is generally only syntactic, i.e. given through the relations in a sentence, and we should first of all speak of names and verbs only as the subject and predicate of a sentence” (German). Gerber 1. c. 81: “Es ist Sonnenschein, und man spricht aus: “die Sonne leuchtet”, “sol lucet”. Zur Darstellung hätte anfangs die Eine Wurzel genügt: (skt.) luk, λυκ, λύξνος, lux, luna, ahd, licht), auch wohl (wir folgen Curtius. Gr. Etym., 551): (akt.) var σελήνη, σέλας, σείρ; serenus, sol (Geth.) savil, (altn.), sol. Später sonderte man aus dem Wahrnehmungsbild λυϰ, ein Element, welches man als zwar bereits formiert hätte, und man fügte so endlich ein "sol" als subjekt zum "lucere", "Sonne" als Subjekt zum "leuchten". - “They say about sunlight: “The sun is shining,” “sol lucet.” For this representation, initially one root would be sufficient: also (we follow Curtius). Later, from this sensory image, the element λυϰ was isolated, which turned out to be already formed as such, and finally “sol” was added as a subject to “lucere”, “sun” as a subject - to “shine”” (German). “Every name is a bringing into order, subordinating the particular to the general; everything that we know through experience or through theory, we know only through general concepts” (M. Muller, ts. p. 290). Here is an example of such a judgment: “Each word denotes a general idea or concept of an object, and not (?) the object itself. The creation of a word is preceded (!) by: 1) long experience and 2) the classifying work of the mind. Indeed, thanks to words denoting general concepts, the entire world of phenomena for every person who has a language is already analyzed to some extent, divided into more or less large groups” (D.N. Kudryavsky. Introduction to Linguistics, 36–37). “Es ist für einen verwunderungswürdigen Mangel an Beobachtung anzusehen, das Faktum in den Logiken nicht angegeben zu finden, dass in jedem Urtheil solcher Satz ansgesprochen wird: das Einzelne ist das Allgemeine” (Hegel. Encyclopädie, 166). - “We should consider a strange observational flaw, a fact not indicated by logic and consisting in the fact that in every judgment of such a sentence it is declared: the particular is the general” (German). He finds no proof of the philosophical depth of language in the fact that in general it can only designate the universal, even when it means the particular (Phänomenologie des Geistes, 83). Agglutination (from Latin agglutinare - to stick) is a method of forming grammatical forms of a word by attaching affixes (prefixes, suffixes, etc.) to the root, each of which has a single grammatical meaning of number, case, etc. Inflection (from Latin flexio - bend) is the ending of a word that changes during declension, conjugation and other cases of the formation of its derivatives. The characterization of a language as agglutinating and inflexive indicates the predominant direction of its grammatical functioning - the predominance of one or another type of word formation. In the root language, the grammatical meaning of a word is judged by its external features - prepositions, conjunctions, particles, etc. It is worth noting that in further sections of his book Bulgakov uses the concept of agglutination not in this linguistic, but in an ontological sense: Bulgakov assigns the “agglutinating”, “gluing” function to the connective “is”, connecting, according to his concept, an existential point with the corresponding name. Steinthal distinguishes two kinds of roots: qualitative and demonstrative. Bonn called these demonstrative roots pronominal. In the later phases of the life of a language, the boundary between one and the other is sometimes combined (see: S. Bulich. Pronoun, in the enc. words. Brockhaus, 39, p. 326). “L'espèce de mot qui a dû se distinguer d'abord de toutes les autres c'est, selon nous, le pronom. Je crois cette catégorie plus primitive que celle du substantif, parce qu'elle est plus instructuve, plus facilement commentée par le geste. On ne doit donc pas se laisser induire en erreur par cette dénomination du “pronom” (pro nomine), qui nous vient des Latins, lesquels ont traduit eux-mêmes le grec ἀντωνυμία. L'erreur a duré jusqu'à nos jours. Les pronoms sont, au contraire, à ce que je crois, la partie la plus antique du language. Comment le moi aurait il jamais manqué d’une expression pour se désigner?” (M. Bréal Essai de sémantique, Paris, 1897, p. 207). – “The pronoun, in our opinion, is that part of speech that should have stood out before other types of words. I think this category is the original noun, because it is more intelligible and easier to comment on with a gesture. The name “pronom” (pro nomine), which came to us from the Latins, who themselves translated it from the Greek ἀντωνυμία, should therefore not mislead us. This misconception has survived to this day. I believe that the pronoun, on the contrary, is the oldest part of speech. How could the “I” do without a word that allows it to designate itself? (French). Fick (Wörterbuch der indogermanischen Sprache, Bd. 4–5. 9 fg.), notes regarding demonstrative roots, which, being few in number and poorly varied in external form (only vowels a, i, u; or consonants with a, like ka, ta, ma), form the basis of pronouns, that they are completely in vain considered only a replacement for other words - pronomina: “gerade in ihnen die echten alten Urnomina zu erkennen, so dass umgekehrt die Nomina die um den Verbalbegriff gemehrten und verstärkten Vertreter der Pronomina genannt werden könnten, während die sogenannten Pronomina den Nominalbegriff rein, ohne die verbale Beimischung und Erweiterung zeigen" and further (see Gerber, op. p. 321, 2). – Pronouns: “[one should] recognize in them the true ancient first names, so that, on the contrary, names could be called substitutes for pronouns, strengthened and including the verbal concept, while the so-called pronouns show the nominal concept in its purity, without any admixture of verbality and expansion” (German). Root languages ​​are sometimes called isolating, and agglutinating and inflectional languages ​​are sometimes called synthetic: in the latter, a pronominal grammatical feature is introduced inside the word. Essence includes existence (lat.). I think, therefore I exist (French). It is interesting to compare Bulgakov’s “philosophy of the Self” - one of the brightest points of the “Philosophy of the Name” - with the corresponding views of other Russian philosophers. If Florensky generally denies the “I” any real content (“the nameless I” “is pure subjectivity, the subject, which has not revealed or expressed itself at all, and therefore is in no way correlated with reality and therefore completely devoid of objectivity and embodiment.” - Florensky P.A. Names. P.62), then for N. Berdyaev the “I” is just before any “objectification” and embodiment and there is existence as such (“I” is initially, cannot be deduced from anything and cannot be reduced to anything”, “philosophy begins with “I””, etc. - Berdyaev A.N. I and the world of objects // Berdyaev N.A. Philosophy of the free spirit. M.: "Respublika", 1994. P. 265: 266). The anthropology of Russian existentialism, which does not need the category of a name at all, is adjacent to the partly dialogical philosophy of M. Bakhtin with its pathos “you are” (going back to Vyach. Ivanov) - the fundamental idea of ​​“you” as an “other I”. A person’s own name, according to Bakhtin, “is “I” in someone else’s mouth”: “they call and call by name,” my name is not my deepest being, but the call of my interlocutor that affirms me (see: Bakhtin M.M. Additions and changes to “Rabelais” // Questions of Philosophy. 1992. No. 1. P. 147). Bulgakov’s concept, obviously, can be placed between the view of existentialism and the extremely “realistic” theory of the proper name, developed by Florensky: with all the ontological weight of the word (in particular, the name of a person) in the “Philosophy of the Name,” Bulgakov finds a way to conceptualize his intuition “I”, which is not inferior in depth and poignancy to the corresponding experience of the existentialists. “We note in language the application of the law of perspective or egocentrism. According to this “law,” as we move away from the place where we ourselves are, the differences between objects become smaller and disappear more and more, the more distant is assimilated and absorbed by the closer. Hence, a set consisting of only the 1st person (I) and of other persons only the 2nd (you) and 3rd (he, she) is perceived as the 1st person plural (we); a plurality consisting of at least only one 2nd person (you), in conjunction with many 3rd persons, is perceived as the 2nd person plural (you). Having used n to denote the coefficient of any arbitrary multiplicity, we can express this in the following formulas: we = I + n, you + n, he + n; you = you + n, he (she) + n.” (Baudouin de Courtenay: “Language” in the Brockhaus and Efron Dictionary, 81, p. 536). Hidden, implied [or] openly, expanded (lat.). Wed. Gerber, O. With. 82, 91, 2. Wed. Delbrück, Grundfragen Her Sprachforschung, 144–145. “Cases denote the relation of an object to an action, as the producer of agens (subject - nominative case, nominativus) or as the object to which the action is directly directed, patiens (direct object - accusative case, accusativus), or as the object in whose favor or in relation to which the action is performed (object in the dative case, dativus), or as the object with which (sociativus) or through which (instrumentalis) the action is performed (instrumental case), or as the object in which the action occurs (local case, locativus). The relationship of one object to another is most often indicated by the form of the genitive case, but also the dative case, etc. In different languages, various other case forms have developed, constituting formal categories or cases with such meanings as are indicated by prepositions, for example. in the following combinations: “from the city” (positive case, ablativus), to the city (illativus), on the city (superessivus), to the city (sublativus), from the city (elativus), at the city (adessivus), etc.” (A.I. Thomson. General linguistics, 321). Professor Baudouin de Courtenay distinguishes spatio-temporal or local-chronological cases, such as: locativus in general, ablativus, elativus, allativus, inessivus, superessivus, subestivus, sublativus, superlativus, abessivus, instrumentalis, etc. Cases of social origin are: genitivus, dativus, accusativus, etc. (o. c. 536). We find interesting discussions about the nature of the noun and the subject in a sentence in Gerber, who psychologizes this in the sense that he sees in the selection of the subject a repetition of the human self: from the general uncertainty of knowledge arises an act of cognition carried out by the individual. “In der Tat ist der Mensch mit Bildung des Substantivwortes aus dem Kreise des vom Universum gegebenen, des gekannten herausgetreten. Sofern er dasselbe aus dem von ihm selbst gebildeten Wurzellautgebilde sonderte und individualisierte, schuf er ein Etwas, dem keine andere äussere oder innere Wirklichkeit zukommt, als die auf dieses Schaffen sich stützt, keine Bedeutung also, als die von ihm gesetzte, in seiner Abgrenzung (Definition) des Lautbildes liegende. Somit bedeutet das Substantiv für sich nichts, als eben dieses Lautbild, in welchem er verwirklicht worden ist, und es würde gar nichts Wirkliches bedeuten, wenn nicht der Mensch selbst in Schaffen, in Betätigung seiner individuellen Bilderkraft, noch immer innerhalb des Universums stünde. Der Wortbedeutung von serpens (snake) entspricht nichts Wirkliches ausser uns, aber nur durch das Wirkliche sind wir zu dem Lautbilde serpens gelangt, und der Laut serp deuten auf den Laut der Wahrehmung, welcher dazu anregte ihn zu bilden" (o. c. 75). “Indeed, with the formation of nouns, man stepped out of the circle defined by the universe, known. Since he isolated and isolated something from the self-generating root sound image, he created something to which no other external or internal reality corresponds, except that based on this creation, as well as no meaning other than that established by him, posited in the delimitation (definition) of the sound image. So, the noun in itself does not mean anything except the exact sound image through which it acquired reality, and it would not mean anything real if man himself were not affirmed in his creation, in his proven personal ability to generate images, while remaining within the universe. The meaning of the word serpens [snake – lat. ] outside of us nothing real corresponds, but only through reality we managed to arrive at the sound image serpens and the sound serp indicates the sound associated with the perception that prompted its formation” (German). “Das Substantiv-Subjekt nimmt im Satze diejenige Stellung ein, welche im Bewusstseinsakte der Inhalt, den er umschliest... Jedes Subjekt wurde so eine Personifikation des Ich, in jedem Prädikat lebte ein Analogon der Seelenbewegung, wie das Ich sie verursacht und lenkt” (80–81). - “The subject noun occupies the same place in a sentence as the content in an act of consciousness - the content that this act contains... Each subject has become a personification of the I, in each predicate there is an analogue of a mental movement called to life and directed by the power of the I” (German). These ideas are related to Gerber’s general epistemological concept, which differs significantly from ours. Gerber's merit is his attempt to introduce epistemological consciousness into the basic linguistic function, but the disadvantage of his entire concept is the ambiguous meaning of the self and its role in judgment: is this the ill-fated “psychological” explanation that appears in linguistics everywhere where it should and should not be, or is it understood here that the self is epistemological, or, finally, metaphysical? The dim idea of ​​the difference between Kennen and Erkennen as two stages of cognition, the first in cosmic uncertainty, the second overcoming this amorphousness by the imagination of the subject, is the basis of the entire construction, by the way, epistemologically generally outdated in its implementation as dating back to the era of earlier neo-Kantianism with its over-refinement in this area. This means [and not] there is (German). This judgment of naming, which underlies every noun, the subject being a pronoun - a gesture, the predicate a name, is usually not noticed in linguistics, even in philosophizing. For example, the same Gerber, quite correctly connecting the difference between a name and a verb with a syntactic relationship, thanks to which the root word is determined in its existence, stops helplessly before the noun in isolation, although it exists outside the sentence and represents a riddle that requires solution. He is forced to simply deny it. “So lange nämlich die Wurzel allein den Satz vertrat, konnte sie nur entweder als Interjektion einer befriedigten Verwunderung erklungen sein, als ein erfreuendes Sprachkunstwerk, ein treffendes Lautbild, um seinen selbst willen geschaffen: sar (sarp – Serpens) ta! Kriechen (des) da! – oder sie bedeutete, wenn sie in den Dienst der Mitteilung trat, einen tautologischen Satz: Kriechen (des) da kriecht” (69). - “Namely, as long as the root alone represented a sentence, it could only sound like an interjection expressing unexpected satisfaction, like a joy-inducing work of art of the word, a precise sound image striving for self-creation: - or it meant, when it served as a means of communication, a tautological sentence: the creeping crawls” (German). And only later, when this word develops in the meaning: “sar ta agh (anguis) Kriechen (des) da würgt (umstrickt); das Kriechende, welches kriecht, ist jetzt ein Kriechendes, welches würgt. Ein und dasselbe nimmt in zwei verschiedenen Vorgängen in gleicher Weise zu Grunde, wie, unter Umständen, es noch manchen anderen unverändert zu Grunde liegen kann. Es ist der Begriff der Substanz ihren Accidenzen gegenüber” (70). - “The creeping thing that creeps, now there is a certain creeping thing that strangles. The same thing is realized in different events in a similar way; under the right conditions, without changing, it can become the basis for a number of other events. This is the concept of a substance opposing its accidents” (German). Gerber misses a third possibility in his judgment, different from both the interjectional meaning of the word and the tautology, namely, that serpens, as a noun, is already a judgment: it is serpens, and without this preliminary judgment, which transforms the idea-word into a name, its further development into the subject of the judgment is impossible: sar ta agh - Serpens - anguis. The matter seems even simpler to Gabelenz, who casually drops the following judgment: “Der Mensch nennt die Dinge nach irgendeiner hervorragenden Eigenschaft, das heisst: er ersetzt (!) das Subjekt durch das Prädikat” (op. p. 336). – “A person names things by some outstanding property, which means: he replaces the subject with a predicate” (German). Here it is appropriate to recall the judgment of W. Humboldt (Üb. das vergl. Sprachstud. etc. Ges. W., Bd. 111, 243, cited in Gerber, o. c., 6). “Die Sprache kann nicht anders entstehen, als auf einmal,” and that “in jedem Augenblick ihres Daseins dasjenige, was sie besitzen müsse, was sie zu einem Ganzen macht.” - “Language can arise only immediately as a whole”, “at every moment of its existence it must possess that which makes it whole” (German). A. Potebnya looks differently (ts. p., p. 158): “The sensory image of sound, color is a contradiction in itself, because we see not just one color, but a colored object, and even the sound, the actual source of which may be hidden from us, we associate with the object from which it is heard. The names of some colors even now clearly indicate the sensory images from which they are isolated (?!): just as blue is the color of a dove (why not vice versa?), nightingale is the nightingale, the Polish niebieski is the color of the sky, and green was at first thought not separately, as a quality, but in a sensory image that embraced an object, action and quality” (Potebnya A.A. Thought and language. Op. ed. P.143.). Kudryavsky argues in a similar way (ts. op., 41–42), who repeats the same example with a dove. “Apparently, the names of all colors came from the same way as the name of the color blue. So “pink” comes from the word “rose” and originally means the color of a rose, “raspberry” comes from “raspberry”, “brown” from “cinnamon”, etc. The names “violet” and “orange” are words borrowed from the Russian language, but according to their original meaning they indicate the color of violet and orange (French violette - violet, orange - orange).” According to Florensky, a common noun corresponds rather to the attribute of the thing being named than to the thing itself; it serves primarily to reveal the naming, knowing subject rather than the cognizable reality. A proper name means a thing in its existentiality, and therefore, to a greater extent than a common noun, it is reality itself (Florensky P.A. Imeslavie as a philosophical premise // Florensky P.A. At the watersheds of thought... P.293–299). On this issue, the positions of Florensky and Bulgakov are quite close: for both, there is still no fundamental difference between proper names and common nouns. In Florensky, however, the active role of the subject, who gives names to reality, is designated and emphasized (naming in Florensky’s concept is the result of a cognitive act), while for Bulgakov a person is primarily the medium through which the cosmos “speaks.” At the base, at the source (lat.). Wed. M. Müller, 210, I. Benloen considers that there are 600 necessary roots in the Gothic language, and 250 in modern German. Pott believes that each language has about 1000 roots. Etym. Forsch. II, 73 (Müller, 201–202). According to Grimm, Germanic languages ​​have 462 verbal roots (Potebnya, 19). “Having at its disposal 400–500 predicative roots, the language would not have difficulty coining names for all objects that appear to our knowledge: language is a thrifty master. If each root produced 50 derived words, we would have 25,000 words. But we know from reliable authority, the village priest, that some of the workers in his parish have no more than 300 words in their vocabulary. Wedge-shaped inscriptions in Persia contain no more than 379 words, of which 131 are proper names. The dictionary of the ancient Egyptian sages, as far as we know from hieroglyphic inscriptions, contains about 658 words. The libretto of any Italian opera rarely exhibits greater variety. A well-bred person in England rarely uses more than 3,000 or 4,000 words in a conversation. Shakespeare, who probably presented more variety than any other writer in any language, composed his dramas of about 15,000 words, Milton has only 8,000 words, and the Old Testament contains no more than 5,642 words” (M. Muller, 202-203). Leibniz (De arte combinaroria, Opp. I, 387–8, ed. Dutens). – This refers to the dissertation of G.V. Leibniz in the field of mathematics for the licentiate degree: “Dissertatio de arte combinatoria” - “Dissertation on the art of combinations” (lat.), 1666. Quotes situs literarum in alphabeto sit variabilis (How many times the position of letters in the alphabet could change (lat.)): 23 letters in Latin allow 25.852.016.738.884.976.640.000; 24 letters in German - 620.448.701.733.239.739.360.000 (M. Müller, 201–202). See note above. A. Potebnya explains the internal form of the word as follows: “The word itself does not express the entire thought taken as its content, but only one sign of it. The image of a table can have many signs, but the word table means only laid (the root stl is the same as in the verb stlat). By the word window we usually mean a frame with glass, whereas, judging by its similarity with the word eye, it means: where one looks. In a word, therefore, there are two contents: one, which we called objective above, and now we can call the closest etymological meaning of the word, always contains one sign, the other is subjective content, in which there can be many signs. The first is a sign, a symbol that replaces the second for us. The internal form of a word is the relation of content to consciousness, it shows how his own thought appears to a person. In a series of words of the same root, successively following one from the other, each preceding one can be called the internal form of the subsequent one” - Potebnya A.A. Thought and language. Decree. ed. pp.97–98. Bulgakov quotes Potebnya not entirely accurately. We have corrected the main semantic inaccuracies. (101–102). Kudryavsky distinguishes: “1) sound form, i.e. a known combination of sounds, 2) a symbol, i.e. the previous meaning of the word, used as a sign of another meaning, and finally 3) the very meaning of the word, i.e. a representation or concept associated with it. Particularly important in the development of a word is the symbol, which is a living, connecting link between the sound composition of the word and its meaning. Sometimes this element of the word is called the internal form of the word.” Probably Bulgakov refers to the publication: Jacobi F.N. Werke. Leipzig. Bd. 3. 1816. “Un fait qui domine toute la matière, c’est que nos langues, par une nécessité dont on verra les raisons, sont condamnées à un perpétuel manque de proportion entre le mot et la chose.” L'expression est tantôt trop large, tantôt trop étroite. Nous ne nous apercevons pas de ce défaut de justesse, parce que l’expression, pour celui qui parle, se proportionne d’elle-même à la chose, grâce à l’ensemble des circonstances, grâce au lieu, au moment, à l’intention visible du discours, et parce que chez “l’auditeur, qui est de moitié dans tout lanquage, l’attention allant droit à la pensée sans s’arrêter à la portée littérale du mot, la restreint ou l’étend selon l’intention de celui qui parle” (Bréal, o. c. 134, 1). – “By virtue of necessity, the reasons for which we will see, our languages ​​are doomed to an eternal disproportion between word and thing - such is the prevailing fact in this area. The word turns out to be either too broad or too narrow. We do not notice this because for the speaker, the word - thanks to the totality of circumstances, place, moment and obvious intention of the utterance - is itself commensurate with the thing, and the listener, participating as equals in any speech, directs his attention directly to the thought, without dwelling on the literal meaning of the word, and narrows or expands it in accordance with the intention of the speaker. “Language has no expressions of its own, and the more precise analysis we subject a word to, the more similarities it will reveal with the symbolic expressions of later folk poetry” (Potebnya, 158). According to Quintilian's remark (VIII, 6), it seems that thanks to metaphor, every thing has a word for itself in language (Bréal, 1. p. 134, 1). An example of an anecdote: by generalizing a concept we have, for example. in the Latin aedes, a dwelling, a building, which is derived from the root idh - to burn, originally denoted the place of the hearth. From lat. pavimentum trampled earth (from pavis) Romanian pamentu, meaning the entire globe. Likewise, dumb. Erde (root ag) meant originally plowed land. Proper names can receive a generalized meaning: from Caesar came Kaiser Caesar, king, from Karl slav, kral, [king] and Hung. kiraly people. Much more often there is a specialization of meaning, in which the genus is used instead of the species. So eg. ἄλογον in modern Greek. means horse. The German word Fohlen, Füllen, in connection with the Greek πῶλος, lat. pullus originally meant "young animal", in Germanic usage it means a young horse or even a young donkey. The resulting poulain “young animal,” like the related German word, now denotes a young horse (Giesswein 110–11). Example of metonymy: the meaning of Sonne (sol, ἥλιος), sun and luna (luc-na) the moon was originally only “luminous”, Mana, Mensch – thinking femina (woman) – nursing, fillus, filia – son, daughter – sucking, sucking, argentum, aurum, Gold, gold, silver – sparkling, terra – dry earth, Rost, Rose, lat. rubus (strawberry) – red, Heb. lebanâ (donkey), Arab, aquar (fox) – red, Arab, laban (milk), Heb. lebânâ (month), lebênâ (tile), Arabic, gamar (month), French. aube (dawn), lat. alba (pearl), Heb. hori (wheat bread), German. Weizen (wheat) – white, German. Galle, gr. χολή, lat. Fel bile – yellow, Vag (bear) – brown – der Braune; lat. ovis – sheep – meek, sweet, dumb. Wolf, wolf - tearer, German. Hahn - rooster - singing, lat. galus – rooster, crowing, German. Gerste lat. hordeum, Heb. Secôrâ [barley], piercing, Himmel and Hemd - [sky], covering, equus, aqua - [water], quick, cervus, Hirsch - [deer], horned, sus, Schwein [pig], - giving birth, bos, Kuh, bu-te-o, bu-fo - [cow], screaming (root gu - scream), corvus, comix, Krähe (raven) – croaking, Gras – [grass], growing, etc. (Giesswein, o. p. III). “La métaphore change le sens des mots, crée des expressions nouvelles de façon subite. La vie instantanee d'une similitude entre deux objets, deux actes, la fait naître. Elle se fait adopter si elle est juste, ou si elle est pittoresque, ou simplement si elle combination une lacune dans le vocabulaire. Mais la métaphore ne reste telle qu’à ses débuts bientôt l’esprit s’habitue à l’image; son succès même la fait pâlir, elle devient une représentation de l’idée à peine plus colorée que le mot propre.” (Bréal, 135). – “Metaphor changes the meaning of words, suddenly creates new expressions. It is born from the instant discovery of the similarity of two objects, two actions. A metaphor sticks if it is accurate, or picturesque, or simply fills a vocabulary gap. But the metaphor does not remain as it was at the beginning: the mind soon gets used to the image; success itself discolors it, it becomes an expression of an idea, only slightly more colorful than the word in its literal meaning” (French). Third in comparison (lat.); term of logic: something common that serves as a basis for comparing two objects. Here are some examples of metaphors: “By similarity in appearance, they were named: “point” (on bones), “vein” (in stone, marble), “lion’s mouth” (flower), “brushwood” (cookies), “screw” (game), “comb” (rooster, mountain), “leg” (table), etc. Based on similarity in functions are named: “skates”, “head” (city), “sister” (of mercy), (he is his) “right hand”, etc. Based on the similarity in the arrangement of parts, they are named “neck” and “head” (bottles), “wing” of an army, a windmill, etc.” (Thomson, op. p. 297). In the early days, “the legitimacy of the word and its connection with the subject itself was felt much more vividly. And in fact, in language and poetry there is positive evidence that, according to the beliefs of all Indo-European peoples, the word is thought, the word is truth, and truth, wisdom, poetry” (Potebnya, 176). “The creation of language, starting from its first element, is a synthetic activity in the strict sense of the word, precisely in the sense in which synthesis creates something that is not contained in the constituent parts taken separately” (Humboldt). (Ibid., 184). – Potebnya A.A. Thought and language. Decree. ed. P.158, 165 resp. Breal attaches paramount importance to the participation of the will in language: “Il faut fermer les yeux à l’évidence pour ne pas voir qu’une volonté obscure, mais persévérante, préside aux changes du language.” Comment faut-il se représenter cette volonté? Je crois qu'il faut se la représenter sous la forme de milliers, de millions, de milliards d'essais entrepris en tâtonnant, le plus souvent malheureux, quelquefois suivis d'un quart de succès, d'un demisuccès, et qui, ainsi guidés, ainsi corrigés, ainsi perfectionnés, vinrent à se préciser dans une certaine direction. Le but en matière de language, c’est d’être compris. L'enfant, pendant des mois exerce sa langue à proférer des voyelles, à articuler des consonnes: combien d'avortements avant de parvenir à prononcer clairement une syllabe! Less innovations grammaticales sont de la même sorte, avec cette différence que tout un peuple y collabore. Que de constructions maladroites, incorrectes, obscures, avant de trouver celle qui sera l'expression non pas adéquate (il n'en est point), mais du moins suffisante de la pensée! En ce long travail il n’y a rien qui ne vienne de la volonté” (o. p. 7–8). – “You have to close your eyes to the obvious so as not to notice some dark but persistent will that guides the changes in language. How should we imagine this will? I think it should be represented in the form of thousands, millions, billions of attempts made at random, most often unsuccessful, sometimes partially or half successful; In this way, by conducting, correcting and improving, they clarify a certain direction. The goal in language is to be understood. The child spends months practicing his tongue, learning to pronounce vowels and consonants; how many breakdowns before he is able to pronounce a syllable clearly! The same is true with grammatical innovations - with the difference that an entire nation takes part in them. How many clumsy, incorrect, inarticulate constructions are there before an expression that is not even adequate to the thought (this does not exist), but at least satisfactory, is found. There is not such a small thing in this long work that does not come from the will” (French). It can be noted that in Florensky’s views, the name appears in such a “dialogue of thought and mystery,” of man and thing reality, in which both sides are equal (see: Florensky P. Dialectics. // Florensky P.A. At the watersheds of thought... P.144). In Bulgakov, the human principle of naming is nevertheless belittled in comparison with the being that reveals itself. Wed. approx. higher. Coincidence of opposites (lat.). Understanding language as one of the existential energies is also characteristic of Florensky’s concept. See: Florensky P. Imeslavie as a philosophical premise. // Florensky P.A. At the watersheds of thought... P.285 ff. “Transcendental idealism” in Kant’s philosophy is an epistemological doctrine concerned with the formal prerequisites of knowledge that organize our experience a priori (these, according to Kant, are the “a priori forms of sensibility” - space and time; categories of reason). Since these a priori premises are subjective (belonging to the “transcendental subject” of knowledge), Bulgakov calls Kant’s idealism solipsism. In his search for a way out of the crisis of post-Kantian philosophy (note that this is precisely how almost all Russian philosophy, starting with V. Solovyov, saw its calling), Bulgakov proposed, firstly, to take into account the fact that philosophical thinking does not exist outside of language, and secondly, to support the philosophical approach with the ideas of Christian dogmatics. Thus, substance - one of the fundamental concepts of philosophy - is projected in language as a noun, the latter, being reduced to an existential judgment and proposition, has a “trinitarian” nature, thereby reflecting the Holy Trinity. According to Bulgakov, in this way the chain of “heresies” that has been the history of philosophy can be broken, and the realism of thinking desired by everyone can be achieved. Bulgakov’s book “The Tragedy of Philosophy” (1921) is devoted to the rationale for this; see, in particular, her first chapter, “On the Nature of Thought,” which contains many echoes of “The Philosophy of the Name” (see Works Vol. 1, pp. 312–322). See also above: about “the seal of trinity that lies on the entire universe,” in relation to the word, to the name. Arist. (Met. V, 29): “Ἀντισθένης ᾤετο εὐήθως μηδὲν ἀξιῶν λέγεσθαι πλὴν τῷ οἰκείῳ λόγῳ, ἓν ἐφ᾿ ἑνός (cp. Plato, Soph. 251A). For Stilpo, see Plutarch (adv. Col. 22): ἑτέρου μὴ κατηγορεῖσθαι. Πῶς γὰρ βιωσόμεθα, μὴ λέγοντες ἄνθρωπον ἀγαθόν – ἀλλ᾿ ἄνθρωπον ἄνθρωπον, καὶ χωρις, ἀγαθὸν ἀγαθὸν κτλ. and so on (quoted in Gerber, o. c. 79, 11). – “Antisthenes was overly simple-minded when he believed that only one thing can be said about one thing, namely, only his own name” (Aristotle. Metaphysics. V, 29, 1024 B 32 / Translated by A.V. Kubitsky // Aristotle. Works in 4 volumes, M., 1975. Vol. 1. pp. 177–178). Stilpo “destroys life when he says that one cannot be a predicate of another. “How will we live if we do not talk about a worthy husband and about a husband-commander, but about a husband - a husband, and separately about a worthy - worthy, and separately about a strategist - strategist?” (translation by Yu.A. Shichalin). – (Plutarch. Against Coloth.22:1119). Gerber deals with this issue, which has serious philosophical implications, in a simple and rather naive manner. “Wir haben, um uns da zurechtzufinden darauf zu achten, dass die Vorstellung, welche ausgedrückt werden soll, nicht in den Wörtern ihren Ausdruck erhält, sondern in dem Satze, dass die Wörter nur in Bertacht kommen und richtig gewürdigt werden können als Glieder einer sie umschliessenden Einheit. In jedem Satze erhalten die Wortglieder eine besondere Bestimmung, man kann sagen: eine Individualisierung ihrer Bedeutung durch die Beziehung, in welcher sie zu einander stehen. Es ist kein Kriechendes im allgemeinen, von welchem ​​wir in unserem Satze sprechen, sondern ein solches, welches würgt, und kein beliebiges Würgen wird von ihm ausgesagt, sondern das des Kriechenden. Und so haben wir die Frage nicht so zu stellen: wie kann von einem Kriechenden ausgesagt werden das Würgen dieses Kriechenden. Man sieht, dass das identische Urteil, welches Antisthenes’ und Stilpo’s Logik verlangte, in dem Satze nicht vermisst werden muss” (p. 70–71). Gerber's attempt to evade the question only leads to displacement. Was ist der Grund für die Frage, ob dies der Fall sein kann? How can you get not just Würgen, but Würgen des Kriechenden, with which you can glue these two words? Gerber is not aware of the real severity of the issue. “We must pay attention to the fact that the idea to be expressed receives it not in words, but in a sentence, that words can be recognized and ordered only as members of the unity that embraces them. In each sentence, verbal members receive a special meaning, one might say, individualization of their meaning through the relationship between them. There is no “crawling” at all, which we are talking about in our proposal, but there is only one that “strangles,” and this cannot be attributed to an arbitrary “ability to choke,” but we can talk about it in relation to the “crawling.” And therefore, we should not pose the question this way: how can we attribute to a certain crawling creature the ability to strangle? It is obvious that the identical judgment required by the logic of Antisthenes and Stilpo requires a sentence for its implementation”; [...not just] “strangling,” [but] “a crawling thing that strangles” (German). It is worth comparing these ideas of Bulgakov regarding overcoming logical laws (and above all, the law of identity) when it comes to naming, with the corresponding – and preceding Bulgakov’s – thoughts of Florensky. In the “Second Letter” of “The Pillar and Statement of Truth,” Florensky substantiates the inapplicability of the law of identity to Truth - if what is meant is not rational truth, but concrete and, therefore, Florensky is convinced, living. Florensky shows that such “Truth is a single essence of three hypostases” (Florensky P.A. The Pillar and the Statement of Truth // Supplement to the journal “Questions of Philosophy”. T.1. M., 1990. P.49), implying the Trinitarian God. “If we begin to consider the oldest name, we find in Sanskrit. nâman, in lat. nomen, in Gothic. namo. This nâman stands instead of gnaman, in Lat. preserved cognomen. G has disappeared, as, for example, in the word natus - son, instead of gnatus. Nâman, the name, comes from the root to know, and originally meant that by which we know things” (M. Müller, 289). Thoughts without content are empty, contemplations without concepts are blind (German). – Kant I. Critique of Pure Reason // Kant I. Collection. Op. in 8 volumes. T.3, M., 1994. P.90. “...For each set of things denoted by one name, we usually establish only one specific type... there are many beds and tables in the world... But there are only two ideas for these objects - one for the bed and one for the table” (Plato. Republic. X 596a - b / Translated by A.N. Egunov). “It is clear that the variety of smells remains nameless, because it cannot be reduced to a large number of simple forms” (Plato. Timaeus. 66e - 67a / Translated by S.S. Averintsev). If for Bulgakov ideas are “pure meanings,” then for the extreme “realist” Florensky they are independent hypostatic beings of the spiritual world. It is in this spirit that Florensky understands Plato’s philosophy. Joining the opinion that Plato was initiated into the esoteric mysteries (E. Schure, R. Steiner), Florensky believed that Plato’s doctrine of ideas ultimately goes back to mysterial experience. Ideas, according to Florensky, are “not any images of deities, but the very faces or images of deities or demons who appeared to initiates in the mysteries.” – Priest Pavel Florensky. The meaning of idealism. Sergiev Posad, 1914. P.83. Involvement, participation (Greek). “...We usually say that a master makes this or that thing, peering into its idea: one makes the beds, the other the tables we need” (Plato. The State. X 596b / Translated by A.N. Egunov). For example, in “Readings on God-Humanity”: “As is known from formal logic, the scope of a concept is in inverse relation to its content: the wider a concept, the larger its scope, the poorer in content, more general, more indefinite. Quite the opposite - between ideas as positive definitions of special beings: the relation of volume to content is necessarily direct, i.e. The wider the scope of the idea, the richer it is in content.” – Reading sixth // Soloviev V.S. Works in 2 volumes. Supplement to the journal “Questions of Philosophy”. T.2. M., 1989. P.60–61. An allusion to Plato's "anamnesis". See, for example: Phaedo. 75e, 102; Phaedr. 249s. Breal, o. c. 210: “Je crois, en effet, que les mots ont été créés pour avoir une pleine signification par eux-mêmes, et non pour servir à une syntaxe qui n’existait pas encore.” - “I think that words were actually created to have a full meaning in themselves, and not to serve a syntax that did not yet exist” (French). Breal, o. c. 207–3: “Une langue qui ne se composerait que de pronoms ressemblerait au vagissement d’un enfant ou à la gesticulation d’un sourdmuet.” Le besoin d'un autre élément, dont le substantif, l'adjectif et le verbe furent formés, était donc évident. Mais il n’en est pas moins vrai que le pronom vient se placer à la base et à l’origine des langues: c’est sans doute par le pronom, venant s’apposer aux autres sortes de mots, qu’a commencé la distinction des catégories grammaticales.” “A language that consisted only of pronouns would resemble the babbling of a child or the gesticulation of a deaf-mute. The need for another element, which led to the formation of the noun, adjective and verb, is therefore obvious. But it is no less true that at the basis and origins of languages ​​there was a pronoun: there is no doubt that it was with the pronoun attached to words of a different kind that the distinction of grammatical categories began. Cp. Gerber, o. c. 120. See p. Bulich. "Numeral" in Enz. Sl. vol. 76, pp. 861–863. “L’une des plus récentes est l’adverbe, les mots comme οἴκοι, πέδοι, χαμαί, εὖ, κακῶς, οὔρως, humi, domi, recte, valde, primum, rursum, hic, illic, sont des substantifs, adjectifs ou pronoms régulièrement fléchis. Mais quand un mot a arrêté d'être en un rapport immédiat et nécessaire avec le reste de la phrase, quand il sert à mieux déterminer quelqúun d'autre terme sans être pourtant indispensable, il est prêt à prendre la valeur d'un adverbe" (Bréal, 200). – “One of the most recent is the adverb. Words such as are gradually reduced nouns, adjectives or pronouns. And when a word has lost its direct and necessary connection with the rest of the phrase, when it serves to better define another word without being obligatory, it is ready to turn into an adverb. “Un temps est venu pour tous nos idiomes où les cas de la déclinaison, ne paraissant pas assez clairs ou assez précis en eux-mêmes, ont été par surcroit, escortés d’un adverbe... Mais l’habitude de les voir jounts à un certain cas a suggéré l'idée d'un rapport de cause à effet: ce petit mot, qui était un simple accompagnement de l'accusatif ou de l'ablatif, parut les régir. Dès lors il les a régis en effet: d’adverbe il devint préposition” (Bréal, 202). “For all our sayings, the time came when the case forms, which in themselves seemed not clear or distinct enough, began to be accompanied by an adverb... But the habit of seeing them in combination with a certain case gave rise to the idea of ​​a cause-and-effect relationship: the idea arose that this little word, simply accompanying the instrumental or accusative case, controls them. Since then, it really began to control them: from an adverb it turned into a preposition” (French). “The subject must necessarily be the nominative case of the noun. That this is indeed the case is evident from the fact that any word that plays the role of a subject is certainly recognized by us as the nominative case. If in many cases when this word is unchangeable, we cannot prove this, nevertheless there are cases when the category of the nominative case takes on completely clear forms. So in Pushkin’s “a cheer rang out in the distance,” it is not clear that “hurray” is recognized as the nominative case, although this is partly indicated by the word “burst,” but in a sentence like “ahs and oohs will not help the matter,” interjections even took on the endings of the nominative plural, according to the role of the subject that they play in the sentence. – There is also no doubt that the subject must be a noun. If sometimes an adjective can play the role of a subject, then it always turns into a noun,” etc. (Kudryavsky. Introduction to linguistics, 109–110). To the question of what a subject is, school grammar answers: the subject is the subject that is spoken about in the sentence. Potebnya best refutes the correctness of this definition with the following example lesson: ““Don’t worry about tomorrow” - what is being said here? About tomorrow. - No, that’s not it. What is the main subject of speech? - So that we don't care. - No, the subject being discussed here is you, the second person. “But nothing is said about us here” (A. Potebnya. From notes on Russian grammar, p. 187 et seq.). The sentence “they chop with an ax” talks about an ax, but the word “with an ax” is not the subject at all; the sentence “it’s dark in the cave” talks about a cave, but the word “in the cave” is also not a subject (Kudryavsky, 109). The definition can consist of both an adjective and a noun in eminent, p. (“application”): Tsar Peter - or clan. p.: my father’s estate, the wars of the Greeks with the Persians. However, with a pure definition, these proper names do not have an ontological accent and are in meaning adjectives or predicates, which is proven by the substitutability of their adjectives: father - fatherly, Greeks and Persians - Greco-Persian, Alexandra - Alexandrovsky, etc. In general, nouns in the definition are equal to adjectives, as in all cases when a noun is a predicate, it means quality, not essence, property, not beingness. From a poem by A.S. Pushkin “Labor” (“The longed-for moment has come...”) (1830). "Necessitas, Vis, Libertas." Bas-relief" is a prose poem by Turgenev (1878). – See: Turgenev I.S. Collection Op. In 12 volumes. T.8. M., 1956. P.480. Translation of the name from Lat. : “Necessity, strength, freedom.” This observation was made by Kant's closest contemporaries - Hamann, Jacobi and Herder, although it was subsequently lost. Hamann in “Metakritik über den Purismum der reinen Vernunft” (Schriften, B. VII, 5) notes: “Die erste Reinigung der Philosophie bestand in dem Versuch, die Vernunft von aller Überlieferung, Tradition und Glauben daran unabhängig zu machen. Die zweite (Kant) ist noch transzendenter, und läuft auf nichts weniger als eine Unabhängigkeit von der Erfahrung – hinaus. Der dritte, höchste und gleichsam empirische Purismus betrifft also noch die Spache, das einzige, erste und letzte Organon und Kriterion der Vernunft.” Jakobi says: “Es fehlte noch an einer Kritik der Sprache, die eine Metakritik der Vernunft sein würde” (Allwills Briefsammlung, Zugabe, 109). Herder in "Metakritik zur Kritik der reinen Vernunft", Bd. 1, 451, says: “Der Bau menschlicher Sprache von ihrem Grunde auch vernichtet grundaus das Spielwerk einer gegenstandlosen Vernunft a priori.” – Hamann in Metacriticism on the Purism of Pure Reason [observes]: “The first purification of philosophy consisted in the attempt to make reason independent of all custom, tradition and belief. The second (associated with Kant) has an even more transcendental character and comes down to nothing less than independence from experience. Third, the highest and seemingly empirical purism also concerns language, the only, first and last organon and criterion of reason.” Jacobi [says]: “There is no critique of language that would become a metacriticism of reason.” Herder in “Metacriticism towards the Critique of Pure Reason” [says]: “The structure of human language denies in principle the play of objectless reason a priori” (German). Gerber, from whom we take these reviews, in turn remarks: “Kant hat die Sprache einer Kritik nicht unterzogen. So spricht er überhaupt nicht von Sätzen, sondern nur von Urteilen, Urteile setzen ja die fertige Sprache voraus, und er kennt auch keine Wörter als Elemente des Wahrnehmungssatzes, sondern nur Wortbegriff” (o. c. 190–1), cf. p.194. – “Kant did not undertake a critique of language. Therefore he does not speak of propositions at all, but only of judgments; judgments already presuppose a ready-made language, and Kant also does not see in words elements of sentences corresponding to perceptions, but sees in them only verbal concepts” (German). There is nothing in the mind that is not in the word; there is nothing in the word that is not in the mind (lat.). The thesis of Lockean empiricism is redrawn: “There is nothing in the intellect that is not in experience.” Regnaud puts the question differently (Orig. et philos. du langage, 239), according to which, on the contrary, nihil in dictu, quod non fuerit prius in intellectu. Strictly speaking, there is no prius or posterius here. – Renaud (“The Origin and Philosophy of Language”) (French): There is nothing in an utterance that was not previously in the mind; ...earlier ...later (lat.). Unpremised thought (German). Presuppositionlessness (German). An example of a surprisingly superficial attitude to the question of language is found even in such a serious thinker as Lotze (Logik, 540): “Der Ausdruck unserer Gedanken ist an die Sprache, längst auch ihr innerer Verlauf an die Reproduktion der Wörter gewöhnt; Wahrnehmungen, Erinnerungen und Erwartungen haben volle Klarheit kaum, bis wir für sie erschöpfende Ausdrücke in Sätzen der Sprache gefunden. Der so erreichte Vorteil hängt nicht eigentlich an der Sprache und ihren Lauten, sondern an einer inneren Arbeit der Zergliederung und Verkämpfung, welche dieselbe bleibe, auch wenn sie andere Formen der Mitteilung benutzte; tatsächlich aber, nachdem die Sprache zu diesem Zweck entstanden, ist Form und Leichtigkeit der Denkbewegungen allerdings von den Mitteln abhängig, welche sie darbietet, und deshalb selbst national verschieden, nachdem mancherlei Ursachen sich verbunden haben, Bau und Fügung verschiedener Sprachen ungleichartig zu machen. An sich ist daher, was wir logisch meinen, unabhängig von der Art, wie wir es sprachlich ausdrücken in wirklicher Ausführung aber doch alles menschliche Denken genötigt, den geistigen Gedanken durch Trennungen, Verknüpfungen und Umformungen der Vorstellungsinhalte herzustellen, welche die Sprache in ihren Worten verfestigt hat” (Gerber, o. c., 59). “The expression of our thoughts has long been adapted to language, their internal flow to the production of words; perceptions, memories and expectations can hardly acquire complete clarity until we have found exhaustive expression for them in the sentences of language. The advantage thus achieved depends essentially not on language and its sounds, but on the inner work of dissection and combination, which would remain the same if it used other means of communication; but in reality, after language arose for this purpose, the form and ease of thought processes began, of course, to depend on the means provided by the language, and, consequently, on the national differences of languages, since for one reason or another the structure and fate of different languages ​​were not the same. Therefore, our logic does not depend on the language we express it in, but human thinking is accustomed to expressing spiritual content with the help of divisions, combinations and transformations embodied in words” (German). “Obgleich alle Erfahrungsurteile empirisch sind, d. h. ihren Grund in der unmittelbaren Wahrnehmung der Sinne haben, dennoch nicht ungekehrt alle empirische Urteile darum Er-fahrungsurteile sind, sondern dass über das Empirische und überhaupt über das der sinnlichen Anschauung Gegebene noch besondere Begriffe hinzukommen müssen, die ihren Ursprung gänzlich a priori im reinen Verstande haben, unter die jede Wahrnehmung allererst subsumiert werden muss, und dann vermittelst derselben in Erfahrung kann verwandelt werden. Empirische Urteile, sofern sie objektive Giltigkeit haben, sind Erfahrungsurteile; Die aber, so nur subjektiv giltig sind, nenne ich blosse Wahrnehmungsurteile. Die letzeren bedürfen keines reinen Verstandesbegriffs, sondern nur der logischen Verknüpfung der Wahrnehmungen im denkenden Subjekt. Die ersteren aber erfordern jederzeit über die Vorstellungen der sinnlichen Anschauung noch besondere im Verstande ursprünglich erzeugte Begriffe, welche es eben machen, dass das Erfahrungsurteil objektiv giltig ist” (Kant. Prolegomena, 78). – “Although all judgments of experience are empirical, that is, they have their basis in the direct perception of the senses, the opposite cannot be said, that all empirical judgments are thereby also judgments of experience; In order for them to be judgments of experience, for this purpose, special concepts must also be added to the empirical and in general to the given in sensory intuition, completely a priori originating in pure understanding: every perception must first be brought under these concepts and then through them can be transformed into experience. Empirical judgments, insofar as they have objective validity, are judgments of experience; if they have only subjective validity, I call them simply judgments of perception. The latter do not need any pure rational concept, but require only a logical connection of perceptions in the thinking subject. The former always require, in addition to the ideas of sensory intuition, special concepts, originally produced in the mind, which give the judgment of experience objective significance” (Kant I. Prolegomena... Op. ed. pp. 54–55). It should be noted that the main Kantian distinction between analytical and synthetic judgments, on which the entire edifice of the Critique of Pure Reason rests, does not itself stand up to criticism and is not of fundamental importance. Every judgment is synthetic as a naming, a connection of the idea-predicate with the subject, this is the essence of the judgment, completely irreducible, without which there is no judgment: even the complete tautology A is A, taken in all the seriousness of the judgment, means such a synthesis: it is between the existential centers, the ontological injection of A and the idea of ​​A, that a connection is established. The same thing here is that this synthesis has already been made once in the naming of A through A: now this name seems to lose its power, fizzles out, merges with a pronominal demonstrative gesture, becomes an icon or a number, on the contrary, in the predicate the word retains its force (this can happen if the meaning of the name, due to archaism or excessive wear and tear, is deteriorating and it needs to be updated). But such pure identity is, of course, a rare exception and does not at all constitute a type of “analytical” judgment in which one or another feature is highlighted in a predicate and becomes the subject of a special cognitive act or apperception. Kant defines analytical and synthetic judgment as follows: judgments are either “either simply explanatory (?!) and do not add anything (?) to the content of knowledge (therefore, completely meaningless, but then what kind of judgments are these? And in what sense can they be called explanatory?), or they are expanding and increase this knowledge, the first can be called analytical, the second synthetic judgments” (Kant, Prolegomena in the translation of Vl. Solovyov, ed. 2, p. 17). Kant’s example of a supposedly analytical judgment: “body is something extended” is completely unsuccessful, because, obviously, he replaces body as a subject, as a noun, denoting something, with the concept of body, its definition, in which various attributes are counted, including their extension, so that the analytical judgment would be reduced to the same word: the extended is extended. In reality this is, of course, not the case. In addition, obviously, according to Kant, factual knowledge is required, which makes the judgment analytical, otherwise it will be synthetic. So, his own example of the latter: the length of this street is 317 fathoms. or today 2° of heat - can perfectly be an example of an analytical judgment, no less than “the body is extended,” if the length of the street is firmly known to everyone and is physically introduced into the concept of this street, as well as the t° of today. But, although from this side Kant’s division into analytical and synthetic judgments does not stand up to criticism and in the exact sense all judgments are synthetic, at the same time the opposite may also be true, i.e., that under certain conditions all judgments can become analytical if the predicate, as already known, is introduced into the concept; logical deduction, all mathematics, is based on this. These are the synthetic judgments a priori that Kant is looking for: these are not identical judgments in which it is possible to unfold the determination hidden in a given intuition, and he believes that such intuition is space and time, but here, of course, there is no reason to agree with him. The axiom of speech and thinking is ontological communism, everything in everything and through everything. In this final sense, all judgments are analytical, because any subject, any point in the world, can lead to everything else, attach any predicates to itself. “Analytical judgments (Kant continues in the same place) express in the predicate only what was already really thinkable in the concept of the subject, although not so clearly and not with equal consciousness (one can also say about Kant’s thought that it is “not so clear and not with full consciousness”). When I say: all bodies are extended, I do not at all expand my concept of body, but only decompose it, since extension was actually thought about this concept even before judgment (?! - what kind of “concept” is this before judgment?), although it was not clearly expressed (and therefore not thought?), this judgment is thus analytical. On the contrary, the proposition: some bodies have heaviness contains in the predicate something that in the general concept of body is not really yet thought of (however, why is it not thought, for that matter, at least as a possibility?); thus this proposition increases my knowledge by adding something new to my concept, and therefore it should be called a synthetic proposition.” It is obvious what kind of ambiguity Kant introduces into this question: on the one hand, he has some concepts prior to judgment and independent of judgment, on the other hand, there is, obviously, a questio facti, whether or not included in the actual composition, this or that attribute, so that it is impossible to distinguish in advance by the content of analytical and synthetic judgments, for any judgment can become analytical, what is such for the teacher, on the contrary, turns out to be synthetic for the student. Kant does not take into account at all that with a pronominal subject, corresponding to the absence of any concept and expressing only an indicative gesture, every judgment is synthetic. Universal significance (German). How is experience possible? (German). “Es sind nur zwei Fälle möglich: entweder die Logik übt volle Herrschaft über die Sprache, weil sie selbst der in der Sprache schöpferischer Trieb, die in ihr sich verkörpernde Idee ist. Oder die Sprache ist der Logik gegenüber eine eigentümliche, d. h. besondere Kräfte verwendende Schöpfung. Im ersten Falle kann die Sprache um kein Haar breit von der Logik abweichen; es darf keine Grammatik geben, nur Logik" (Steinthal. Einleitung in die Psychologie und Sprachwissenschaft, 2-te Aufl. Berl. 1881, 66–7). “Also entweder die Logik verschlingt die Grammatik, oder die Grammatik macht sich völlig frei von der Logik” (68). Steinthal allows a connection between logic and grammar only within the same limits as for other sciences. “Ganz eben so wie die Natur und die Naturwissenschaften, ist auch die Sprache und die Sprachwissenschaft logisch und nicht logisch: nämlich ihr Gegenstand mit seinen Verhältnissen ist ihnen eigentümlich; aber indem man diesen Gegenstand und diese Verhältnisse denkt, bemerkt der Logiker, dass sowohl der Sprachforscher nach logischen Gesetzen handelt, als auch, dass bei dem Verfahren der Sprache, ihre Elemente zu bilden und nach eigenthümlichen Gesetzen zusammenzufügen, logische Rücksichten und Gesetze unbewusst gewaltet haben. Diese logische Gesetze, welche die Sprache, und der Sprachforscher, der Chemiker und Physiker und die Natur befolgen, sind die gemeinen logischen Gesetze, deren Darlegung der Sprach- und Naturforscher voraussetzt, die er nicht erforscht, die nicht sein besonderer Gegenstand sind" (70). “Only two cases are possible: either logic gains complete dominance over language, since in language it itself turns out to be a creative impulse, being an embodied idea. Or is language itself logic, as opposed to something peculiar, i.e. using special powers, creation. In the first case, language cannot deviate one step from logic; Apart from logic, there can be no grammar.” Thus, either logic absorbs grammar, or grammar is completely freed from logic. To the same extent as nature and the science of nature, language and the science of language are logical and not logical: namely, their subject with its relations corresponds to them, but since this subject and its relations are comprehended, the logician notices that just as the researcher of language operates with logical laws, so when using language to form its elements and connect them with special laws, logical rules and laws must latently dominate. These logical laws, which are followed by language and the researcher of language, the chemist, the physicist and nature, are general logical laws, the operation of which is assumed by the researcher of both language and nature, but which he does not study, which are not his special subject" (German). Wed. characterization of Steinthal's views by V.V. Zenkovsky. On the question of the function of the predicate. Kiev, 1908. Gilt – significant, essential (German), from gelten – to be valid, to have meaning. The “transcendental normativism” of the neo-Kantians (Windelband and Rickert) is understood as their doctrine of values ​​- the ideal norms of transcendental consciousness, which, according to this school of thought, constitute the subject of philosophy - a normative science, in contrast to the empirical sciences. Wed. with criticism of Kant and neo-Kantianism in The Tragedy of Philosophy. According to Bulgakov, the simplest judgment “I am A” contains schematically the entire history of philosophy. And due to the fact that one or another member of this ontological judgment has been exorbitantly hypertrophied by philosophical systems, the history of philosophy is a chain of heresies (the normal situation corresponds to the “philosophy of trinity”, which takes into account the ontological judgment in its “tri-hypostasis”). In Kant, the beginning of the “I” is hypertrophied, since, according to Kant, the basis of all acts of cognition is “transcendental apperception,” the unity of the “I.” The Freiburg school, Windelband and Rickert, according to Bulgakov, emphasize the connective, which, however, remains justified through the “I”: being understood as the will of the “I”, the subject, the connective becomes a transcendental obligation, and teleology is attributed to it. This is how Bulgakov criticizes - in the light of his theory of naming - the philosophy of “meaningful values” of the Freiburg school (see: Bulgakov S.N. The Tragedy of Philosophy. Chapter II. Section A. Idealistic Systems // Decree. ed. pp. 330–354, especially p. 346). Contradiction between the word being defined and the definition; internal contradiction (lat.). After this, therefore, because of this (lat.). The grammar of a people is the clearest representation of its principles of thinking (German). – Gabelentz G. Die Sprachwissenschaft... S. 417. From lat. : essentia – essence; accidentia – chance, accident. Compare: “Substance is a metaphysical trinity that finds expression in a sentence.” – Bulgakov S.N. The tragedy of philosophy // Decree. ed. P.326. Kant I. Critique of Pure Reason / Trans. M. Vladislavleva. St. Petersburg, 1867. P.52–53. Bulgakov quotes here and below with minor inaccuracies, which have been corrected. Wed. in the newest edition: Kant I. Critique of Pure Reason. I. Transcendental doctrine of principles. Part II. Transcendental logic. Introduction, section I / Trans. BUT. Lossky // Kant I. Collection. Op. In 8 volumes. M., 1994. T.3. pp.89–90. Kant I. Prolegomena to any future metaphysics / Trans. V. S. Solovyova. Ed. 2nd. M., 1893. P.75–76. Next, Bulgakov quotes Kant’s “Prolegomena...” from the same publication. Wed. in the newest edition: Kant I. Prolegomena to any future metaphysics that may appear as a science / Transl. V. S. Solovyova. – Kant I. Collection. Op. In 8 volumes. M., 1994. T.4. pp.62–63. In his “Logic of Pure Knowledge” (“Logik des reinen Erkenntnis”, 1902), G. Cohen, head of the Marburg school of neo-Kantianism, developed the idea of ​​the infinitesimal as a beginning that gives rise to a world of finite being. According to Cohen, only thought itself can produce that which should be considered as being. Focusing on the latest natural science, based on differential calculus, Cohen sees in the mathematical concept of the infinitesimal the initial category of reality. Compare: Kant I. Prolegomena... Decree. ed. T.4. pp.83–84. In V. S. Solovyov’s translation, the word “rhapsody” corresponds to “conglomerate”. Compare: Kant I. Prolegomena... Decree. ed. T.4. P.83. “Es tritt jemand an eine runde Tafel und spricht: diese runde Tafel ist viereckig: so schweigt der Grammatiker vollständig befriedigt (good grammarian?!); der Logiker aber ruft: Unsinn! Jener spricht: dieser Tafel sind rund, oder hic tabulum sunt rotundum: der Logiker an sich (a new species of homo sapiens) versteht weder deutsch, noch latein und schweigt, der Grammatiker tadelt” (70). - “Someone comes up to a round table and says: this round table has four corners: at the same time, the grammarian is completely satisfied and silent; however, the logician exclaims: nonsense! Someone says: this table is round, or hie tabulum sunt rotundum; the logician as such does not know German and Latin and is silent, the grammarian protests” (German). The whole convincingness of this example, reminiscent of the anecdote about two Germans, one of whom said: I cut my hair, and the other corrected: I cut my hair, lies in the approximate stupidity of Grammatiker an sich, who does not understand the meaning, and Logiker an sich, who does not know the language. With such “specialists” nothing good can be expected from either logic or grammar, no matter how much “autonomy” they have. Here is his reasoning: “Wäre die Sprache logisch, und ihre Form der organische Abdruck der logischen Form des menschlichen Denkens, was würde daraus folgen? Es würde mit unleugbaren Notwendigkeit... folgen, dass es unmöglisch sein müsste, das unlogisch, d. h. Das logisch falsch gedachte den logischen Irrtum, sprachlich und sprachrichtig auszudrücken. Wir würden also in der Fähigkeit, einen Gedanken sprachlich auszudrücken, einen Prüfstein für die Richtigkeit dieses Gedankens haben. Wenn z. B. zwei konträre Begriffe sich nicht als Subjekt und Prädikat in einem Urteile miteinander verknüpfen können, wenn das Urteil: der Kreis ist viereckig, oder ein viereckiger Kreis, undenkbar, logisch unrichtig ist: so müsste dergleichen auch in der Sprache unausdrückbar sein. So oft der Mensch auf dem Punkte stünde, sich zu einem logischen Denkfehler hinreissen zu lassen, falsch, d. h. genau genommen, nicht zu denken: so müsste ihn der Gebrauch der Sprache verlassen; er müsste um das Wort oder um die grammatische Form in Verlegenheit sein; es müsste wenigstens jeder Denkfehler mit einem Sprachfehler, jeder Verstoss gegen die Logik mit einer entsprechenden gegen die Grammatik unablöslich und unvermeidlich verknüpft sein. So ist es doch nun aber nicht, sondern der tollste Unsinn lässt sich richtig und sogar im schönen Satzbau auszudrücken” (55). – “If language were logical, and its form were an organic imprint of the logical form of human thinking, then what would follow from here? With immutable necessity would follow the impossibility of expressing by means of correct language the illogical, that is, what is thought logically incorrect, a logical error. We would also be able, having expressed a certain thought in language, to have a touchstone of its correctness. If, for example, two opposing concepts cannot be related to each other as the subject and predicate of one judgment, if the proposition “a circle is quadrangular” or “a quadrangular circle” is unthinkable, logically incorrect, then it could not be expressed in language. As soon as a person was in danger of committing a logical error, of thinking incorrectly, or, more precisely, of not thinking at all, he would have to lose the ability to use language, he would begin to doubt every word, every form; any mental error would be inextricably linked with a linguistic error, any logical error with a corresponding grammatical error. But in reality this does not happen - the wildest nonsense can be expressed in an excellently constructed sentence" (German). Bulgakov again quotes X. Steinthal. It is obvious to everyone that it is just as impossible to consciously think “a quadrangular circle” as it is to consciously say it, and one cannot call any verbiage speech. The idea that language should not allow logical errors, to the extent that logic does not allow and does not notice, is an obvious absurdity that does not deserve analysis. Here there is essentially the same philosophical question about the nature of error both in thought and in speech. And here, in the discussion of the relationship between logic and grammar, he ended up only through a wild misunderstanding. To this extent, one can recognize, together with Steinthal, “die wundervolle Autonomie der Sprache” and even agree that “die Kraft ihrer Autonomie ist der objektive Massstab für die Vertrefflichkeit der Sprache” (68). It is also true that “wie es chemische Kategorien gibt, physikalische und physiologische, so gibt es grammatische, z. B. Substantivum, Verbum, Attribute” (77) and that “die sprachlichen und logischen Kategorien sind also disparate Begriffe (?), die ruhig neben einander bestehen” (72). – “...The wonderful autonomy of language”; “...the strength of its autonomy is the objective scale for the superiority of language”; “...just as there are chemical, physical and physiological categories, so there are grammatical categories, for example, noun, verb, adjective”; “linguistic and logical categories are different concepts that quietly coexist side by side” (German). If two people say the same thing, then it is not the same thing (lat.). Perhaps this refers to the main work of A. Schopenhauer, “The World as Will and Representation” (1819–1844), which explores the phenomenon of music and musical thinking as the highest expression of the will, free from a verbal shell. Potebnya, c. p., 176. “According to the beliefs of all Indo-European peoples, ... the word is the thing itself, and this is proven not so much by the philological connection of words denoting word and thing, but by the widespread belief among all words that they denote the essence of phenomena. The Word, as the essence of a thing, in prayer and conjuration receives power over nature. “Verba... Quae mare turbatum, quae concita flumina sistunt” (Ovid. Met. VII, 150, 204 and many others). These words have such power not only in conspiracy, but also in poetry (“The old days, the deeds, as if to calm the blue sea.” Dr. R. St.), because poetry is knowledge. The power of the word did not seem to be a consequence of either the moral strength of the speaker (this would presuppose the separation of word from thought, but this separation did not exist), nor the rituals accompanying it. The independence of the word is already visible in the fact that, no matter how powerful the impulses of the person praying, he must know which word he should use in order to produce what he wants. The mysterious connection of a word with the essence of an object is not limited to the sacred words of spells: it remains with words and in ordinary speech. Not only should one not call upon evil (“Do not call evil, je samoje dochi”, cf. Epistle 199), but also with the most innocent intention, in the calmest conversation one should not mention famous beings, or, at least, if speech cannot do without them, one should replace their usual and legal names with others, arbitrary and without that power. Having unintentionally said one of these words, the Little Russian villager still carefully stipulates: “not reconciling,” “not guessing before anything” (so as not to imagine or dream), the Serb says: “don’t be accepted,” when in a conversation he compares the happy with the unfortunate, the living with the dead, etc. (cf. Epistle 195), and it is difficult to determine where ordinary politeness ends here and serious fear for the life and happiness of the interlocutor begins. If by chance the tongue utters a word that is not what the thought requires, then it is not the speaker’s thought that is fulfilled, but the word. For example, when a Serbian veštica wants to fly, she smears a well-known ointment under her arms (like our witch) and says: “neither about trn, nor about grm (oak and bushes are also prickly, it seems) veh on the manure floor!” They say that one woman, having smeared herself with this ointment, accidentally said “and about trn” instead of “not about trn,” etc., and, flying, was torn on the bushes.” – Potebnya A.A. Thought and language. Decree. ed. pp. 158–159. First publisher of “Philosophy of the Name” L.A. Zander somewhat arbitrarily assigned Bulgakov's 78th note to this place in the text. In meaning, it should relate to section IV “Language and Thought”, in particular, to those passages that talk about the “natural witchcraft and witchcraft” of the word (for example, pp. 106, 107, 121.). Der Begriff ist “schlechthin das Wirkende, und zwar nicht wie die Ursache mit Scheine, ein Anderes zu wirken, sondern das Wirkende sein selbst” (Hegel. Encyclopädie der philosophischen Wissenschaften, §163). "Diese Realisierung des Begriffs ist das Objekt", §193). - A concept is, “in short, a certain agent, namely, not as a cause in relation to a phenomenon, acting on another, but acting in itself.” “This realization of the concept is an object” (German). According to Bulgakov’s interpretation of Hegel’s “panlogism” in The Tragedy of Philosophy, the latter transforms the idea, logos - the “second hypostasis” of an existential judgment - into the first, generating two other moments of substance. However, Bulgakov notes, “an idea in itself, being only a way of being, cannot give rise to being itself.” – See: Bulgakov S.N. The tragedy of philosophy. Decree. ed. P.366. In the “Philosophy of the Name,” such a “perversion” of the trinity of substance is called the “genohypostasis of the logos,” i.e. the transformation of logos into a generative principle (from the Greek: “gene” - genus). For all these questions see my Tragödie der Philosophic. Darmstadt, 1927, Reichlverlag. – “Tragedy Philosophy” was first published in a German translation by A. Kressling. See: Bulgakoiv S. Die Tragödie der Philosophic. Darmstadt: Otto Reichl Verl., 1927. 328 S. Apparently, this refers to Marx’s characterization of Hegel’s dialectic: “In Hegel, dialectics stands on its head. We need to put her on her feet in order to reveal the rational grain under the mystical shell.” – Marx K. Capital. M., 1952. P.19. Wed. with criticism of the “scientific teaching” of I.-G. Fichte, undertaken in “The Tragedy of Philosophy”: Bulgakov speaks of Fichte’s “Luciferic plan” - “to build the world in one’s own image and likeness” of the “absolute Self,” in which a split into “I” and “not-I” occurs under the influence of a “push” (“äusserer Anstoss”) in the “I” itself. According to Bulgakov, this epistemological “I, an abstract hypostasis, in my luciferic ecstasy is capable of generating my own shadow, not-I, and reigning in this kingdom of shadows, metaphysical Sheol.” – Bulgakov S.N. The tragedy of philosophy. Decree. ed. pp. 351–352. Pure beginning (German). Wed. approx. higher. Greek : nothing (pure potentiality). Scaffolding (German); here: starting point. John 1:1–3; Bulgakov writes “word” in lowercase letters in connection with his unconventional interpretation of this Gospel verse. See below. However, in the Parisian Postscriptum to “The Philosophy of the Name” he returns to traditional spelling (see p. 181). Goethe J.W. Faust. Der Tragödie Erster Teil. Studierzimmer. (“In the beginning was the Thing.”) Right there. (The beginning of the quotation is not entirely accurate. In Goethe: “Ich kann das Wort so hoch unmöglich schätzen...”). The corresponding lines of B. Pasternak’s translation: “After all, I don’t put words so highly, / To think that they are the basis for everything.” Mind... idea... thinking... thinking about thinking (Greek). Wed. with the synodal translation of John 1:14: “And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us...” Poem by M.Yu. Lermontov “There are speeches - meaning...” (1839). Quoted without the second and last stanza and with minor inaccuracies. Distilled water (lat.). Bulgakov writes about the magic of words, perhaps under the influence not so much of metaphysical as of Florensky’s “natural philosophical” (or occult) ideas. See: Florensky P.A. The magic of the word // Florensky P.A. At the watersheds of thought... P.252–273. In connection with the relationship between Bulgakov’s “philosophy of name” and the doctrine of language developed by Florensky, see our article “On the philological school of P.A. Florensky" // Studia Slavica Hung. 37. 1991–92, Budapest. pp.113–189. “Cancer” is a madman (see Matthew 5:22). Art is long lasting, life is short (lat.). From a poem by A.K. Tolstoy’s “Me, in the darkness and dust...” (1851 or 1852) with the omission of the second line of the quoted quatrain: “And the invisible world became visible to me.” Ingenii – genitive case from “ingenium” – innate characteristics, natural properties (lat.). Goethe J.W. Faust. Der Tragödie Erster Teil. Studierzimmer: "Denn eben wo Begriffe fehlen, Da stellt ein Wort zur rechten Zeit sich ein.” (“Where there are no concepts, a word is inserted at the right moment”). Wed. approx. higher. Gerber. Die Sprache als Kunst, 2-te Aufl., 1, 309: “Alle Wörter sind Lautbilder und sind in Bezug auf ihre Bedeutung an sich und vom Anfang an Tropen. Wie der Ursprung des Wortes ein künstlerischer war, so verändert es auch seine Bedeutung wesentlich durch künstlerische Intuition. Eigentliche Werte, d. h. Prosa gibt es in der Sprache nicht” (Giesswein, o. p., 119–11). – “All words are sound images and, in relation to the meaning of the images, are initially tropes. Since the origin of the word was of an artistic nature, the word changes its meaning mainly through artistic intuition. Pure meanings, i.e. there is no prose in the language" (German). "Mr. Jourdain. Honestly, I had no idea that I’ve been speaking in prose for more than forty years.” – Moliere J.-B. A tradesman among the nobility. Act two, scene six. Chapter IV from the seventh book (“Alyosha”) of “The Brothers Karamazov” by F.M. Dostoevsky. Vers libre (French) - free verse, free verse, built on an intonation-syntactic basis, not bound by constant rhyme or metric. Here is a typical example of this rationalism among the philologist’s contemporaries: “The [more precise] for us the meaning of a word, the more obscure the internal form, and vice versa. The most precise words are those in which the inner form is completely forgotten. One can often hear regret about the loss of the original picturesqueness of the old or popular language. At the same time, it should be added that, losing an old picture, language always creates a new one: we have seen that without an internal form it is impossible to change the meaning of a word, therefore, this process continues to this day. It is hardly possible to say that the new language has fewer images than the old. But things are still changing significantly. It is safe to say that the word suppressed the primitive naive man with its images. It aroused in him superstitious fear and worship of its power. This is the basis of belief in the power of conspiracies, spells and the confidence that the sorcerer “knows the word.” A modern cultured person himself masters the word and begins to understand that the word is his own creation (!!). This liberation of a person from the overwhelming meaning of his own word must certainly be accompanied by the loss of the old internal form of the word, which is the main carrier of images. The old picturesqueness of language is, of course, lost, and the language becomes more sober. But we should remember that a person is freed from the spell of the witchcraft of his own word” (D.N. Kudryavsky, ts. p., 44). By establishment (Greek). (Both terms are from Plato’s dialogue Cratylus.) “The very emptiness of the word is very important: it is this that makes the word a powerful instrument of thought. To make this even clearer, let us turn our attention to mathematics, which has brought the accuracy of its conclusions to an unusually high degree. Mathematics achieved this thanks to its special sign language. The letter designations of quantities are completely meaningless and arbitrary in themselves, but at the same time, precisely because of this conventionality and meaninglessness, they allow one to put into them a completely definite content. Language, of course, cannot achieve such a state, but in it we notice the same dependence: language becomes more precise the more meaningless the words themselves become, losing their internal form, the closer they approach a simple sign, a symbol” (ibid., 43). M. Bréal evaluates the verbal self-made work somewhat differently: “Les mots créés par les savants et les lettres ont-ils plus d’exactitude? Il n'y faut pas beaucoup compter. Au XVII siècle, Van Helmont, d’après un souvenir plus ou moins présent du néerlandais gest “esprit”, appelle gaz les corps qui ne sont ni solides, ni liquides. Cela est aussi vague et aussi incomplete que spiritus en latin ou ψυχή en grec. Dans un sentiment de partiotisme, un chimiste français, ayant découvert un nouveau métal, l’apelle gallium; un savant allemand, non moins partiote, riposte par le germanium. Designations qui nous apprennent aussi peu sur le fond des choses que les noms de Mercure ou de Jupiter données à des planètes, ou ceux d’ampère et de volt récemment donnés à des quantités en électricité” (o. p. 195). In general, Breal also believes, approaching rationalism: “Plus le mot s’est détaché de ses origines, plus il est au service de la pensée: selon les expériences que nous faisons, il se resserre ou s’étend, se spécifie ou se généralise. Il accompagne l’objet auquel il sert d’étiquette à travers les évenements de l’histoire, montant en dignité ou déscendant dans l’opinion, et passant quelquefois à l’opposé de l’acception initiale: d’autant plus apte à ces différents rôles qu'il est devenu plus complétement signe. L'altération phonétique, loin de lui nuire, lui est favorable, en ce qu'elle cache les rapports qu'il avait avec d'autres mots restés plus près du sens initial ou partis en des directions différentes. Mais alors même que l'altération phonétique n'est pas intervenue, la valeur actuelle et présente du mot exerce un tel pouvoir sur l'esprit, qu'elle nous dérobe le sentiment de la signification étymologique. Les dérivés peuvent impunément s’éloigner de leur primitif, et, d’autre part le primitif peut changer de signification sans que les dérivés soient atteints” (o. c. 196–7). – “Do words created by scientists and scholars have greater accuracy? You don't have to count on this too much. In the 17th century, Van Helmont, based on a more or less living memory of the Dutch gest (“spirit”), called “gas” neither solid nor liquid bodies. It is as vague and incomplete as the Latin spiritus or the Greek ψυχή. The French chemist who discovered the new metal calls it gallium out of patriotism; a German scientist, no less patriotic, responds to this with germanium. Names that say no more about the essence of things than the names of Mercury or Jupiter given to the planets, or amperes and volts, recently given to units of electricity. “The more a word is torn away from its origins, the better it serves thought: in accordance with the experience we acquire, it narrows or expands, specializes or becomes generalized. It accompanies the object for which it serves as a label through historical events, rising in dignity or falling in general opinion and sometimes receiving a meaning directly opposite to the original one. The closer it approaches the sign, the more suitable it is for different roles. Phonetic changes not only do not harm it, but favor it, since they hide its connection with other words that have retained greater closeness to the original meaning or have moved away from it in other directions. But even if no phonetic changes occur, the living today’s meaning of the word has such power over consciousness that it obscures the etymological meaning from us. Derivations can be removed from the original word with impunity, and, on the other hand, the original word can change its meaning without affecting the derivatives” (French). “Jede Sprache will erlernt sein, keine ist uns angeboren, auch nicht unsere Muttersprache.” Höchstens mag man vermuten, dass gleich andern Geistesanlagen auch die zu einem gewissen Sprachform vererblich ist, dass etwa ein irokesisches Kind, das nach der Geburt zu französischen Pflegeeltern kommt, schwerer französisch lernt, als es bei jenem leiblichen Eltern Irokesisch gelernt haben würde. Jeder normal entwickelter Mensch, der die Zeit der Spracherlernung hinter sich hat, handhabt seinen Muttersprache fehlerlos, solange sie ihm nicht durch fremde Einflüsse verdorben wird. Die richtige Handhabung der Muttersprache geschiet unbedacht, ohne dass der Redende sich von den Sprachgesetzen, die seine Rede bestimmen, Rechenschaft giebt... Die Sprachgesetze bilden unter sich ein organisches System, das wir den Sprachgeist nennen” (v. Gabelentz, o. c. 61–63). – “Every language is learned, none of them is innate to us, neither is our native language. At most one could assume that, like other spiritual abilities, the ability for a particular linguistic form is transmitted hereditarily, so that an Iroquois child who finds himself after birth in a French family will have more difficulty learning French than if he had learned Iroquois in his own family. Every normal, developed person who has had the time to study a language has an unmistakable command of his native language, if this is not interfered with by foreign influences. Correct handling of the native language occurs unconsciously, without the speaker being aware of the laws of the language that determine his speech... The laws of the language form an organic system, which we call the spirit of the language” (German). In articles in the collections “Symbolism”, “Green Meadow” (both 1910) and a number of other works, Andrei Bely explored the problems of meter and rhythm of verse, alliteration, the relationship between verse and prose, etc. Nothing comes from nothing (lat.). Mantrama, or more correctly mantra, is a prayer or incantation formula in Hinduism, consisting of the name of a deity and a brief address to him. To the extent that we can agree with Gerber that “Eigennamen (ὀνόματα κύρια, nomina propria) sind ebensowohl ursprünglich Gattungsnamen (ὀνόματα προσηγορικά nomina appellativa) wie die selbst. Wenn im Verkehr der Menschen untereinander man sie dazu benutzte, um einzelne, bestimmte Lebewesen oder Dinge zu bezeichen, so war damit nur eine besondere Art ihrer Verwendung geschaffen, vermöge welcher sie einzelnes durch ein Wort kennzeichneten, um es als dieses Bestimmte festhalten zu können" (o. p. 105). – “Proper names are initially the same common nouns as these latter. When it became necessary for human communication to designate individual, specific living beings or things, only one special way was found for this; with its help, people designated a specific thing with a special word in order to consolidate this certainty” (German). Apollonius also says that proper names denote a total quantity, but on individual objects (de constr. p. 103, 13), attributing to them properties of a special kind: ποιότητας κοινὰς ἢ ἰδίας, ὡς ἄνθρωπος, πλάτων. – The imposition of names was invented either for general qualities or for individual ones, for example, man, “Plato” (Greek). The designation of a proper name as ὄνομα κύριον (proprium), that is, dominant, also agrees with this. Cp. v. Gabelentz, o. c. 366: "Der Mensch nennt die Dinge nach irgendeiner hervorragenden Eigenschaft, das heisst: er ersetzt das Subjekt durch das Prädikat." - “A person names things by some outstanding property, and this means that he replaces the subject with a predicate” (German). Bréal’s opinion also deserves attention: “On peut dire qu’entre les noms propres et les noms communs il n’y a qu’une différence de degré. Ils sont, pour ainsi dire, des signes à la seconde puissance. Si le sens étymologique ne compte pour rien, nous venons de voir qu’il n’en est guère autrement des substantifs ordinaires, pour lesquelles le progrès consiste précisément à s’affranchir de leur point de départ. S’ils passent d’une langue à l’autre sans être traduits, ils ont cette particularité en commun avec beaucoup de noms de dignité, fonctions, usages, inventions, costumes etc.” (o. c. 197–8). “We can say that between proper names and common nouns there is only a difference of degree. They are, so to speak, signs of the second degree. If their etymological meaning means nothing, then, as we have seen, the same is the case with ordinary nouns, for which progress consists precisely in freeing themselves from the original meaning. “If they pass without translation from one language to another, then this same feature is inherent in many names of titles, positions, customs, inventions, clothing, etc.” (French). “All nouns initially express one of many attributes of an object, and this attribute, whether it expresses a quality or an action, is necessarily a general concept. The word thus formed was initially applied to only one object, although it almost immediately spread to the entire class of objects similar to the original. When the word rivus, river, was first formed, it referred undoubtedly to only one known river, and this river was called rivus, from the root ri or sru to run, to flow, because of its running waters. Often the word meaning river or runner remained the proper name of the river, never being a common noun. So eg. Rhenus, Rhine means river or flowing, but this word referred to one river and could not be used as a common name for other rivers. Ganges, in Sanskrit Gangà, is a name quite appropriate to the majestic river, but in Sanskrit it referred only to this sacred river. Indus, in Sanskrit Sindhu, means irrigator, from Syand to irrigate, however in this case the word did not remain a proper name, but was also used as a common noun for all large streams” (M. Müller, ts. p., 288–289). “All proper (personal and geographical) names arose from generic or common nouns, which at first received preferential use in a certain sense. It is especially easy to trace this formation in geographical names. These are eg. names: New city - Novgorod (cf. German Neustadt, Neuburg, [French] Neuchatel, Villeneuve, English Newcastle, etc.). The same are German Berg, Burg, Hof, Münster, Hochburg, Neukirch, Russian. Chistopol, Krasny Yar, Novodvor, Cool Enemy, Krutogorki, White Mountain, Ozerki, Islands, Gremyachiy spring, Sosnovy spring, Rzhavets, Berezovy streams, etc. Surnames often have a similar origin: Bespalov, Shestipaloe, Gryaznov, Smirnov, Zvyagin (a bully - a loudmouth, a loudmouth), Anokhin (anokha - a simpleton), Boldyrev (a bully - a half-breed), Krivonosov, Lomonosov, Bulychev (bulyk - an arrogant, shameless person, a rogue), Bulygin (bulyga - a large stone, a club). Surnames like Annin, Maryashkin, Tatyanchikov, Katerinich, Sofin, Marinkin, Marfin, Mashkin, etc. indicate descent from illegitimate children, etc.” (Prof. S. Bulich. Proper names; in Enz. words. Granat and Efron, 1st ed. 60, p. 667). Every definition is a negation (lat.). “The wealth of synonyms has reached an incredible degree in the Arabic language. They say that one Arab philologist compiled a whole book on the names of the lion (500 in total), another on the names of the snake (200 in total). They also say that Firutsabadi, the author of “Kamus,” compiled a book about the names of honey and, having counted more than 80 of them, admits that his list is far from complete. The same author claims that there are at least 1000 words for the sword, while others have found 400 words to express the concept of misfortune. Gummer listed the Arabic words related to camel and found 5744 of them. The Lapland language has about 30 words for deer by its gender, age, color, etc. The ancient language of the Saxons had more than 15 words to denote the sea” (E. Renan. The origin of the language, collected works. vol. VI, p. 47). Alexander - protector of people (Greek); Theodore - God's gift (Greek). Compare: “A name is a person, a personality, and this or that name is a personality of one or another typical type”; names are “formative forces that truly unite ontologically all their bearers.” – Priest Pavel Florensky. Names... P.34, 36. In his concept of proper names, Bulgakov is very close to these ideas of Florensky about the name. An expression due to Hegel. “God said that Sarah will bear you a son, and you shall call his name Isaac...” (Gen. 17:19). Creative animal, political (Greek). Name-bearing animal, naming (Greek). Belgian statistician A.L. Kegle (one of the pioneers of empirical sociology) studied statistical patterns in the social and moral sphere and explained them by natural causes. This tendency can manifest itself from the outside and in firmly established laws or customs, although, of course, it is not exhausted by them, and in general is expressed much more strongly in a dull and vague attraction to naming. Examples of such customs are numerous, here are a few: the same name is continuously given to all sons in memory of a famous ancestor (Heinrich in the Norwegian surname Reiss). Or, starting from some significant date, the eldest son always receives a well-known name (for example, in the Schmoller family the name of Gustav Adolf, starting from the battle of Lützen - In 1632, during the Thirty Years' War, the Swedish king Gustav II Adolf defeated the commander Wallenstein near the city of Lützen (Germany, Saxony), dying in this battle), etc. (Schlesinger. Geschichte des Symbols, 423). Compare: “The name is the subtlest flesh through which the spiritual essence is declared.” – Priest Pavel Florensky. Names... P.26. In linguistic literature, references to examples from children's speech are very common, which is why it would be appropriate to name here one such example from the field of onomatology: one girl at an early age resolutely and persistently refused to use the first person pronoun, replacing it with her name, so instead of I want, she said M-a want. It must be said that the correct onomatological instinct manifested itself here, thanks to which she equated the name with its bearer. The material related here was collected by P.A. Florensky in his (handwritten) essay on renaming (both secular and sacred). – Apparently, this refers to the still unpublished book by P. Florensky “Sacred Renaming” (1907), which included two course essays by Florensky, then a student at the Moscow Theological Academy (“Changing names as an external sign of change in religious consciousness,” 1906, and “On sacramental renaming in connection with the question of the baptismal renaming of the sect of runners and wanderers,” 1907 g.). See: Hegumen Andronik (Trubachev). Book “Names” by priest Pavel Florensky (source review) // Priest Pavel Florensky. Names. M.: Kupina LLP, 1993. P.304. Expressive words of priestly prayer in the liturgy of St. Basil the Great (on It is Worthy): “And those we have not remembered, through ignorance or forgetting, or through a multitude of names, remember, O God, who knew each age and name, who knew each one from his mother’s womb.” The institution of customary law described in Deuteronomy, associated with the marriage of the wife of the deceased to his brother in order to restore the family (see: Deut. 25:5). This refers to the “Athos disputes” about the name of God in the 10s of the 20th century. in the Russian Church. See the introductory note to these notes, as well as our article “On the philological school of P.A. Florensky", op. ed. pp. 147–156. Part instead of the whole (lat.). Heb.1:1; 10:1 accordingly. In the primary sense of the word (Greek). St. N. Grossu. Rev. Theodore the Studite, his time, life and creations. Kyiv. 1907, p. 170: In the definitions, ὅρος, of the Iconoclast Council of 753 (the “Iconoclastic” Council in Constantinople was convened by the Byzantine Emperor Constantine V not in 753, but in 754. For more information about the controversy surrounding this problem, see Bulgakov’s work “Icon and Icon Veneration” (in this volume) and in the notes to it) we encounter judgments that are surprisingly parallel to the current name-fighting wisdom. Here is an example: “The painter made an icon and called it Christ, and the name Christ is the name of God and man. Consequently, the icon is an icon of both God and man, and, consequently, he simultaneously described (συμπεριέγραφε), as it seemed to his feeble-mindedness, the indescribable deity with a description of the created flesh, or merged an unfused connection and fell into the unholy delusion of fusion. He thus allowed two blasphemies regarding the Divinity: describability and fusion (περιγραφή τε καὶ σύγχυσις). Those who worship icons are subject to the same blasphemy” (Mansi, 13, 252). Here are some of the Rev.'s opinions. Theodora Studite: “There is another Christ, and another icon of Christ by nature (κατὰ φύσιν), although there is also unity between them according to the indivisibility of the name (κατά ἀμερὲς τῆς κλήσεως). Therefore, when we look at the nature (φύσιν) of an icon, what we contemplate cannot be called either Christ or an icon of Christ, for the nature of the icon is made up of wood, paint, gold, silver or some other substance. When we observe what is obtained on it through the likening of the prototype, we call it both Christ and the icon of Christ. But only Christ by the sameness of the Name (κατὰ τὸ ὁμώνυμον), the icon of Christ on the basis of its relationship (κατὰ τὸ πρός τι), since the image (τὸ παράγωγον) presupposes a prototype, just like the sameness of a name is the very name of the one who is called by it” (Migne, 99, 341, cited in Grosso, c. p. 181). Wed. Creations of Rev. Theodora Studita, vol. 1, St. Petersburg, 1907, p. 127. In the same “First Refutation of Iconoclasm” we read the following remark: “Heretic: Should we worship the inscription or only the image whose name is written? And in any case, one of them, and not two? And to what exactly? Orthodox: This question is similar to someone asking whether one should worship the Gospel or the name written on it - the image of the cross or what is written on it? I would add regarding people (should they be honoured) a famous person or his name, for example. Peter and Paul, and each of the individual objects of the same kind?.. Which of the things visible with the eyes is devoid of a name? And how can that which is called (by a known name) be separated from its own name, so that we give worship to one of them, and deprive the other (of worship)? These things presuppose each other: a name is the name of what is called by it and, as it were, some natural image of the object that bears this name. In them the unity of worship is inseparable” (Tv. St. F. St., vol. I, 129). Wed. ibid pp. 140, 141. Cf. completely similar reasoning in St. Patriarch Nikephoros in his Antihereticus I, adv. Const. Sorg. (Migne, Patrologie cursus completus, ser. gr. m. 100; 318, Antih. Ill; 432). “The icon of Christ is called by His name according to the meaning of the name, therefore it is worthy of equal veneration and worship with Him” (Migne, 99, 361, A. - Grosso, 183). Further, it is indicated as evidence in defense of the holy icons, “that the Savior is called not only by the common, but also by the proper name of Jesus, which means that He is described by humanity” (ibid. 397, D. Grossu, 185). And here iconology is brought into connection with name-glorification (and, in essence, with name-glorification). The connection between onomatology and iconology is discussed in chapter VI (“Consecration of the icon and its meaning”) of Bulgakov’s book “Icon and Icon Veneration.” See this volume. In his article “Two Meetings,” Bulgakov judges the Sistine Madonna even more harshly, seeing in her the “unchastity” of the brush and erotic “impurity.” – See in the Appendices to this volume. In Indo-European dialects, the name of the Deity is borrowed mostly from the names of the forces of nature. “The primeval name for heaven underlies the name of the powerful national god in the four mythologies. Names: Skt. dyâus “sky, for heaven”, Greek Ζεύς, Latin Jupiter, German Tiu, Zio, root div “to shine” are most precisely identical with each other. That this deity is a force of nature is still quite clearly shown by the word dyâus in the Vedas, “heaven” and “god of the sky” still completely merge in him... One of the names of the sky was “enveloper,” Sanskrit varuna = Greek οὐρανός, “sky” from the root var “to clothe.” Another epithet of heaven, bhaga, from the root bhaj “to bestow,” could already in primitive times have the meaning of “dispenser of goods,” because “all good things descend from above.” In the Vedas this is a frequent epithet of the gods, in the Avesta, in the form bhaga, this word directly means “God”. The Phrygians had Βαγαῖος, according to Hesychius = Zeus. Old Slavic god is the main name of God in all Slavic languages" (Shrader. Comparative linguistics and primitive history. Linguistic and historical materials for the study of Indo-Germanic antiquity. St. Petersburg, 1886, pp. 458–460). Therefore, rationalistic, decadent skepticism, and not piety, emanates from the appeal of Aeschylus, which, due to some misunderstanding, is so welcomed by Prof. F. Zelinsky (Ancient Greek Religion, 1918, p. 56): “Zeus, whoever you are - if you are pleased that we call you by this name - we call you by this name.” This is if there is, of course, a skeptical name fight. – For other, much deeper reasons, he is hostile to every name, i.e. concrete, formed being, Eastern monism with its doctrine of Maya of all things: “The main idea of ​​Vedanta is that everything that has a name and form is transitory. The earth is transitory because it has a name and a form. The eternal sky would be a contradiction in words, just like the eternal earth, because everything that has a name and form must begin in time, continue in time and end in time” (Suomi Vivekananda. Jnani Yoga, St. Petersburg, 1914, trans. Y. K. Popov, pp. 292–293). “The Upanishads declare that this heaven, where men live with their ancestors, cannot be eternal, since everything that has name and form must die” (293–294). See: Non-Evening Light. Section Three, Chapter I, Section 6: “Light in the Darkness.” Here, for example, is a summary of the name of God, which we find in the R. Stend manual. Lehrbuch der alttestamentlichen Religionsgeschichte, 2-te Aufl. Freiburg, 1899, 277, I: “Der Name eines Dinges bedeutet im Hebräischen allerdings oft genug sein Wesen: was das ist, dass Name ist längst genannt und es ist (voraus-) gewusst, was ein Mensch ist (Eccl.6:10 vgl. Gen.2:18 ff). Öfter ist im A. T. auch vom „Namen Jahves“ als dem Inbegriff seines Wesens, besonders seiner Macht und Herrlichkeit die Rede: „Jahve ist sein Name“ oder „Jahve Zebaoth ist sein Name“ (Ex.15:3; Isa.47:3). Jahve thut seinen Namen kund, wenn er in der Befreiung und Vorherrlichung seines Volkes seine Grösse beweist (Isa.52:6, 64:1). Oft est der Name Jahves aber auch gleichbedeutend mit seiner Ehre, die durch die Sünde Israels entweiht wird (Lev.18:21), die gefürchtet und heilig gehalten (Ps.86:11, 102:16; Mal.3:1) und gepriesen sein will (Rs. 102:22). Übrigens ist der Name Jahves sehr oft so viel als seine Verehrung und sein Kultus, der in der feierlichen Anrufung seines Namens gipfelt. In diesem Sinne heisst es, dass die falschen Propheten Juda seinen Namen vergessen machen (Jer.23:27). Den Namen Jahves lieben heisst seinen Dienst lieben (Isa.56:6). Weiter ist der Name Jahves aber auch so viel als der angerufene Gott. “Es helfe dir der Name des Gottes Jakobs” (Rs.20:2). “Jene rühmen sich mit Wagen und diese mit Rossen, wir aber mit dem Namen Jahves, unseres Gottes” (Ps. 20:8), “Durch dich stossen wir unsere Dränger nieder, durch deinen Namen zertreten wir unsere Feinde” (Ps. 44:6). “Du kommst gegen mich mit Schwert und Lanze und Spiesse, ich aber komme gegen dich mit dem Namen Jahves.” (1Sam.17:45). Von da aus scheint sogar der erhörende Gott Name Jahves zu heissen: “Dien Name ist gütig” (Ps. 52:11, 54:8, 135:3). Hierbei gehört nun ohne Frage die Stelle Ex.20:24: “an allen Orten, wo ich eine Verehrung meines Namens stiften werde.” Ebenso nennt Isaja (Isa.18:7) Jerusalem den Ort des Namens Jahves und ebenso sind die deuteronomischen Wendungen zu verstehen, wonach Jahve seinen Namen nach Jerusalem gesetzt hat (1Ki.9:3), ihn dort wohnen lässt oder sein Name dort ist (1Ki.8:16, 29). Überall ist da der Name Jahves der für den Kultus gegenwärtige Gott.” Vgl. bes. (1Ki.8:29). – “The name of a thing quite often means in Hebrew its essence: what exists has already been given a name, and it is known that it is a person (Eccl. 6:10; cf. Gen. 2:18). Also in the Old Testament we often speak about the “Name of Yahweh” as the inner meaning of His Being, especially about His power and glory; “Yahweh is His Name” or “Yahweh of Hosts is His Name” (Exodus 15:3; Exodus 48:3). Yahweh makes His Name known when He proves His greatness to His people by liberating and exalting them (Isa. 52:6, 64:1). But also the Name of Yahweh is often close in meaning to the honor that is taken away from Israel because of its sins (Lev. 18:21), which terrifies, sanctifies (Ps. 86:11, 102:16; Mal. 3:1) and rewards (Ps. 103:22). However, the Name of Yahweh is very often identical with His worship and his cult, which reaches its apotheosis in the solemn proclamation of His Name. In this sense, we must understand that the Jewish false prophets subjected His Name to oblivion (Jer. 23:27). Loving the Name of Yahweh means loving serving Him (Isa. 56:6). But further, the Name of Yahweh is identical to the invoked God himself. “The Name of the God of Jacob will protect you” (Ps. 20:2). “These on chariots, and these on horses, we will call in the Name of the Lord our God” (Ps. 20:8). “Because of You we will tear down our enemies’ horns, and because of Your Name we will despise those who rise up against us” (Ps. 44:6). “You come against me with sword and spear and shield, but I come against you in the Name of the Lord of Hosts” (1 Samuel 17:45 [I Sam.]). It seems that God, who listens to man, is called by the Name of Yahweh: “Your Name is good” (Ps. 52:11, 54:8, 135:3). At the same time, there remains no doubt here the position of the book of Exodus, Exodus 20:24: “In every place where I will place a memorial of My Name.” Also Isaiah (Is. 18:7) calls Jerusalem the place of the Name of Yahweh; the statements in the Deuteronomic books should be understood similarly [i.e. in the second section of the Hebrew Bible, after the Pentateuch], according to which Yahweh imposed His Name on Jerusalem (1 Kings 9:3), allowing Himself or His Name to abide there (1 Kings 8:16-29). Everywhere the Name of Yahweh is the Name of God present in the cult. Wed. 1 Kings 8:29" (German). The numbering of the psalms is given in accordance with the Western tradition (starting from the 9th – 10th psalms, one more serial number than in the Orthodox Bible). The Council of Constantinople in 1341 ended the Palamite disputes, confirming the teachings of St. Gregory Palamas, distinguishing between the unknowable essence and the energies of God descending into the created world. Judges 13:18. Bulgakov contaminated this place with the answer of the Fighter to Jacob-Israel. See below. Lev.19:12: “Thou shalt not swear falsely by My Name, nor dishonor the Name of thy God” (this is not part of a decalogue, but a general statement of the requirements of holiness). The names of the gods in paganism, also due to reverence for them, were sometimes avoided to be mentioned; this was the case, for example, in Rome, where “the real names of the gods were considered taboo, because revealing them would make it possible to “call” them. That is why we know mainly epithets that replace divine names. Even the city of Rome had a secret name, used only during the most solemn addresses. Its secret was so well guarded that it remained unknown to us” (Solomon Reinach. Orpheus, General History of Religions, 121). There is a parallel here - the story of 2 Chronicles 6:5-10: “From the day that I brought My people out of the land of Egypt, I did not choose a city in any of the tribes of Israel to build a house in which My Name would dwell, but I chose Jerusalem that My Name would dwell there. And it was in the heart of David my father to build a house for the Name of the Lord God of Israel. But the Lord said to David my father: It is in your heart to build a house for the Name of the Lord; It's good that you have this in your heart. However, it is not you who will build the church, but your son, who will come from your loins, he will build the church of My Name. And the Lord laid down His word, which He said: I... have built a church for My Name.” Parallel – 2 Chronicles 6:32-33: “Even the foreigner who is not of Your people Israel, when he comes from a far land for the sake of Your great name and Your mighty hand and Your outstretched arm, and comes and prays at this church, Thou shalt hear from heaven, from Thy dwelling place, so that all nations may know Your name, and that they may fear You as a people. Yours is Israel, and they knew that this house which I built is called by Your Name.” The following can also be cited as parallels: Jer.32:34: “And in this house, which is called by My Name, they set up their abominations, desecrating it,” Jer.34:15–16: “And they made a covenant with Me in the house, which is called by My Name, but then they changed their minds and profaned My Name.” The same idea is less clearly expressed by the prophet. Ezekiel, in his description of the temple of Jerusalem. After entering the Church of the Glory of God, a voice is heard from there: “Son of man! this is the place of My throne and the place of the soles of My feet, where I will dwell among the children of Israel forever; and the house of Israel shall no more profane My holy Name... They set their threshold at My threshold, and the railings of their doors beside My doors, so that there was one wall between Me and them, and they profaned My holy Name with their abominations” (Ezek. 43:7-8). Here it is necessary to highlight, on the one hand, the names of God, given on different occasions: “And (Hagar) called the Lord who spoke to her this sign: You are the God who sees me, for, she said, as if I saw the trace of him who saw me” (Gen. 16:13). “The Lord is a man of war, Jehovah is the name of God” (Exodus 15:3), “The Lord is your name; crush them with your strength” (Judith 9:8). “Unto us a child is born, unto us a son is given; the government is upon His shoulder; and His name will be called Wonderful, Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace” (Isaiah 9:6). “I am the Lord, this is My Name” (Is.42:8). “Our Redeemer is the Lord of hosts—His name is the Holy One of Israel” (Is.47:4). “The Lord of hosts is His name” (Is.48:2). “The Lord of hosts is His name... He will be called God of the whole earth” (Is. 54:5, 51:15). “Holy is His name” (Is.57:15), “Thy name has been from everlasting: Our Redeemer” (Is.63:16). “His name is the Lord of hosts” (Jer. 50:34). “They will know that My name is the Lord” (Jer. 16:21). “And this is His Name (Branches) by which they will call Him: The Lord is our justification” (Jer.23:6 = Jer.23:16). “The Lord is His name” (Jer. 23:2). “As I live, says the King, whose name is the Lord of hosts” (Jer.46:18 = Jer.50:34 = Jer.51:19). “And from that day on, says the Lord, you will call Me: my husband, and you will no longer call Me: Baali (my lord)” (Hosea 2:16). On the other hand, it is necessary to indicate those extremely numerous cases where the expression “Name of God” is used both in its own immediate sense and signifies the Divinity itself. “And Abram called on the name of the Lord” (Gen. 13:4, cf. Gen. 21:33). “...buy it. to himself as a people and to glorify his name” (2 Samuel 7:23, cf. 26). “In every place where I place a memorial of My Name, I will come to you and bless you” (Ex. 20:24). “Fear the Lord your God, serve Him (alone).” “Swear by His Name” (Deut. 6:13, cf. Deut. 10:20). “And do not give your children to serve Molech and do not dishonor My Name. I am the Lord” (Lev.18:21). “Praise the Lord, proclaim His Name...boast in His holy Name. Let (Aaron and his sons) call on My name on the children of Israel, and I (the Lord) will bless them” (1 Chronicles 16:8, 10; Numbers 6:27), “by His holy name” (cf. 1 Chronicles 29:13), “...to revere Your Name” (Neh. 1:11). “...Blessed are You, O Lord My God, and praised and glorified is Your Name forever” (Tob.3:11, cf. Tob.8:5, 11:13). “It is a good thing to bless God, to exalt His Name and reverently preach His works” (Tov.12:6). “Many nations from afar will come to the Name of the Lord God with gifts in their hands, with gifts to the King of Heaven” (Tov.13:11). “And Judith said: Lift up and call upon His Name” (Judith.16:1). “Blessed be the name of the Lord” (Job 1:21). “The righteous... have sung Your holy Name, O Lord” (Wis. 10:20). “Let them glorify His holy Name” (Sir.17:8). “Magnify His Name” (Sir.39:19); Wed Sir.23:9, 45:19, 47:20–21, 51:1, 15, 17). “And you will say on that day: glorify the Lord, call on His Name, proclaim His works among the nations, remind them that His Name is great” (Is. 12:4). “Praise the Lord in the east, on the isles of the sea, the name of the God of Israel” (Isa. 4:15). “Our soul longed for Your name and the remembrance of You” (Is. 26:8). “Through You alone we glorify Your holy Name” (Is. 26:13). “They will honor My name holy and honor the Holy One of Jacob” (Is. 29:23). “You will call on My name” (Isaiah 41:25). “Let him trust in the Name of the Lord and be strong in his God” (Isaiah 50:10). “Every day My name is dishonored. Therefore my people will know my name... that I am the same who said, “Here I am” (Is. 52:5-6). “Love the Name of the Lord” (Is. 56:6). “And they shall fear the Name of the Lord in the west, and His glory shall be at the rising of the sun” (Isaiah 59:19). Further compare Isaiah 60:9, 63:12–14, 16, 64:2, 64:7. - “At that time Jerusalem will be called the throne of the Lord, and all nations will be gathered in Jerusalem for the name of the Lord” (Jer. 3:17). “There is none like You, O Lord, You are great and Your Name is great in power” (Jer. 10:6). “Thou, O Lord, do unto us for Thy Name’s sake” (Jer. 14:7). “You, Lord, are among us. Your name is called upon us” (Jer. 14:9). Wed. Jer.14:14–15, 21, 20:9, 23:25, 27, 27:15 (= Jer.29:9); 44:26; Prom. 3:55 – “I acted for My name’s sake, so that it would not be blasphemed before the nations, in whose sight I brought them out” (Ezek. 20:14). “Profane My Name no more with your gifts” (Ezek. 20:39). Wed. Ezek.36:21 (= Ezek.36:22–23); Ezek.39:7, 25, 43:7–8). “And Daniel said, Blessed be the name of the Lord from henceforth even for ever” (Dan. 2:20). Joel.2:26 – Am.6:10 – “And he will stand and feed in the power of the Lord, in the greatness of the name of the Lord his God” (Mic.5:4). – Zechariah 13:9 – “From the east of the sun to the west, my name will be great among the nations, and in every place they will offer incense to my name, a pure sacrifice; My name will be great among the nations... My name is terrible among the nations” (Mal. 1:11, 14). Wed. Mal.2:2, 5, 3:6. The most common expression is “The Name of God” in the Psalter as a liturgical book. Without setting out to give a complete list of relevant passages, we will cite some: Ps.5:12, Ps.8:2, 10, Ps.9:3, 11, Ps.19:2, 8, Ps.21:23, Ps.28:2, Ps.32:21, Ps.44:18, Ps.47:11, Ps.53:3, 8, Ps.60:9, Ps.62:5, Ps.65:2, 4, Ps.67:5, Ps.68:31, Ps.71:17, 19, Ps.73:10, 21, Ps.74:2, Ps.75:2, Ps.78:9, Ps.82:17, 19, Ps.85:11–12, Ps.88:25, Ps.90:14, Ps.104:1, Ps.105:47, Ps.108:21, Ps.110:9, Ps.112:1–2, Ps.116:4, Ps.119:55, 132, Ps.128:8, Ps.137:2, Ps.144:1-2, Ps.148:5. For a list of passages from the Psalter mentioning the Holy Name of God, see Jer. Anthony (Bulatovich). Apology (Hieroschemamonk Anthony (Bulatovich). Apology of faith in the Name of God and in the Name of Jesus. M., 1913), etc. The sacred tetragram is the “four-letter” of the Hebrew alphabet, denoting the Name of God in the Old Testament (Yahweh - Jehovah - Jehovah). Text from the Easter Hours. This refers to an episode in the history of the “Athos Troubles.” Spirit, soul, character (lat.); here: mood. 1 Corinthians 6:11. These words are part of the sacrament of Baptism. This refers to the book of Schemamonk Hilarion “On the Caucasus Mountains,” which caused “Athos disputes.” Essence... object (lat.). Compare: “...The name of God is God Himself. But He is not the Name"; “The name is inseparable from the Lord, but this does not mean that it cannot be distinguished from the Lord.” – Florensky P.A. Imeslavie as a philosophical prerequisite. : Excerpt from a letter written by P.A. Florensky at the request of Fr. Archimandrite David in response to a letter from the Athonite Imeslavites from the Caucasus, 1923. II. 6. art. // Florensky P.A. At the watersheds of thought... P.337. There is no such place in the Great Canon of St. Andrew of Crete; Bulgakov, rather, conveys the main meaning of the Trinity Troparions of the Canon, which poetically reveal the idea of ​​the Divine Trinity. Wed. Bulgakov’s search for the single name of the Trinitarian God with the simpler approach of Florensky, based on the baptismal formula “In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit,” expressing the consubstantiality of the Divine Hypostases by indicating the Divine name that corresponds to this consubstantiality. – Florensky P.A. The Pillar and Ground of Truth. M., 1990. T.1, part 1. pp.54–55. See Chapter on the Trinity, Part I, Excursions (Orthodox Thought, I). – See: Prot. S. Bulgakov. Chapters on the Trinity (especially, “Excursus: The Doctrine of Hypostasis and Essence in Eastern and Western Theology”) // – Orthodox Thought. Paris, 1928, no. 1. P.31–88. According to Bulgakov, “all Catholic theology in the teaching about St. The Trinity has one common style, which is characterized by one-sided essentialism in the teaching about St. Trinity and corresponding impersonalism,” the exaltation of ousia at the expense of hypostases (pp. 80–81). The Council of Reims in 1148, based on the accusations of Bernard of Clairvaux, condemned the theologian and philosopher Gilbert Poirot (Gilbert de la Porre, Gilbert of Porretan) for deviating into the heresy of tritheism (tritheism), that is, for deviating from the dogmatic doctrine of the one nature of the Trinitarian God. As for the actual philosophical views of Gilbert Poirot, he developed the idea of ​​the complete correspondence of things to their reflection in thinking and language: the logic of knowledge of things is the logic of the things themselves. And further this same connection of glory (in the form of a cloud) and the name is manifested in the following text: “and the Lord descended in the cloud and stood there near him and proclaimed the Name of Jehovah” (Ex. 34:5). This date refers only to Bulgakov’s postscript to “The Philosophy of the Name.”