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diff --git a/old/10615-0.txt b/old/10615-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 70a3b6f..0000000 --- a/old/10615-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,14719 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of An Essay Concerning Humane Understanding, by by John Locke - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: An Essay Concerning Humane Understanding - Volume I. MDCXC, Based on the 2nd Edition, Books I. and II. (of 4) - -Author: John Locke - -Release Date: January 6, 2004 [eBook #10615] -[Most recently updated: November 13, 2022] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -Produced by: Steve Harris and David Widger - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AN ESSAY CONCERNING HUMANE UNDERSTANDING *** - - - - -An Essay Concerning Humane Understanding - -IN FOUR BOOKS - -By John Locke - -[image] - - -_Quam bellum est velle confiteri potius nescire quod nescias, quam ista -effutientem nauseare, atque ipsum sibi displicere!_ - -Cic. de Natur. Deor. _l_. 1. - - - - -LONDON: - -Printed by Eliz. Holt, for Thomas Basset, at the George in Fleet Street, near -St. Dunstan’s Church. - -MDCXC - - - - -CONTENTS - - THE EPISTLE TO THE READER - ESSAY CONCERNING HUMANE UNDERSTANDING. - - BOOK I NEITHER PRINCIPLES NOR IDEAS ARE INNATE - CHAPTER I. INTRODUCTION. - CHAPTER II. NO INNATE SPECULATIVE PRINCIPLES. - CHAPTER III. NO INNATE PRACTICAL PRINCIPLES - CHAPTER IV. OTHER CONSIDERATIONS CONCERNING INNATE PRINCIPLES, BOTH SPECULATIVE AND PRACTICAL. - - BOOK II OF IDEAS - CHAPTER I. OF IDEAS IN GENERAL, AND THEIR ORIGINAL. - CHAPTER II. OF SIMPLE IDEAS. - CHAPTER III. OF SIMPLE IDEAS OF SENSE. - CHAPTER IV. IDEA OF SOLIDITY. - CHAPTER V. OF SIMPLE IDEAS OF DIVERS SENSES. - CHAPTER VI. OF SIMPLE IDEAS OF REFLECTION. - CHAPTER VII. OF SIMPLE IDEAS OF BOTH SENSATION AND REFLECTION. - CHAPTER VIII. SOME FURTHER CONSIDERATIONS CONCERNING OUR SIMPLE IDEAS OF SENSATION. - CHAPTER IX. OF PERCEPTION. - CHAPTER X. OF RETENTION. - CHAPTER XI. OF DISCERNING, AND OTHER OPERATIONS OF THE MIND. - CHAPTER XII. OF COMPLEX IDEAS. - CHAPTER XIII. COMPLEX IDEAS OF SIMPLE MODES:—AND FIRST, OF THE SIMPLE MODES OF IDEA OF SPACE. - CHAPTER XIV. IDEA OF DURATION AND ITS SIMPLE MODES. - CHAPTER XV. IDEAS OF DURATION AND EXPANSION, CONSIDERED TOGETHER. - CHAPTER XVI. IDEA OF NUMBER. - CHAPTER XVII. OF INFINITY. - CHAPTER XVIII. OTHER SIMPLE MODES. - CHAPTER XIX. OF THE MODES OF THINKING. - CHAPTER XX. OF MODES OF PLEASURE AND PAIN. - CHAPTER XXI. OF POWER. - CHAPTER XXII. OF MIXED MODES. - CHAPTER XXIII. OF OUR COMPLEX IDEAS OF SUBSTANCES. - CHAPTER XXIV. OF COLLECTIVE IDEAS OF SUBSTANCES. - CHAPTER XXV. OF RELATION. - CHAPTER XXVI. OF CAUSE AND EFFECT, AND OTHER RELATIONS. - CHAPTER XXVII. OF IDENTITY AND DIVERSITY. - CHAPTER XXVIII. OF OTHER RELATIONS. - CHAPTER XXIX. OF CLEAR AND OBSCURE, DISTINCT AND CONFUSED IDEAS. - CHAPTER XXX. OF REAL AND FANTASTICAL IDEAS. - CHAPTER XXXI. OF ADEQUATE AND INADEQUATE IDEAS. - CHAPTER XXXII. OF TRUE AND FALSE IDEAS. - CHAPTER XXXIII. OF THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. - - - - -TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE THOMAS, EARL OF PEMBROKE AND MONTGOMERY, BARON -HERBERT OF CARDIFF LORD ROSS, OF KENDAL, PAR, FITZHUGH, MARMION, ST. -QUINTIN, AND SHURLAND; - -LORD PRESIDENT OF HIS MAJESTY’S MOST HONOURABLE PRIVY COUNCIL; AND LORD -LIEUTENANT OF THE COUNTY OF WILTS, AND OF SOUTH WALES. - -MY LORD, - -This Treatise, which is grown up under your lordship’s eye, and has -ventured into the world by your order, does now, by a natural kind of -right, come to your lordship for that protection which you several -years since promised it. It is not that I think any name, how great -soever, set at the beginning of a book, will be able to cover the -faults that are to be found in it. Things in print must stand and fall -by their own worth, or the reader’s fancy. But there being nothing more -to be desired for truth than a fair unprejudiced hearing, nobody is -more likely to procure me that than your lordship, who are allowed to -have got so intimate an acquaintance with her, in her more retired -recesses. Your lordship is known to have so far advanced your -speculations in the most abstract and general knowledge of things, -beyond the ordinary reach or common methods, that your allowance and -approbation of the design of this Treatise will at least preserve it -from being condemned without reading, and will prevail to have those -parts a little weighed, which might otherwise perhaps be thought to -deserve no consideration, for being somewhat out of the common road. -The imputation of Novelty is a terrible charge amongst those who judge -of men’s heads, as they do of their perukes, by the fashion, and can -allow none to be right but the received doctrines. Truth scarce ever -yet carried it by vote anywhere at its first appearance: new opinions -are always suspected, and usually opposed, without any other reason but -because they are not already common. But truth, like gold, is not the -less so for being newly brought out of the mine. It is trial and -examination must give it price, and not any antique fashion; and though -it be not yet current by the public stamp, yet it may, for all that, be -as old as nature, and is certainly not the less genuine. Your lordship -can give great and convincing instances of this, whenever you please to -oblige the public with some of those large and comprehensive -discoveries you have made of truths hitherto unknown, unless to some -few, from whom your lordship has been pleased not wholly to conceal -them. This alone were a sufficient reason, were there no other, why I -should dedicate this Essay to your lordship; and its having some little -correspondence with some parts of that nobler and vast system of the -sciences your lordship has made so new, exact, and instructive a -draught of, I think it glory enough, if your lordship permit me to -boast, that here and there I have fallen into some thoughts not wholly -different from yours. If your lordship think fit that, by your -encouragement, this should appear in the world, I hope it may be a -reason, some time or other, to lead your lordship further; and you will -allow me to say, that you here give the world an earnest of something -that, if they can bear with this, will be truly worth their -expectation. This, my lord, shows what a present I here make to your -lordship; just such as the poor man does to his rich and great -neighbour, by whom the basket of flowers or fruit is not ill taken, -though he has more plenty of his own growth, and in much greater -perfection. Worthless things receive a value when they are made the -offerings of respect, esteem, and gratitude: these you have given me so -mighty and peculiar reasons to have, in the highest degree, for your -lordship, that if they can add a price to what they go along with, -proportionable to their own greatness, I can with confidence brag, I -here make your lordship the richest present you ever received. This I -am sure, I am under the greatest obligations to seek all occasions to -acknowledge a long train of favours I have received from your lordship; -favours, though great and important in themselves, yet made much more -so by the forwardness, concern, and kindness, and other obliging -circumstances, that never failed to accompany them. To all this you are -pleased to add that which gives yet more weight and relish to all the -rest: you vouchsafe to continue me in some degrees of your esteem, and -allow me a place in your good thoughts, I had almost said friendship. -This, my lord, your words and actions so constantly show on all -occasions, even to others when I am absent, that it is not vanity in me -to mention what everybody knows: but it would be want of good manners -not to acknowledge what so many are witnesses of, and every day tell me -I am indebted to your lordship for. I wish they could as easily assist -my gratitude, as they convince me of the great and growing engagements -it has to your lordship. This I am sure, I should write of the -UNDERSTANDING without having any, if I were not extremely sensible of -them, and did not lay hold on this opportunity to testify to the world -how much I am obliged to be, and how much I am, - -MY LORD, - -Your Lordship’s most humble and most obedient servant, - -JOHN LOCKE - -2 Dorset Court, 24th of May, 1689 - - - - -THE EPISTLE TO THE READER - -READER, - -I have put into thy hands what has been the diversion of some of my -idle and heavy hours. If it has the good luck to prove so of any of -thine, and thou hast but half so much pleasure in reading as I had in -writing it, thou wilt as little think thy money, as I do my pains, ill -bestowed. Mistake not this for a commendation of my work; nor conclude, -because I was pleased with the doing of it, that therefore I am fondly -taken with it now it is done. He that hawks at larks and sparrows has -no less sport, though a much less considerable quarry, than he that -flies at nobler game: and he is little acquainted with the subject of -this treatise—the UNDERSTANDING—who does not know that, as it is the -most elevated faculty of the soul, so it is employed with a greater and -more constant delight than any of the other. Its searches after truth -are a sort of hawking and hunting, wherein the very pursuit makes a -great part of the pleasure. Every step the mind takes in its progress -towards Knowledge makes some discovery, which is not only new, but the -best too, for the time at least. - -For the understanding, like the eye, judging of objects only by its own -sight, cannot but be pleased with what it discovers, having less regret -for what has escaped it, because it is unknown. Thus he who has raised -himself above the alms-basket, and, not content to live lazily on -scraps of begged opinions, sets his own thoughts on work, to find and -follow truth, will (whatever he lights on) not miss the hunter’s -satisfaction; every moment of his pursuit will reward his pains with -some delight; and he will have reason to think his time not ill spent, -even when he cannot much boast of any great acquisition. - -This, Reader, is the entertainment of those who let loose their own -thoughts, and follow them in writing; which thou oughtest not to envy -them, since they afford thee an opportunity of the like diversion, if -thou wilt make use of thy own thoughts in reading. It is to them, if -they are thy own, that I refer myself: but if they are taken upon trust -from others, it is no great matter what they are; they are not -following truth, but some meaner consideration; and it is not worth -while to be concerned what he says or thinks, who says or thinks only -as he is directed by another. If thou judgest for thyself I know thou -wilt judge candidly, and then I shall not be harmed or offended, -whatever be thy censure. For though it be certain that there is nothing -in this Treatise of the truth whereof I am not fully persuaded, yet I -consider myself as liable to mistakes as I can think thee, and know -that this book must stand or fall with thee, not by any opinion I have -of it, but thy own. If thou findest little in it new or instructive to -thee, thou art not to blame me for it. It was not meant for those that -had already mastered this subject, and made a thorough acquaintance -with their own understandings; but for my own information, and the -satisfaction of a few friends, who acknowledged themselves not to have -sufficiently considered it. - -Were it fit to trouble thee with the history of this Essay, I should -tell thee, that five or six friends meeting at my chamber, and -discoursing on a subject very remote from this, found themselves -quickly at a stand, by the difficulties that rose on every side. After -we had awhile puzzled ourselves, without coming any nearer a resolution -of those doubts which perplexed us, it came into my thoughts that we -took a wrong course; and that before we set ourselves upon inquiries of -that nature, it was necessary to examine our own abilities, and see -what OBJECTS our understandings were, or were not, fitted to deal with. -This I proposed to the company, who all readily assented; and thereupon -it was agreed that this should be our first inquiry. Some hasty and -undigested thoughts, on a subject I had never before considered, which -I set down against our next meeting, gave the first entrance into this -Discourse; which having been thus begun by chance, was continued by -intreaty; written by incoherent parcels; and after long intervals of -neglect, resumed again, as my humour or occasions permitted; and at -last, in a retirement where an attendance on my health gave me leisure, -it was brought into that order thou now seest it. - -This discontinued way of writing may have occasioned, besides others, -two contrary faults, viz., that too little and too much may be said in -it. If thou findest anything wanting, I shall be glad that what I have -written gives thee any desire that I should have gone further. If it -seems too much to thee, thou must blame the subject; for when I put pen -to paper, I thought all I should have to say on this matter would have -been contained in one sheet of paper; but the further I went the larger -prospect I had; new discoveries led me still on, and so it grew -insensibly to the bulk it now appears in. I will not deny, but possibly -it might be reduced to a narrower compass than it is, and that some -parts of it might be contracted, the way it has been writ in, by -catches, and many long intervals of interruption, being apt to cause -some repetitions. But to confess the truth, I am now too lazy, or too -busy, to make it shorter. I am not ignorant how little I herein consult -my own reputation, when I knowingly let it go with a fault, so apt to -disgust the most judicious, who are always the nicest readers. But they -who know sloth is apt to content itself with any excuse, will pardon me -if mine has prevailed on me, where I think I have a very good one. I -will not therefore allege in my defence, that the same notion, having -different respects, may be convenient or necessary to prove or -illustrate several parts of the same discourse, and that so it has -happened in many parts of this: but waiving that, I shall frankly avow -that I have sometimes dwelt long upon the same argument, and expressed -it different ways, with a quite different design. I pretend not to -publish this Essay for the information of men of large thoughts and -quick apprehensions; to such masters of knowledge I profess myself a -scholar, and therefore warn them beforehand not to expect anything -here, but what, being spun out of my own coarse thoughts, is fitted to -men of my own size, to whom, perhaps, it will not be unacceptable that -I have taken some pains to make plain and familiar to their thoughts -some truths which established prejudice, or the abstractedness of the -ideas themselves, might render difficult. Some objects had need be -turned on every side; and when the notion is new, as I confess some of -these are to me; or out of the ordinary road, as I suspect they will -appear to others, it is not one simple view of it that will gain it -admittance into every understanding, or fix it there with a clear and -lasting impression. There are few, I believe, who have not observed in -themselves or others, that what in one way of proposing was very -obscure, another way of expressing it has made very clear and -intelligible; though afterwards the mind found little difference in the -phrases, and wondered why one failed to be understood more than the -other. But everything does not hit alike upon every man’s imagination. -We have our understandings no less different than our palates; and he -that thinks the same truth shall be equally relished by every one in -the same dress, may as well hope to feast every one with the same sort -of cookery: the meat may be the same, and the nourishment good, yet -every one not be able to receive it with that seasoning; and it must be -dressed another way, if you will have it go down with some, even of -strong constitutions. The truth is, those who advised me to publish it, -advised me, for this reason, to publish it as it is: and since I have -been brought to let it go abroad, I desire it should be understood by -whoever gives himself the pains to read it. I have so little affection -to be in print, that if I were not flattered this Essay might be of -some use to others, as I think it has been to me, I should have -confined it to the view of some friends, who gave the first occasion to -it. My appearing therefore in print being on purpose to be as useful as -I may, I think it necessary to make what I have to say as easy and -intelligible to all sorts of readers as I can. And I had much rather -the speculative and quick-sighted should complain of my being in some -parts tedious, than that any one, not accustomed to abstract -speculations, or prepossessed with different notions, should mistake or -not comprehend my meaning. - -It will possibly be censured as a great piece of vanity or insolence in -me, to pretend to instruct this our knowing age; it amounting to little -less, when I own, that I publish this Essay with hopes it may be useful -to others. But, if it may be permitted to speak freely of those who -with a feigned modesty condemn as useless what they themselves write, -methinks it savours much more of vanity or insolence to publish a book -for any other end; and he fails very much of that respect he owes the -public, who prints, and consequently expects men should read, that -wherein he intends not they should meet with anything of use to -themselves or others: and should nothing else be found allowable in -this Treatise, yet my design will not cease to be so; and the goodness -of my intention ought to be some excuse for the worthlessness of my -present. It is that chiefly which secures me from the fear of censure, -which I expect not to escape more than better writers. Men’s -principles, notions, and relishes are so different, that it is hard to -find a book which pleases or displeases all men. I acknowledge the age -we live in is not the least knowing, and therefore not the most easy to -be satisfied. If I have not the good luck to please, yet nobody ought -to be offended with me. I plainly tell all my readers, except half a -dozen, this Treatise was not at first intended for them; and therefore -they need not be at the trouble to be of that number. But yet if any -one thinks fit to be angry and rail at it, he may do it securely, for I -shall find some better way of spending my time than in such kind of -conversation. I shall always have the satisfaction to have aimed -sincerely at truth and usefulness, though in one of the meanest ways. -The commonwealth of learning is not at this time without -master-builders, whose mighty designs, in advancing the sciences, will -leave lasting monuments to the admiration of posterity: but every one -must not hope to be a Boyle or a Sydenham; and in an age that produces -such masters as the great Huygenius and the incomparable Mr. Newton, -with some others of that strain, it is ambition enough to be employed -as an under-labourer in clearing the ground a little, and removing some -of the rubbish that lies in the way to knowledge;—which certainly had -been very much more advanced in the world, if the endeavours of -ingenious and industrious men had not been much cumbered with the -learned but frivolous use of uncouth, affected, or unintelligible -terms, introduced into the sciences, and there made an art of, to that -degree that Philosophy, which is nothing but the true knowledge of -things, was thought unfit or incapable to be brought into well-bred -company and polite conversation. Vague and insignificant forms of -speech, and abuse of language, have so long passed for mysteries of -science; and hard and misapplied words, with little or no meaning, -have, by prescription, such a right to be mistaken for deep learning -and height of speculation, that it will not be easy to persuade either -those who speak or those who hear them, that they are but the covers of -ignorance, and hindrance of true knowledge. To break in upon the -sanctuary of vanity and ignorance will be, I suppose, some service to -human understanding; though so few are apt to think they deceive or are -deceived in the use of words; or that the language of the sect they are -of has any faults in it which ought to be examined or corrected, that I -hope I shall be pardoned if I have in the Third Book dwelt long on this -subject, and endeavoured to make it so plain, that neither the -inveterateness of the mischief, nor the prevalency of the fashion, -shall be any excuse for those who will not take care about the meaning -of their own words, and will not suffer the significancy of their -expressions to be inquired into. - -I have been told that a short Epitome of this Treatise, which was -printed in 1688, was by some condemned without reading, because INNATE -IDEAS were denied in it; they too hastily concluding, that if innate -ideas were not supposed, there would be little left either of the -notion or proof of spirits. If any one take the like offence at the -entrance of this Treatise, I shall desire him to read it through; and -then I hope he will be convinced, that the taking away false -foundations is not to the prejudice but advantage of truth, which is -never injured or endangered so much as when mixed with, or built on, -falsehood. In the Second Edition I added as followeth:— - -The bookseller will not forgive me if I say nothing of this New -Edition, which he has promised, by the correctness of it, shall make -amends for the many faults committed in the former. He desires too, -that it should be known that it has one whole new chapter concerning -Identity, and many additions and amendments in other places. These I -must inform my reader are not all new matter, but most of them either -further confirmation of what I had said, or explications, to prevent -others being mistaken in the sense of what was formerly printed, and -not any variation in me from it. - -I must only except the alterations I have made in Book II. chap. xxi. - -What I had there written concerning Liberty and the Will, I thought -deserved as accurate a view as I am capable of; those subjects having -in all ages exercised the learned part of the world with questions and -difficulties, that have not a little perplexed morality and divinity, -those parts of knowledge that men are most concerned to be clear in. -Upon a closer inspection into the working of men’s minds, and a -stricter examination of those motives and views they are turned by, I -have found reason somewhat to alter the thoughts I formerly had -concerning that which gives the last determination to the Will in all -voluntary actions. This I cannot forbear to acknowledge to the world -with as much freedom and readiness; as I at first published what then -seemed to me to be right; thinking myself more concerned to quit and -renounce any opinion of my own, than oppose that of another, when truth -appears against it. For it is truth alone I seek, and that will always -be welcome to me, when or from whencesoever it comes. But what -forwardness soever I have to resign any opinion I have, or to recede -from anything I have writ, upon the first evidence of any error in it; -yet this I must own, that I have not had the good luck to receive any -light from those exceptions I have met with in print against any part -of my book, nor have, from anything that has been urged against it, -found reason to alter my sense in any of the points that have been -questioned. Whether the subject I have in hand requires often more -thought and attention than cursory readers, at least such as are -prepossessed, are willing to allow; or whether any obscurity in my -expressions casts a cloud over it, and these notions are made difficult -to others’ apprehensions in my way of treating them; so it is, that my -meaning, I find, is often mistaken, and I have not the good luck to be -everywhere rightly understood. - -Of this the ingenious author of the Discourse Concerning the Nature of -Man has given me a late instance, to mention no other. For the civility -of his expressions, and the candour that belongs to his order, forbid -me to think that he would have closed his Preface with an insinuation, -as if in what I had said, Book II. ch. xxvii, concerning the third rule -which men refer their actions to, I went about to make virtue vice and -vice virtue, unless he had mistaken my meaning; which he could not have -done if he had given himself the trouble to consider what the argument -was I was then upon, and what was the chief design of that chapter, -plainly enough set down in the fourth section and those following. For -I was there not laying down moral rules, but showing the original and -nature of moral ideas, and enumerating the rules men make use of in -moral relations, whether these rules were true or false: and pursuant -thereto I tell what is everywhere called virtue and vice; which “alters -not the nature of things,” though men generally do judge of and -denominate their actions according to the esteem and fashion of the -place and sect they are of. - -If he had been at the pains to reflect on what I had said, Bk. I. ch. -ii. sect. 18, and Bk. II. ch. xxviii. sect. 13, 14, 15 and 20, he would -have known what I think of the eternal and unalterable nature of right -and wrong, and what I call virtue and vice. And if he had observed that -in the place he quotes I only report as a matter of fact what OTHERS -call virtue and vice, he would not have found it liable to any great -exception. For I think I am not much out in saying that one of the -rules made use of in the world for a ground or measure of a moral -relation is—that esteem and reputation which several sorts of actions -find variously in the several societies of men, according to which they -are there called virtues or vices. And whatever authority the learned -Mr. Lowde places in his Old English Dictionary, I daresay it nowhere -tells him (if I should appeal to it) that the same action is not in -credit, called and counted a virtue, in one place, which, being in -disrepute, passes for and under the name of vice in another. The taking -notice that men bestow the names of ‘virtue’ and ‘vice’ according to -this rule of Reputation is all I have done, or can be laid to my charge -to have done, towards the making vice virtue or virtue vice. But the -good man does well, and as becomes his calling, to be watchful in such -points, and to take the alarm even at expressions, which, standing -alone by themselves, might sound ill and be suspected. - -‘Tis to this zeal, allowable in his function, that I forgive his citing -as he does these words of mine (ch. xxviii. sect. II): “Even the -exhortations of inspired teachers have not feared to appeal to common -repute, Philip, iv. 8;” without taking notice of those immediately -preceding, which introduce them, and run thus: “Whereby even in the -corruption of manners, the true boundaries of the law of nature, which -ought to be the rule of virtue and vice, were pretty well preserved. So -that even the exhortations of inspired teachers,” &c. By which words, -and the rest of that section, it is plain that I brought that passage -of St. Paul, not to prove that the general measure of what men called -virtue and vice throughout the world was the reputation and fashion of -each particular society within itself; but to show that, though it were -so, yet, for reasons I there give, men, in that way of denominating -their actions, did not for the most part much stray from the Law of -Nature; which is that standing and unalterable rule by which they ought -to judge of the moral rectitude and gravity of their actions, and -accordingly denominate them virtues or vices. Had Mr. Lowde considered -this, he would have found it little to his purpose to have quoted this -passage in a sense I used it not; and would I imagine have spared the -application he subjoins to it, as not very necessary. But I hope this -Second Edition will give him satisfaction on the point, and that this -matter is now so expressed as to show him there was no cause for -scruple. - -Though I am forced to differ from him in these apprehensions he has -expressed, in the latter end of his preface, concerning what I had said -about virtue and vice, yet we are better agreed than he thinks in what -he says in his third chapter (p. 78) concerning “natural inscription -and innate notions.” I shall not deny him the privilege he claims (p. -52), to state the question as he pleases, especially when he states it -so as to leave nothing in it contrary to what I have said. For, -according to him, “innate notions, being conditional things, depending -upon the concurrence of several other circumstances in order to the -soul’s exerting them,” all that he says for “innate, imprinted, -impressed notions” (for of innate IDEAS he says nothing at all), -amounts at last only to this—that there are certain propositions which, -though the soul from the beginning, or when a man is born, does not -know, yet “by assistance from the outward senses, and the help of some -previous cultivation,” it may AFTERWARDS come certainly to know the -truth of; which is no more than what I have affirmed in my First Book. -For I suppose by the “soul’s exerting them,” he means its beginning to -know them; or else the soul’s ‘exerting of notions’ will be to me a -very unintelligible expression; and I think at best is a very unfit one -in this, it misleading men’s thoughts by an insinuation, as if these -notions were in the mind before the ‘soul exerts them,’ i. e. before -they are known;—whereas truly before they are known, there is nothing -of them in the mind but a capacity to know them, when the ‘concurrence -of those circumstances,’ which this ingenious author thinks necessary -‘in order to the soul’s exerting them,’ brings them into our knowledge. - -P. 52 I find him express it thus: ‘These natural notions are not so -imprinted upon the soul as that they naturally and necessarily exert -themselves (even in children and idiots) without any assistance from -the outward senses, or without the help of some previous cultivation.’ -Here, he says, they ‘exert themselves,’ as p. 78, that the ‘soul exerts -them.’ When he has explained to himself or others what he means by ‘the -soul’s exerting innate notions,’ or their ‘exerting themselves;’ and -what that ‘previous cultivation and circumstances’ in order to their -being exerted are—he will I suppose find there is so little of -controversy between him and me on the point, bating that he calls that -‘exerting of notions’ which I in a more vulgar style call ‘knowing,’ -that I have reason to think he brought in my name on this occasion only -out of the pleasure he has to speak civilly of me; which I must -gratefully acknowledge he has done everywhere he mentions me, not -without conferring on me, as some others have done, a title I have no -right to. - -There are so many instances of this, that I think it justice to my -reader and myself to conclude, that either my book is plainly enough -written to be rightly understood by those who peruse it with that -attention and indifferency, which every one who will give himself the -pains to read ought to employ in reading; or else that I have written -mine so obscurely that it is in vain to go about to mend it. Whichever -of these be the truth, it is myself only am affected thereby; and -therefore I shall be far from troubling my reader with what I think -might be said in answer to those several objections I have met with, to -passages here and there of my book; since I persuade myself that he who -thinks them of moment enough to be concerned whether they are true or -false, will be able to see that what is said is either not well -founded, or else not contrary to my doctrine, when I and my opposer -come both to be well understood. - -If any other authors, careful that none of their good thoughts should -be lost, have published their censures of my Essay, with this honour -done to it, that they will not suffer it to be an essay, I leave it to -the public to value the obligation they have to their critical pens, -and shall not waste my reader’s time in so idle or ill-natured an -employment of mine, as to lessen the satisfaction any one has in -himself, or gives to others, in so hasty a confutation of what I have -written. - -The booksellers preparing for the Fourth Edition of my Essay, gave me -notice of it, that I might, if I had leisure, make any additions or -alterations I should think fit. Whereupon I thought it convenient to -advertise the reader, that besides several corrections I had made here -and there, there was one alteration which it was necessary to mention, -because it ran through the whole book, and is of consequence to be -rightly understood. What I thereupon said was this:— - -CLEAR and DISTINCT ideas are terms which, though familiar and frequent -in men’s mouths, I have reason to think every one who uses does not -perfectly understand. And possibly ‘tis but here and there one who -gives himself the trouble to consider them so far as to know what he -himself or others precisely mean by them. I have therefore in most -places chose to put DETERMINATE or DETERMINED, instead of CLEAR and -DISTINCT, as more likely to direct men’s thoughts to my meaning in this -matter. By those denominations, I mean some object in the mind, and -consequently determined, i. e. such as it is there seen and perceived -to be. This, I think, may fitly be called a determinate or determined -idea, when such as it is at any time objectively in the mind, and so -determined there, it is annexed, and without variation determined, to a -name or articulate sound, which is to be steadily the sign of that very -same object of the mind, or determinate idea. - -To explain this a little more particularly. By DETERMINATE, when -applied to a simple idea, I mean that simple appearance which the mind -has in its view, or perceives in itself, when that idea is said to be -in it: by DETERMINED, when applied to a complex idea, I mean such an -one as consists of a determinate number of certain simple or less -complex ideas, joined in such a proportion and situation as the mind -has before its view, and sees in itself, when that idea is present in -it, or should be present in it, when a man gives a name to it. I say -SHOULD be, because it is not every one, nor perhaps any one, who is so -careful of his language as to use no word till he views in his mind the -precise determined idea which he resolves to make it the sign of. The -want of this is the cause of no small obscurity and confusion in men’s -thoughts and discourses. - -I know there are not words enough in any language to answer all the -variety of ideas that enter into men’s discourses and reasonings. But -this hinders not but that when any one uses any term, he may have in -his mind a determined idea, which he makes it the sign of, and to which -he should keep it steadily annexed during that present discourse. Where -he does not, or cannot do this, he in vain pretends to clear or -distinct ideas: it is plain his are not so; and therefore there can be -expected nothing but obscurity and confusion, where such terms are made -use of which have not such a precise determination. - -Upon this ground I have thought determined ideas a way of speaking less -liable to mistakes, than clear and distinct: and where men have got -such determined ideas of all that they reason, inquire, or argue about, -they will find a great part of their doubts and disputes at an end; the -greatest part of the questions and controversies that perplex mankind -depending on the doubtful and uncertain use of words, or (which is the -same) indetermined ideas, which they are made to stand for. I have made -choice of these terms to signify, (1) Some immediate object of the -mind, which it perceives and has before it, distinct from the sound it -uses as a sign of it. (2) That this idea, thus determined, i.e. which -the mind has in itself, and knows, and sees there, be determined -without any change to that name, and that name determined to that -precise idea. If men had such determined ideas in their inquiries and -discourses, they would both discern how far their own inquiries and -discourses went, and avoid the greatest part of the disputes and -wranglings they have with others. - -Besides this, the bookseller will think it necessary I should advertise -the reader that there is an addition of two chapters wholly new; the -one of the Association of Ideas, the other of Enthusiasm. These, with -some other larger additions never before printed, he has engaged to -print by themselves, after the same manner, and for the same purpose, -as was done when this Essay had the second impression. - -In the Sixth Edition there is very little added or altered. The -greatest part of what is new is contained in the twenty-first chapter -of the second book, which any one, if he thinks it worth while, may, -with a very little labour, transcribe into the margin of the former -edition. - - - - -ESSAY CONCERNING HUMANE UNDERSTANDING. - - - - -BOOK I -NEITHER PRINCIPLES NOR IDEAS ARE INNATE - - - - -CHAPTER I. -INTRODUCTION. - - -1. An Inquiry into the Understanding pleasant and useful. - -Since it is the UNDERSTANDING that sets man above the rest of sensible -beings, and gives him all the advantage and dominion which he has over -them; it is certainly a subject, even for its nobleness, worth our -labour to inquire into. The understanding, like the eye, whilst it -makes us see and perceive all other things, takes no notice of itself; -and it requires and art and pains to set it at a distance and make it -its own object. But whatever be the difficulties that lie in the way of -this inquiry; whatever it be that keeps us so much in the dark to -ourselves; sure I am that all the light we can let in upon our minds, -all the acquaintance we can make with our own understandings, will not -only be very pleasant, but bring us great advantage, in directing our -thoughts in the search of other things. - -2. Design. - -This, therefore, being my purpose—to inquire into the original, -certainty, and extent of HUMAN KNOWLEDGE, together with the grounds and -degrees of BELIEF, OPINION, and ASSENT;—I shall not at present meddle -with the physical consideration of the mind; or trouble myself to -examine wherein its essence consists; or by what motions of our spirits -or alterations of our bodies we come to have any SENSATION by our -organs, or any IDEAS in our understandings; and whether those ideas do -in their formation, any or all of them, depend on matter or not. These -are speculations which, however curious and entertaining, I shall -decline, as lying out of my way in the design I am now upon. It shall -suffice to my present purpose, to consider the discerning faculties of -a man, as they are employed about the objects which they have to do -with. And I shall imagine I have not wholly misemployed myself in the -thoughts I shall have on this occasion, if, in this historical, plain -method, I can give any account of the ways whereby our understandings -come to attain those notions of things we have; and can set down any -measures of the certainty of our knowledge; or the grounds of those -persuasions which are to be found amongst men, so various, different, -and wholly contradictory; and yet asserted somewhere or other with such -assurance and confidence, that he that shall take a view of the -opinions of mankind, observe their opposition, and at the same time -consider the fondness and devotion wherewith they are embraced, the -resolution and eagerness wherewith they are maintained, may perhaps -have reason to suspect, that either there is no such thing as truth at -all, or that mankind hath no sufficient means to attain a certain -knowledge of it. - -3. Method. - -It is therefore worth while to search out the bounds between opinion -and knowledge; and examine by what measures, in things whereof we have -no certain knowledge, we ought to regulate our assent and moderate our -persuasion. In order whereunto I shall pursue this following method:— -First, I shall inquire into the original of those ideas, notions, or -whatever else you please to call them, which a man observes, and is -conscious to himself he has in his mind; and the ways whereby the -understanding comes to be furnished with them. - -Secondly, I shall endeavour to show what knowledge the understanding -hath by those ideas; and the certainty, evidence, and extent of it. - -Thirdly, I shall make some inquiry into the nature and grounds of FAITH -or OPINION: whereby I mean that assent which we give to any proposition -as true, of whose truth yet we have no certain knowledge. And here we -shall have occasion to examine the reasons and degrees of ASSENT. - -4. Useful to know the Extent of our Comprehension. - -If by this inquiry into the nature of the understanding, I can discover -the powers thereof; how far they reach; to what things they are in any -degree proportionate; and where they fail us, I suppose it may be of -use to prevail with the busy mind of man to be more cautious in -meddling with things exceeding its comprehension; to stop when it is at -the utmost extent of its tether; and to sit down in a quiet ignorance -of those things which, upon examination, are found to be beyond the -reach of our capacities. We should not then perhaps be so forward, out -of an affectation of an universal knowledge, to raise questions, and -perplex ourselves and others with disputes about things to which our -understandings are not suited; and of which we cannot frame in our -minds any clear or distinct perceptions, or whereof (as it has perhaps -too often happened) we have not any notions at all. If we can find out -how far the understanding can extend its view; how far it has faculties -to attain certainty; and in what cases it can only judge and guess, we -may learn to content ourselves with what is attainable by us in this -state. - -5. Our Capacity suited to our State and Concerns. - -For though the comprehension of our understandings comes exceeding -short of the vast extent of things, yet we shall have cause enough to -magnify the bountiful Author of our being, for that proportion and -degree of knowledge he has bestowed on us, so far above all the rest of -the inhabitants of this our mansion. Men have reason to be well -satisfied with what God hath thought fit for them, since he hath given -them (as St. Peter says) [words in Greek], whatsoever is necessary for -the conveniences of life and information of virtue; and has put within -the reach of their discovery, the comfortable provision for this life, -and the way that leads to a better. How short soever their knowledge -may come of an universal or perfect comprehension of whatsoever is, it -yet secures their great concernments, that they have light enough to -lead them to the knowledge of their Maker, and the sight of their own -duties. Men may find matter sufficient to busy their heads, and employ -their hands with variety, delight, and satisfaction, if they will not -boldly quarrel with their own constitution, and throw away the -blessings their hands are filled with, because they are not big enough -to grasp everything. We shall not have much reason to complain of the -narrowness of our minds, if we will but employ them about what may be -of use to us; for of that they are very capable. And it will be an -unpardonable, as well as childish peevishness, if we undervalue the -advantages of our knowledge, and neglect to improve it to the ends for -which it was given us, because there are some things that are set out -of the reach of it. It will be no excuse to an idle and untoward -servant, who would not attend his business by candle light, to plead -that he had not broad sunshine. The Candle that is set up in us shines -bright enough for all our purposes. The discoveries we can make with -this ought to satisfy us; and we shall then use our understandings -right, when we entertain all objects in that way and proportion that -they are suited to our faculties, and upon those grounds they are -capable of being proposed to us; and not peremptorily or intemperately -require demonstration, and demand certainty, where probability only is -to be had, and which is sufficient to govern all our concernments. If -we will disbelieve everything, because we cannot certainly know all -things, we shall do much—what as wisely as he who would not use his -legs, but sit still and perish, because he had no wings to fly. - -6. Knowledge of our Capacity a Cure of Scepticism and Idleness. - -When we know our own strength, we shall the better know what to -undertake with hopes of success; and when we have well surveyed the -POWERS of our own minds, and made some estimate what we may expect from -them, we shall not be inclined either to sit still, and not set our -thoughts on work at all, in despair of knowing anything; nor on the -other side, question everything, and disclaim all knowledge, because -some things are not to be understood. It is of great use to the sailor -to know the length of his line, though he cannot with it fathom all the -depths of the ocean. It is well he knows that it is long enough to -reach the bottom, at such places as are necessary to direct his voyage, -and caution him against running upon shoals that may ruin him. Our -business here is not to know all things, but those which concern our -conduct. If we can find out those measures, whereby a rational -creature, put in that state in which man is in this world, may and -ought to govern his opinions, and actions depending thereon, we need -not to be troubled that some other things escape our knowledge. - -7. Occasion of this Essay. - -This was that which gave the first rise to this Essay concerning the -understanding. For I thought that the first step towards satisfying -several inquiries the mind of man was very apt to run into, was, to -take a survey of our own understandings, examine our own powers, and -see to what things they were adapted. Till that was done I suspected we -began at the wrong end, and in vain sought for satisfaction in a quiet -and sure possession of truths that most concerned us, whilst we let -loose our thoughts into the vast ocean of Being; as if all that -boundless extent were the natural and undoubted possession of our -understandings, wherein there was nothing exempt from its decisions, or -that escaped its comprehension. Thus men, extending their inquiries -beyond their capacities, and letting their thoughts wander into those -depths where they can find no sure footing, it is no wonder that they -raise questions and multiply disputes, which, never coming to any clear -resolution, are proper only to continue and increase their doubts, and -to confirm them at last in perfect scepticism. Whereas, were the -capacities of our understandings well considered, the extent of our -knowledge once discovered, and the horizon found which sets the bounds -between the enlightened and dark parts of things; between what is and -what is not comprehensible by us, men would perhaps with less scruple -acquiesce in the avowed ignorance of the one, and employ their thoughts -and discourse with more advantage and satisfaction in the other. - -8. What Idea stands for. - -Thus much I thought necessary to say concerning the occasion of this -inquiry into human Understanding. But, before I proceed on to what I -have thought on this subject, I must here in the entrance beg pardon of -my reader for the frequent use of the word IDEA, which he will find in -the following treatise. It being that term which, I think, serves best -to stand for whatsoever is the OBJECT of the understanding when a man -thinks, I have used it to express whatever is meant by PHANTASM, -NOTION, SPECIES, or WHATEVER IT IS WHICH THE MIND CAN BE EMPLOYED ABOUT -IN THINKING; and I could not avoid frequently using it. I presume it -will be easily granted me, that there are such IDEAS in men’s minds: -every one is conscious of them in himself; and men’s words and actions -will satisfy him that they are in others. - -Our first inquiry then shall be,—how they come into the mind. - - - - -CHAPTER II. -NO INNATE SPECULATIVE PRINCIPLES. - - -1. The way shown how we come by any Knowledge, sufficient to prove it -not innate. - -It is an established opinion amongst some men, that there are in the -understanding certain INNATE PRINCIPLES; some primary notions, Κοινὰι -εὔνοιαι, characters, as it were stamped upon the mind of man; which the -soul receives in its very first being, and brings into the world with -it. It would be sufficient to convince unprejudiced readers of the -falseness of this supposition, if I should only show (as I hope I shall -in the following parts of this Discourse) how men, barely by the use of -their natural faculties may attain to all the knowledge they have, -without the help of any innate impressions; and may arrive at -certainty, without any such original notions or principles. For I -imagine any one will easily grant that it would be impertinent to -suppose the ideas of colours innate in a creature to whom God hath -given sight, and a power to receive them by the eyes from external -objects: and no less unreasonable would it be to attribute several -truths to the impressions of nature, and innate characters, when we may -observe in ourselves faculties fit to attain as easy and certain -knowledge of them as if they were originally imprinted on the mind. - -But because a man is not permitted without censure to follow his own -thoughts in the search of truth, when they lead him ever so little out -of the common road, I shall set down the reasons that made me doubt of -the truth of that opinion, as an excuse for my mistake, if I be in one; -which I leave to be considered by those who, with me, dispose -themselves to embrace truth wherever they find it. - -2. General Assent the great Argument. - -There is nothing more commonly taken for granted than that there are -certain PRINCIPLES, both SPECULATIVE and PRACTICAL, (for they speak of -both), universally agreed upon by all mankind: which therefore, they -argue, must needs be the constant impressions which the souls of men -receive in their first beings, and which they bring into the world with -them, as necessarily and really as they do any of their inherent -faculties. - -3. Universal Consent proves nothing innate. - -This argument, drawn from universal consent, has this misfortune in it, -that if it were true in matter of fact, that there were certain truths -wherein all mankind agreed, it would not prove them innate, if there -can be any other way shown how men may come to that universal -agreement, in the things they do consent in, which I presume may be -done. - -4. “What is is,” and “It is possible for the same Thing to be and not -to be,” not universally assented to. - -But, which is worse, this argument of universal consent, which is made -use of to prove innate principles, seems to me a demonstration that -there are none such: because there are none to which all mankind give -an universal assent. I shall begin with the speculative, and instance -in those magnified principles of demonstration, “Whatsoever is, is,” -and “It is impossible for the same thing to be and not to be”; which, -of all others, I think have the most allowed title to innate. These -have so settled a reputation of maxims universally received, that it -will no doubt be thought strange if any one should seem to question it. -But yet I take liberty to say, that these propositions are so far from -having an universal assent, that there are a great part of mankind to -whom they are not so much as known. - -5. Not on Mind naturally imprinted, because not known to Children, -Idiots, &c. - -For, first, it is evident, that all children and idiots have not the -least apprehension or thought of them. And the want of that is enough -to destroy that universal assent which must needs be the necessary -concomitant of all innate truths: it seeming to me near a contradiction -to say, that there are truths imprinted on the soul, which it perceives -or understands not: imprinting, if it signify anything, being nothing -else but the making certain truths to be perceived. For to imprint -anything on the mind without the mind’s perceiving it, seems to me -hardly intelligible. If therefore children and idiots have souls, have -minds, with those impressions upon them, THEY must unavoidably perceive -them, and necessarily know and assent to these truths; which since they -do not, it is evident that there are no such impressions. For if they -are not notions naturally imprinted, how can they be innate? and if -they are notions imprinted, how can they be unknown? To say a notion is -imprinted on the mind, and yet at the same time to say, that the mind -is ignorant of it, and never yet took notice of it, is to make this -impression nothing. No proposition can be said to be in the mind which -it never yet knew, which it was never yet conscious of. For if any one -may, then, by the same reason, all propositions that are true, and the -mind is capable ever of assenting to, may be said to be in the mind, -and to be imprinted: since, if any one can be said to be in the mind, -which it never yet knew, it must be only because it is capable of -knowing it; and so the mind is of all truths it ever shall know. Nay, -thus truths may be imprinted on the mind which it never did, nor ever -shall know; for a man may live long, and die at last in ignorance of -many truths which his mind was capable of knowing, and that with -certainty. So that if the capacity of knowing be the natural impression -contended for, all the truths a man ever comes to know will, by this -account, be every one of them innate; and this great point will amount -to no more, but only to a very improper way of speaking; which, whilst -it pretends to assert the contrary, says nothing different from those -who deny innate principles. For nobody, I think, ever denied that the -mind was capable of knowing several truths. The capacity, they say, is -innate; the knowledge acquired. But then to what end such contest for -certain innate maxims? If truths can be imprinted on the understanding -without being perceived, I can see no difference there can be between -any truths the mind is CAPABLE of knowing in respect of their original: -they must all be innate or all adventitious: in vain shall a man go -about to distinguish them. He therefore that talks of innate notions in -the understanding, cannot (if he intend thereby any distinct sort of -truths) mean such truths to be in the understanding as it never -perceived, and is yet wholly ignorant of. For if these words “to be in -the understanding” have any propriety, they signify to be understood. -So that to be in the understanding, and not to be understood; to be in -the mind and never to be perceived, is all one as to say anything is -and is not in the mind or understanding. If therefore these two -propositions, “Whatsoever is, is,” and “It is impossible for the same -thing to be and not to be,” are by nature imprinted, children cannot be -ignorant of them: infants, and all that have souls, must necessarily -have them in their understandings, know the truth of them, and assent -to it. - -6. That men know them when they come to the Use of Reason answered. - -To avoid this, it is usually answered, that all men know and assent to -them, WHEN THEY COME TO THE USE OF REASON; and this is enough to prove -them innate. I answer: - -7. Doubtful expressions, that have scarce any signification, go for -clear reasons to those who, being prepossessed, take not the pains to -examine even what they themselves say. For, to apply this answer with -any tolerable sense to our present purpose, it must signify one of -these two things: either that as soon as men come to the use of reason -these supposed native inscriptions come to be known and observed by -them; or else, that the use and exercise of men’s reason, assists them -in the discovery of these principles, and certainly makes them known to -them. - -8. If Reason discovered them, that would not prove them innate. - -If they mean, that by the use of reason men may discover these -principles, and that this is sufficient to prove them innate; their way -of arguing will stand thus, viz. that whatever truths reason can -certainly discover to us, and make us firmly assent to, those are all -naturally imprinted on the mind; since that universal assent, which is -made the mark of them, amounts to no more but this,—that by the use of -reason we are capable to come to a certain knowledge of and assent to -them; and, by this means, there will be no difference between the -maxims of the mathematicians, and theorems they deduce from them: all -must be equally allowed innate; they being all discoveries made by the -use of reason, and truths that a rational creature may certainly come -to know, if he apply his thoughts rightly that way. - -9. It is false that Reason discovers them. - -But how can these men think the use of reason necessary to discover -principles that are supposed innate, when reason (if we may believe -them) is nothing else but the faculty of deducing unknown truths from -principles or propositions that are already known? That certainly can -never be thought innate which we have need of reason to discover; -unless, as I have said, we will have all the certain truths that reason -ever teaches us, to be innate. We may as well think the use of reason -necessary to make our eyes discover visible objects, as that there -should be need of reason, or the exercise thereof, to make the -understanding see what is originally engraven on it, and cannot be in -the understanding before it be perceived by it. So that to make reason -discover those truths thus imprinted, is to say, that the use of reason -discovers to a man what he knew before: and if men have those innate -impressed truths originally, and before the use of reason, and yet are -always ignorant of them till they come to the use of reason, it is in -effect to say, that men know and know them not at the same time. - -10. No use made of reasoning in the discovery of these two maxims. - -It will here perhaps be said that mathematical demonstrations, and -other truths that are not innate, are not assented to as soon as -proposed, wherein they are distinguished from these maxims and other -innate truths. I shall have occasion to speak of assent upon the first -proposing, more particularly by and by. I shall here only, and that -very readily, allow, that these maxims and mathematical demonstrations -are in this different: that the one have need of reason, using of -proofs, to make them out and to gain our assent; but the other, as soon -as understood, are, without any the least reasoning, embraced and -assented to. But I withal beg leave to observe, that it lays open the -weakness of this subterfuge, which requires the use of reason for the -discovery of these general truths: since it must be confessed that in -their discovery there is no use made of reasoning at all. And I think -those who give this answer will not be forward to affirm that the -knowledge of this maxim, “That it is impossible for the same thing to -be and not to be,” is a deduction of our reason. For this would be to -destroy that bounty of nature they seem so fond of, whilst they make -the knowledge of those principles to depend on the labour of our -thoughts. For all reasoning is search, and casting about, and requires -pains and application. And how can it with any tolerable sense be -supposed, that what was imprinted by nature, as the foundation and -guide of our reason, should need the use of reason to discover it? - -11. And if there were this would prove them not innate. - -Those who will take the pains to reflect with a little attention on the -operations of the understanding, will find that this ready assent of -the mind to some truths, depends not, either on native inscription, or -the use of reason, but on a faculty of the mind quite distinct from -both of them, as we shall see hereafter. Reason, therefore, having -nothing to do in procuring our assent to these maxims, if by saying, -that “men know and assent to them, when they come to the use of -reason,” be meant, that the use of reason assists us in the knowledge -of these maxims, it is utterly false; and were it true, would prove -them not to be innate. - -12. The coming of the Use of Reason not the Time we come to know these -Maxims. - -If by knowing and assenting to them “when we come to the use of -reason,” be meant, that this is the time when they come to be taken -notice of by the mind; and that as soon as children come to the use of -reason, they come also to know and assent to these maxims; this also is -false and frivolous. First, it is false; because it is evident these -maxims are not in the mind so early as the use of reason; and therefore -the coming to the use of reason is falsely assigned as the time of -their discovery. How many instances of the use of reason may we observe -in children, a long time before they have any knowledge of this maxim, -“That it is impossible for the same thing to be and not to be?” And a -great part of illiterate people and savages pass many years, even of -their rational age, without ever thinking on this and the like general -propositions. I grant, men come not to the knowledge of these general -and more abstract truths, which are thought innate, till they come to -the use of reason; and I add, nor then neither. Which is so, because, -till after they come to the use of reason, those general abstract ideas -are not framed in the mind, about which those general maxims are, which -are mistaken for innate principles, but are indeed discoveries made and -verities introduced and brought into the mind by the same way, and -discovered by the same steps, as several other propositions, which -nobody was ever so extravagant as to suppose innate. This I hope to -make plain in the sequel of this Discourse. I allow therefore, a -necessity that men should come to the use of reason before they get the -knowledge of those general truths; but deny that men’s coming to the -use of reason is the time of their discovery. - -13. By this they are not distinguished from other knowable Truths. - -In the mean time it is observable, that this saying that men know and -assent to these maxims “when they come to the use of reason,” amounts -in reality of fact to no more but this,—that they are never known nor -taken notice of before the use of reason, but may possibly be assented -to some time after, during a man’s life; but when is uncertain. And so -may all other knowable truths, as well as these which therefore have no -advantage nor distinction from other by this note of being known when -we come to the use of reason; nor are thereby proved to be innate, but -quite the contrary. - -14. If coming to the Use of Reason were the Time of their Discovery, it -would not prove them innate. - -But, secondly, were it true that the precise time of their being known -and assented to were, when men come to the use of reason; neither would -that prove them innate. This way of arguing is as frivolous as the -supposition itself is false. For, by what kind of logic will it appear -that any notion is originally by nature imprinted in the mind in its -first constitution, because it comes first to be observed and assented -to when a faculty of the mind, which has quite a distinct province, -begins to exert itself? And therefore the coming to the use of speech, -if it were supposed the time that these maxims are first assented to, -(which it may be with as much truth as the time when men come to the -use of reason,) would be as good a proof that they were innate, as to -say they are innate because men assent to them when they come to the -use of reason. I agree then with these men of innate principles, that -there is no knowledge of these general and self-evident maxims in the -mind, till it comes to the exercise of reason: but I deny that the -coming to the use of reason is the precise time when they are first -taken notice of; and if that were the precise time, I deny that it -would prove them innate. All that can with any truth be meant by this -proposition, that men ‘assent to them when they come to the use of -reason,’ is no more but this,—that the making of general abstract -ideas, and the understanding of general names, being a concomitant of -the rational faculty, and growing up with it, children commonly get not -those general ideas, nor learn the names that stand for them, till, -having for a good while exercised their reason about familiar and more -particular ideas, they are, by their ordinary discourse and actions -with others, acknowledged to be capable of rational conversation. If -assenting to these maxims, when men come to the use of reason, can be -true in any other sense, I desire it may be shown; or at least, how in -this, or any other sense, it proves them innate. - -15. The Steps by which the Mind attains several Truths. - -The senses at first let in PARTICULAR ideas, and furnish the yet empty -cabinet, and the mind by degrees growing familiar with some of them, -they are lodged in the memory, and names got to them. Afterwards, the -mind proceeding further, abstracts them, and by degrees learns the use -of general names. In this manner the mind comes to be furnished with -ideas and language, the MATERIALS about which to exercise its -discursive faculty. And the use of reason becomes daily more visible, -as these materials that give it employment increase. But though the -having of general ideas and the use of general words and reason usually -grow together, yet I see not how this any way proves them innate. The -knowledge of some truths, I confess, is very early in the mind; but in -a way that shows them not to be innate. For, if we will observe, we -shall find it still to be about ideas, not innate, but acquired; it -being about those first which are imprinted by external things, with -which infants have earliest to do, which make the most frequent -impressions on their senses. In ideas thus got, the mind discovers that -some agree and others differ, probably as soon as it has any use of -memory; as soon as it is able to retain and perceive distinct ideas. -But whether it be then or no, this is certain, it does so long before -it has the use of words; or comes to that which we commonly call “the -use of reason.” For a child knows as certainly before it can speak the -difference between the ideas of sweet and bitter (i.e. that sweet is -not bitter), as it knows afterwards (when it comes to speak) that -wormwood and sugarplums are not the same thing. - -16. Assent to supposed innate truths depends on having clear and -distinct ideas of what their terms mean, and not on their innateness. - -A child knows not that three and four are equal to seven, till he comes -to be able to count seven, and has got the name and idea of equality; -and then, upon explaining those words, he presently assents to, or -rather perceives the truth of that proposition. But neither does he -then readily assent because it is an innate truth, nor was his assent -wanting till then because he wanted the use of reason; but the truth of -it appears to him as soon as he has settled in his mind the clear and -distinct ideas that these names stand for. And then he knows the truth -of that proposition upon the same ground and by the same means, that he -knew before that a rod and a cherry are not the same thing; and upon -the same ground also that he may come to know afterwards “That it is -impossible for the same thing to be and not to be,” as shall be more -fully shown hereafter. So that the later it is before any one comes to -have those general ideas about which those maxims are; or to know the -signification of those generic terms that stand for them; or to put -together in his mind the ideas they stand for; the later also will it -be before he comes to assent to those maxims;—whose terms, with the -ideas they stand for, being no more innate than those of a cat or a -weasel he must stay till time and observation have acquainted him with -them; and then he will be in a capacity to know the truth of these -maxims, upon the first occasion that shall make him put together those -ideas in his mind, and observe whether they agree or disagree, -according as is expressed in those propositions. And therefore it is -that a man knows that eighteen and nineteen are equal to thirty-seven, -by the same self-evidence that he knows one and two to be equal to -three: yet a child knows this not so soon as the other; not for want of -the use of reason, but because the ideas the words eighteen nineteen, -and thirty-seven stand for, are not so soon got, as those which are -signified by one, two, and three. - -17. Assenting as soon as proposed and understood, proves them not -innate. - -This evasion therefore of general assent when men come to the use of -reason, failing as it does, and leaving no difference between those -supposed innate and other truths that are afterwards acquired and -learnt, men have endeavoured to secure an universal assent to those -they call maxims, by saying, they are generally assented to as soon as -proposed, and the terms they are proposed in understood: seeing all -men, even children, as soon as they hear and understand the terms, -assent to these propositions, they think it is sufficient to prove them -innate. For, since men never fail after they have once understood the -words, to acknowledge them for undoubted truths, they would infer, that -certainly these propositions were first lodged in the understanding, -which, without any teaching, the mind, at the very first proposal -immediately closes with and assents to, and after that never doubts -again. - -18. If such an Assent be a Mark of Innate, then “that one and two are -equal to three, that Sweetness is not Bitterness,” and a thousand the -like, must be innate. - -In answer to this, I demand whether ready assent given to a -proposition, upon first hearing and understanding the terms, be a -certain mark of an innate principle? If it be not, such a general -assent is in vain urged as a proof of them: if it be said that it is a -mark of innate, they must then allow all such propositions to be innate -which are generally assented to as soon as heard, whereby they will -find themselves plentifully stored with innate principles. For upon the -same ground, viz. of assent at first hearing and understanding the -terms, that men would have those maxims pass for innate, they must also -admit several propositions about numbers to be innate; and thus, that -one and two are equal to three, that two and two are equal to four, and -a multitude of other the like propositions in numbers, that everybody -assents to at first hearing and understanding the terms, must have a -place amongst these innate axioms. Nor is this the prerogative of -numbers alone, and propositions made about several of them; but even -natural philosophy, and all the other sciences, afford propositions -which are sure to meet with assent as soon as they are understood. That -“two bodies cannot be in the same place” is a truth that nobody any -more sticks at than at these maxims, that “it is impossible for the -same thing to be and not to be,” that “white is not black,” that “a -square is not a circle,” that “bitterness is not sweetness.” These and -a million of such other propositions, as many at least as we have -distinct ideas of, every man in his wits, at first hearing, and -knowing, what the names stand for, must necessarily assent to. If these -men will be true to their own rule, and have assent at first hearing -and understanding the terms to be a mark of innate, they must allow not -only as many innate propositions, as men have distinct ideas; but as -many as men can make propositions wherein, different ideas are denied -one of another. Since every proposition wherein one different idea is -denied of another, will as certainly find assent at first hearing and -understanding the terms as this general one, “It is impossible for the -same thing to be and not to be,” or that which is the foundation of it -and is the easier understood of the two, “The same is not different”; -by which account they will have legions of innate propositions of this -one sort, without mentioning any other. But, since no proposition can -be innate unless the _ideas_ about which it is be innate, this will be -to suppose all our ideas of colours, sounds, tastes, figure, &c., -innate, than which there cannot be anything more opposite to reason and -experience. Universal and ready assent upon hearing and understanding -the terms is, I grant, a mark of self-evidence; but self-evidence, -depending not on innate impressions, but on something else, (as we -shall show hereafter,) belongs to several propositions which nobody was -yet so extravagant as to pretend to be innate. - -19. Such less general Propositions known before these universal Maxims. - -Nor let it be said, that those more particular self-evident -propositions, which are assented to at first hearing, as that “one and -two are equal to three,” that “green is not red,” &c., are received as -the consequences of those more universal propositions which are looked -on as innate principles; since any one, who will but take the pains to -observe what passes in the understanding, will certainly find that -these, and the like less general propositions, are certainly known, and -firmly assented to by those who are utterly ignorant of those more -general maxims; and so, being earlier in the mind than those (as they -are called) first principles, cannot owe to them the assent wherewith -they are received at first hearing. - -20. One and one equal to Two, &c., not general nor useful answered. - -If it be said, that these propositions, viz. “two and two are equal to -four,” “red is not blue,” &c., are not general maxims nor of any great -use, I answer, that makes nothing to the argument of universal assent -upon hearing and understanding. For, if that be the certain mark of -innate, whatever propositions can be found that receives general assent -as soon as heard understood, that must be admitted for an innate -proposition as well as this maxim, “That it is impossible for the same -thing to be and not to be,” they being upon this ground equal. And as -to the difference of being more general, that makes this maxim more -remote from being innate; those general and abstract ideas being more -strangers to our first apprehensions than those of more particular -self-evident propositions; and therefore it is longer before they are -admitted, and assented to by the growing understanding. And as to the -usefulness of these magnified maxims, that perhaps will not be found so -great as is generally conceived, when it comes in its due place to be -more fully considered. - -21. These Maxims not being known sometimes till proposed, proves them -not innate. - -But we have not yet done with “assenting to propositions at first -hearing and understanding their terms.” It is fit we first take notice -that this, instead of being a mark that they are innate, is a proof of -the contrary; since it supposes that several, who understand and know -other things, are ignorant of these principles till they are proposed -to them; and that one may be unacquainted with these truths till he -hears them from others. For, if they were innate, what need they be -proposed in order to gaining assent, when, by being in the -understanding, by a natural and original impression, (if there were any -such,) they could not but be known before? Or doth the proposing them -print them clearer in the mind than nature did? If so, then the -consequence will be, that a man knows them better after he has been -thus taught them than he did before. Whence it will follow that these -principles may be made more evident to us by others’ teaching than -nature has made them by impression: which will ill agree with the -opinion of innate principles, and give but little authority to them; -but, on the contrary, makes them unfit to be the foundations of all our -other knowledge; as they are pretended to be. This cannot be denied, -that men grow first acquainted with many of these self-evident truths -upon their being proposed: but it is clear that whosoever does so, -finds in himself that he then begins to know a proposition, which he -knew not before, and which from thenceforth he never questions; not -because it was innate, but because the consideration of the nature of -the things contained in those words would not suffer him to think -otherwise, how, or whensoever he is brought to reflect on them. And if -whatever is assented to at first hearing and understanding the terms -must pass for an innate principle, every well-grounded observation, -drawn from particulars into a general rule, must be innate. When yet it -is certain that not all, but only sagacious heads, light at first on -these observations, and reduce them into general propositions: not -innate but collected from a preceding acquaintance and reflection on -particular instances. These, when observing men have made them, -unobserving men, when they are proposed to them cannot refuse their -assent to. - -22. Implicitly known before proposing, signifies that the Mind is -capable of understanding them, or else signifies nothing. - -If it be said, the understanding hath an IMPLICIT knowledge of these -principles, but not an EXPLICIT, before this first hearing (as they -must who will say “that they are in the understanding before they are -known,”) it will be hard to conceive what is meant by a principle -imprinted on the understanding implicitly, unless it be this,—that the -mind is capable of understanding and assenting firmly to such -propositions. And thus all mathematical demonstrations, as well as -first principles, must be received as native impressions on the mind; -which I fear they will scarce allow them to be, who find it harder to -demonstrate a proposition than assent to it when demonstrated. And few -mathematicians will be forward to believe, that all the diagrams they -have drawn were but copies of those innate characters which nature had -engraven upon their minds. - -23. The Argument of assenting on first hearing, is upon a false -supposition of no precedent teaching. - -There is, I fear, this further weakness in the foregoing argument, -which would persuade us that therefore those maxims are to be thought -innate, which men admit at first hearing; because they assent to -propositions which they are not taught, nor do receive from the force -of any argument or demonstration, but a bare explication or -understanding of the terms. Under which there seems to me to lie this -fallacy, that men are supposed not to be taught nor to learn anything -_de novo;_ when, in truth, they are taught, and do learn something they -were ignorant of before. For, first, it is evident that they have -learned the terms, and their signification; neither of which was born -with them. But this is not all the acquired knowledge in the case: the -ideas themselves, about which the proposition is, are not born with -them, no more than their names, but got afterwards. So that in all -propositions that are assented to at first hearing, the terms of the -proposition, their standing for such ideas, and the ideas themselves -that they stand for, being neither of them innate, I would fain know -what there is remaining in such propositions that is innate. For I -would gladly have any one name that proposition whose terms or ideas -were either of them innate. We by degrees get ideas and names, and -learn their appropriated connexion one with another; and then to -propositions made in such terms, whose signification we have learnt, -and wherein the agreement or disagreement we can perceive in our ideas -when put together is expressed, we at first hearing assent; though to -other propositions, in themselves as certain and evident, but which are -concerning ideas not so soon or so easily got, we are at the same time -no way capable of assenting. For, though a child quickly assents to -this proposition, “That an apple is not fire,” when by familiar -acquaintance he has got the ideas of those two different things -distinctly imprinted on his mind, and has learnt that the names apple -and fire stand for them; yet it will be some years after, perhaps, -before the same child will assent to this proposition, “That it is -impossible for the same thing to be and not to be”; because that, -though perhaps the words are as easy to be learnt, yet the -signification of them being more large, comprehensive, and abstract -than of the names annexed to those sensible things the child hath to do -with, it is longer before he learns their precise meaning, and it -requires more time plainly to form in his mind those general ideas they -stand for. Till that be done, you will in vain endeavour to make any -child assent to a proposition made up of such general terms; but as -soon as ever he has got those ideas, and learned their names, he -forwardly closes with the one as well as the other of the forementioned -propositions: and with both for the same reason; viz. because he finds -the ideas he has in his mind to agree or disagree, according as the -words standing for them are affirmed or denied one of another in the -proposition. But if propositions be brought to him in words which stand -for ideas he has not yet in his mind, to such propositions, however -evidently true or false in themselves, he affords neither assent nor -dissent, but is ignorant. For words being but empty sounds, any further -than they are signs of our ideas, we cannot but assent to them as they -correspond to those ideas we have, but no further than that. But the -showing by what steps and ways knowledge comes into our minds; and the -grounds of several degrees of assent, being; the business of the -following Discourse, it may suffice to have only touched on it here, as -one reason that made me doubt of those innate principles. - -24. Not innate because not universally assented to. - -To conclude this argument of universal consent, I agree with these -defenders of innate principles,—that if they are innate, they must -needs have universal assent. For that a truth should be innate and yet -not assented to, is to me as unintelligible as for a man to know a -truth and be ignorant of it at the same time. But then, by these men’s -own confession, they cannot be innate; since they are not assented to -by those who understand not the terms; nor by a great part of those who -do understand them, but have yet never heard nor thought of those -propositions; which, I think, is at least one half of mankind. But were -the number far less, it would be enough to destroy universal assent, -and thereby show these propositions not to be innate, if children alone -were ignorant of them. - -25. These Maxims not the first known. - -But that I may not be accused to argue from the thoughts of infants, -which are unknown to us, and to conclude from what passes in their -understandings before they express it; I say next, that these two -general propositions are not the truths that first possess the minds of -children, nor are antecedent to all acquired and adventitious notions: -which, if they were innate, they must needs be. Whether we can -determine it or no, it matters not, there is certainly a time when -children begin to think, and their words and actions do assure us that -they do so. When therefore they are capable of thought, of knowledge, -of assent, can it rationally be supposed they can be ignorant of those -notions that nature has imprinted, were there any such? Can it be -imagined, with any appearance of reason, that they perceive the -impressions from things without, and be at the same time ignorant of -those characters which nature itself has taken care to stamp within? -Can they receive and assent to adventitious notions, and be ignorant of -those which are supposed woven into the very principles of their being, -and imprinted there in indelible characters, to be the foundation and -guide of all their acquired knowledge and future reasonings? This would -be to make nature take pains to no purpose; or at least to write very -ill; since its characters could not be read by those eyes which saw -other things very well: and those are very ill supposed the clearest -parts of truth, and the foundations of all our knowledge, which are not -first known, and without which the undoubted knowledge of several other -things may be had. The child certainly knows, that the nurse that feeds -it is neither the cat it plays with, nor the blackmoor it is afraid of: -that the wormseed or mustard it refuses, is not the apple or sugar it -cries for: this it is certainly and undoubtedly assured of: but will -any one say, it is by virtue of this principle, “That it is impossible -for the same thing to be and not to be,” that it so firmly assents to -these and other parts of its knowledge? Or that the child has any -notion or apprehension of that proposition at an age, wherein yet, it -is plain, it knows a great many other truths? He that will say, -children join in these general abstract speculations with their -sucking-bottles and their rattles, may perhaps, with justice, be -thought to have more passion and zeal for his opinion, but less -sincerity and truth, than one of that age. - -26. And so not innate. - -Though therefore there be several general propositions that meet with -constant and ready assent, as soon as proposed to men grown up, who -have attained the use of more general and abstract ideas, and names -standing for them; yet they not being to be found in those of tender -years, who nevertheless know other things, they cannot pretend to -universal assent of intelligent persons, and so by no means can be -supposed innate;—it being impossible that any truth which is innate (if -there were any such) should be unknown, at least to any one who knows -anything else. Since, if they are innate truths, they must be innate -thoughts: there being nothing a truth in the mind that it has never -thought on. Whereby it is evident, if there be any innate truths, they -must necessarily be the first of any thought on; the first that appear. - -27. Not innate, because they appear least, where what is innate shows -itself clearest. - -That the general maxims we are discoursing of are not known to -children, idiots, and a great part of mankind, we have already -sufficiently proved: whereby it is evident they have not an universal -assent, nor are general impressions. But there is this further argument -in it against their being innate: that these characters, if they were -native and original impressions, should appear fairest and clearest in -those persons in whom yet we find no footsteps of them; and it is, in -my opinion, a strong presumption that they are not innate, since they -are least known to those in whom, if they were innate, they must needs -exert themselves with most force and vigour. For children, idiots, -savages, and illiterate people, being of all others the least corrupted -by custom, or borrowed opinions; learning and education having not cast -their native thoughts into new moulds; nor by superinducing foreign and -studied doctrines, confounded those fair characters nature had written -there; one might reasonably imagine that in THEIR minds these innate -notions should lie open fairly to every one’s view, as it is certain -the thoughts of children do. It might very well be expected that these -principles should be perfectly known to naturals; which being stamped -immediately on the soul, (as these men suppose,) can have no dependence -on the constitution or organs of the body, the only confessed -difference between them and others. One would think, according to these -men’s principles, that all these native beams of light (were there any -such) should, in those who have no reserves, no arts of concealment, -shine out in their full lustre, and leave us in no more doubt of their -being there, than we are of their love of pleasure and abhorrence of -pain. But alas, amongst children, idiots, savages, and the grossly -illiterate, what general maxims are to be found? what universal -principles of knowledge? Their notions are few and narrow, borrowed -only from those objects they have had most to do with, and which have -made upon their senses the frequentest and strongest impressions. A -child knows his nurse and his cradle, and by degrees the playthings of -a little more advanced age; and a young savage has, perhaps, his head -filled with love and hunting, according to the fashion of his tribe. -But he that from a child untaught, or a wild inhabitant of the woods, -will expect these abstract maxims and reputed principles of science, -will, I fear find himself mistaken. Such kind of general propositions -are seldom mentioned in the huts of Indians: much less are they to be -found in the thoughts of children, or any impressions of them on the -minds of naturals. They are the language and business of the schools -and academies of learned nations accustomed to that sort of -conversation or learning, where disputes are frequent; these maxims -being suited to artificial argumentation and useful for conviction, but -not much conducing to the discovery of truth or advancement of -knowledge. But of their small use for the improvement of knowledge I -shall have occasion to speak more at large, l.4, c. 7. - -28. Recapitulation. - -I know not how absurd this may seem to the masters of demonstration. -And probably it will hardly go down with anybody at first hearing. I -must therefore beg a little truce with prejudice, and the forbearance -of censure, till I have been heard out in the sequel of this Discourse, -being very willing to submit to better judgments. And since I -impartially search after truth, I shall not be sorry to be convinced, -that I have been too fond of my own notions; which I confess we are all -apt to be, when application and study have warmed our heads with them. - -Upon the whole matter, I cannot see any ground to think these two -speculative Maxims innate: since they are not universally assented to; -and the assent they so generally find is no other than what several -propositions, not allowed to be innate, equally partake in with them: -and since the assent that is given them is produced another way, and -comes not from natural inscription, as I doubt not but to make appear -in the following Discourse. And if THESE “first principles” of -knowledge and science are found not to be innate, no OTHER speculative -maxims can (I suppose), with better right pretend to be so. - - - - -CHAPTER III. -NO INNATE PRACTICAL PRINCIPLES - - -1. No moral Principles so clear and so generally received as the -forementioned speculative Maxims. - -If those speculative Maxims, whereof we discoursed in the foregoing -chapter, have not an actual universal assent from all mankind, as we -there proved, it is much more visible concerning PRACTICAL Principles, -that they come short of an universal reception: and I think it will be -hard to instance any one moral rule which can pretend to so general and -ready an assent as, “What is, is”; or to be so manifest a truth as -this, that “It is impossible for the same thing to be and not to be.” -Whereby it is evident that they are further removed from a title to be -innate; and the doubt of their being native impressions on the mind is -stronger against those moral principles than the other. Not that it -brings their truth at all in question. They are equally true, though -not equally evident. Those speculative maxims carry their own evidence -with them: but moral principles require reasoning and discourse, and -some exercise of the mind, to discover the certainty of their truth. -They lie not open as natural characters engraved on the mind; which, if -any such were, they must needs be visible by themselves, and by their -own light be certain and known to everybody. But this is no derogation -to their truth and certainty; no more than it is to the truth or -certainty of the three angles of a triangle being equal to two right -ones because it is not so evident as “the whole is bigger than a part,” -nor so apt to be assented to at first hearing. It may suffice that -these moral rules are capable of demonstration: and therefore it is our -own faults if we come not to a certain knowledge of them. But the -ignorance wherein many men are of them, and the slowness of assent -wherewith others receive them, are manifest proofs that they are not -innate, and such as offer themselves to their view without searching. - -2. Faith and Justice not owned as Principles by all Men. - -Whether there be any such moral principles, wherein all men do agree, I -appeal to any who have been but moderately conversant in the history of -mankind, and looked abroad beyond the smoke of their own chimneys. -Where is that practical truth that is universally received, without -doubt or question, as it must be if innate? JUSTICE, and keeping of -contracts, is that which most men seem to agree in. This is a principle -which is thought to extend itself to the dens of thieves, and the -confederacies of the greatest villains; and they who have gone furthest -towards the putting off of humanity itself, keep faith and rules of -justice one with another. I grant that outlaws themselves do this one -amongst another: but it is without receiving these as the innate laws -of nature. They practise them as rules of convenience within their own -communities: but it is impossible to conceive that he embraces justice -as a practical principle who acts fairly with his fellow-highwayman, -and at the same time plunders or kills the next honest man he meets -with. Justice and truth are the common ties of society; and therefore -even outlaws and robbers, who break with all the world besides, must -keep faith and rules of equity amongst themselves; or else they cannot -hold together. But will any one say, that those that live by fraud or -rapine have innate principles of truth and justice which they allow and -assent to? - -3. Objection: though Men deny them in their Practice, yet they admit -them in their Thoughts answered. - -Perhaps it will be urged, that the tacit assent of their minds agrees -to what their practice contradicts. I answer, first, I have always -thought the actions of men the best interpreters of their thoughts. -But, since it is certain that most men’s practices, and some men’s open -professions, have either questioned or denied these principles, it is -impossible to establish an universal consent, (though we should look -for it only amongst grown men,) without which it is impossible to -conclude them innate. Secondly, it is very strange and unreasonable to -suppose innate practical principles, that terminate only in -contemplation. Practical principles, derived from nature, are there for -operation, and must produce conformity of action, not barely -speculative assent to their truth, or else they are in vain -distinguished from speculative maxims. Nature, I confess, has put into -man a desire of happiness and an aversion to misery: these indeed are -innate practical principles which (as practical principles ought) DO -continue constantly to operate and influence all our actions without -ceasing: these may be observed in all persons and all ages, steady and -universal; but these are INCLINATIONS OF THE APPETITE to good, not -impressions of truth on the understanding. I deny not that there are -natural tendencies imprinted on the minds of men; and that from the -very first instances of sense and perception, there are some things -that are grateful and others unwelcome to them; some things that they -incline to and others that they fly: but this makes nothing for innate -characters on the mind, which are to be the principles of knowledge -regulating our practice. Such natural impressions on the understanding -are so far from being confirmed hereby, that this is an argument -against them; since, if there were certain characters imprinted by -nature on the understanding, as the principles of knowledge, we could -not but perceive them constantly operate in us and influence our -knowledge, as we do those others on the will and appetite; which never -cease to be the constant springs and motives of all our actions, to -which we perpetually feel them strongly impelling us. - -4. Moral Rules need a Proof, _ergo_ not innate. - -Another reason that makes me doubt of any innate practical principles -is, that I think _there cannot any one moral Rule be propos’d whereof a -Man may not justly demand a Reason:_ which would be perfectly -ridiculous and absurd if they were innate; or so much as self-evident, -which every innate principle must needs be, and not need any proof to -ascertain its truth, nor want any reason to gain it approbation. He -would be thought void of common sense who asked on the one side, or on -the other side went to give a reason WHY “it is impossible for the same -thing to be and not to be.” It carries its own light and evidence with -it, and needs no other proof: he that understands the terms assents to -it for its own sake or else nothing will ever be able to prevail with -him to do it. But should that most unshaken rule of morality and -foundation of all social virtue, “That one should do as he would be -done unto,” be proposed to one who never heard of it before, but yet is -of capacity to understand its meaning; might he not without any -absurdity ask a reason why? And were not he that proposed it bound to -make out the truth and reasonableness of it to him? Which plainly shows -it not to be innate; for if it were it could neither want nor receive -any proof; but must needs (at least as soon as heard and understood) be -received and assented to as an unquestionable truth, which a man can by -no means doubt of. So that the truth of all these moral rules plainly -depends upon some other antecedent to them, and from which they must be -deduced; which could not be if either they were innate or so much as -self-evident. - -5. Instance in keeping Compacts - -That men should keep their compacts is certainly a great and undeniable -rule in morality. But yet, if a Christian, who has the view of -happiness and misery in another life, be asked why a man must keep his -word, he will give this as a reason:—Because God, who has the power of -eternal life and death, requires it of us. But if a Hobbist be asked -why? he will answer:—Because the public requires it, and the Leviathan -will punish you if you do not. And if one of the old philosophers had -been asked, he would have answered:—Because it was dishonest, below the -dignity of a man, and opposite to virtue, the highest perfection of -human nature, to do otherwise. - -6. Virtue generally approved not because innate, but because -profitable. - -Hence naturally flows the great variety of opinions concerning moral -rules which are to be found among men, according to the different sorts -of happiness they have a prospect of, or propose to themselves; which -could not be if practical principles were innate, and imprinted in our -minds immediately by the hand of God. I grant the existence of God is -so many ways manifest, and the obedience we owe him so congruous to the -light of reason, that a great part of mankind give testimony to the law -of nature: but yet I think it must be allowed that several moral rules -may receive from mankind a very general approbation, without either -knowing or admitting the true ground of morality; which can only be the -will and law of a God, who sees men in the dark, has in his hand -rewards and punishments, and power enough to call to account the -proudest offender. For, God having, by an inseparable connexion, joined -virtue and public happiness together, and made the practice thereof -necessary to the preservation of society, and visibly beneficial to all -with whom the virtuous man has to do; it is no wonder that every one -should not only allow, but recommend and magnify those rules to others, -from whose observance of them he is sure to reap advantage to himself. -He may, out of interest as well as conviction, cry up that for sacred, -which, if once trampled on and profaned, he himself cannot be safe nor -secure. This, though it takes nothing from the moral and eternal -obligation which these rules evidently have, yet it shows that the -outward acknowledgment men pay to them in their words proves not that -they are innate principles: nay, it proves not so much as that men -assent to them inwardly in their own minds, as the inviolable rules of -their own practice; since we find that self-interest, and the -conveniences of this life, make many men own an outward profession and -approbation of them, whose actions sufficiently prove that they very -little consider the Lawgiver that prescribed these rules; nor the hell -that he has ordained for the punishment of those that transgress them. - -7. Men’s actions convince us, that the Rule of Virtue is not their -internal Principle. - -For, if we will not in civility allow too much sincerity to the -professions of most men, but think their actions to be the interpreters -of their thoughts, we shall find that they have no such internal -veneration for these rules, nor so full a persuasion of their certainty -and obligation. The great principle of morality, ‘To do as one would be -done to,’ is more commended than practised. But the breach of this rule -cannot be a greater vice, than to teach others, that it is no moral -rule, nor obligatory, would be thought madness, and contrary to that -interest men sacrifice to, when they break it themselves. Perhaps -CONSCIENCE will be urged as checking us for such breaches, and so the -internal obligation and establishment of the rule be preserved. - -8. Conscience no Proof of any innate Moral Rule. - -To which I answer, that I doubt not but, without being written on their -hearts, many men may, by the same way that they come to the knowledge -of other things, come to assent to several moral rules, and be -convinced of their obligation. Others also may come to be of the same -mind, from their education, company, and customs of their country; -which persuasion, however got, will serve to set conscience on work; -which is nothing else but our own opinion or judgment of the moral -rectitude or gravity of our own actions; and if conscience be a proof -of innate principles, contraries may be innate principles; since some -men with the same bent of conscience prosecute what others avoid. - -9. Instances of Enormities practised without Remorse. - -But I cannot see how any men should ever transgress those moral rules, -with confidence and serenity, were they innate, and stamped upon their -minds. View but an army at the sacking of a town, and see what -observation or sense of moral principles, or what touch of conscience -for all the outrages they do. Robberies, murders, rapes, are the sports -of men set at liberty from punishment and censure. Have there not been -whole nations, and those of the most civilized people, amongst whom the -exposing their children, and leaving them in the fields to perish by -want or wild beasts has been the practice; as little condemned or -scrupled as the begetting them? Do they not still, in some countries, -put them into the same graves with their mothers, if they die in -childbirth; or despatch them, if a pretended astrologer declares them -to have unhappy stars? And are there not places where, at a certain -age, they kill or expose their parents, without any remorse at all? In -a part of Asia, the sick, when their case comes to be thought -desperate, are carried out and laid on the earth before they are dead; -and left there, exposed to wind and weather, to perish without -assistance or pity. It is familiar among the Mingrelians, a people -professing Christianity, to bury their children alive without scruple. -There are places where they eat their own children. The Caribbees were -wont to geld their children, on purpose to fat and eat them. And -Garcilasso de la Vega tells us of a people in Peru which were wont to -fat and eat the children they got on their female captives, whom they -kept as concubines for that purpose, and when they were past breeding, -the mothers themselves were killed too and eaten. The virtues whereby -the Tououpinambos believed they merited paradise, were revenge, and -eating abundance of their enemies. They have not so much as a name for -God, and have no religion, no worship. The saints who are canonized -amongst the Turks, lead lives which one cannot with modesty relate. A -remarkable passage to this purpose, out of the voyage of Baumgarten, -which is a book not every day to be met with, I shall set down at -large, in the language it is published in. - -Ibi (sc. prope Belbes in Aegypto) vidimus sanctum unum Saracenicum -inter arenarum cumulos, ita ut ex utero matris prodiit nudum sedentem. -Mos est, ut didicimus, Mahometistis, ut eos, qui amentes et sine -ratione sunt, pro sanctis colant et venerentur. Insuper et eos, qui cum -diu vitam egerint inquinatissimam, voluntariam demum poenitentiam et -paupertatem, sanctitate venerandos deputant. Ejusmodi vero genus -hominum libertatem quandam effrenem habent, domos quos volunt intrandi, -edendi, bibendi, et quod majus est, concumbendi; ex quo concubitu, si -proles secuta fuerit, sancta similiter habetur. His ergo hominibus dum -vivunt, magnos exhibent honores; mortuis vero vel templa vel monumenta -extruunt amplissima, eosque contingere ac sepelire maximae fortunae -ducunt loco. Audivimus haec dicta et dicenda per interpretem a Mucrelo -nostro. Insuper sanctum ilium, quern eo loco vidimus, publicitus -apprime commendari, eum esse hominem sanctum, divinum ac integritate -praecipuum; eo quod, nec faminarum unquam esset, nec puerorum, sed -tantummodo asellarum concubitor atque mularum. (Peregr. Baumgarten, 1. -ii. c. i. p. 73.) - -Where then are those innate principles of justice, piety, gratitude, -equity, chastity? Or where is that universal consent that assures us -there are such inbred rules? Murders in duels, when fashion has made -them honourable, are committed without remorse of conscience: nay, in -many places innocence in this case is the greatest ignominy. And if we -look abroad to take a view of men as they are, we shall find that they -have remorse, in one place, for doing or omitting that which others, in -another place, think they merit by. - -10. Men have contrary practical Principles. - -He that will carefully peruse the history of mankind, and look abroad -into the several tribes of men, and with indifferency survey their -actions, will be able to satisfy himself, that there is scarce that -principle of morality to be named, or, rule of virtue to be thought on, -(those only excepted that are absolutely necessary to hold society -together, which commonly too are neglected betwixt distinct societies,) -which is not, somewhere or other, slighted and condemned by the general -fashion of whole societies of men, governed by practical opinions and -rules of living quite opposite to others. - -11. Whole Nations reject several Moral Rules. - -Here perhaps it will be objected, that it is no argument that the rule -is not known, because it is broken. I grant the objection good where -men, though they transgress, yet disown not the law; where fear of -shame, censure, or punishment, carries the mark of some awe it has upon -them. But it is impossible to conceive that a whole nation of men -should all publicly reject and renounce what every one of them -certainly and infallibly knew to be a law; for so they must who have it -naturally imprinted on their minds. It is possible men may sometimes -own rules of morality which in their private thoughts they do not -believe to be true, only to keep themselves in reputation and esteem -amongst those who are persuaded of their obligation. But it is not to -be imagined that a whole society of men should publicly and professedly -disown and cast off a rule which they could not in their own minds but -be infallibly certain was a law; nor be ignorant that all men they -should have to do with knew it to be such: and therefore must every one -of them apprehend from others all the contempt and abhorrence due to -one who professes himself void of humanity: and one who, confounding -the known and natural measures of right and wrong, cannot but be looked -on as the professed enemy of their peace and happiness. Whatever -practical principle is innate, cannot but be known to every one to be -just and good. It is therefore little less than a contradiction to -suppose, that whole nations of men should, both in their professions -and practice, unanimously and universally give the lie to what, by the -most invincible evidence, every one of them knew to be true, right, and -good. This is enough to satisfy us that no practical rule which is -anywhere universally, and with public approbation or allowance, -transgressed, can be supposed innate.—But I have something further to -add in answer to this objection. - -12. The generally allowed breach of a rule proof that it is not innate. - -The breaking of a rule, say you, is no argument that it is unknown. I -grant it: but the GENERALLY ALLOWED breach of it anywhere, I say, is a -proof that it is not innate. For example: let us take any of these -rules, which, being the most obvious deductions of human reason, and -conformable to the natural inclination of the greatest part of men, -fewest people have had the impudence to deny or inconsideration to -doubt of. If any can be thought to be naturally imprinted, none, I -think, can have a fairer pretence to be innate than this: “Parents, -preserve and cherish your children.” When, therefore, you say that this -is an innate rule, what do you mean? Either that it is an innate -principle which upon all occasions excites and directs the actions of -all men; or else, that it is a truth which all men have imprinted on -their minds, and which therefore they know and assent to. But in -neither of these senses is it innate. FIRST, that it is not a principle -which influences all men’s actions, is what I have proved by the -examples before cited: nor need we seek so far as the Mingrelia or Peru -to find instances of such as neglect, abuse, nay, and destroy their -children; or look on it only as the more than brutality of some savage -and barbarous nations, when we remember that it was a familiar and -uncondemned practice amongst the Greeks and Romans to expose, without -pity or remorse, their innocent infants. SECONDLY, that it is an innate -truth, known to all men, is also false. For, “Parents preserve your -children,” is so far from an innate truth, that it is no truth at all: -it being a command, and not a proposition, and so not capable of truth -or falsehood. To make it capable of being assented to as true, it must -be reduced to some such proposition as this: “It is the duty of parents -to preserve their children.” But what duty is, cannot be understood -without a law; nor a law be known or supposed without a lawmaker, or -without reward and punishment; so that it is impossible that this, or -any other, practical principle should be innate, i.e. be imprinted on -the mind as a duty, without supposing the ideas of God, of law, of -obligation, of punishment, of a life after this, innate: for that -punishment follows not in this life the breach of this rule, and -consequently that it has not the force of a law in countries where the -generally allowed practice runs counter to it, is in itself evident. -But these ideas (which must be all of them innate, if anything as a -duty be so) are so far from being innate, that it is not every studious -or thinking man, much less every one that is born, in whom they are to -be found clear and distinct; and that one of them, which of all others -seems most likely to be innate, is not so, (I mean the idea of God,) I -think, in the next chapter, will appear very evident to any considering -man. - -13. If men can be ignorant of what is innate, certainty is not -described by innate principles. - -From what has been said, I think we may safely conclude that whatever -practical rule is in any place generally and with allowance broken, -cannot be supposed innate; it being impossible that men should, without -shame or fear, confidently and serenely, break a rule which they could -not but evidently know that God had set up, and would certainly punish -the breach of, (which they must, if it were innate,) to a degree to -make it a very ill bargain to the transgressor. Without such a -knowledge as this, a man can never be certain that anything is his -duty. Ignorance or doubt of the law, hopes to escape the knowledge or -power of the law-maker, or the like, may make men give way to a present -appetite; but let any one see the fault, and the rod by it, and with -the transgression, a fire ready to punish it; a pleasure tempting, and -the hand of the Almighty visibly held up and prepared to take -vengeance, (for this must be the case where any duty is imprinted on -the mind,) and then tell me whether it be possible for people with such -a prospect, such a certain knowledge as this, wantonly, and without -scruple, to offend against a law which they carry about them in -indelible characters, and that stares them in the face whilst they are -breaking it? Whether men, at the same time that they feel in themselves -the imprinted edicts of an Omnipotent Law-maker, can, with assurance -and gaiety, slight and trample underfoot his most sacred injunctions? -And lastly, whether it be possible that whilst a man thus openly bids -defiance to this innate law and supreme Lawgiver, all the bystanders, -yea, even the governors and rulers of the people, full of the same -sense both of the law and Law-maker, should silently connive, without -testifying their dislike or laying the least blame on it? Principles of -actions indeed there are lodged in men’s appetites; but these are so -far from being innate moral principles, that if they were left to their -full swing they would carry men to the overturning of all morality. -Moral laws are set as a curb and restraint to these exorbitant desires, -which they cannot be but by rewards and punishments that will -overbalance the satisfaction any one shall propose to himself in the -breach of the law. If, therefore, anything be imprinted on the minds of -all men as a law, all men must have a certain and unavoidable knowledge -that certain and unavoidable punishment will attend the breach of it. -For if men can be ignorant or doubtful of what is innate, innate -principles are insisted on, and urged to no purpose; truth and -certainty (the things pretended) are not at all secured by them; but -men are in the same uncertain floating estate with as without them. An -evident indubitable knowledge of unavoidable punishment, great enough -to make the transgression very uneligible, must accompany an innate -law; unless with an innate law they can suppose an innate Gospel too. I -would not here be mistaken, as if, because I deny an innate law I -thought there were none but positive laws. There is a great deal of -difference between an innate law, and a law of nature between something -imprinted on our minds in their very original, and something that we, -being ignorant of, may attain to the knowledge of, by the use and due -application of our natural faculties. And I think they equally forsake -the truth who, running into contrary extremes, either affirm an innate -law, or deny that there is a law knowable by the light of nature, i.e. -without the help of positive revelation. - -14. Those who maintain innate practical Principles tell us not what -they are. - -The difference there is amongst men in their practical principles is so -evident that I think I need say no more to evince, that it will be -impossible to find any innate moral rules by this mark of general -assent; and it is enough to make one suspect that the supposition of -such innate principles is but an opinion taken up at pleasure; since -those who talk so confidently of them are so sparing to tell us WHICH -THEY ARE. This might with justice be expected from those men who lay -stress upon this opinion; and it gives occasion to distrust either -their knowledge or charity, who, declaring that God has imprinted on -the minds of men the foundations of knowledge and the rules of living, -are yet so little favourable to the information of their neighbours, or -the quiet of mankind, as not to point out to them which they are, in -the variety men are distracted with. But, in truth, were there any such -innate principles there would be no need to teach them. Did men find -such innate propositions stamped on their minds, they would easily be -able to distinguish them from other truths that they afterwards learned -and deduced from them; and there would be nothing more easy than to -know what, and how many, they were. There could be no more doubt about -their number than there is about the number of our fingers; and it is -like then every system would be ready to give them us by tale. But -since nobody, that I know, has ventured yet to give a catalogue of -them, they cannot blame those who doubt of these innate principles; -since even they who require men to believe that there are such innate -propositions, do not tell us what they are. It is easy to foresee, that -if different men of different sects should go about to give us a list -of those innate practical principles, they would set down only such as -suited their distinct hypotheses, and were fit to support the doctrines -of their particular schools or churches; a plain evidence that there -are no such innate truths. Nay, a great part of men are so far from -finding any such innate moral principles in themselves, that, by -denying freedom to mankind, and thereby making men no other than bare -machines, they take away not only innate, but all moral rules -whatsoever, and leave not a possibility to believe any such, to those -who cannot conceive how anything can be capable of a law that is not a -free agent. And upon that ground they must necessarily reject all -principles of virtue, who cannot put MORALITY and MECHANISM together, -which are not very easy to be reconciled or made consistent. - -15. Lord Herbert’s innate Principles examined. - -When I had written this, being informed that my Lord Herbert had, in -his book De Veritate, assigned these innate principles, I presently -consulted him, hoping to find in a man of so great parts, something -that might satisfy me in this point, and put an end to my inquiry. In -his chapter De Instinctu Naturali, I met with these six marks of his -Notitice Communes:—1. Prioritas. 2. Independentia. 3. Universalitas. 4. -Certitudo. 5. Necessitas, i. e. as he explains it, faciunt ad hominis -conservationem. 6. Modus conformationis, i.e. Assensus nulla -interposita mora. And at the latter end of his little treatise De -Religione Laici, he says this of these innate principles: Adeo ut non -uniuscujusvis religionis confinio arctentur quae ubique vigent -veritates. Sunt enim in ipsa mente caelitus descriptae, nullisque -traditionibus, sive scriptis, sive non scriptis, obnoxiae, p.3 And -Veritates nostrae catholicae, quae tanquam indubia Dei emata in foro -interiori descriptae. - -Thus, having given the marks of the innate principles or common -notions, and asserted their being imprinted on the minds of men by the -hand of God, he proceeds to set them down, and they are these:—1. Esse -aliquod supremum numen. 2. Numen illud coli debere. 3. Virtutem cum -pietate conjunctam optimum esse rationem cultus divini. 4. -Resipiscendum esse a peccatis. 5. Dari praemium vel paenam post hanc -vitam transactam. Though I allow these to be clear truths, and such as, -if rightly explained, a rational creature can hardly avoid giving his -assent to, yet I think he is far from proving them innate impressions -in foro interiori descriptae. For I must take leave to observe:— - -16. These five either not all, or more than all, if there are any. - -First, that these five propositions are either not all, or more than -all, those common notions written on our minds by the finger of God; if -it were reasonable to believe any at all to be so written. Since there -are other propositions which, even by his own rules, have as just a -pretence to such an original, and may be as well admitted for innate -principles, as at least some of these five he enumerates, viz. ‘Do as -thou wouldst be done unto.’ And perhaps some hundreds of others, when -well considered. - -17. The supposed marks wanting. - -Secondly, that all his marks are not to be found in each of his five -propositions, viz. his first, second, and third marks agree perfectly -to neither of them; and the first, second, third, fourth, and sixth -marks agree but ill to his third, fourth, and fifth propositions. For, -besides that we are assured from history of many men, nay whole -nations, who doubt or disbelieve some or all of them, I cannot see how -the third, viz. “That virtue joined with piety is the best worship of -God,” can be an innate principle, when the name or sound virtue, is so -hard to be understood; liable to so much uncertainty in its -signification; and the thing it stands for so much contended about and -difficult to be known. And therefore this cannot be but a very -uncertain rule of human practice, and serve but very little to the -conduct of our lives, and is therefore very unfit to be assigned as an -innate practical principle. - -18. Of little use if they were innate. - -For let us consider this proposition as to its meaning, (for it is the -sense, and not sound, that is and must be the principle or common -notion,) viz. “Virtue is the best worship of God,” i.e. is most -acceptable to him; which, if virtue be taken, as most commonly it is, -for those actions which, according to the different opinions of several -countries, are accounted laudable, will be a proposition so far from -being certain, that it will not be true. If virtue be taken for actions -conformable to God’s will, or to the rule prescribed by God—which is -the true and only measure of virtue when virtue is used to signify what -is in its own nature right and good—then this proposition, “That virtue -is the best worship of God,” will be most true and certain, but of very -little use in human life: since it will amount to no more but this, -viz. “That God is pleased with the doing of what he commands”;—which a -man may certainly know to be true, without knowing what it is that God -doth command; and so be as far from any rule or principle of his -actions as he was before. And I think very few will take a proposition -which amounts to no more than this, viz. “That God is pleased with the -doing of what he himself commands,” for an innate moral principle -written on the minds of all men, (however true and certain it may be,) -since it teaches so little. Whosoever does so will have reason to think -hundreds of propositions innate principles; since there are many which -have as good a title as this to be received for such, which nobody yet -ever put into that rank of innate principles. - -19. Scarce possible that God should engrave principles in words of -uncertain meaning. - -Nor is the fourth proposition (viz. “Men must repent of their sins”) -much more instructive, till what those actions are that are meant by -sins be set down. For the word peccata, or sins, being put, as it -usually is, to signify in general ill actions that will draw punishment -upon the doers, what great principle of morality can that be to tell us -we should be sorry, and cease to do that which will bring mischief upon -us; without knowing what those particular actions are that will do so? -Indeed this is a very true proposition, and fit to be inculcated on and -received by those who are supposed to have been taught WHAT actions in -all kinds ARE sins: but neither this nor the former can be imagined to -be innate principles; nor to be of any use if they were innate, unless -the particular measures and bounds of all virtues and vices were -engraven in men’s minds, and were innate principles also, which I think -is very much to be doubted. And therefore, I imagine, it will scarcely -seem possible that God should engrave principles in men’s minds, in -words of uncertain signification, such as VIRTUES and SINS, which -amongst different men stand for different things: nay, it cannot be -supposed to be in words at all, which, being in most of these -principles very general names, cannot be understood but by knowing the -particulars comprehended under them. And in the practical instances, -the measures must be taken from the knowledge of the actions -themselves, and the rules of them,—abstracted from words, and -antecedent to the knowledge of names; which rules a man must know, what -language soever he chance to learn, whether English or Japan, or if he -should learn no language at all, or never should understand the use of -words, as happens in the case of dumb and deaf men. When it shall be -made out that men ignorant of words, or untaught by the laws and -customs of their country, know that it is part of the worship of God -not to kill another man; not to know more women than one; not to -procure abortion; not to expose their children; not to take from -another what is his, though we want it ourselves, but on the contrary, -relieve and supply his wants; and whenever we have done the contrary we -ought to repent, be sorry, and resolve to do so no more;—when I say, -all men shall be proved actually to know and allow all these and a -thousand other such rules, all of which come under these two general -words made use of above, viz. virtutes et peccata virtues and sins, -there will be more reason for admitting these and the like, for common -notions and practical principles. Yet, after all, universal consent -(were there any in moral principles) to truths, the knowledge whereof -may be attained otherwise, would scarce prove them to be innate; which -is all I contend for. - -20. Objection, Innate Principles may be corrupted, answered. - -Nor will it be of much moment here to offer that very ready but not -very material answer, viz. that the innate principles of morality may, -by education, and custom, and the general opinion of those amongst whom -we converse, be darkened, and at last quite worn out of the minds of -men. Which assertion of theirs, if true, quite takes away the argument -of universal consent, by which this opinion of innate principles is -endeavoured to be proved; unless those men will think it reasonable -that their private persuasions, or that of their party, should pass for -universal consent;—a thing not unfrequently done, when men, presuming -themselves to be the only masters of right reason, cast by the votes -and opinions of the rest of mankind as not worthy the reckoning. And -then their argument stands thus:—“The principles which all mankind -allow for true, are innate; those that men of right reason admit, are -the principles allowed by all mankind; we, and those of our mind, are -men of reason; therefore, we agreeing, our principles are -innate”;—which is a very pretty way of arguing, and a short cut to -infallibility. For otherwise it will be very hard to understand how -there be some principles which all men do acknowledge and agree in; and -yet there are none of those principles which are not, by depraved -custom and ill education, blotted out of the minds of many men: which -is to say, that all men admit, but yet many men do deny and dissent -from them. And indeed the supposition of SUCH first principles will -serve us to very little purpose; and we shall be as much at a loss with -as without them, if they may, by any human power—such as the will of -our teachers, or opinions of our companions—be altered or lost in us: -and notwithstanding all this boast of first principles and innate -light, we shall be as much in the dark and uncertainty as if there were -no such thing at all: it being all one to have no rule, and one that -will warp any way; or amongst various and contrary rules, not to know -which is the right. But concerning innate principles, I desire these -men to say, whether they can or cannot, by education and custom, be -blurred and blotted out; if they cannot, we must find them in all -mankind alike, and they must be clear in everybody; and if they may -suffer variation from adventitious notions, we must then find them -clearest and most perspicuous nearest the fountain, in children and -illiterate people, who have received least impression from foreign -opinions. Let them take which side they please, they will certainly -find it inconsistent with visible matter of fact and daily observation. - -21. Contrary Principles in the World. - -I easily grant that there are great numbers of opinions which, by men -of different countries, educations, and tempers, are received and -embraced as first and unquestionable principles; many whereof, both for -their absurdity as well as oppositions to one another, it is impossible -should be true. But yet all those propositions, how remote soever from -reason are so sacred somewhere or other, that men even of good -understanding in other matters, will sooner part with their lives, and -whatever is dearest to them, than suffer themselves to doubt, or others -to question, the truth of them. - -22. How men commonly come by their Principles. - -This, however strange it may seem, is that which every day’s experience -confirms; and will not, perhaps, appear so wonderful, if we consider -the ways and steps by which it is brought about; and how really it may -come to pass, that doctrines that have been derived from no better -original than the superstition of a nurse, or the authority of an old -woman, may, by length of time and consent of neighbours, grow up to the -dignity of PRINCIPLES in religion or morality. For such, who are -careful (as they call it) to principle children well, (and few there be -who have not a set of those principles for them, which they believe -in,) instil into the unwary, and as yet unprejudiced, understanding, -(for white paper receives any characters,) those doctrines they would -have them retain and profess. These being taught them as soon as they -have any apprehension; and still as they grow up confirmed to them, -either by the open profession or tacit consent of all they have to do -with; or at least by those of whose wisdom, knowledge, and piety they -have an opinion, who never suffer those propositions to be otherwise -mentioned but as the basis and foundation on which they build their -religion and manners, come, by these means, to have the reputation of -unquestionable, self-evident, and innate truths. - -23. Principles supposed innate because we do not remember when we began -to hold them. - -To which we may add, that when men so instructed are grown up, and -reflect on their own minds, they cannot find anything more ancient -there than those opinions, which were taught them before their memory -began to keep a register of their actions, or date the time when any -new thing appeared to them; and therefore make no scruple to conclude, -that those propositions of whose knowledge they can find in themselves -no original, were certainly the impress of God and nature upon their -minds, and not taught them by any one else. These they entertain and -submit to, as many do to their parents with veneration; not because it -is natural: nor do children do it where they are not so taught; but -because, having been always so educated, and having no remembrance of -the beginning of this respect, they think it is natural. - -24. How such principles come to be held. - -This will appear very likely, and almost unavoidable to come to pass, -if we consider the nature of mankind and the constitution of human -affairs; wherein most men cannot live without employing their time in -the daily labours of their callings; nor be at quiet in their minds -without SOME foundation or principle to rest their thoughts on. There -is scarcely any one so floating and superficial in his understanding, -who hath not some reverenced propositions, which are to him the -principles on which he bottoms his reasonings, and by which he judgeth -of truth and falsehood, right and wrong; which some, wanting skill and -leisure, and others the inclination, and some being taught that they -ought not to examine, there are few to be found who are not exposed by -their ignorance, laziness, education, or precipitancy, to TAKE THEM -UPON TRUST. - -25. Further explained. - -This is evidently the case of all children and young folk; and custom, -a greater power than nature, seldom failing to make them worship for -divine what she hath inured them to bow their minds and submit their -understandings to, it is no wonder that grown men, either perplexed in -the necessary affairs of life, or hot in the pursuit of pleasures, -should not seriously sit down to examine their own tenets; especially -when one of their principles is, that principles ought not to be -questioned. And had men leisure, parts, and will, who is there almost -that dare shake the foundations of all his past thoughts and actions, -and endure to bring upon himself the shame of having been a long time -wholly in mistake and error? Who is there hardy enough to contend with -the reproach which is everywhere prepared for those who dare venture to -dissent from the received opinions of their country or party? And where -is the man to be found that can patiently prepare himself to bear the -name of whimsical, sceptical, or atheist; which he is sure to meet -with, who does in the least scruple any of the common opinions? And he -will be much more afraid to question those principles, when he shall -think them, as most men do, the standards set up by God in his mind, to -be the rule and touchstone of all other opinions. And what can hinder -him from thinking them sacred, when he finds them the earliest of all -his own thoughts, and the most reverenced by others? - -26. A worship of idols. - -It is easy to imagine how, by these means, it comes to pass that men -worship the idols that have been set up in their minds; grow fond of -the notions they have been long acquainted with there; and stamp the -characters of divinity upon absurdities and errors; become zealous -votaries to bulls and monkeys, and contend too, fight, and die in -defence of their opinions. _Dum solos credit habendos esse deos, quos -ipse colit_. For, since the reasoning faculties of the soul, which are -almost constantly, though not always warily nor wisely employed, would -not know how to move, for want of a foundation and footing, in most -men, who through laziness or avocation do not, or for want of time, or -true helps, or for other causes, cannot penetrate into the principles -of knowledge, and trace truth to its fountain and original, it is -natural for them, and almost unavoidable, to take up with some borrowed -principles; which being reputed and presumed to be the evident proofs -of other things, are thought not to need any other proof themselves. -Whoever shall receive any of these into his mind, and entertain them -there with the reverence usually paid to principles, never venturing to -examine them, but accustoming himself to believe them, because they are -to be believed, may take up, from his education and the fashions of his -country, any absurdity for innate principles; and by long poring on the -same objects, so dim his sight as to take monsters lodged in his own -brain for the images of the Deity, and the workmanship of his hands. - -27. Principles must be examined. - -By this progress, how many there are who arrive at principles which -they believe innate may be easily observed, in the variety of opposite -principles held and contended for by all sorts and degrees of men. And -he that shall deny this to be the method wherein most men proceed to -the assurance they have of the truth and evidence of their principles, -will perhaps find it a hard matter any other way to account for the -contrary tenets, which are firmly believed, confidently asserted, and -which great numbers are ready at any time to seal with their blood. -And, indeed, if it be the privilege of innate principles to be received -upon their own authority, without examination, I know not what may not -be believed, or how any one’s principles can be questioned. If they may -and ought to be examined and tried, I desire to know how first and -innate principles can be tried; or at least it is reasonable to demand -the MARKS and CHARACTERS whereby the genuine innate principles may be -distinguished from others: that so, amidst the great variety of -pretenders, I may be kept from mistakes in so material a point as this. -When this is done, I shall be ready to embrace such welcome and useful -propositions; and till then I may with modesty doubt; since I fear -universal consent, which is the only one produced, will scarcely prove -a sufficient mark to direct my choice, and assure me of any innate -principles. - -From what has been said, I think it past doubt, that there are no -practical principles wherein all men agree; and therefore none innate. - - - - -CHAPTER IV. -OTHER CONSIDERATIONS CONCERNING INNATE PRINCIPLES, BOTH SPECULATIVE AND -PRACTICAL. - - -1. Principles not innate, unless their Ideas be innate - -Had those who would persuade us that there are innate principles not -taken them together in gross, but considered separately the parts out -of which those propositions are made, they would not, perhaps, have -been so forward to believe they were innate. Since, if the IDEAS which -made up those truths were not, it was impossible that the PROPOSITIONS -made up of them should be innate, or our knowledge of them be born with -us. For, if the ideas be not innate, there was a time when the mind was -without those principles; and then they will not be innate, but be -derived from some other original. For, where the ideas themselves are -not, there can be no knowledge, no assent, no mental or verbal -propositions about them. - -2. Ideas, especially those belonging to Principles, not born with -children - -If we will attentively consider new-born children, we shall have little -reason to think that they bring many ideas into the world with them. -For, bating perhaps some faint ideas of hunger, and thirst, and warmth, -and some pains, which they may have felt in the womb, there is not the -least appearance of any settled ideas at all in them; especially of -IDEAS ANSWERING THE TERMS WHICH MAKE UP THOSE UNIVERSAL PROPOSITIONS -THAT ARE ESTEEMED INNATE PRINCIPLES. One may perceive how, by degrees, -afterwards, ideas come into their minds; and that they get no more, nor -other, than what experience, and the observation of things that come in -their way, furnish them with; which might be enough to satisfy us that -they are not original characters stamped on the mind. - -3. Impossibility and Identity not innate ideas - -“It is impossible for the same thing to be, and not to be,” is -certainly (if there be any such) an innate PRINCIPLE. But can any one -think, or will any one say, that “impossibility” and “identity” are two -innate IDEAS? Are they such as all mankind have, and bring into the -world with them? And are they those which are the first in children, -and antecedent to all acquired ones? If they are innate, they must -needs be so. Hath a child an idea of impossibility and identity, before -it has of white or black, sweet or bitter? And is it from the knowledge -of this principle that it concludes, that wormwood rubbed on the nipple -hath not the same taste that it used to receive from thence? Is it the -actual knowledge of IMPOSSIBILE EST IDEM ESSE, ET NON ESSE, that makes -a child distinguish between its mother and a stranger; or that makes it -fond of the one and flee the other? Or does the mind regulate itself -and its assent by ideas that it never yet had? Or the understanding -draw conclusions from principles which it never yet knew or understood? -The names IMPOSSIBILITY and IDENTITY stand for two ideas, so far from -being innate, or born with us, that I think it requires great care and -attention to form them right in our understandings. They are so far -from being brought into the world with us, so remote from the thoughts -of infancy and childhood, that I believe, upon examination it will be -found that many grown men want them. - -4. Identity, an Idea not innate. - -If IDENTITY (to instance that alone) be a native impression, and -consequently so clear and obvious to us that we must needs know it even -from our cradles, I would gladly be resolved by any one of seven, or -seventy years old, whether a man, being a creature consisting of soul -and body, be the same man when his body is changed? Whether Euphorbus -and Pythagoras, having had the same soul, were the same men, though -they lived several ages asunder? Nay, whether the cock too, which had -the same soul, were not the same, with both of them? Whereby, perhaps, -it will appear that our idea of SAMENESS is not so settled and clear as -to deserve to be thought innate in us. For if those innate ideas are -not clear and distinct, so as to be universally known and naturally -agreed on, they cannot be subjects of universal and undoubted truths, -but will be the unavoidable occasion of perpetual uncertainty. For, I -suppose every one’s idea of identity will not be the same that -Pythagoras and thousands of his followers have. And which then shall be -true? Which innate? Or are there two different ideas of identity, both -innate? - -5. What makes the same man? - -Nor let any one think that the questions I have here proposed about the -identity of man are bare empty speculations; which, if they were, would -be enough to show, that there was in the understandings of men no -innate idea of identity. He that shall with a little attention reflect -on the resurrection, and consider that divine justice will bring to -judgment, at the last day, the very same persons, to be happy or -miserable in the other, who did well or ill in this life, will find it -perhaps not easy to resolve with himself, what makes the same man, or -wherein identity consists; and will not be forward to think he, and -every one, even children themselves, have naturally a clear idea of it. - -6. Whole and Part not innate ideas. - -Let us examine that principle of mathematics, viz. THAT THE WHOLE IS -BIGGER THAN A PART. This, I take it, is reckoned amongst innate -principles. I am sure it has as good a title as any to be thought so; -which yet nobody can think it to be, when he considers the ideas it -comprehends in it, WHOLE and PART, are perfectly relative; but the -positive ideas to which they properly and immediately belong are -extension and number, of which alone whole and part are relations. So -that if whole and part are innate ideas, extension and number must be -so too; it being impossible to have an idea of a relation, without -having any at all of the thing to which it belongs, and in which it is -founded. Now, whether the minds of men have naturally imprinted on them -the ideas of extension and number, I leave to be considered by those -who are the patrons of innate principles. - -7. Idea of Worship not innate. - -That GOD IS TO BE WORSHIPPED, is, without doubt, as great a truth as -any that can enter into the mind of man, and deserves the first place -amongst all practical principles. But yet it can by no means be thought -innate, unless the ideas of GOD and WORSHIP are innate. That the idea -the term worship stands for is not in the understanding of children, -and a character stamped on the mind in its first original, I think will -be easily granted, by any one that considers how few there be amongst -grown men who have a clear and distinct notion of it. And, I suppose, -there cannot be anything more ridiculous than to say, that children -have this practical principle innate, “That God is to be worshipped,” -and yet that they know not what that worship of God is, which is their -duty. But to pass by this. - -8. Idea of God not innate. - -If any idea can be imagined innate, the idea of GOD may, of all others, -for many reasons, be thought so; since it is hard to conceive how there -should be innate moral principles, without an innate idea of a Deity. -Without a notion of a law-maker, it is impossible to have a notion of a -law, and an obligation to observe it. Besides the atheists taken notice -of amongst the ancients, and left branded upon the records of history, -hath not navigation discovered, in these later ages, whole nations, at -the bay of Soldania, in Brazil, and in the Caribbee islands, &c., -amongst whom there was to be found no notion of a God, no religion? -Nicholaus del Techo, in Literis ex Paraquaria, de Caiguarum -Conversione, has these words: Reperi eam gentem nullum nomen habere -quod Deum, et hominis animam significet; nulla sacra habet, nulla -idola. - -And perhaps, if we should with attention mind the lives and discourses -of people not so far off, we should have too much reason to fear, that -many, in more civilized countries, have no very strong and clear -impressions of a Deity upon their minds, and that the complaints of -atheism made from the pulpit are not without reason. And though only -some profligate wretches own it too barefacedly now; yet perhaps we -should hear more than we do of it from others, did not the fear of the -magistrate’s sword, or their neighbour’s censure, tie up people’s -tongues; which, were the apprehensions of punishment or shame taken -away, would as openly proclaim their atheism as their lives do. - -9. The name of God not universal or obscure in meaning. - -But had all mankind everywhere a notion of a God, (whereof yet history -tells us the contrary,) it would not from thence follow, that the idea -of him was innate. For, though no nation were to be found without a -name, and some few dark notions of him, yet that would not prove them -to be natural impressions on the mind; no more than the names of fire, -or the sun, heat, or number, do prove the ideas they stand for to be -innate; because the names of those things, and the ideas of them, are -so universally received and known amongst mankind. Nor, on the -contrary, is the want of such a name, or the absence of such a notion -out of men’s minds, any argument against the being of a God; any more -than it would be a proof that there was no loadstone in the world, -because a great part of mankind had neither a notion of any such thing -nor a name for it; or be any show of argument to prove that there are -no distinct and various species of angels, or intelligent beings above -us, because we have no ideas of such distinct species, or names for -them. For, men being furnished with words, by the common language of -their own countries, can scarce avoid having some kind of ideas of -those things whose names those they converse with have occasion -frequently to mention to them. And if they carry with it the notion of -excellency, greatness, or something extraordinary; if apprehension and -concernment accompany it; if the fear of absolute and irresistible -power set it on upon the mind,—the idea is likely to sink the deeper, -and spread the further; especially if it be such an idea as is -agreeable to the common light of reason, and naturally deducible from -every part of our knowledge, as that of a God is. For the visible marks -of extraordinary wisdom and power appear so plainly in all the works of -the creation, that a rational creature, who will but seriously reflect -on them, cannot miss the discovery of a Deity. And the influence that -the discovery of such a Being must necessarily have on the minds of all -that have but once heard of it is so great, and carries such a weight -of thought and communication with it, that it seems stranger to me that -a whole nation of men should be anywhere found so brutish as to want -the notion of a God, than that they should be without any notion of -numbers, or fire. - -10. Ideas of God and idea of Fire. - -The name of God being once mentioned in any part of the world, to -express a superior, powerful, wise, invisible Being, the suitableness -of such a notion to the principles of common reason, and the interest -men will always have to mention it often, must necessarily spread it -far and wide; and continue it down to all generations: though yet the -general reception of this name, and some imperfect and unsteady notions -conveyed thereby to the unthinking part of mankind, prove not the idea -to be innate; but only that they who made the discovery had made a -right use of their reason, thought maturely of the causes of things, -and traced them to their original; from whom other less considering -people having once received so important a notion, it could not easily -be lost again. - -11. Idea of God not innate. - -This is all could be inferred from the notion of a God, were it to be -found universally in all the tribes of mankind, and generally -acknowledged, by men grown to maturity in all countries. For the -generality of the acknowledging of a God, as I imagine, is extended no -further than that; which, if it be sufficient to prove the idea of God -innate, will as well prove the idea of fire innate; since I think it -may be truly said, that there is not a person in the world who has a -notion of a God, who has not also the idea of fire. I doubt not but if -a colony of young children should be placed in an island where no fire -was, they would certainly neither have any notion of such a thing, nor -name for it, how generally soever it were received and known in all the -world besides; and perhaps too their apprehensions would be as far -removed from any name, or notion, of a God, till some one amongst them -had employed his thoughts to inquire into the constitution and causes -of things, which would easily lead him to the notion of a God; which -having once taught to others, reason, and the natural propensity of -their own thoughts, would afterwards propagate, and continue amongst -them. - -12. Suitable to God’s goodness, that all Men should have an idea of -Him, therefore naturally imprinted by Him, answered. - -Indeed it is urged, that it is suitable to the goodness of God, to -imprint upon the minds of men characters and notions of himself, and -not to leave them in the dark and doubt in so grand a concernment; and -also, by that means, to secure to himself the homage and veneration due -from so intelligent a creature as man; and therefore he has done it. - -This argument, if it be of any force, will prove much more than those -who use it in this case expect from it. For, if we may conclude that -God hath done for men all that men shall judge is best for them, -because it is suitable to his goodness so to do, it will prove, not -only that God has imprinted on the minds of men an idea of himself, but -that he hath plainly stamped there, in fair characters, all that men -ought to know or believe of him; all that they ought to do in obedience -to his will; and that he hath given them a will and affections -conformable to it. This, no doubt, every one will think better for men, -than that they should, in the dark, grope after knowledge, as St. Paul -tells us all nations did after God (Acts xvii. 27); than that their -wills should clash with their understandings, and their appetites cross -their duty. The Romanists say it is best for men, and so suitable to -the goodness of God, that there should be an infallible judge of -controversies on earth; and therefore there is one. And I, by the same -reason, say it is better for men that every man himself should be -infallible. I leave them to consider, whether, by the force of this -argument, they shall think that every man IS so. I think it a very good -argument to say,—the infinitely wise God hath made it so; and therefore -it is best. But it seems to me a little too much confidence of our own -wisdom to say,—‘I think it best; and therefore God hath made it so.’ -And in the matter in hand, it will be in vain to argue from such a -topic, that God hath done so, when certain experience shows us that he -hath not. But the goodness of God hath not been wanting to men, without -such original impressions of knowledge or ideas stamped on the mind; -since he hath furnished man with those faculties which will serve for -the sufficient discovery of all things requisite to the end of such a -being; and I doubt not but to show, that a man, by the right use of his -natural abilities, may, without any innate principles, attain a -knowledge of a God, and other things that concern him. God having -endued man with those faculties of knowledge which he hath, was no more -obliged by his goodness to plant those innate notions in his mind, than -that, having given him reason, hands, and materials, he should build -him bridges or houses,—which some people in the world, however of good -parts, do either totally want, or are but ill provided of, as well as -others are wholly without ideas of God and principles of morality, or -at least have but very ill ones; the reason in both cases being, that -they never employed their parts, faculties, and powers industriously -that way, but contented themselves with the opinions, fashions, and -things of their country, as they found them, without looking any -further. Had you or I been born at the Bay of Soldania, possibly our -thoughts and notions had not exceeded those brutish ones of the -Hottentots that inhabit there. And had the Virginia king Apochancana -been educated in England, he had been perhaps as knowing a divine, and -as good a mathematician as any in it; the difference between him and a -more improved Englishman lying barely in this, that the exercise of his -faculties was bounded within the ways, modes, and notions of his own -country, and never directed to any other or further inquiries. And if -he had not any idea of a God, it was only because he pursued not those -thoughts that would have led him to it. - -13. Ideas of God various in different Men. - -I grant that if there were any ideas to be found imprinted on the minds -of men, we have reason to expect it should be the notion of his Maker, -as a mark God set on his own workmanship, to mind man of his dependence -and duty; and that herein should appear the first instances of human -knowledge. But how late is it before any such notion is discoverable in -children? And when we find it there, how much more does it resemble the -opinion and notion of the teacher, than represent the true God? He that -shall observe in children the progress whereby their minds attain the -knowledge they have, will think that the objects they do first and most -familiarly converse with are those that make the first impressions on -their understandings; nor will he find the least footsteps of any -other. It is easy to take notice how their thoughts enlarge themselves, -only as they come to be acquainted with a greater variety of sensible -objects; to retain the ideas of them in their memories; and to get the -skill to compound and enlarge them, and several ways put them together. -How, by these means, they come to frame in their minds an idea men have -of a Deity, I shall hereafter show. - -14. Contrary and inconsistent ideas of God under the same name. - -Can it be thought that the ideas men have of God are the characters and -marks of himself, engraven in their minds by his own finger, when we -see that, in the same country, under one and the same name, men have -far different, nay often contrary and inconsistent ideas and -conceptions of him? Their agreeing in a name, or sound, will scarce -prove an innate notion of him. - -15. Gross ideas of God. - -What true or tolerable notion of a Deity could they have, who -acknowledged and worshipped hundreds? Every deity that they owned above -one was an infallible evidence of their ignorance of Him, and a proof -that they had no true notion of God, where unity, infinity, and -eternity were excluded. To which, if we add their gross conceptions of -corporeity, expressed in their images and representations of their -deities; the amours, marriages, copulations, lusts, quarrels, and other -mean qualities attributed by them to their gods; we shall have little -reason to think that the heathen world, i.e. the greatest part of -mankind, had such ideas of God in their minds as he himself, out of -care that they should not be mistaken about him, was author of. And -this universality of consent, so much argued, if it prove any native -impressions, it will be only this:—that God imprinted on the minds of -all men speaking the same language, a NAME for himself, but not any -IDEA; since those people who agreed in the name, had, at the same time, -far different apprehensions about the thing signified. If they say that -the variety of deities worshipped by the heathen world were but -figurative ways of expressing the several attributes of that -incomprehensible Being, or several parts of his providence, I answer: -what they might be in the original I will not here inquire; but that -they were so in the thoughts of the vulgar I think nobody will affirm. -And he that will consult the voyage of the Bishop of Beryte, c. 13, -(not to mention other testimonies,) will find that the theology of the -Siamites professedly owns a plurality of gods: or, as the Abbe de -Choisy more judiciously remarks in his Journal du Voyage de Siam, -107/177, it consists properly in acknowledging no God at all. - -16. Idea of God not innate although wise men of all nations come to -have it. - -If it be said, that wise men of all nations came to have true -conceptions of the unity and infinity of the Deity, I grant it. But -then this, - -First, excludes universality of consent in anything but the name; for -those wise men being very few, perhaps one of a thousand, this -universality is very narrow. - -Secondly, it seems to me plainly to prove, that the truest and best -notions men have of God were not imprinted, but acquired by thought and -meditation, and a right use of their faculties: since the wise and -considerate men of the world, by a right and careful employment of -their thoughts and reason, attained true notions in this as well as -other things; whilst the lazy and inconsiderate part of men, making far -the greater number, took up their notions by chance, from common -tradition and vulgar conceptions, without much beating their heads -about them. And if it be a reason to think the notion of God innate, -because all wise men had it, virtue too must be thought innate; for -that also wise men have always had. - -17. Odd, low, and pitiful ideas of God common among men. - -This was evidently the case of all Gentilism. Nor hath even amongst -Jews, Christians, and Mahometans, who acknowledged but one God, this -doctrine, and the care taken in those nations to teach men to have true -notions of a God, prevailed so far as to make men to have the same and -the true ideas of him. How many even amongst us, will be found upon -inquiry to fancy him in the shape of a man sitting in heaven; and to -have many other absurd and unfit conceptions of him? Christians as well -as Turks have had whole sects owning and contending earnestly for -it,—that the Deity was corporeal, and of human shape: and though we -find few now amongst us who profess themselves Anthropomorphites, -(though some I have met with that own it,) yet I believe he that will -make it his business may find amongst the ignorant and uninstructed -Christians many of that opinion. Talk but with country people, almost -of any age, or young people almost of any condition, and you shall find -that, though the name of God be frequently in their mouths, yet the -notions they apply this name to are so odd, low, and pitiful, that -nobody can imagine they were taught by a rational man; much less that -they were characters written by the finger of God himself. Nor do I see -how it derogates more from the goodness of God, that he has given us -minds unfurnished with these ideas of himself, than that he hath sent -us into the world with bodies unclothed; and that there is no art or -skill born with us. For, being fitted with faculties to attain these, -it is want of industry and consideration in us, and not of bounty in -him, if we have them not. It is as certain that there is a God, as that -the opposite angles made by the intersection of two straight lines are -equal. There was never any rational creature that set himself sincerely -to examine the truth of these propositions that could fail to assent to -them; though yet it be past doubt that there are many men, who, having -not applied their thoughts that way, are ignorant both of the one and -the other. If any one think fit to call this (which is the utmost of -its extent) UNIVERSAL CONSENT, such an one I easily allow; but such an -universal consent as this proves not the idea of God, any more than it -does the idea of such angles, innate. - -18. If the Idea of God be not innate, no other can be supposed innate. - -Since then though the knowledge of a God be the most natural discovery -of human reason, yet the idea of him is not innate, as I think is -evident from what has been said; I imagine there will be scarce any -other idea found that can pretend to it. Since if God hath set any -impression, any character, on the understanding of men, it is most -reasonable to expect it should have been some clear and uniform idea of -Himself; as far as our weak capacities were capable to receive so -incomprehensible and infinite an object. But our minds being at first -void of that idea which we are most concerned to have, it is a strong -presumption against all other innate characters. I must own, as far as -I can observe, I can find none, and would be glad to be informed by any -other. - -19. Idea of Substance not innate. - -I confess there is another idea which would be of general use for -mankind to have, as it is of general talk as if they had it; and that -is the idea of SUBSTANCE; which we neither have nor can have by -sensation or reflection. If nature took care to provide us any ideas, -we might well expect they should be such as by our own faculties we -cannot procure to ourselves; but we see, on the contrary, that since, -by those ways whereby other ideas are brought into our minds, this is -not, we have no such clear idea at all; and therefore signify nothing -by the word SUBSTANCE but only an uncertain supposition of we know not -what, i. e. of something whereof we have no idea, which we take to be -the substratum, or support, of those ideas we do know. - -20. No Propositions can be innate, since no Ideas are innate. - -Whatever then we talk of innate, either speculative or practical, -principles, it may with as much probability be said, that a man hath -100 pounds sterling in his pocket, and yet denied that he hath there -either penny, shilling, crown, or other coin out of which the sum is to -be made up; as to think that certain PROPOSITIONS are innate when the -IDEAS about which they are can by no means be supposed to be so. The -general reception and assent that is given doth not at all prove, that -the ideas expressed in them are innate; for in many cases, however the -ideas came there, the assent to words expressing the agreement or -disagreement of such ideas, will necessarily follow. Every one that -hath a true idea of GOD and WORSHIP, will assent to this proposition, -‘That God is to be worshipped,’ when expressed in a language he -understands; and every rational man that hath not thought on it to-day, -may be ready to assent to this proposition to-morrow; and yet millions -of men may be well supposed to want one or both those ideas to-day. -For, if we will allow savages, and most country people, to have ideas -of God and worship, (which conversation with them will not make one -forward to believe,) yet I think few children can be supposed to have -those ideas, which therefore they must begin to have some time or -other; and then they will also begin to assent to that proposition, and -make very little question of it ever after. But such an assent upon -hearing, no more proves the IDEAS to be innate, than it does that one -born blind (with cataracts which will be couched to-morrow) had the -innate ideas of the sun, or light, or saffron, or yellow; because, when -his sight is cleared, he will certainly assent to this proposition, -“That the sun is lucid, or that saffron is yellow.” And therefore, if -such an assent upon hearing cannot prove the ideas innate, it can much -less the PROPOSITIONS made up of those ideas. If they have any innate -ideas, I would be glad to be told what, and how many, they are. - -21. No innate Ideas in the Memory. - -To which let me add: if there be any innate ideas, any ideas in the -mind which the mind does not actually think on, they must be lodged in -the memory; and from thence must be brought into view by remembrance; -i. e. must be known, when they are remembered, to have been perceptions -in the mind before; unless remembrance can be without remembrance. For, -to remember is to perceive anything with memory, or with a -consciousness that it was perceived or known before. Without this, -whatever idea comes into the mind is new, and not remembered; this -consciousness of its having been in the mind before, being that which -distinguishes remembering from all other ways of thinking. Whatever -idea was never PERCEIVED by the mind was never in the mind. Whatever -idea is in the mind, is, either an actual perception, or else, having -been an actual perception, is so in the mind that, by the memory, it -can be made an actual perception again. Whenever there is the actual -perception of any idea without memory, the idea appears perfectly new -and unknown before to the understanding. Whenever the memory brings any -idea into actual view, it is with a consciousness that it had been -there before, and was not wholly a stranger to the mind. Whether this -be not so, I appeal to every one’s observation. And then I desire an -instance of an idea, pretended to be innate, which (before any -impression of it by ways hereafter to be mentioned) any one could -revive and remember, as an idea he had formerly known; without which -consciousness of a former perception there is no remembrance; and -whatever idea comes into the mind without THAT consciousness is not -remembered, or comes not out of the memory, nor can be said to be in -the mind before that appearance. For what is not either actually in -view or in the memory, is in the mind no way at all, and is all one as -if it had never been there. Suppose a child had the use of his eyes -till he knows and distinguishes colours; but then cataracts shut the -windows, and he is forty or fifty years perfectly in the dark; and in -that time perfectly loses all memory of the ideas of colours he once -had. This was the case of a blind man I once talked with, who lost his -sight by the small-pox when he was a child, and had no more notion of -colours than one born blind. I ask whether any one can say this man had -then any ideas of colours in his mind, any more than one born blind? -And I think nobody will say that either of them had in his mind any -ideas of colours at all. His cataracts are couched, and then he has the -ideas (which he remembers not) of colours, DE NOVO, by his restored -sight, conveyed to his mind, and that without any consciousness of a -former acquaintance. And these now he can revive and call to mind in -the dark. In this case all these ideas of colours which, when out of -view, can be revived with a consciousness of a former acquaintance, -being thus in the memory, are said to be in the mind. The use I make of -this is,—that whatever idea, being not actually in view, is in the -mind, is there only by being in the memory; and if it be not in the -memory, it is not in the mind; and if it be in the memory, it cannot by -the memory be brought into actual view without a perception that it -comes out of the memory; which is this, that it had been known before, -and is now remembered. If therefore there be any innate ideas, they -must be in the memory, or else nowhere in the mind; and if they be in -the memory, they can be revived without any impression from without; -and whenever they are brought into the mind they are remembered, i. e. -they bring with them a perception of their not being wholly new to it. -This being a constant and distinguishing difference between what is, -and what is not in the memory, or in the mind;—that what is not in the -memory, whenever it appears there, appears perfectly new and unknown -before; and what is in the memory, or in the mind, whenever it is -suggested by the memory, appears not to be new, but the mind finds it -in itself, and knows it was there before. By this it may be tried -whether there be any innate ideas in the mind before impression from -sensation or reflection. I would fain meet with the man who, when he -came to the use of reason, or at any other time, remembered any of -them; and to whom, after he was born, they were never new. If any one -will say, there are ideas in the mind that are NOT in the memory, I -desire him to explain himself, and make what he says intelligible. - -22. Principles not innate, because of little use or little certainty. - -Besides what I have already said, there is another reason why I doubt -that neither these nor any other principles are innate. I that am fully -persuaded that the infinitely wise God made all things in perfect -wisdom, cannot satisfy myself why he should be supposed to print upon -the minds of men some universal principles; whereof those that are -pretended innate, and concern SPECULATION, are of no great use; and -those that concern PRACTICE, not self-evident; and neither of them -distinguishable from some other truths not allowed to be innate. For, -to what purpose should characters be graven on the mind by the finger -of God, which are not clearer there than those which are afterwards -introduced, or cannot be distinguished from them? If any one thinks -there are such innate ideas and propositions, which by their clearness -and usefulness are distinguishable from all that is adventitious in the -mind and acquired, it will not be a hard matter for him to tell us -WHICH THEY ARE; and then every one will be a fit judge whether they be -so or no. Since if there be such innate ideas and impressions, plainly -different from all other perceptions and knowledge, every one will find -it true in himself. Of the evidence of these supposed innate maxims, I -have spoken already: of their usefulness I shall have occasion to speak -more hereafter. - -23. Difference of Men’s Discoveries depends upon the different -Application of their Faculties. - -To conclude: some ideas forwardly offer themselves to all men’s -understanding; and some sorts of truths result from any ideas, as soon -as the mind puts them into propositions: other truths require a train -of ideas placed in order, a due comparing of them, and deductions made -with attention, before they can be discovered and assented to. Some of -the first sort, because of their general and easy reception, have been -mistaken for innate: but the truth is, ideas and notions are no more -born with us than arts and sciences; though some of them indeed offer -themselves to our faculties more readily than others; and therefore are -more generally received: though that too be according as the organs of -our bodies and powers of our minds happen to be employed; God having -fitted men with faculties and means to discover, receive, and retain -truths, according as they are employed. The great difference that is to -be found in the notions of mankind is, from the different use they put -their faculties to. Whilst some (and those the most) taking things upon -trust, misemploy their power of assent, by lazily enslaving their minds -to the dictates and dominion of others, in doctrines which it is their -duty carefully to examine, and not blindly, with an implicit faith, to -swallow; others, employing their thoughts only about some few things, -grow acquainted sufficiently with them, attain great degrees of -knowledge in them, and are ignorant of all other, having never let -their thoughts loose in the search of other inquiries. Thus, that the -three angles of a triangle are quite equal to two right ones is a truth -as certain as anything can be, and I think more evident than many of -those propositions that go for principles; and yet there are millions, -however expert in other things, who know not this at all, because they -never set their thoughts on work about such angles. And he that -certainly knows this proposition may yet be utterly ignorant of the -truth of other propositions, in mathematics itself, which are as clear -and evident as this; because, in his search of those mathematical -truths, he stopped his thoughts short and went not so far. The same may -happen concerning the notions we have of the being of a Deity. For, -though there be no truth which a man may more evidently make out to -himself than the existence of a God, yet he that shall content himself -with things as he finds them in this world, as they minister to his -pleasures and passions, and not make inquiry a little further into -their causes, ends, and admirable contrivances, and pursue the thoughts -thereof with diligence and attention, may live long without any notion -of such a Being. And if any person hath by talk put such a notion into -his head, he may perhaps believe it; but if he hath never examined it, -his knowledge of it will be no perfecter than his, who having been -told, that the three angles of a triangle are equal to two right ones, -takes it upon trust, without examining the demonstration; and may yield -his assent as a probable opinion, but hath no knowledge of the truth of -it; which yet his faculties, if carefully employed, were able to make -clear and evident to him. But this only, by the by, to show how much -OUR KNOWLEDGE DEPENDS UPON THE RIGHT USE OF THOSE POWERS NATURE HATH -BESTOWED UPON US, and how little upon SUCH INNATE PRINCIPLES AS ARE IN -VAIN SUPPOSED TO BE IN ALL MANKIND FOR THEIR DIRECTION; which all men -could not but know if they were there, or else they would be there to -no purpose. And which since all men do not know, nor can distinguish -from other adventitious truths, we may well conclude there are no such. - -24. Men must think and know for themselves. - -What censure doubting thus of innate principles may deserve from men, -who will be apt to call it pulling up the old foundations of knowledge -and certainty, I cannot tell;—I persuade myself at least that the way I -have pursued, being conformable to truth, lays those foundations surer. -This I am certain, I have not made it my business either to quit or -follow any authority in the ensuing Discourse. Truth has been my only -aim; and wherever that has appeared to lead, my thoughts have -impartially followed, without minding whether the footsteps of any -other lay that way or not. Not that I want a due respect to other men’s -opinions; but, after all, the greatest reverence is due to truth: and I -hope it will not be thought arrogance to say, that perhaps we should -make greater progress in the discovery of rational and contemplative -knowledge, if we sought it in the fountain, IN THE CONSIDERATION OF -THINGS THEMSELVES; and made use rather of our own thoughts than other -men’s to find it. For I think we may as rationally hope to see with -other men’s eyes, as to know by other men’s understandings. So much as -we ourselves consider and comprehend of truth and reason, so much we -possess of real and true knowledge. The floating of other men’s -opinions in our brains, makes us not one jot the more knowing, though -they happen to be true. What in them was science, is in us but -opiniatrety; whilst we give up our assent only to reverend names, and -do not, as they did, employ our own reason to understand those truths -which gave them reputation. Aristotle was certainly a knowing man, but -nobody ever thought him so because he blindly embraced, and confidently -vented the opinions of another. And if the taking up of another’s -principles, without examining them, made not him a philosopher, I -suppose it will hardly make anybody else so. In the sciences, every one -has so much as he really knows and comprehends. What he believes only, -and takes upon trust, are but shreds; which, however well in the whole -piece, make no considerable addition to his stock who gathers them. -Such borrowed wealth, like fairy money, though it were gold in the hand -from which he received it, will be but leaves and dust when it comes to -use. - -25. Whence the Opinion of Innate Principles. - -When men have found some general propositions that could not be doubted -of as soon as understood, it was, I know, a short and easy way to -conclude them innate. This being once received, it eased the lazy from -the pains of search, and stopped the inquiry of the doubtful concerning -all that was once styled innate. And it was of no small advantage to -those who affected to be masters and teachers, to make this the -principle of principles,—THAT PRINCIPLES MUST NOT BE QUESTIONED. For, -having once established this tenet,—that there are innate principles, -it put their followers upon a necessity of receiving SOME doctrines as -such; which was to take them off from the use of their own reason and -judgment, and put them on believing and taking them upon trust without -further examination: in which posture of blind credulity, they might be -more easily governed by, and made useful to some sort of men, who had -the skill and office to principle and guide them. Nor is it a small -power it gives one man over another, to have the authority to be the -dictator of principles, and teacher of unquestionable truths; and to -make a man swallow that for an innate principle which may serve to his -purpose who teacheth them. Whereas had they examined the ways whereby -men came to the knowledge of many universal truths, they would have -found them to result in the minds of men from the being of things -themselves, when duly considered; and that they were discovered by the -application of those faculties that were fitted by nature to receive -and judge of them, when duly employed about them. - -26. Conclusion. - -To show HOW the understanding proceeds herein is the design of the -following Discourse; which I shall proceed to when I have first -premised, that hitherto,—to clear my way to those foundations which I -conceive are the only true ones, whereon to establish those notions we -can have of our own knowledge,—it hath been necessary for me to give an -account of the reasons I had to doubt of innate principles. And since -the arguments which are against them do, some of them, rise from common -received opinions, I have been forced to take several things for -granted; which is hardly avoidable to any one, whose task is to show -the falsehood or improbability of any tenet;—it happening in -controversial discourses as it does in assaulting of towns; where, if -the ground be but firm whereon the batteries are erected, there is no -further inquiry of whom it is borrowed, nor whom it belongs to, so it -affords but a fit rise for the present purpose. But in the future part -of this Discourse, designing to raise an edifice uniform and consistent -with itself, as far as my own experience and observation will assist -me, I hope to erect it on such a basis that I shall not need to shore -it up with props and buttresses, leaning on borrowed or begged -foundations: or at least, if mine prove a castle in the air, I will -endeavour it shall be all of a piece and hang together. Wherein I warn -the reader not to expect undeniable cogent demonstrations, unless I may -be allowed the privilege, not seldom assumed by others, to take my -principles for granted; and then, I doubt not, but I can demonstrate -too. All that I shall say for the principles I proceed on is, that I -can only appeal to men’s own unprejudiced experience and observation -whether they be true or not; and this is enough for a man who professes -no more than to lay down candidly and freely his own conjectures, -concerning a subject lying somewhat in the dark, without any other -design than an unbiassed inquiry after truth. - - - - -BOOK II -OF IDEAS - - - - -CHAPTER I. -OF IDEAS IN GENERAL, AND THEIR ORIGINAL. - - -1. Idea is the Object of Thinking. - -Every man being conscious to himself that he thinks; and that which his -mind is applied about whilst thinking being the IDEAS that are there, -it is past doubt that men have in their minds several ideas,—such as -are those expressed by the words whiteness, hardness, sweetness, -thinking, motion, man, elephant, army, drunkenness, and others: it is -in the first place then to be inquired, HOW HE COMES BY THEM? - -I know it is a received doctrine, that men have native ideas, and -original characters, stamped upon their minds in their very first -being. This opinion I have at large examined already; and, I suppose -what I have said in the foregoing Book will be much more easily -admitted, when I have shown whence the understanding may get all the -ideas it has; and by what ways and degrees they may come into the -mind;—for which I shall appeal to every one’s own observation and -experience. - -2. All Ideas come from Sensation or Reflection. - -Let us then suppose the mind to be, as we say, white paper, void of all -characters, without any ideas:—How comes it to be furnished? Whence -comes it by that vast store which the busy and boundless fancy of man -has painted on it with an almost endless variety? Whence has it all the -MATERIALS of reason and knowledge? To this I answer, in one word, from -EXPERIENCE. In that all our knowledge is founded; and from that it -ultimately derives itself. Our observation employed either, about -external sensible objects, or about the internal operations of our -minds perceived and reflected on by ourselves, is that which supplies -our understandings with all the MATERIALS of thinking. These two are -the fountains of knowledge, from whence all the ideas we have, or can -naturally have, do spring. - -3. The Objects of Sensation one Source of Ideas - -First, our Senses, conversant about particular sensible objects, do -convey into the mind several distinct perceptions of things, according -to those various ways wherein those objects do affect them. And thus we -come by those IDEAS we have of yellow, white, heat, cold, soft, hard, -bitter, sweet, and all those which we call sensible qualities; which -when I say the senses convey into the mind, I mean, they from external -objects convey into the mind what produces there those perceptions. -This great source of most of the ideas we have, depending wholly upon -our senses, and derived by them to the understanding, I call SENSATION. - -4. The Operations of our Minds, the other Source of them. - -Secondly, the other fountain from which experience furnisheth the -understanding with ideas is,—the perception of the operations of our -own mind within us, as it is employed about the ideas it has got;—which -operations, when the soul comes to reflect on and consider, do furnish -the understanding with another set of ideas, which could not be had -from things without. And such are perception, thinking, doubting, -believing, reasoning, knowing, willing, and all the different actings -of our own minds;—which we being conscious of, and observing in -ourselves, do from these receive into our understandings as distinct -ideas as we do from bodies affecting our senses. This source of ideas -every man has wholly in himself; and though it be not sense, as having -nothing to do with external objects, yet it is very like it, and might -properly enough be called INTERNAL SENSE. But as I call the other -Sensation, so I call this REFLECTION, the ideas it affords being such -only as the mind gets by reflecting on its own operations within -itself. By reflection then, in the following part of this discourse, I -would be understood to mean, that notice which the mind takes of its -own operations, and the manner of them, by reason whereof there come to -be ideas of these operations in the understanding. These two, I say, -viz. external material things, as the objects of SENSATION, and the -operations of our own minds within, as the objects of REFLECTION, are -to me the only originals from whence all our ideas take their -beginnings. The term OPERATIONS here I use in a large sense, as -comprehending not barely the actions of the mind about its ideas, but -some sort of passions arising sometimes from them, such as is the -satisfaction or uneasiness arising from any thought. - -5. All our Ideas are of the one or of the other of these. - -The understanding seems to me not to have the least glimmering of any -ideas which it doth not receive from one of these two. EXTERNAL OBJECTS -furnish the mind with the ideas of sensible qualities, which are all -those different perceptions they produce in us; and THE MIND furnishes -the understanding with ideas of its own operations. - -These, when we have taken a full survey of them, and their several -modes, and the compositions made out of them we shall find to contain -all our whole stock of ideas; and that we have nothing in our minds -which did not come in one of these two ways. Let any one examine his -own thoughts, and thoroughly search into his understanding; and then -let him tell me, whether all the original ideas he has there, are any -other than of the objects of his senses, or of the operations of his -mind, considered as objects of his reflection. And how great a mass of -knowledge soever he imagines to be lodged there, he will, upon taking a -strict view, see that he has not any idea in his mind but what one of -these two have imprinted;—though perhaps, with infinite variety -compounded and enlarged by the understanding, as we shall see -hereafter. - -6. Observable in Children. - -He that attentively considers the state of a child, at his first coming -into the world, will have little reason to think him stored with plenty -of ideas, that are to be the matter of his future knowledge. It is BY -DEGREES he comes to be furnished with them. And though the ideas of -obvious and familiar qualities imprint themselves before the memory -begins to keep a register of time or order, yet it is often so late -before some unusual qualities come in the way, that there are few men -that cannot recollect the beginning of their acquaintance with them. -And if it were worth while, no doubt a child might be so ordered as to -have but a very few, even of the ordinary ideas, till he were grown up -to a man. But all that are born into the world, being surrounded with -bodies that perpetually and diversely affect them, variety of ideas, -whether care be taken of it or not, are imprinted on the minds of -children. Light and colours are busy at hand everywhere, when the eye -is but open; sounds and some tangible qualities fail not to solicit -their proper senses, and force an entrance to the mind;—but yet, I -think, it will be granted easily, that if a child were kept in a place -where he never saw any other but black and white till he were a man, he -would have no more ideas of scarlet or green, than he that from his -childhood never tasted an oyster, or a pine-apple, has of those -particular relishes. - -7. Men are differently furnished with these, according to the different -Objects they converse with. - -Men then come to be furnished with fewer or more simple ideas from -without, according as the objects they converse with afford greater or -less variety; and from the operations of their minds within, according -as they more or less reflect on them. For, though he that contemplates -the operations of his mind, cannot but have plain and clear ideas of -them; yet, unless he turn his thoughts that way, and considers them -ATTENTIVELY, he will no more have clear and distinct ideas of all the -operations of his mind, and all that may be observed therein, than he -will have all the particular ideas of any landscape, or of the parts -and motions of a clock, who will not turn his eyes to it, and with -attention heed all the parts of it. The picture, or clock may be so -placed, that they may come in his way every day; but yet he will have -but a confused idea of all the parts they are made up of, till he -applies himself with attention, to consider them each in particular. - -8. Ideas of Reflection later, because they need Attention. - -And hence we see the reason why it is pretty late before most children -get ideas of the operations of their own minds; and some have not any -very clear or perfect ideas of the greatest part of them all their -lives. Because, though they pass there continually, yet, like floating -visions, they make not deep impressions enough to leave in their mind -clear, distinct, lasting ideas, till the understanding turns inward -upon itself, reflects on its own operations, and makes them the objects -of its own contemplation. Children when they come first into it, are -surrounded with a world of new things which, by a constant solicitation -of their senses, draw the mind constantly to them; forward to take -notice of new, and apt to be delighted with the variety of changing -objects. Thus the first years are usually employed and diverted in -looking abroad. Men’s business in them is to acquaint themselves with -what is to be found without; and so growing up in a constant attention -to outward sensations, seldom make any considerable reflection on what -passes within them, till they come to be of riper years; and some -scarce ever at all. - -9. The Soul begins to have Ideas when it begins to perceive. - -To ask, at what TIME a man has first any ideas, is to ask, when he -begins to perceive;—HAVING IDEAS, and PERCEPTION, being the same thing. -I know it is an opinion, that the soul always thinks, and that it has -the actual perception of ideas in itself constantly, as long as it -exists; and that actual thinking is as inseparable from the soul as -actual extension is from the body; which if true, to inquire after the -beginning of a man’s ideas is the same as to inquire after the -beginning of his soul. For, by this account, soul and its ideas, as -body and its extension, will begin to exist both at the same time. - -10. The Soul thinks not always; for this wants Proofs. - -But whether the soul be supposed to exist antecedent to, or coeval -with, or some time after the first rudiments of organization, or the -beginnings of life in the body, I leave to be disputed by those who -have better thought of that matter. I confess myself to have one of -those dull souls, that doth not perceive itself always to contemplate -ideas; nor can conceive it any more necessary for the soul always to -think, than for the body always to move: the perception of ideas being -(as I conceive) to the soul, what motion is to the body; not its -essence, but one of its operations. And therefore, though thinking be -supposed never so much the proper action of the soul, yet it is not -necessary to suppose that it should be always thinking, always in -action. That, perhaps, is the privilege of the infinite Author and -Preserver of all things, who “never slumbers nor sleeps”; but is not -competent to any finite being, at least not to the soul of man. We know -certainly, by experience, that we SOMETIMES think; and thence draw this -infallible consequence,—that there is something in us that has a power -to think. But whether that substance PERPETUALLY thinks or no, we can -be no further assured than experience informs us. For, to say that -actual thinking is essential to the soul, and inseparable from it, is -to beg what is in question, and not to prove it by reason;—which is -necessary to be done, if it be not a self-evident proposition. But -whether this, “That the soul always thinks,” be a self-evident -proposition, that everybody assents to at first hearing, I appeal to -mankind. It is doubted whether I thought at all last night or no. The -question being about a matter of fact, it is begging it to bring, as a -proof for it, an hypothesis, which is the very thing in dispute: by -which way one may prove anything, and it is but supposing that all -watches, whilst the balance beats, think, and it is sufficiently -proved, and past doubt, that my watch thought all last night. But he -that would not deceive himself, ought to build his hypothesis on matter -of fact, and make it out by sensible experience, and not presume on -matter of fact, because of his hypothesis, that is, because he supposes -it to be so; which way of proving amounts to this, that I must -necessarily think all last night, because another supposes I always -think, though I myself cannot perceive that I always do so. - -But men in love with their opinions may not only suppose what is in -question, but allege wrong matter of fact. How else could any one make -it an inference of mine, that a thing is not, because we are not -sensible of it in our sleep? I do not say there is no SOUL in a man, -because he is not sensible of it in his sleep; but I do say, he cannot -THINK at any time, waking or sleeping, without being sensible of it. -Our being sensible of it is not necessary to anything but to our -thoughts; and to them it is; and to them it always will be necessary, -till we can think without being conscious of it. - -11. It is not always conscious of it. - -I grant that the soul, in a waking man, is never without thought, -because it is the condition of being awake. But whether sleeping -without dreaming be not an affection of the whole man, mind as well as -body, may be worth a waking man’s consideration; it being hard to -conceive that anything should think and not be conscious of it. If the -soul doth think in a sleeping man without being conscious of it, I ask -whether, during such thinking, it has any pleasure or pain, or be -capable of happiness or misery? I am sure the man is not; no more than -the bed or earth he lies on. For to be happy or miserable without being -conscious of it, seems to me utterly inconsistent and impossible. Or if -it be possible that the SOUL can, whilst the body is sleeping, have its -thinking, enjoyments, and concerns, its pleasures or pain, apart, which -the MAN is not conscious of nor partakes in,—it is certain that -Socrates asleep and Socrates awake is not the same person; but his soul -when he sleeps, and Socrates the man, consisting of body and soul, when -he is waking, are two persons: since waking Socrates has no knowledge -of, or concernment for that happiness or misery of his soul, which it -enjoys alone by itself whilst he sleeps, without perceiving anything of -it; no more than he has for the happiness or misery of a man in the -Indies, whom he knows not. For, if we take wholly away all -consciousness of our actions and sensations, especially of pleasure and -pain, and the concernment that accompanies it, it will be hard to know -wherein to place personal identity. - -12. If a sleeping Man thinks without knowing it, the sleeping and -waking Man are two Persons. - -The soul, during sound sleep, thinks, say these men. Whilst it thinks -and perceives, it is capable certainly of those of delight or trouble, -as well as any other perceptions; and IT must necessarily be CONSCIOUS -of its own perceptions. But it has all this apart: the sleeping MAN, it -is plain, is conscious of nothing of all this. Let us suppose, then, -the soul of Castor, while he is sleeping, retired from his body; which -is no impossible supposition for the men I have here to do with, who so -liberally allow life, without a thinking soul, to all other animals. -These men cannot then judge it impossible, or a contradiction, that the -body should live without the soul; nor that the soul should subsist and -think, or have perception, even perception of happiness or misery, -without the body. Let us then, I say, suppose the soul of Castor -separated during his sleep from his body, to think apart. Let us -suppose, too, that it chooses for its scene of thinking the body of -another man, v. g. Pollux, who is sleeping without a soul. For, if -Castor’s soul can think, whilst Castor is asleep, what Castor is never -conscious of, it is no matter what PLACE it chooses to think in. We -have here, then, the bodies of two men with only one soul between them, -which we will suppose to sleep and wake by turns; and the soul still -thinking in the waking man, whereof the sleeping man is never -conscious, has never the least perception. I ask, then, whether Castor -and Pollux, thus with only one soul between them, which thinks and -perceives in one what the other is never conscious of, nor is concerned -for, are not two as distinct PERSONS as Castor and Hercules, or as -Socrates and Plato were? And whether one of them might not be very -happy, and the other very miserable? Just by the same reason, they make -the soul and the man two persons, who make the soul think apart what -the man is not conscious of. For, I suppose nobody will make identity -of persons to consist in the soul’s being united to the very same -numerical particles of matter. For if that be necessary to identity, it -will be impossible, in that constant flux of the particles of our -bodies, that any man should be the same person two days, or two -moments, together. - -13. Impossible to convince those that sleep without dreaming, that they -think. - -Thus, methinks, every drowsy nod shakes their doctrine, who teach that -the soul is always thinking. Those, at least, who do at any time SLEEP -WITHOUT DREAMING, can never be convinced that their thoughts are -sometimes for four hours busy without their knowing of it; and if they -are taken in the very act, waked in the middle of that sleeping -contemplation, can give no manner of account of it. - -14. That men dream without remembering it, in vain urged. - -It will perhaps be said,—That the soul thinks even in the soundest -sleep, but the MEMORY retains it not. That the soul in a sleeping man -should be this moment busy a thinking, and the next moment in a waking -man not remember nor be able to recollect one jot of all those -thoughts, is very hard to be conceived, and would need some better -proof than bare assertion to make it be believed. For who can without -any more ado, but being barely told so, imagine that the greatest part -of men do, during all their lives, for several hours every day, think -of something, which if they were asked, even in the middle of these -thoughts, they could remember nothing at all of? Most men, I think, -pass a great part of their sleep without dreaming. I once knew a man -that was bred a scholar, and had no bad memory, who told me he had -never dreamed in his life, till he had that fever he was then newly -recovered of, which was about the five or six and twentieth year of his -age. I suppose the world affords more such instances: at least every -one’s acquaintance will furnish him with examples enough of such as -pass most of their nights without dreaming. - -15. Upon this Hypothesis, the Thoughts of a sleeping Man ought to be -most rational. - -To think often, and never to retain it so much as one moment, is a very -useless sort of thinking; and the soul, in such a state of thinking, -does very little, if at all, excel that of a looking-glass, which -constantly receives variety of images, or ideas, but retains none; they -disappear and vanish, and there remain no footsteps of them; the -looking-glass is never the better for such ideas, nor the soul for such -thoughts. Perhaps it will be said, that in a waking MAN the materials -of the body are employed, and made use of, in thinking; and that the -memory of thoughts is retained by the impressions that are made on the -brain, and the traces there left after such thinking; but that in the -thinking of the SOUL, which is not perceived in a sleeping man, there -the soul thinks apart, and making no use of the organs of the body, -leaves no impressions on it, and consequently no memory of such -thoughts. Not to mention again the absurdity of two distinct persons, -which follows from this supposition, I answer, further,—That whatever -ideas the mind can receive and contemplate without the help of the -body, it is reasonable to conclude it can retain without the help of -the body too; or else the soul, or any separate spirit, will have but -little advantage by thinking. If it has no memory of its own thoughts; -if it cannot lay them up for its own use, and be able to recall them -upon occasion; if it cannot reflect upon what is past, and make use of -its former experiences, reasonings, and contemplations, to what purpose -does it think? They who make the soul a thinking thing, at this rate, -will not make it a much more noble being than those do whom they -condemn, for allowing it to be nothing but the subtilist parts of -matter. Characters drawn on dust, that the first breath of wind -effaces; or impressions made on a heap of atoms, or animal spirits, are -altogether as useful, and render the subject as noble, as the thoughts -of a soul that perish in thinking; that, once out of sight, are gone -for ever, and leave no memory of themselves behind them. Nature never -makes excellent things for mean or no uses: and it is hardly to be -conceived that our infinitely wise Creator should make so admirable a -faculty as the power of thinking, that faculty which comes nearest the -excellency of his own incomprehensible being, to be so idly and -uselessly employed, at least a fourth part of its time here, as to -think constantly, without remembering any of those thoughts, without -doing any good to itself or others, or being any way useful to any -other part of the creation. If we will examine it, we shall not find, I -suppose, the motion of dull and senseless matter, any where in the -universe, made so little use of and so wholly thrown away. - -16. On this Hypothesis, the Soul must have Ideas not derived from -Sensation or Reflection, of which there is no Appearance. - -It is true, we have sometimes instances of perception whilst we are -asleep, and retain the memory of those thoughts: but how extravagant -and incoherent for the most part they are; how little conformable to -the perfection and order of a rational being, those who are acquainted -with dreams need not be told. This I would willingly be satisfied -in,—whether the soul, when it thinks thus apart, and as it were -separate from the body, acts less rationally than when conjointly with -it, or no. If its separate thoughts be less rational, then these men -must say, that the soul owes the perfection of rational thinking to the -body: if it does not, it is a wonder that our dreams should be, for the -most part, so frivolous and irrational; and that the soul should retain -none of its more rational soliloquies and meditations. - -17. If I think when I know it not, nobody else can know it. - -Those who so confidently tell us that the soul always actually thinks, -I would they would also tell us, what those ideas are that are in the -soul of a child, before or just at the union with the body, before it -hath received any by sensation. The dreams of sleeping men are, as I -take it, all made up of the waking man’s ideas; though for the most -part oddly put together. It is strange, if the soul has ideas of its -own that it derived not from sensation or reflection, (as it must have, -if it thought before it received any impressions from the body,) that -it should never, in its private thinking, (so private, that the man -himself perceives it not,) retain any of them the very moment it wakes -out of them, and then make the man glad with new discoveries. Who can -find it reason that the soul should, in its retirement during sleep, -have so many hours’ thoughts, and yet never light on any of those ideas -it borrowed not from sensation or reflection; or at least preserve the -memory of none but such, which, being occasioned from the body, must -needs be less natural to a spirit? It is strange the soul should never -once in a man’s whole life recall over any of its pure native thoughts, -and those ideas it had before it borrowed anything from the body; never -bring into the waking man’s view any other ideas but what have a tang -of the cask, and manifestly derive their original from that union. If -it always thinks, and so had ideas before it was united, or before it -received any from the body, it is not to be supposed but that during -sleep it recollects its native ideas; and during that retirement from -communicating with the body, whilst it thinks by itself, the ideas it -is busied about should be, sometimes at least, those more natural and -congenial ones which it had in itself, underived from the body, or its -own operations about them: which, since the waking man never remembers, -we must from this hypothesis conclude either that the soul remembers -something that the man does not; or else that memory belongs only to -such ideas as are derived from the body, or the mind’s operations about -them. - -18. How knows any one that the Soul always thinks? For if it be not a -self-evident Proposition, it needs Proof. - -I would be glad also to learn from these men who so confidently -pronounce that the human soul, or, which is all one, that a man always -thinks, how they come to know it; nay, how they come to know that they -themselves think, when they themselves do not perceive it. This, I am -afraid, is to be sure without proofs, and to know without perceiving. -It is, I suspect, a confused notion, taken up to serve an hypothesis; -and none of those clear truths, that either their own evidence forces -us to admit, or common experience makes it impudence to deny. For the -most that can be said of it is, that it is possible the soul may always -think, but not always retain it in memory. And I say, it is as possible -that the soul may not always think; and much more probable that it -should sometimes not think, than that it should often think, and that a -long while together, and not be conscious to itself, the next moment -after, that it had thought. - -19. That a Man should be busy in Thinking, and yet not retain it the -next moment, very improbable. - -To suppose the soul to think, and the man not to perceive it, is, as -has been said, to make two persons in one man. And if one considers -well these men’s way of speaking, one should be led into a suspicion -that they do so. For those who tell us that the SOUL always thinks, do -never, that I remember, say that a MAN always thinks. Can the soul -think, and not the man? Or a man think, and not be conscious of it? -This, perhaps, would be suspected of jargon in others. If they say the -man thinks always, but is not always conscious of it, they may as well -say his body is extended without having parts. For it is altogether as -intelligible to say that a body is extended without parts, as that -anything thinks without being conscious of it, or perceiving that it -does so. They who talk thus may, with as much reason, if it be -necessary to their hypothesis, say that a man is always hungry, but -that he does not always feel it; whereas hunger consists in that very -sensation, as thinking consists in being conscious that one thinks. If -they say that a man is always conscious to himself of thinking, I ask, -How they know it? Consciousness is the perception of what passes in a -man’s own mind. Can another man perceive that I am conscious of -anything, when I perceive it not myself? No man’s knowledge here can go -beyond his experience. Wake a man out of a sound sleep, and ask him -what he was that moment thinking of. If he himself be conscious of -nothing he then thought on, he must be a notable diviner of thoughts -that can assure him that he was thinking. May he not, with more reason, -assure him he was not asleep? This is something beyond philosophy; and -it cannot be less than revelation, that discovers to another thoughts -in my mind, when I can find none there myself. And they must needs have -a penetrating sight who can certainly see that I think, when I cannot -perceive it myself, and when I declare that I do not; and yet can see -that dogs or elephants do not think, when they give all the -demonstration of it imaginable, except only telling us that they do so. -This some may suspect to be a step beyond the Rosicrucians; it seeming -easier to make one’s self invisible to others, than to make another’s -thoughts visible to me, which are not visible to himself. But it is but -defining the soul to be “a substance that always thinks,” and the -business is done. If such definition be of any authority, I know not -what it can serve for but to make many men suspect that they have no -souls at all; since they find a good part of their lives pass away -without thinking. For no definitions that I know, no suppositions of -any sect, are of force enough to destroy constant experience; and -perhaps it is the affectation of knowing beyond what we perceive, that -makes so much useless dispute and noise in the world. - -20. No ideas but from Sensation and Reflection, evident, if we observe -Children. - -I see no reason, therefore, to believe that the soul thinks before the -senses have furnished it with ideas to think on; and as those are -increased and retained, so it comes, by exercise, to improve its -faculty of thinking in the several parts of it; as well as, afterwards, -by compounding those ideas, and reflecting on its own operations, it -increases its stock, as well as facility in remembering, imagining, -reasoning, and other modes of thinking. - -21. State of a child in the mother’s womb. - -He that will suffer himself to be informed by observation and -experience, and not make his own hypothesis the rule of nature, will -find few signs of a soul accustomed to much thinking in a new-born -child, and much fewer of any reasoning at all. And yet it is hard to -imagine that the rational soul should think so much, and not reason at -all. And he that will consider that infants newly come into the world -spend the greatest part of their time in sleep, and are seldom awake -but when either hunger calls for the teat, or some pain (the most -importunate of all sensations), or some other violent impression on the -body, forces the mind to perceive and attend to it;—he, I say, who -considers this, will perhaps find reason to imagine that a Fœtus in the -mother’s womb differs not much from the state of a vegetable, but -passes the greatest part of its time without perception or thought; -doing very little but sleep in a place where it needs not seek for -food, and is surrounded with liquor, always equally soft, and near of -the same temper; where the eyes have no light, and the ears so shut up -are not very susceptible of sounds; and where there is little or no -variety, or change of objects, to move the senses. - -22. The mind thinks in proportion to the matter it gets from experience -to think about. - -Follow a child from its birth, and observe the alterations that time -makes, and you shall find, as the mind by the senses comes more and -more to be furnished with ideas, it comes to be more and more awake; -thinks more, the more it has matter to think on. After some time it -begins to know the objects which, being most familiar with it, have -made lasting impressions. Thus it comes by degrees to know the persons -it daily converses with, and distinguishes them from strangers; which -are instances and effects of its coming to retain and distinguish the -ideas the senses convey to it. And so we may observe how the mind, BY -DEGREES, improves in these; and ADVANCES to the exercise of those other -faculties of enlarging, compounding, and abstracting its ideas, and of -reasoning about them, and reflecting upon all these; of which I shall -have occasion to speak more hereafter. - -23. A man begins to have ideas when he first has sensation. What -sensation is. - -If it shall be demanded then, WHEN a man BEGINS to have any ideas, I -think the true answer is,—WHEN HE FIRST HAS ANY SENSATION. For, since -there appear not to be any ideas in the mind before the senses have -conveyed any in, I conceive that ideas in the understanding are coeval -with SENSATION; WHICH IS SUCH AN IMPRESSION OR MOTION MADE IN SOME PART -OF THE BODY, AS MAKES IT BE TAKEN NOTICE OF IN THE UNDERSTANDING. - -24. The Original of all our Knowledge. - -The impressions then that are made on our sense by outward objects that -are extrinsical to the mind; and its own operations about these -impressions, reflected on by itself, as proper objects to be -contemplated by it, are, I conceive, the original of all knowledge. -Thus the first capacity of human intellect is,—that the mind is fitted -to receive the impressions made on it; either through the senses by -outward objects, or by its own operations when it reflects on them. -This is the first step a man makes towards the discovery of anything, -and the groundwork whereon to build all those notions which ever he -shall have naturally in this world. All those sublime thoughts which -tower above the clouds, and reach as high as heaven itself, take their -rise and footing here: in all that great extent wherein the mind -wanders, in those remote speculations it may seem to be elevated with, -it stirs not one jot beyond those ideas which SENSE or REFLECTION have -offered for its contemplation. - -25. In the Reception of simple Ideas, the Understanding is for the most -part passive. - -In this part the understanding is merely passive; and whether or no it -will have these beginnings, and as it were materials of knowledge, is -not in its own power. For the objects of our senses do, many of them, -obtrude their particular ideas upon our minds whether we will or not; -and the operations of our minds will not let us be without, at least, -some obscure notions of them. No man can be wholly ignorant of what he -does when he thinks. These simple ideas, when offered to the mind, the -understanding can no more refuse to have, nor alter when they are -imprinted, nor blot them out and make new ones itself, than a mirror -can refuse, alter, or obliterate the images or ideas which the objects -set before it do therein produce. As the bodies that surround us do -diversely affect our organs, the mind is forced to receive the -impressions; and cannot avoid the perception of those ideas that are -annexed to them. - - - - -CHAPTER II. -OF SIMPLE IDEAS. - - -1. Uncompounded Appearances. - -The better to understand the nature, manner, and extent of our -knowledge, one thing is carefully to be observed concerning the ideas -we have; and that is, that some of them, are SIMPLE and some COMPLEX. - -Though the qualities that affect our senses are, in the things -themselves, so united and blended, that there is no separation, no -distance between them; yet it is plain, the ideas they produce in the -mind enter by the senses simple; and unmixed. For, though the sight and -touch often take in from the same object, at the same time, different -ideas;—as a man sees at once motion and colour; the hand feels softness -and warmth in the same piece of wax: yet the simple ideas thus united -in the same subject, are as perfectly distinct as those that come in by -different senses. The coldness and hardness which a man feels in a -piece of ice being as distinct ideas in the mind as the smell and -whiteness of a lily; or as the taste of sugar, and smell of a rose. And -there is nothing can be plainer to a man than the clear and distinct -perception he has of those simple ideas; which, being each in itself -uncompounded, contains in it nothing but ONE UNIFORM APPEARANCE, OR -CONCEPTION IN THE MIND, and is not distinguishable into different -ideas. - -2. The Mind can neither make nor destroy them. - -These simple ideas, the materials of all our knowledge, are suggested -and furnished to the mind only by those two ways above mentioned, viz. -sensation and reflection. When the understanding is once stored with -these simple ideas, it has the power to repeat, compare, and unite -them, even to an almost infinite variety, and so can make at pleasure -new complex ideas. But it is not in the power of the most exalted wit, -or enlarged understanding, by any quickness or variety of thought, to -INVENT or FRAME one new simple idea in the mind, not taken in by the -ways before mentioned: nor can any force of the understanding DESTROY -those that are there. The dominion of man, in this little world of his -own understanding being much what the same as it is in the great world -of visible things; wherein his power, however managed by art and skill, -reaches no farther than to compound and divide the materials that are -made to his hand; but can do nothing towards the making the least -particle of new matter, or destroying one atom of what is already in -being. The same inability will every one find in himself, who shall go -about to fashion in his understanding one simple idea, not received in -by his senses from external objects, or by reflection from the -operations of his own mind about them. I would have any one try to -fancy any taste which had never affected his palate; or frame the idea -of a scent he had never smelt: and when he can do this, I will also -conclude that a blind man hath ideas of colours, and a deaf man true -distinct notions of sounds. - -3. Only the qualities that affect the senses are imaginable. - -This is the reason why—though we cannot believe it impossible to God to -make a creature with other organs, and more ways to convey into the -understanding the notice of corporeal things than those five, as they -are usually counted, which he has given to man—yet I think it is not -possible for any MAN to imagine any other qualities in bodies, -howsoever constituted, whereby they can be taken notice of, besides -sounds, tastes, smells, visible and tangible qualities. And had mankind -been made but with four senses, the qualities then which are the -objects of the fifth sense had been as far from our notice, -imagination, and conception, as now any belonging to a sixth, seventh, -or eighth sense can possibly be;—which, whether yet some other -creatures, in some other parts of this vast and stupendous universe, -may not have, will be a great presumption to deny. He that will not set -himself proudly at the top of all things, but will consider the -immensity of this fabric, and the great variety that is to be found in -this little and inconsiderable part of it which he has to do with, may -be apt to think that, in other mansions of it, there may be other and -different intelligent beings, of whose faculties he has as little -knowledge or apprehension as a worm shut up in one drawer of a cabinet -hath of the senses or understanding of a man; such variety and -excellency being suitable to the wisdom and power of the Maker. I have -here followed the common opinion of man’s having but five senses; -though, perhaps, there may be justly counted more;—but either -supposition serves equally to my present purpose. - - - - -CHAPTER III. -OF SIMPLE IDEAS OF SENSE. - - -1. Division of simple ideas. - -The better to conceive the ideas we receive from sensation, it may not -be amiss for us to consider them, in reference to the different ways -whereby they make their approaches to our minds, and make themselves -perceivable by us. - -FIRST, then, There are some which come into our minds BY ONE SENSE -ONLY. - -SECONDLY, There are others that convey themselves into the mind BY MORE -SENSES THAN ONE. - -THIRDLY, Others that are had from REFLECTION ONLY. - -FOURTHLY, There are some that make themselves way, and are suggested to -the mind BY ALL THE WAYS OF SENSATION AND REFLECTION. - -We shall consider them apart under these several heads. - -Ideas of one Sense. - -There are some ideas which have admittance only through one sense, -which is peculiarly adapted to receive them. Thus light and colours, as -white, red, yellow, blue; with their several degrees or shades and -mixtures, as green, scarlet, purple, sea-green, and the rest, come in -only by the eyes. All kinds of noises, sounds, and tones, only by the -ears. The several tastes and smells, by the nose and palate. And if -these organs, or the nerves which are the conduits to convey them from -without to their audience in the brain,—the mind’s presence-room (as I -may so call it)—are any of them so disordered as not to perform their -functions, they have no postern to be admitted by; no other way to -bring themselves into view, and be perceived by the understanding. - -The most considerable of those belonging to the touch, are heat and -cold, and solidity: all the rest, consisting almost wholly in the -sensible configuration, as smooth and rough; or else, more or less firm -adhesion of the parts, as hard and soft, tough and brittle, are obvious -enough. - -2. Few simple Ideas have Names. - -I think it will be needless to enumerate all the particular simple -ideas belonging to each sense. Nor indeed is it possible if we would; -there being a great many more of them belonging to most of the senses -than we have names for. The variety of smells, which are as many -almost, if not more, than species of bodies in the world, do most of -them want names. Sweet and stinking commonly serve our turn for these -ideas, which in effect is little more than to call them pleasing or -displeasing; though the smell of a rose and violet, both sweet, are -certainly very distinct ideas. Nor are the different tastes, that by -our palates we receive ideas of, much better provided with names. -Sweet, bitter, sour, harsh, and salt are almost all the epithets we -have to denominate that numberless variety of relishes, which are to be -found distinct, not only in almost every sort of creatures, but in the -different parts of the same plant, fruit, or animal. The same may be -said of colours and sounds. I shall, therefore, in the account of -simple ideas I am here giving, content myself to set down only such as -are most material to our present purpose, or are in themselves less apt -to be taken notice of though they are very frequently the ingredients -of our complex ideas; amongst which, I think, I may well account -solidity, which therefore I shall treat of in the next chapter. - - - - -CHAPTER IV. -IDEA OF SOLIDITY. - - -1. We receive this Idea from Touch. - -The idea of SOLIDITY we receive by our touch: and it arises from the -resistance which we find in body to the entrance of any other body into -the place it possesses, till it has left it. There is no idea which we -receive more constantly from sensation than solidity. Whether we move -or rest, in what posture soever we are, we always feel something under -us that supports us, and hinders our further sinking downwards; and the -bodies which we daily handle make us perceive that, whilst they remain -between them, they do, by an insurmountable force, hinder the approach -of the parts of our hands that press them. THAT WHICH THUS HINDERS THE -APPROACH OF TWO BODIES, WHEN THEY ARE MOVED ONE TOWARDS ANOTHER, I CALL -SOLIDITY. I will not dispute whether this acceptation of the word solid -be nearer to its original signification than that which mathematicians -use it in. It suffices that I think the common notion of solidity will -allow, if not justify, this use of it; but if any one think it better -to call it IMPENETRABILITY, he has my consent. Only I have thought the -term solidity the more proper to express this idea, not only because of -its vulgar use in that sense, but also because it carries something -more of positive in it than impenetrability; which is negative, and is -perhaps more a consequence of solidity, than solidity itself. This, of -all other, seems the idea most intimately connected with, and essential -to body; so as nowhere else to be found or imagined, but only in -matter. And though our senses take no notice of it, but in masses of -matter, of a bulk sufficient to cause a sensation in us: yet the mind, -having once got this idea from such grosser sensible bodies, traces it -further, and considers it, as well as figure, in the minutest particle -of matter that can exist; and finds it inseparably inherent in body, -wherever or however modified. - -2. Solidity fills Space. - -This is the idea which belongs to body, whereby we conceive it to fill -space. The idea of which filling of space is,—that where we imagine any -space taken up by a solid substance, we conceive it so to possess it, -that it excludes all other solid substances; and will for ever hinder -any other two bodies, that move towards one another in a straight line, -from coming to touch one another, unless it removes from between them -in a line not parallel to that which they move in. This idea of it, the -bodies which we ordinarily handle sufficiently furnish us with. - -3. Distinct from Space. - -This resistance, whereby it keeps other bodies out of the space which -it possesses, is so great, that no force, how great soever, can -surmount it. All the bodies in the world, pressing a drop of water on -all sides, will never be able to overcome the resistance which it will -make, soft as it is, to their approaching one another, till it be -removed out of their way: whereby our idea of solidity is distinguished -both from pure space, which is capable neither of resistance nor -motion; and from the ordinary idea of hardness. For a man may conceive -two bodies at a distance, so as they may approach one another, without -touching or displacing any solid thing, till their superficies come to -meet; whereby, I think, we have the clear idea of space without -solidity. For (not to go so far as annihilation of any particular body) -I ask, whether a man cannot have the idea of the motion of one single -body alone, without any other succeeding immediately into its place? I -think it is evident he can: the idea of motion in one body no more -including the idea of motion in another, than the idea of a square -figure in one body includes the idea of a square figure in another. I -do not ask, whether bodies do so EXIST, that the motion of one body -cannot really be without the motion of another. To determine this -either way, is to beg the question for or against a VACUUM. But my -question is,—whether one cannot have the IDEA of one body moved, whilst -others are at rest? And I think this no one will deny. If so, then the -place it deserted gives us the idea of pure space without solidity; -whereinto any other body may enter, without either resistance or -protrusion of anything. When the sucker in a pump is drawn, the space -it filled in the tube is certainly the same whether any other body -follows the motion of the sucker or not: nor does it imply a -contradiction that, upon the motion of one body, another that is only -contiguous to it should not follow it. The necessity of such a motion -is built only on the supposition that the world is full; but not on the -distinct IDEAS of space and solidity, which are as different as -resistance and not resistance, protrusion and not protrusion. And that -men have ideas of space without a body, their very disputes about a -vacuum plainly demonstrate, as is shown in another place. - -4. From Hardness. - -Solidity is hereby also differenced from hardness, in that solidity -consists in repletion, and so an utter exclusion of other bodies out of -the space it possesses: but hardness, in a firm cohesion of the parts -of matter, making up masses of a sensible bulk, so that the whole does -not easily change its figure. And indeed, hard and soft are names that -we give to things only in relation to the constitutions of our own -bodies; that being generally called hard by us, which will put us to -pain sooner than change figure by the pressure of any part of our -bodies; and that, on the contrary, soft, which changes the situation of -its parts upon an easy and unpainful touch. - -But this difficulty of changing the situation of the sensible parts -amongst themselves, or of the figure of the whole, gives no more -solidity to the hardest body in the world than to the softest; nor is -an adamant one jot more solid than water. For, though the two flat -sides of two pieces of marble will more easily approach each other, -between which there is nothing but water or air, than if there be a -diamond between them; yet it is not that the parts of the diamond are -more solid than those of water, or resist more; but because the parts -of water, being more easily separable from each other, they will, by a -side motion, be more easily removed, and give way to the approach of -the two pieces of marble. But if they could be kept from making place -by that side motion, they would eternally hinder the approach of these -two pieces of marble, as much as the diamond; and it would be as -impossible by any force to surmount their resistance, as to surmount -the resistance of the parts of a diamond. The softest body in the world -will as invincibly resist the coming together of any other two bodies, -if it be not put out of the way, but remain between them, as the -hardest that can be found or imagined. He that shall fill a yielding -soft body well with air or water, will quickly find its resistance. And -he that thinks that nothing but bodies that are hard can keep his hands -from approaching one another, may be pleased to make a trial, with the -air inclosed in a football. The experiment, I have been told, was made -at Florence, with a hollow globe of gold filled with water, and exactly -closed; which further shows the solidity of so soft a body as water. -For the golden globe thus filled, being put into a press, which was -driven by the extreme force of screws, the water made itself way -through the pores of that very close metal, and finding no room for a -nearer approach of its particles within, got to the outside, where it -rose like a dew, and so fell in drops, before the sides of the globe -could be made to yield to the violent compression of the engine that -squeezed it. - -5. On Solidity depend Impulse, Resistance and Protrusion. - -By this idea of solidity is the extension of body distinguished from -the extension of space:—the extension of body being nothing but the -cohesion or continuity of solid, separable, movable parts; and the -extension of space, the continuity of unsolid, inseparable, and -immovable parts. Upon the solidity of bodies also depend their mutual -impulse, resistance, and protrusion. Of pure space then, and solidity, -there are several (amongst which I confess myself one) who persuade -themselves they have clear and distinct ideas; and that they can think -on space, without anything in it that resists or is protruded by body. -This is the idea of pure space, which they think they have as clear as -any idea they can have of the extension of body: the idea of the -distance between the opposite parts of a concave superficies being -equally as clear without as with the idea of any solid parts between: -and on the other side, they persuade themselves that they have, -distinct from that of pure space, the idea of SOMETHING THAT FILLS -SPACE, that can be protruded by the impulse of other bodies, or resist -their motion. If there be others that have not these two ideas -distinct, but confound them, and make but one of them, I know not how -men, who have the same idea under different names, or different ideas -under the same name, can in that case talk with one another; any more -than a man who, not being blind or deaf, has distinct ideas of the -colour of scarlet and the sound of a trumpet, could discourse -concerning scarlet colour with the blind man I mentioned in another -place, who fancied that the idea of scarlet was like the sound of a -trumpet. - -6. What Solidity is. - -If any one asks me, WHAT THIS SOLIDITY IS, I send him to his senses to -inform him. Let him put a flint or a football between his hands, and -then endeavour to join them, and he will know. If he thinks this not a -sufficient explication of solidity, what it is, and wherein it -consists; I promise to tell him what it is, and wherein it consists, -when he tells me what thinking is, or wherein it consists; or explains -to me what extension or motion is, which perhaps seems much easier. The -simple ideas we have, are such as experience teaches them us; but if, -beyond that, we endeavour by words to make them clearer in the mind, we -shall succeed no better than if we went about to clear up the darkness -of a blind man’s mind by talking; and to discourse into him the ideas -of light and colours. The reason of this I shall show in another place. - - - - -CHAPTER V. -OF SIMPLE IDEAS OF DIVERS SENSES. - - -Ideas received both by seeing and touching. - -The ideas we get by more than one sense are, of SPACE or EXTENSION, -FIGURE, REST, and MOTION. For these make perceivable impressions, both -on the eyes and touch; and we can receive and convey into our minds the -ideas of the extension, figure, motion, and rest of bodies, both by -seeing and feeling. But having occasion to speak more at large of these -in another place, I here only enumerate them. - - - - -CHAPTER VI. -OF SIMPLE IDEAS OF REFLECTION. - - -Simple Ideas are the Operations of Mind about its other Ideas. - -The mind receiving the ideas mentioned in the foregoing chapters from -without, when it turns its view inward upon itself, and observes its -own actions about those ideas it has, takes from thence other ideas, -which are as capable to be the objects of its contemplation as any of -those it received from foreign things. - -The Idea of Perception, and Idea of Willing, we have from Reflection. - -The two great and principal actions of the mind, which are most -frequently considered, and which are so frequent that every one that -pleases may take notice of them in himself, are these two:— - -PERCEPTION, or THINKING; and VOLITION, or WILLING. - -The power of thinking is called the UNDERSTANDING, and the power of -volition is called the WILL; and these two powers or abilities in the -mind are denominated faculties. - -Of some of the MODES of these simple ideas of reflection, such as are -REMEMBRANCE, DISCERNING, REASONING, JUDGING, KNOWLEDGE, FAITH, &c., I -shall have occasion to speak hereafter. - - - - -CHAPTER VII. -OF SIMPLE IDEAS OF BOTH SENSATION AND REFLECTION. - - -1. Ideas of Pleasure and Pain. - -There be other simple ideas which convey themselves into the mind by -all the ways of sensation and reflection, _viz_. - -_Pleasure_ or _Delight_, and its opposite, -_Pain_, or _Uneasiness;_ -_Power;_ -_Existence;_ -_Unity_ mix with almost all our other Ideas. - - -2. Delight or uneasiness, one or other of them, join themselves to -almost all our ideas both of sensation and reflection: and there is -scarce any affection of our senses from without, any retired thought of -our mind within, which is not able to produce in us pleasure or pain. -By pleasure and pain, I would be understood to signify, whatsoever -delights or molests us; whether it arises from the thoughts of our -minds, or anything operating on our bodies. For, whether we call it; -satisfaction, delight, pleasure, happiness, &c., on the one side, or -uneasiness, trouble, pain, torment, anguish, misery, &c., the other, -they are still but different degrees of the same thing, and belong to -the ideas of pleasure and pain, delight or uneasiness; which are the -names I shall most commonly use for those two sorts of ideas. - -3. As motives of our actions. - -The infinite wise Author of our being, having given us the power over -several parts of our bodies, to move or keep them at rest as we think -fit; and also, by the motion of them, to move ourselves and other -contiguous bodies, in which consist all the actions of our body: having -also given a power to our minds, in several instances, to choose, -amongst its ideas, which it will think on, and to pursue the inquiry of -this or that subject with consideration and attention, to excite us to -these actions of thinking and motion that we are capable of,—has been -pleased to join to several thoughts, and several sensations a -perception of delight. If this were wholly separated from all our -outward sensations, and inward thoughts, we should have no reason to -prefer one thought or action to another; negligence to attention, or -motion to rest. And so we should neither stir our bodies, nor employ -our minds, but let our thoughts (if I may so call it) run adrift, -without any direction or design, and suffer the ideas of our minds, -like unregarded shadows, to make their appearances there, as it -happened, without attending to them. In which state man, however -furnished with the faculties of understanding and will, would be a very -idle, inactive creature, and pass his time only in a lazy, lethargic -dream. It has therefore pleased our wise Creator to annex to several -objects, and the ideas which we receive from them, as also to several -of our thoughts, a concomitant pleasure, and that in several objects, -to several degrees, that those faculties which he had endowed us with -might not remain wholly idle and unemployed by us. - -4. An end and use of pain. - -Pain has the same efficacy and use to set us on work that pleasure has, -we being as ready to employ our faculties to avoid that, as to pursue -this: only this is worth our consideration, that pain is often produced -by the same objects and ideas that produce pleasure in us. This their -near conjunction, which makes us often feel pain in the sensations -where we expected pleasure, gives us new occasion of admiring the -wisdom and goodness of our Maker, who, designing the preservation of -our being, has annexed pain to the application of many things to our -bodies, to warn us of the harm that they will do, and as advices to -withdraw from them. But he, not designing our preservation barely, but -the preservation of every part and organ in its perfection, hath in -many cases annexed pain to those very ideas which delight us. Thus -heat, that is very agreeable to us in one degree, by a little greater -increase of it proves no ordinary torment: and the most pleasant of all -sensible objects, light itself, if there be too much of it, if -increased beyond a due proportion to our eyes, causes a very painful -sensation. Which is wisely and favourably so ordered by nature, that -when any object does, by the vehemency of its operation, disorder the -instruments of sensation, whose structures cannot but be very nice and -delicate, we might, by the pain, be warned to withdraw, before the -organ be quite put out of order, and so be unfitted for its proper -function for the future. The consideration of those objects that -produce it may well persuade us, that this is the end or use of pain. -For, though great light be insufferable to our eyes, yet the highest -degree of darkness does not at all disease them: because that, causing -no disorderly motion in it, leaves that curious organ unharmed in its -natural state. But yet excess of cold as well as heat pains us: because -it is equally destructive to that temper which is necessary to the -preservation of life, and the exercise of the several functions of the -body, and which consists in a moderate degree of warmth; or, if you -please, a motion of the insensible parts of our bodies, confined within -certain bounds. - -5. Another end. - -Beyond all this, we may find another reason why God hath scattered up -and down several degrees of pleasure and pain, in all the things that -environ and affect us; and blended them together in almost all that our -thoughts and senses have to do with;—that we, finding imperfection, -dissatisfaction, and want of complete happiness, in all the enjoyments -which the creatures can afford us, might be led to seek it in the -enjoyment of Him with whom there is fullness of joy, and at whose right -hand are pleasures for evermore. - -6. Goodness of God in annexing pleasure and pain to our other ideas. - -Though what I have here said may not, perhaps, make the ideas of -pleasure and pain clearer to us than our own experience does, which is -the only way that we are capable of having them; yet the consideration -of the reason why they are annexed to so many other ideas, serving to -give us due sentiments of the wisdom and goodness of the Sovereign -Disposer of all things, may not be unsuitable to the main end of these -inquiries: the knowledge and veneration of him being the chief end of -all our thoughts, and the proper business of all understandings. - -7. Ideas of Existence and Unity. - -EXISTENCE and UNITY are two other ideas that are suggested to the -understanding by every object without, and every idea within. When -ideas are in our minds, we consider them as being actually there, as -well as we consider things to be actually without us;—which is, that -they exist, or have existence. And whatever we can consider as one -thing, whether a real being or idea, suggests to the understanding the -idea of unity. - -8. Idea of Power. - -POWER also is another of those simple ideas which we receive from -sensation and reflection. For, observing in ourselves that we do and -can think, and that we can at pleasure move several parts of our bodies -which were at rest; the effects, also, that natural bodies are able to -produce in one another, occurring every moment to our senses,—we both -these ways get the idea of power. - -9. Idea of Succession. - -Besides these there is another idea, which, though suggested by our -senses, yet is more constantly offered to us by what passes in our -minds; and that is the idea of SUCCESSION. For if we look immediately -into ourselves, and reflect on what is observable there, we shall find -our ideas always, whilst we are awake, or have any thought, passing in -train, one going and another coming, without intermission. - -10. Simple Ideas the materials of all our Knowledge. - -These, if they are not all, are at least (as I think) the most -considerable of those simple ideas which the mind has, out of which is -made all its other knowledge; all which it receives only by the two -forementioned ways of sensation and reflection. - -Nor let any one think these too narrow bounds for the capacious mind of -man to expatiate in, which takes its flight further than the stars, and -cannot be confined by the limits of the world; that extends its -thoughts often even beyond the utmost expansion of Matter, and makes -excursions into that incomprehensible Inane. I grant all this, but -desire any one to assign any SIMPLE IDEA which is not received from one -of those inlets before mentioned, or any COMPLEX IDEA not made out of -those simple ones. Nor will it be so strange to think these few simple -ideas sufficient to employ the quickest thought, or largest capacity; -and to furnish the materials of all that various knowledge, and more -various fancies and opinions of all mankind, if we consider how many -words may be made out of the various composition of twenty-four -letters; or if, going one step further, we will but reflect on the -variety of combinations that may be made with barely one of the -above-mentioned ideas, viz. number, whose stock is inexhaustible and -truly infinite: and what a large and immense field doth extension alone -afford the mathematicians? - - - - -CHAPTER VIII. -SOME FURTHER CONSIDERATIONS CONCERNING OUR SIMPLE IDEAS OF SENSATION. - - -1. Positive Ideas from privative causes. - -Concerning the simple ideas of Sensation; it is to be considered,—that -whatsoever is so constituted in nature as to be able, by affecting our -senses, to cause any perception in the mind, doth thereby produce in -the understanding a simple idea; which, whatever be the external cause -of it, when it comes to be taken notice of by our discerning faculty, -it is by the mind looked on and considered there to be a real positive -idea in the understanding, as much as any other whatsoever; though, -perhaps, the cause of it be but a privation of the subject. - -2. Ideas in the mind distinguished from that in things which gives rise -to them. - -Thus the ideas of heat and cold, light and darkness, white and black, -motion and rest, are equally clear and positive ideas in the mind; -though, perhaps, some of the causes which produce them are barely -privations, in those subjects from whence our senses derive those -ideas. These the understanding, in its view of them, considers all as -distinct positive ideas, without taking notice of the causes that -produce them: which is an inquiry not belonging to the idea, as it is -in the understanding, but to the nature of the things existing without -us. These are two very different things, and carefully to be -distinguished; it being one thing to perceive and know the idea of -white or black, and quite another to examine what kind of particles -they must be, and how ranged in the superficies, to make any object -appear white or black. - -3. We may have the ideas when we are ignorant of their physical causes. - -A painter or dyer who never inquired into their causes hath the ideas -of white and black, and other colours, as clearly, perfectly, and -distinctly in his understanding, and perhaps more distinctly, than the -philosopher who hath busied himself in considering their natures, and -thinks he knows how far either of them is, in its cause, positive or -privative; and the idea of black is no less positive in his mind than -that of white, however the cause of that colour in the external object -may be only a privation. - -4. Why a privative cause in nature may occasion a positive idea. - -If it were the design of my present undertaking to inquire into the -natural causes and manner of perception, I should offer this as a -reason why a privative cause might, in some cases at least, produce a -positive idea; viz. that all sensation being produced in us only by -different degrees and modes of motion in our animal spirits, variously -agitated by external objects, the abatement of any former motion must -as necessarily produce a new sensation as the variation or increase of -it; and so introduce a new idea, which depends only on a different -motion of the animal spirits in that organ. - -5. Negative names need not be meaningless. - -But whether this be so or not I will not here determine, but appeal to -every one’s own experience, whether the shadow of a man, though it -consists of nothing but the absence of light (and the more the absence -of light is, the more discernible is the shadow) does not, when a man -looks on it, cause as clear and positive idea in his mind, as a man -himself, though covered over with clear sunshine? And the picture of a -shadow is a positive thing. Indeed, we have negative names, to which -there be no positive ideas; but they consist wholly in negation of some -certain ideas, as SILENCE, INVISIBLE; but these signify not any ideas -in the mind but their absence. - -6. Whether any ideas are due to causes really private. - -And thus one may truly be said to see darkness. For, supposing a hole -perfectly dark, from whence no light is reflected, it is certain one -may see the figure of it, or it may be painted; or whether the ink I -write with makes any other idea, is a question. The privative causes I -have here assigned of positive ideas are according to the common -opinion; but, in truth, it will be hard to determine whether there be -really any ideas from a privative cause, till it be determined, whether -rest be any more a privation than motion. - -7. Ideas in the Mind, Qualities in Bodies. - -To discover the nature of our IDEAS the better, and to discourse of -them intelligibly, it will be convenient to distinguish them AS THEY -ARE IDEAS OR PERCEPTIONS IN OUR MINDS; and AS THEY ARE MODIFICATIONS OF -MATTER IN THE BODIES THAT CAUSE SUCH PERCEPTIONS IN US: that so we may -not think (as perhaps usually is done) that they are exactly the images -and resemblances of something inherent in the subject; most of those of -sensation being in the mind no more the likeness of something existing -without us, than the names that stand for them are the likeness of our -ideas, which yet upon hearing they are apt to excite in us. - -8. Our Ideas and the Qualities of Bodies. - -Whatsoever the mind perceives IN ITSELF, or is the immediate object of -perception, thought, or understanding, that I call IDEA; and the power -to produce any idea in our mind, I call QUALITY of the subject wherein -that power is. Thus a snowball having the power to produce in us the -ideas of white, cold, and round,—the power to produce those ideas in -us, as they are in the snowball, I call qualities; and as they are -sensations or perceptions in our understandings, I call them ideas; -which IDEAS, if I speak of sometimes as in the things themselves, I -would be understood to mean those qualities in the objects which -produce them in us. - -9. Primary Qualities of Bodies. - -Concerning these qualities, we, I think, observe these primary ones in -bodies that produce simple ideas in us, viz. SOLIDITY, EXTENSION, -MOTION or REST, NUMBER or FIGURE. These, which I call ORIGINAL or -PRIMARY qualities of body, are wholly inseparable from it; and such as -in all the alterations and changes it suffers, all the force can be -used upon it, it constantly keeps; and such as sense constantly finds -in every particle of matter which has bulk enough to be perceived; and -the mind finds inseparable from every particle of matter, though less -than to make itself singly be perceived by our senses: v.g. Take a -grain of wheat, divide it into two parts; each part has still solidity, -extension, figure, and mobility: divide it again, and it retains still -the same qualities; and so divide it on, till the parts become -insensible; they must retain still each of them all those qualities. -For division (which is all that a mill, or pestle, or any other body, -does upon another, in reducing it to insensible parts) can never take -away either solidity, extension, figure, or mobility from any body, but -only makes two or more distinct separate masses of matter, of that -which was but one before; all which distinct masses, reckoned as so -many distinct bodies, after division, make a certain number. - -10. [not in early editions] - -11. How Bodies produce Ideas in us. - -The next thing to be considered is, how bodies operate one upon -another; and that is manifestly by impulse, and nothing else. It being -impossible to conceive that body should operate on WHAT IT DOES NOT -TOUCH (which is all one as to imagine it can operate where it is not), -or when it does touch, operate any other way than by motion. - -12. By motions, external, and in our organism. - -If then external objects be not united to our minds when they produce -ideas therein; and yet we perceive these ORIGINAL qualities in such of -them as singly fall under our senses, it is evident that some motion -must be thence continued by our nerves, or animal spirits, by some -parts of our bodies, to the brains or the seat of sensation, there to -produce in our minds the particular ideas we have of them. And since -the extension, figure, number, and motion of bodies of an observable -bigness, may be perceived at a distance by the sight, it is evident -some singly imperceptible bodies must come from them; to the eyes, and -thereby convey to the brain some motion; which produces these ideas -which we have of them in us. - -13. How secondary Qualities produce their ideas. - -After the same manner that the ideas of these original qualities are -produced in us, we may conceive that the ideas of SECONDARY qualities -are also produced, viz. by the operation of insensible particles on our -senses. For, it being manifest that there are bodies and good store of -bodies, each whereof are so small, that we cannot by any of our senses -discover either their bulk, figure, or motion,—as is evident in the -particles of the air and water, and others extremely smaller than -those; perhaps as much smaller than the particles of air and water, as -the particles of air and water are smaller than peas or -hail-stones;—let us suppose at present that, the different motions and -figures, bulk and number, of such particles, affecting the several -organs of our senses, produce in us those different sensations which we -have from the colours and smells of bodies; v.g. that a violet, by the -impulse of such insensible particles of matter, of peculiar figures and -bulks, and in different degrees and modifications of their motions, -causes the ideas of the blue colour, and sweet scent of that flower to -be produced in our minds. It being no more impossible to conceive that -God should annex such ideas to such motions, with which they have no -similitude, than that he should annex the idea of pain to the motion of -a piece of steel dividing our flesh, with which that idea hath no -resemblance. - -14. They depend on the primary Qualities. - -What I have said concerning colours and smells may be understood also -of tastes and sounds, and other the like sensible qualities; which, -whatever reality we by mistake attribute to them, are in truth nothing -in the objects themselves, but powers to produce various sensations in -us; and depend on those primary qualities, viz. bulk, figure, texture, -and motion of parts and therefore I call them SECONDARY QUALITIES. - -15. Ideas of primary Qualities are Resemblances; of secondary, not. - -From whence I think it easy to draw this observation,—that the ideas of -primary qualities of bodies are resemblances of them, and their -patterns do really exist in the bodies themselves, but the ideas -produced in us by these secondary qualities have no resemblance of them -at all. There is nothing like our ideas, existing in the bodies -themselves. They are, in the bodies we denominate from them, only a -power to produce those sensations in us: and what is sweet, blue, or -warm in idea, is but the certain bulk, figure, and motion of the -insensible parts, in the bodies themselves, which we call so. - -16. Examples. - -Flame is denominated hot and light; snow, white and cold; and manna, -white and sweet, from the ideas they produce in us. Which qualities are -commonly thought to be the same in those bodies that those ideas are in -us, the one the perfect resemblance of the other, as they are in a -mirror, and it would by most men be judged very extravagant if one -should say otherwise. And yet he that will consider that the same fire -that, at one distance produces in us the sensation of warmth, does, at -a nearer approach, produce in us the far different sensation of pain, -ought to bethink himself what reason he has to say—that this idea of -warmth, which was produced in him by the fire, is ACTUALLY IN THE FIRE; -and his idea of pain, which the same fire produced in him the same way, -is NOT in the fire. Why are whiteness and coldness in snow, and pain -not, when it produces the one and the other idea in us; and can do -neither, but by the bulk, figure, number, and motion of its solid -parts? - -17. The ideas of the Primary alone really exist. - -The particular bulk, number, figure, and motion of the parts of fire or -snow are really in them,—whether any one’s senses perceive them or no: -and therefore they may be called REAL qualities, because they really -exist in those bodies. But light, heat, whiteness, or coldness, are no -more really in them than sickness or pain is in manna. Take away the -sensation of them; let not the eyes see light or colours, nor the ear -hear sounds; let the palate not taste, nor the nose smell, and all -colours, tastes, odours, and sounds, AS THEY ARE SUCH PARTICULAR IDEAS, -vanish and cease, and are reduced to their causes, i.e. bulk, figure, -and motion of parts. - -18. The secondary exist in things only as modes of the primary. - -A piece of manna of a sensible bulk is able to produce in us the idea -of a round or square figure; and by being removed from one place to -another, the idea of motion. This idea of motion represents it as it -really is in manna moving: a circle or square are the same, whether in -idea or existence, in the mind or in the manna. And this, both motion -and as figure, are really in the manna, whether we take notice of -primary, them or no: this everybody is ready to agree to. Besides, -manna, by the bulk, figure, texture, and motion of its parts, has a -power to produce the sensations of sickness, and sometimes of acute -pains or gripings in us. That these ideas of sickness and pain are NOT -in the manna, but effects of its operations on us, and are nowhere when -we feel them not; this also every one readily agrees to. And yet men -are hardly to be brought to think that sweetness and whiteness are not -really in manna; which are but the effects of the operations of manna, -by the motion, size, and figure of its particles, on the eyes and -palate: as the pain and sickness caused by manna are confessedly -nothing but the effects of its operations on the stomach and guts, by -the size, motion, and figure of its insensible parts, (for by nothing -else can a body operate, as has been proved): as if it could not -operate on the eyes and palate, and thereby produce in the mind -particular distinct ideas, which in itself it has not, as well as we -allow it can operate on the guts and stomach, and thereby produce -distinct ideas, which in itself it has not. These ideas, being all -effects of the operations of manna on several parts of our bodies, by -the size, figure, number, and motion of its parts;—why those produced -by the eyes and palate should rather be thought to be really in the -manna, than those produced by the stomach and guts; or why the pain and -sickness, ideas that are the effect of manna, should be thought to be -nowhere when they are not felt; and yet the sweetness and whiteness, -effects of the same manna on other parts of the body, by ways equally -as unknown, should be thought to exist in the manna, when they are not -seen or tasted, would need some reason to explain. - -19. Examples. - -Let us consider the red and white colours in porphyry. Hinder light -from striking on it, and its colours vanish; it no longer produces any -such ideas in us: upon the return of light it produces these -appearances on us again. Can any one think any real alterations are -made in the porphyry by the presence or absence of light; and that -those ideas of whiteness and redness are really in porphryry in the -light, when it is plain IT HAS NO COLOUR IN THE DARK? It has, indeed, -such a configuration of particles, both night and day, as are apt, by -the rays of light rebounding from some parts of that hard stone, to -produce in us the idea of redness, and from others the idea of -whiteness; but whiteness or redness are not in it at any time, but such -a texture that hath the power to produce such a sensation in us. - -20. Pound an almond, and the clear white colour will be altered into a -dirty one, and the sweet taste into an oily one. What real alteration -can the beating of the pestle make in an body, but an alteration of the -texture of it? - -21. Explains how water felt as cold by one hand may be warm to the -other. - -Ideas being thus distinguished and understood, we may be able to give -an account how the same water, at the same time, may produce the idea -of cold by one hand and of heat by the other: whereas it is impossible -that the same water, if those ideas were really in it, should at the -same time be both hot and cold. For, if we imagine WARMTH, as it is in -our hands, to be nothing but a certain sort and degree of motion in the -minute particles of our nerves or animal spirits, we may understand how -it is possible that the same water may, at the same time, produce the -sensations of heat in one hand and cold in the other; which yet FIGURE -never does, that never producing the idea of a square by one hand which -has produced the idea of a globe by another. But if the sensation of -heat and cold be nothing but the increase or diminution of the motion -of the minute parts of our bodies, caused by the corpuscles of any -other body, it is easy to be understood, that if that motion be greater -in one hand than in the other; if a body be applied to the two hands, -which has in its minute particles a greater motion than in those of one -of the hands, and a less than in those of the other, it will increase -the motion of the one hand and lessen it in the other; and so cause the -different sensations of heat and cold that depend thereon. - -22. An excursion into natural philosophy. - -I have in what just goes before been engaged in physical inquiries a -little further than perhaps I intended. But, it being necessary to make -the nature of sensation a little understood; and to make the difference -between the QUALITIES in bodies, and the IDEAS produced by them in the -mind, to be distinctly conceived, without which it were impossible to -discourse intelligibly of them;—I hope I shall be pardoned this little -excursion into natural philosophy; it being necessary in our present -inquiry to distinguish the PRIMARY and REAL qualities of bodies, which -are always in them (viz. solidity, extension, figure, number, and -motion, or rest, and are sometimes perceived by us, viz. when the -bodies they are in are big enough singly to be discerned), from those -SECONDARY and IMPUTED qualities, which are but the powers of several -combinations of those primary ones, when they operate without being -distinctly discerned;—whereby we may also come to know what ideas are, -and what are not, resemblances of something really existing in the -bodies we denominate from them. - -23. Three Sorts of Qualities in Bodies. - -The qualities, then, that are in bodies, rightly considered are of -three sorts:— - -FIRST, The bulk, figure, number, situation, and motion or rest of their -solid parts. Those are in them, whether we perceive them or not; and -when they are of that size that we can discover them, we have by these -an idea of the thing as it is in itself; as is plain in artificial -things. These I call PRIMARY QUALITIES. - -SECONDLY, The power that is in any body, by reason of its insensible -primary qualities, to operate after a peculiar manner on any of our -senses, and thereby produce in US the different ideas of several -colours, sounds, smells, tastes, &c. These are usually called SENSIBLE -QUALITIES. - -THIRDLY, The power that is in any body, by reason of the particular -constitution of its primary qualities, to make such a change in the -bulk, figure, texture, and motion of ANOTHER BODY, as to make it -operate on our senses differently from what it did before. Thus the sun -has a power to make wax white, and fire to make lead fluid. - -The first of these, as has been said, I think may be properly called -real, original, or primary qualities; because they are in the things -themselves, whether they are perceived or not: and upon their different -modifications it is that the secondary qualities depend. - -The other two are only powers to act differently upon other things: -which powers result from the different modifications of those primary -qualities. - -24. The first are Resemblances; the second thought to be Resemblances, -but are not, the third neither are nor are thought so. - -But, though the two latter sorts of qualities are powers barely, and -nothing but powers, relating to several other bodies, and resulting -from the different modifications of the original qualities, yet they -are generally otherwise thought of. For the SECOND sort, viz. the -powers to produce several ideas in us, by our senses, are looked upon -as real qualities in the things thus affecting us: but the THIRD sort -are called and esteemed barely powers, v.g. The idea of heat or light, -which we receive by our eyes, or touch, from the sun, are commonly -thought real qualities existing in the sun, and something more than -mere powers in it. But when we consider the sun in reference to wax, -which it melts or blanches, we look on the whiteness and softness -produced in the wax, not as qualities in the sun, but effects produced -by powers in it. Whereas, if rightly considered, these qualities of -light and warmth, which are perceptions in me when I am warmed or -enlightened by the sun, are no otherwise in the sun, than the changes -made in the wax, when it is blanched or melted, are in the sun. They -are all of them equally POWERS IN THE SUN, DEPENDING ON ITS PRIMARY -QUALITIES; whereby it is able, in the one case, so to alter the bulk, -figure, texture, or motion of some of the insensible parts of my eyes -or hands, as thereby to produce in me the idea of light or heat; and in -the other, it is able so to alter the bulk, figure, texture, or motion -of the insensible parts of the wax, as to make them fit to produce in -me the distinct ideas of white and fluid. - -25. Why the secondary are ordinarily taken for real Qualities and not -for bare Powers. - -The reason why the one are ordinarily taken for real qualities, and the -other only for bare powers, seems to be because the ideas we have of -distinct colours, sounds, &c. containing nothing at all in them of -bulk, figure, or motion we are not apt to think them the effects of -these primary qualities; which appear not, to our senses, to operate in -their production, and with which they have not any apparent congruity -or conceivable connexion. Hence it is that we are so forward as to -imagine, that those ideas are the resemblances of something really -existing in the objects themselves since sensation discovers nothing of -bulk, figure, or motion of parts in their production; nor can reason -show how bodies BY THEIR BULK, FIGURE, AND MOTION, should produce in -the mind the ideas of blue or yellow, &c. But, in the other case in the -operations of bodies changing the qualities one of another, we plainly -discover that the quality produced hath commonly no resemblance with -anything in the thing producing it; wherefore we look on it as a bare -effect of power. For, through receiving the idea of heat or light from -the sun, we are apt to think IT is a perception and resemblance of such -a quality in the sun; yet when we see wax, or a fair face, receive -change of colour from the sun, we cannot imagine THAT to be the -reception or resemblance of anything in the sun, because we find not -those different colours in the sun itself. For, our senses being able -to observe a likeness or unlikeness of sensible qualities in two -different external objects, we forwardly enough conclude the production -of any sensible quality in any subject to be an effect of bare power, -and not the communication of any quality which was really in the -efficient, when we find no such sensible quality in the thing that -produced it. But our senses, not being able to discover any unlikeness -between the idea produced in us, and the quality of the object -producing it, we are apt to imagine that our ideas are resemblances of -something in the objects, and not the effects of certain powers placed -in the modification of their primary qualities, with which primary -qualities the ideas produced in us have no resemblance. - -26. Secondary Qualities twofold; first, immediately perceivable; -secondly, mediately perceivable. - -To conclude. Beside those before-mentioned primary qualities in bodies, -viz. bulk, figure, extension, number, and motion of their solid parts; -all the rest, whereby we take notice of bodies, and distinguish them -one from another, are nothing else but several powers in them, -depending on those primary qualities; whereby they are fitted, either -by immediately operating on our bodies to produce several different -ideas in us; or else, by operating on other bodies, so to change their -primary qualities as to render them capable of producing ideas in us -different from what before they did. The former of these, I think, may -be called secondary qualities IMMEDIATELY PERCEIVABLE: the latter, -secondary qualities, MEDIATELY PERCEIVABLE. - - - - -CHAPTER IX. -OF PERCEPTION. - - -1. Perception the first simple Idea of Reflection. - -PERCEPTION, as it is the first faculty of the mind exercised about our -ideas; so it is the first and simplest idea we have from reflection, -and is by some called thinking in general. Though thinking, in the -propriety of the English tongue, signifies that sort of operation in -the mind about its ideas, wherein the mind is active; where it, with -some degree of voluntary attention, considers anything. For in bare -naked perception, the mind is, for the most part, only passive; and -what it perceives, it cannot avoid perceiving. - -2. Reflection alone can give us the idea of what perception is. - -What perception is, every one will know better by reflecting on what he -does himself, when he sees, hears, feels, &c., or thinks, than by any -discourse of mine. Whoever reflects on what passes in his own mind -cannot miss it. And if he does not reflect, all the words in the world -cannot make him have any notion of it. - -3. Arises in sensation only when the mind notices the organic -impression. - -This is certain, that whatever alterations are made in the body, if -they reach not the mind; whatever impressions are made on the outward -parts, if they are not taken notice of within, there is no perception. -Fire may burn our bodies with no other effect than it does a billet, -unless the motion be continued to the brain, and there the sense of -heat, or idea of pain, be produced in the mind; wherein consists actual -perception. - -4. Impulse on the organ insufficient. - -How often may a man observe in himself, that whilst his mind is -intently employed in the contemplation of some objects, and curiously -surveying some ideas that are there, it takes no notice of impressions -of sounding bodies made upon the organ of hearing, with the same -alteration that uses to be for the producing the idea of sound? A -sufficient impulse there may be on the organ; but it not reaching the -observation of the mind, there follows no perception: and though the -motion that uses to produce the idea of sound be made in the ear, yet -no sound is heard. Want of sensation, in this case, is not through any -defect in the organ, or that the man’s ears are less affected than at -other times when he does hear but that which uses to produce the idea, -though conveyed in by the usual organ, not being taken notice of in the -understanding, and so imprinting no idea in the mind, there follows no -sensation. So that wherever there is sense of perception, there some -idea is actually produced, and present in the understanding. - -5. Children, though they may have Ideas in the Womb, have none innate. - -Therefore I doubt not but children, by the exercise of their senses -about objects that affect them in the womb receive some few ideas -before they are born, as the unavoidable effects, either of the bodies -that environ them, or else of those wants or diseases they suffer; -amongst which (if one may conjecture concerning things not very capable -of examination) I think the ideas of hunger and warmth are two: which -probably are some of the first that children have, and which they -scarce ever part with again. - -6. The effects of Sensation in the womb. - -But though it be reasonable to imagine that children receive some ideas -before they come into the world, yet these simple ideas are far from -those INNATE PRINCIPLES which some contend for, and we, above, have -rejected. These here mentioned, being the effects of sensation, are -only from some affections of the body, which happen to them there, and -so depend on something exterior to the mind; no otherwise differing in -their manner of production from other ideas derived from sense, but -only in the precedency of time. Whereas those innate principles are -supposed to be quite of another nature; not coming into the mind by any -accidental alterations in, or operations on the body; but, as it were, -original characters impressed upon it, in the very first moment of its -being and constitution. - -7. Which Ideas appear first is not evident, nor important. - -As there are some ideas which we may reasonably suppose may be -introduced into the minds of children in the womb, subservient to the -necessities of their life and being there: so, after they are born, -those ideas are the earliest imprinted which happen to be the sensible -qualities which first occur to them; amongst which light is not the -least considerable, nor of the weakest efficacy. And how covetous the -mind is to be furnished with all such ideas as have no pain -accompanying them, may be a little guessed by what is observable in -children new-born; who always turn their eyes to that part from whence -the light comes, lay them how you please. But the ideas that are most -familiar at first, being various according to the divers circumstances -of children’s first entertainment in the world, the order wherein the -several ideas come at first into the mind is very various, and -uncertain also; neither is it much material to know it. - -8. Sensations often changed by the Judgment. - -We are further to consider concerning perception, that the ideas we -receive by sensation are often, in grown people, altered by the -judgment, without our taking notice of it. When we set before our eyes -a round globe of any uniform colour, v.g. gold, alabaster, or jet, it -is certain that the idea thereby imprinted on our mind is of a flat -circle, variously shadowed, with several degrees of light and -brightness coming to our eyes. But we having, by use, been accustomed -to perceive what kind of appearance convex bodies are wont to make in -us; what alterations are made in the reflections of light by the -difference of the sensible figures of bodies;—the judgment presently, -by an habitual custom, alters the appearances into their causes. So -that from that which is truly variety of shadow or colour, collecting -the figure, it makes it pass for a mark of figure, and frames to itself -the perception of a convex figure and an uniform colour; when the idea -we receive from thence is only a plane variously coloured, as is -evident in painting. To which purpose I shall here insert a problem of -that very ingenious and studious promoter of real knowledge, the -learned and worthy Mr. Molineux, which he was pleased to send me in a -letter some months since; and it is this:—“Suppose a man BORN blind, -and now adult, and taught by his TOUCH to distinguish between a cube -and a sphere of the same metal, and nighly of the same bigness, so as -to tell, when he felt one and the other, which is the cube, which the -sphere. Suppose then the cube and sphere placed on a table, and the -blind man be made to see: quaere, whether BY HIS SIGHT, BEFORE HE -TOUCHED THEM, he could now distinguish and tell which is the globe, -which the cube?” To which the acute and judicious proposer answers, -“Not. For, though he has obtained the experience of how a globe, how a -cube affects his touch, yet he has not yet obtained the experience, -that what affects his touch so or so, must affect his sight so or so; -or that a protuberant angle in the cube, that pressed his hand -unequally, shall appear to his eye as it does in the cube.”—I agree -with this thinking gentleman, whom I am proud to call my friend, in his -answer to this problem; and am of opinion that the blind man, at first -sight, would not be able with certainty to say which was the globe, -which the cube, whilst he only saw them; though he could unerringly -name them by his touch, and certainly distinguish them by the -difference of their figures felt. This I have set down, and leave with -my reader, as an occasion for him to consider how much he may be -beholden to experience, improvement, and acquired notions, where he -thinks he had not the least use of, or help from them. And the rather, -because this observing gentleman further adds, that “having, upon the -occasion of my book, proposed this to divers very ingenious men, he -hardly ever met with one that at first gave the answer to it which he -thinks true, till by hearing his reasons they were convinced.” - -9. This judgement apt to be mistaken for direct perception. - -But this is not, I think, usual in any of our ideas, but those received -by sight. Because sight, the most comprehensive of all our senses, -conveying to our minds the ideas of light and colours, which are -peculiar only to that sense; and also the far different ideas of space, -figure, and motion, the several varieties whereof change the -appearances of its proper object, viz. light and colours; we bring -ourselves by use to judge of the one by the other. This, in many cases -by a settled habit,—in things whereof we have frequent experience is -performed so constantly and so quick, that we take that for the -perception of our sensation which is an idea formed by our judgment; so -that one, viz. that of sensation, serves only to excite the other, and -is scarce taken notice of itself;—as a man who reads or hears with -attention and understanding, takes little notice of the characters or -sounds, but of the ideas that are excited in him by them. - -10. How, by Habit, ideas of Sensation are unconsciously changed into -ideas of Judgment. - -Nor need we wonder that this is done with so little notice, if we -consider how quick the actions of the mind are performed. For, as -itself is thought to take up no space to have no extension; so its -actions seem to require no time but many of them seem to be crowded -into an instant. I speak this in comparison to the actions of the body. -Any one may easily observe this in his own thoughts, who will take the -pains to reflect on them. How, as it were in an instant, do our minds, -with one glance, see all the parts of a demonstration, which may very -well be called a long one, if we consider the time it will require to -put it into words, and step by step show it another? Secondly, we shall -not be so much surprised that this is done in us with so little notice, -if we consider how the facility which we get of doing things, by a -custom of doing, makes them often pass in us without our notice. -Habits, especially such as are begun very early, come at last to -produce actions in us, which often escape our observation. How -frequently do we, in a day, cover our eyes with our eyelids, without -perceiving that we are at all in the dark! Men that, by custom, have -got the use of a by-word, do almost in every sentence pronounce sounds -which, though taken notice of by others, they themselves neither hear -nor observe. And therefore it is not so strange, that our mind should -often change the idea of its sensation into that of its judgment, and -make one serve only to excite the other, without our taking notice of -it. - -11. Perception puts the difference between Animals and Vegetables. - -This faculty of perception seems to me to be, that which puts the -distinction betwixt the animal kingdom and the inferior parts of -nature. For, however vegetables have, many of them, some degrees of -motion, and upon the different application of other bodies to them, do -very briskly alter their figures and motions, and so have obtained the -name of sensitive plants, from a motion which has some resemblance to -that which in animals follows upon sensation: yet I suppose it is all -bare MECHANISM; and no otherwise produced than the turning of a wild -oat-beard, by the insinuation of the particles of moisture, or the -shortening of a rope, by the affusion of water. All which is done -without any sensation in the subject, or the having or receiving any -ideas. - -12. Perception in all animals. - -Perception, I believe, is, in some degree, in all sorts of animals; -though in some possibly the avenues provided by nature for the -reception of sensations are so few, and the perception they are -received with so obscure and dull, that it comes extremely short of the -quickness and variety of sensation which is in other animals; but yet -it is sufficient for, and wisely adapted to, the state and condition of -that sort of animals who are thus made. So that the wisdom and goodness -of the Maker plainly appear in all the parts of this stupendous fabric, -and all the several degrees and ranks of creatures in it. - -13. According to their condition. - -We may, I think, from the make of an oyster or cockle, reasonably -conclude that it has not so many, nor so quick senses as a man, or -several other animals; nor if it had, would it, in that state and -incapacity of transferring itself from one place to another, be -bettered by them. What good would sight and hearing do to a creature -that cannot move itself to or from the objects wherein at a distance it -perceives good or evil? And would not quickness of sensation be an -inconvenience to an animal that must lie still where chance has once -placed it, and there receive the afflux of colder or warmer, clean or -foul water, as it happens to come to it? - -14. Decay of perception in old age. - -But yet I cannot but think there is some small dull perception, whereby -they are distinguished from perfect insensibility. And that this may be -so, we have plain instances, even in mankind itself. Take one in whom -decrepit old age has blotted out the memory of his past knowledge, and -clearly wiped out the ideas his mind was formerly stored with, and has, -by destroying his sight, hearing, and smell quite, and his taste to a -great degree, stopped up almost all the passages for new ones to enter; -or if there be some of the inlets yet half open, the impressions made -are scarcely perceived, or not at all retained. How far such an one -(notwithstanding all that is boasted of innate principles) is in his -knowledge and intellectual faculties above the condition of a cockle or -an oyster, I leave to be considered. And if a man had passed sixty -years in such a state, as it is possible he might, as well as three -days, I wonder what difference there would be, in any intellectual -perfections, between him and the lowest degree of animals. - -15. Perception the Inlet of all materials of Knowledge. - -Perception then being the FIRST step and degree towards knowledge, and -the inlet of all the materials of it; the fewer senses any man, as well -as any other creature, hath; and the fewer and duller the impressions -are that are made by them; and the duller the faculties are that are -employed about them,—the more remote are they from that knowledge which -is to be found in some men. But this being in great variety of degrees -(as may be perceived amongst men) cannot certainly be discovered in the -several species of animals, much less in their particular individuals. -It suffices me only to have remarked here,—that perception is the first -operation of all our intellectual faculties, and the inlet of all -knowledge in our minds. And I am apt too to imagine, that it is -perception, in the lowest degree of it, which puts the boundaries -between animals and the inferior ranks of creatures. But this I mention -only as my conjecture by the by; it being indifferent to the matter in -hand which way the learned shall determine of it. - - - - -CHAPTER X. -OF RETENTION. - - -1. Contemplation - -The next faculty of the mind, whereby it makes a further progress -towards knowledge, is that which I call RETENTION; or the keeping of -those simple ideas which from sensation or reflection it hath received. -This is done two ways. - -First, by keeping the idea which is brought into it, for some time -actually in view, which is called CONTEMPLATION. - -2. Memory. - -The other way of retention is, the power to revive again in our minds -those ideas which, after imprinting, have disappeared, or have been as -it were laid aside out of sight. And thus we do, when we conceive heat -or light, yellow or sweet,—the object being removed. This is MEMORY, -which is as it were the storehouse of our ideas. For, the narrow mind -of man not being capable of having many ideas under view and -consideration at once, it was necessary to have a repository, to lay up -those ideas which, at another time, it might have use of. But, our -IDEAS being nothing but actual perceptions in the mind, which cease to -be anything; when there is no perception of them; this laying up of our -ideas in the repository of the memory signifies no more but this,—that -the mind has a power in many cases to revive perceptions which it has -once had, with this additional perception annexed to them, that IT HAS -HAD THEM BEFORE. And in this sense it is that our ideas are said to be -in our memories, when indeed they are actually nowhere;—but only there -is an ability in the mind when it will to revive them again, and as it -were paint them anew on itself, though some with more, some with less -difficulty; some more lively, and others more obscurely. And thus it -is, by the assistance of this faculty, that we are said to have all -those ideas in our understandings which, though we do not actually -contemplate yet we CAN bring in sight, and make appear again, and be -the objects of our thoughts, without the help of those sensible -qualities which first imprinted them there. - -3. Attention, Repetition, Pleasure and Pain, fix Ideas. - -Attention and repetition help much to the fixing any ideas in the -memory. But those which naturally at first make the deepest and most -lasting impressions, are those which are accompanied with pleasure or -pain. The great business of the senses being, to make us take notice of -what hurts or advantages the body, it is wisely ordered by nature, as -has been shown, that pain should accompany the reception of several -ideas; which, supplying the place of consideration and reasoning in -children, and acting quicker than consideration in grown men, makes -both the old and young avoid painful objects with that haste which is -necessary for their preservation; and in both settles in the memory a -caution for the future. - -4. Ideas fade in the Memory. - -Concerning the several degrees of lasting, wherewith ideas are -imprinted on the memory, we may observe,—that some of them have been -produced in the understanding by an object affecting the senses once -only, and no more than once; others, that have more than once offered -themselves to the senses, have yet been little taken notice of: the -mind, either heedless, as in children, or otherwise employed, as in men -intent only on one thing; not setting the stamp deep into itself. And -in some, where they are set on with care and repeated impressions, -either through the temper of the body, or some other fault, the memory -is very weak. In all these cases, ideas in the mind quickly fade, and -often vanish quite out of the understanding, leaving no more footsteps -or remaining characters of themselves than shadows do flying over -fields of corn, and the mind is as void of them as if they had never -been there. - -5. Causes of oblivion. - -Thus many of those ideas which were produced in the minds of children, -in the beginning of their sensation, (some of which perhaps, as of some -pleasures and pains, were before they were born, and others in their -infancy,) if in the future course of their lives they are not repeated -again, are quite lost, without the least glimpse remaining of them. -This may be observed in those who by some mischance have lost their -sight when they were very young; in whom the ideas of colours having -been but slightly taken notice of, and ceasing to be repeated, do quite -wear out; so that some years after, there is no more notion nor memory -of colours left in their minds, than in those of people born blind. The -memory of some men, it is true, is very tenacious, even to a miracle. -But yet there seems to be a constant decay of all our ideas, even of -those which are struck deepest, and in minds the most retentive; so -that if they be not sometimes renewed, by repeated exercise of the -senses, or reflection on those kinds of objects which at first -occasioned them, the print wears out, and at last there remains nothing -to be seen. Thus the ideas, as well as children, of our youth, often -die before us: and our minds represent to us those tombs to which we -are approaching; where, though the brass and marble remain, yet the -inscriptions are effaced by time, and the imagery moulders away. The -pictures drawn in our minds are laid in fading colours; and if not -sometimes refreshed, vanish and disappear. How much the constitution of -our bodies are concerned in this; and whether the temper of the brain -makes this difference, that in some it retains the characters drawn on -it like marble, in others like freestone, and in others little better -than sand, I shall here inquire; though it may seem probable that the -constitution of the body does sometimes influence the memory, since we -oftentimes find a disease quite strip the mind of all its ideas, and -the flames of a fever in a few days calcine all those images to dust -and confusion, which seemed to be as lasting as if graved in marble. - -6. Constantly repeated Ideas can scarce be lost. - -But concerning the ideas themselves, it is easy to remark, that those -that are oftenest refreshed (amongst which are those that are conveyed -into the mind by more ways than one) by a frequent return of the -objects or actions that produce them, fix themselves best in the -memory, and remain clearest and longest there; and therefore those -which are of the original qualities of bodies, viz. solidity, -extension, figure, motion, and rest; and those that almost constantly -affect our bodies, as heat and cold; and those which are the affections -of all kinds of beings, as existence, duration, and number, which -almost every object that affects our senses, every thought which -employs our minds, bring along with them;—these, I say, and the like -ideas, are seldom quite lost, whilst the mind retains any ideas at all. - -7. In Remembering, the Mind is often active. - -In this secondary perception, as I may so call it, or viewing again the -ideas that are lodged in the memory, the mind is oftentimes more than -barely passive; the appearance of those dormant pictures depending -sometimes on the WILL. The mind very often sets itself on work in -search of some hidden idea, and turns as it were the eye of the soul -upon it; though sometimes too they start up in our minds of their own -accord, and offer themselves to the understanding; and very often are -roused and tumbled out of their dark cells into open daylight, by -turbulent and tempestuous passions; our affections bringing ideas to -our memory, which had otherwise lain quiet and unregarded. This further -is to be observed, concerning ideas lodged in the memory, and upon -occasion revived by the mind, that they are not only (as the word -REVIVE imports) none of them new ones, but also that the mind takes -notice of them as of a former impression, and renews its acquaintance -with them, as with ideas it had known before. So that though ideas -formerly imprinted are not all constantly in view, yet in remembrance -they are constantly known to be such as have been formerly imprinted; -i.e. in view, and taken notice of before, by the understanding. - -8. Two defects in the Memory, Oblivion and Slowness. - -Memory, in an intellectual creature, is necessary in the next degree to -perception. It is of so great moment, that, where it is wanting, all -the rest of our faculties are in a great measure useless. And we in our -thoughts, reasonings, and knowledge, could not proceed beyond present -objects, were it not for the assistance of our memories; wherein there -may be two defects:— - -First, That it loses the idea quite, and so far it produces perfect -ignorance. For, since we can know nothing further than we have the idea -of it, when that is gone, we are in perfect ignorance. - -Secondly, That it moves slowly, and retrieves not the ideas that it -has, and are laid up in store, quick enough to serve the mind upon -occasion. This, if it be to a great degree, is stupidity; and he who, -through this default in his memory, has not the ideas that are really -preserved there, ready at hand when need and occasion calls for them, -were almost as good be without them quite, since they serve him to -little purpose. The dull man, who loses the opportunity, whilst he is -seeking in his mind for those ideas that should serve his turn, is not -much more happy in his knowledge than one that is perfectly ignorant. -It is the business therefore of the memory to furnish to the mind those -dormant ideas which it has present occasion for; in the having them -ready at hand on all occasions, consists that which we call invention, -fancy, and quickness of parts. - -9. A defect which belongs to the memory of Man, as finite. - -These are defects we may observe in the memory of one man compared with -another. There is another defect which we may conceive to be in the -memory of man in general;—compared with some superior created -intellectual beings, which in this faculty may so far excel man, that -they may have CONSTANTLY in view the whole scene of all their former -actions, wherein no one of the thoughts they have ever had may slip out -of their sight. The omniscience of God, who knows all things, past, -present, and to come, and to whom the thoughts of men’s hearts always -lie open, may satisfy us of the possibility of this. For who can doubt -but God may communicate to those glorious spirits, his immediate -attendants, any of his perfections; in what proportions he pleases, as -far as created finite beings can be capable? It is reported of that -prodigy of parts, Monsieur Pascal, that till the decay of his health -had impaired his memory, he forgot nothing of what he had done, read, -or thought, in any part of his rational age. This is a privilege so -little known to most men, that it seems almost incredible to those who, -after the ordinary way, measure all others by themselves; but yet, when -considered, may help us to enlarge our thoughts towards greater -perfections of it, in superior ranks of spirits. For this of Monsieur -Pascal was still with the narrowness that human minds are confined to -here,—of having great variety of ideas only by succession, not all at -once. Whereas the several degrees of angels may probably have larger -views; and some of them be endowed with capacities able to retain -together, and constantly set before them, as in one picture, all their -past knowledge at once. This, we may conceive, would be no small -advantage to the knowledge of a thinking man,—if all his past thoughts -and reasonings could be ALWAYS present to him. And therefore we may -suppose it one of those ways, wherein the knowledge of separate spirits -may exceedingly surpass ours. - -10. Brutes have Memory. - -This faculty of laying up and retaining the ideas that are brought into -the mind, several other animals seem to have to a great degree, as well -as man. For, to pass by other instances, birds learning of tunes, and -the endeavours one may observe in them to hit the notes right, put it -past doubt with me, that they have perception, and retain ideas in -their memories, and use them for patterns. For it seems to me -impossible that they should endeavour to conform their voices to notes -(as it is plain they do) of which they had no ideas. For, though I -should grant sound may mechanically cause a certain motion of the -animal spirits in the brains of those birds, whilst the tune is -actually playing; and that motion may be continued on to the muscles of -the wings, and so the bird mechanically be driven away by certain -noises, because this may tend to the bird’s preservation; yet that can -never be supposed a reason why it should cause mechanically—either -whilst the tune is playing, much less after it has ceased—such a motion -of the organs in the bird’s voice as should conform it to the notes of -a foreign sound, which imitation can be of no use to the bird’s -preservation. But, which is more, it cannot with any appearance of -reason be supposed (much less proved) that birds, without sense and -memory, can approach their notes nearer and nearer by degrees to a tune -played yesterday; which if they have no idea of in their memory, is now -nowhere, nor can be a pattern for them to imitate, or which any -repeated essays can bring them nearer to. Since there is no reason why -the sound of a pipe should leave traces in their brains, which, not at -first, but by their after-endeavours, should produce the like sounds; -and why the sounds they make themselves, should not make traces which -they should follow, as well as those of the pipe, is impossible to -conceive. - - - - -CHAPTER XI. -OF DISCERNING, AND OTHER OPERATIONS OF THE MIND. - - -1. No Knowledge without Discernment. - -Another faculty we may take notice of in our minds is that of -DISCERNING and DISTINGUISHING between the several ideas it has. It is -not enough to have a confused perception of something in general. -Unless the mind had a distinct perception of different objects and -their qualities, it would be capable of very little knowledge, though -the bodies that affect us were as busy about us as they are now, and -the mind were continually employed in thinking. On this faculty of -distinguishing one thing from another depends the evidence and -certainty of several, even very general, propositions, which have -passed for innate truths;—because men, overlooking the true cause why -those propositions find universal assent, impute it wholly to native -uniform impressions; whereas it in truth depends upon this clear -discerning faculty of the mind, whereby it PERCEIVES two ideas to be -the same, or different. But of this more hereafter. - -2. The Difference of Wit and Judgment. - -How much the imperfection of accurately discriminating ideas one from -another lies, either in the dulness or faults of the organs of sense; -or want of acuteness, exercise, or attention in the understanding; or -hastiness and precipitancy, natural to some tempers, I will not here -examine: it suffices to take notice, that this is one of the operations -that the mind may reflect on and observe in itself. It is of that -consequence to its other knowledge, that so far as this faculty is in -itself dull, or not rightly made use of, for the distinguishing one -thing from another,—so far our notions are confused, and our reason and -judgment disturbed or misled. If in having our ideas in the memory -ready at hand consists quickness of parts; in this, of having them -unconfused, and being able nicely to distinguish one thing from -another, where there is but the least difference, consists, in a great -measure, the exactness of judgment, and clearness of reason, which is -to be observed in one man above another. And hence perhaps may be given -some reason of that common observation,—that men who have a great deal -of wit, and prompt memories, have not always the clearest judgment or -deepest reason. For WIT lying most in the assemblage of ideas, and -putting those together with quickness and variety, wherein can be found -any resemblance or congruity, thereby to make up pleasant pictures and -agreeable visions in the fancy; JUDGMENT, on the contrary, lies quite -on the other side, in separating carefully, one from another, ideas -wherein can be found the least difference, thereby to avoid being -misled by similitude, and by affinity to take one thing for another. -This is a way of proceeding quite contrary to metaphor and allusion; -wherein for the most part lies that entertainment and pleasantry of -wit, which strikes so lively on the fancy, and therefore is so -acceptable to all people, because its beauty appears at first sight, -and there is required no labour of thought to examine what truth or -reason there is in it. The mind, without looking any further, rests -satisfied with the agreeableness of the picture and the gaiety of the -fancy. And it is a kind of affront to go about to examine it, by the -severe rules of truth and good reason; whereby it appears that it -consists in something that is not perfectly conformable to them. - -3. Clearness alone hinders Confusion. - -To the well distinguishing our ideas, it chiefly contributes that they -be CLEAR and DETERMINATE. And when they are so, it will not breed any -confusion or mistake about them, though the senses should (as sometimes -they do) convey them from the same object differently on different -occasions, and so seem to err. For, though a man in a fever should from -sugar have a bitter taste, which at another time would produce a sweet -one, yet the idea of bitter in that man’s mind would be as clear and -distinct from the idea of sweet as if he had tasted only gall. Nor does -it make any more confusion between the two ideas of sweet and bitter -that the same sort of body produces at one time one, and at another -time another idea by the taste, than it makes a confusion in two ideas -of white and sweet, or white and round, that the same piece of sugar -produces them both in the mind at the same time. And the ideas of -orange-colour and azure, that are produced in the mind by the same -parcel of the infusion of lignum nephritium, are no less distinct ideas -than those of the same colours taken from two very different bodies. - -4. Comparing. - -The COMPARING them one with another, in respect of extent, degrees, -time, place, or any other circumstances, is another operation of the -mind about its ideas, and is that upon which depends all that large -tribe of ideas comprehended under RELATION; which, of how vast an -extent it is, I shall have occasion to consider hereafter. - -5. Brutes compare but imperfectly. - -How far brutes partake in this faculty, is not easy to determine. I -imagine they have it not in any great degree, for, though they probably -have several ideas distinct enough, yet it seems to me to be the -prerogative of human understanding, when it has sufficiently -distinguished any ideas, so as to perceive them to be perfectly -different, and so consequently two, to cast about and consider in what -circumstances they are capable to be compared. And therefore, I think, -beasts compare not their ideas further than some sensible circumstances -annexed to the objects themselves. The other power of comparing, which -may be observed in men, belonging to general ideas, and useful only to -abstract reasonings, we may probably conjecture beasts have not. - -6. Compounding. - -The next operation we may observe in the mind about its ideas is -COMPOSITION; whereby it puts together several of those simple ones it -has received from sensation and reflection, and combines them into -complex ones. Under this of composition may be reckoned also that of -ENLARGING, wherein, though the composition does not so much appear as -in more complex ones, yet it is nevertheless a putting several ideas -together, though of the same kind. Thus, by adding several units -together, we make the idea of a dozen; and putting together the -repeated ideas of several perches, we frame that of a furlong. - -7. Brutes compound but little. - -In this also, I suppose, brutes come far short of man. For, though they -take in, and retain together, several combinations of simple ideas, as -possibly the shape, smell, and voice of his master make up the complex -idea a dog has of him, or rather are so many distinct marks whereby he -knows him; yet I do not think they do of themselves ever compound them, -and make complex ideas. And perhaps even where we think they have -complex ideas, it is only one simple one that directs them in the -knowledge of several things, which possibly they distinguish less by -their sight than we imagine. For I have been credibly informed that a -bitch will nurse, play with, and be fond of young foxes, as much as, -and in place of her puppies, if you can but get them once to suck her -so long that her milk may go through them. And those animals which have -a numerous brood of young ones at once, appear not to have any -knowledge of their number; for though they are mightily concerned for -any of their young that are taken from them whilst they are in sight or -hearing, yet if one or two of them be stolen from them in their -absence, or without noise, they appear not to miss them, or to have any -sense that their number is lessened. - -8. Naming. - -When children have, by repeated sensations, got ideas fixed in their -memories, they begin by degrees to learn the use of signs. And when -they have got the skill to apply the organs of speech to the framing of -articulate sounds, they begin to make use of words, to signify their -ideas to others. These verbal signs they sometimes borrow from others, -and sometimes make themselves, as one may observe among the new and -unusual names children often give to things in the first use of -language. - -9. Abstraction. - -The use of words then being to stand as outward mark of our internal -ideas, and those ideas being taken from particular things, if every -particular idea that we take up should have a distinct name, names must -be endless. To prevent this, the mind makes the particular ideas -received from particular objects to become general; which is done by -considering them as they are in the mind such appearances,—separate -from all other existences, and the circumstances of real existence, as -time, place, or any other concomitant ideas. This is called -ABSTRACTION, whereby ideas taken from particular beings become general -representatives of all of the same kind; and their names general names, -applicable to whatever exists conformable to such abstract ideas. Such -precise, naked appearances in the mind, without considering how, -whence, or with what others they came there, the understanding lays up -(with names commonly annexed to them) as the standards to rank real -existences into sorts, as they agree with these patterns, and to -denominate them accordingly. Thus the same colour being observed to-day -in chalk or snow, which the mind yesterday received from milk, it -considers that appearance alone, makes it a representative of all of -that kind; and having given it the name WHITENESS, it by that sound -signifies the same quality wheresoever to be imagined or met with; and -thus universals, whether ideas or terms, are made. - -10. Brutes abstract not. - -If it may be doubted whether beasts compound and enlarge their ideas -that way to any degree; this, I think, I may be positive in,—that the -power of abstracting is not at all in them; and that the having of -general ideas is that which puts a perfect distinction betwixt man and -brutes, and is an excellency which the faculties of brutes do by no -means attain to. For it is evident we observe no footsteps in them of -making use of general signs for universal ideas; from which we have -reason to imagine that they have not the faculty of abstracting, or -making general ideas, since they have no use of words, or any other -general signs. - -11. Brutes abstract not, yet are not bare machines. - -Nor can it be imputed to their want of fit organs to frame articulate -sounds, that they have no use or knowledge of general words; since many -of them, we find, can fashion such sounds, and pronounce words -distinctly enough, but never with any such application. And, on the -other side, men who, through some defect in the organs, want words, yet -fail not to express their universal ideas by signs, which serve them -instead of general words, a faculty which we see beasts come short in. -And, therefore, I think, we may suppose, that it is in this that the -species of brutes are discriminated from man: and it is that proper -difference wherein they are wholly separated, and which at last widens -to so vast a distance. For if they have any ideas at all, and are not -bare machines, (as some would have them,) we cannot deny them to have -some reason. It seems as evident to me, that they do reason, as that -they have sense; but it is only in particular ideas, just as they -received them from their senses. They are the best of them tied up -within those narrow bounds, and have not (as I think) the faculty to -enlarge them by any kind of abstraction. - -12. Idiots and Madmen. - -How far idiots are concerned in the want or weakness of any, or all of -the foregoing faculties, an exact observation of their several ways of -faultering would no doubt discover. For those who either perceive but -dully, or retain the ideas that come into their minds but ill, who -cannot readily excite or compound them, will have little matter to -think on. Those who cannot distinguish, compare, and abstract, would -hardly be able to understand and make use of language, or judge or -reason to any tolerable degree; but only a little and imperfectly about -things present, and very familiar to their senses. And indeed any of -the forementioned faculties, if wanting, or out of order, produce -suitable defects in men’s understandings and knowledge. - -13. Difference between Idiots and Madmen. - -In fine, the defect in naturals seems to proceed from want of -quickness, activity, and motion in the intellectual faculties, whereby -they are deprived of reason; whereas madmen, on the other side, seem to -suffer by the other extreme. For they do not appear to me to have lost -the faculty of reasoning, but having joined together some ideas very -wrongly, they mistake them for truths; and they err as men do that -argue right from wrong principles. For, by the violence of their -imaginations, having taken their fancies for realities, they make right -deductions from them. Thus you shall find a distracted man fancying -himself a king, with a right inference require suitable attendance, -respect, and obedience: others who have thought themselves made of -glass, have used the caution necessary to preserve such brittle bodies. -Hence it comes to pass that a man who is very sober, and of a right -understanding in all other things, may in one particular be as frantic -as any in Bedlam; if either by any sudden very strong impression, or -long fixing his fancy upon one sort of thoughts, incoherent ideas have -been cemented together so powerfully, as to remain united. But there -are degrees of madness, as of folly; the disorderly jumbling ideas -together is in some more, and some less. In short, herein seems to lie -the difference between idiots and madmen: that madmen put wrong ideas -together, and so make wrong propositions, but argue and reason right -from them; but idiots make very few or no propositions, and reason -scarce at all. - -14. Method followed in this explication of Faculties. - -These, I think, are the first faculties and operations of the mind, -which it makes use of in understanding; and though they are exercised -about all its ideas in general, yet the instances I have hitherto given -have been chiefly in simple ideas. And I have subjoined the explication -of these faculties of the mind to that of simple ideas, before I come -to what I have to say concerning complex ones, for these following -reasons:— - -First, Because several of these faculties being exercised at first -principally about simple ideas, we might, by following nature in its -ordinary method, trace and discover them, in their rise, progress, and -gradual improvements. - -Secondly, Because observing the faculties of the mind, how they operate -about simple ideas,—which are usually, in most men’s minds, much more -clear, precise, and distinct than complex ones,—we may the better -examine and learn how the mind extracts, denominates, compares, and -exercises, in its other operations about those which are complex, -wherein we are much more liable to mistake. Thirdly, Because these very -operations of the mind about ideas received from sensations, are -themselves, when reflected on, another set of ideas, derived from that -other source of our knowledge, which I call reflection; and therefore -fit to be considered in this place after the simple ideas of sensation. -Of compounding, comparing, abstracting, &c., I have but just spoken, -having occasion to treat of them more at large in other places. - -15. The true Beginning of Human Knowledge. - -And thus I have given a short, and, I think, true HISTORY OF THE FIRST -BEGINNINGS OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE;—whence the mind has its first objects; -and by what steps it makes its progress to the laying in and storing up -those ideas, out of which is to be framed all the knowledge it is -capable of: wherein I must appeal to experience and observation whether -I am in the right: the best way to come to truth being to examine -things as really they are, and not to conclude they are, as we fancy of -ourselves, or have been taught by others to imagine. - -16. Appeal to Experience. - -To deal truly, this is the only way that I can discover, whereby the -IDEAS OF THINGS are brought into the understanding. If other men have -either innate ideas or infused principles, they have reason to enjoy -them; and if they are sure of it, it is impossible for others to deny -them the privilege that they have above their neighbours. I can speak -but of what I find in myself, and is agreeable to those notions, which, -if we will examine the whole course of men in their several ages, -countries, and educations, seem to depend on those foundations which I -have laid, and to correspond with this method in all the parts and -degrees thereof. - -17. Dark Room. - -I pretend not to teach, but to inquire; and therefore cannot but -confess here again,—that external and internal sensation are the only -passages I can find of knowledge to the understanding. These alone, as -far as I can discover, are the windows by which light is let into this -DARK ROOM. For, methinks, the understanding is not much unlike a closet -wholly shut from light, with only some little openings left, to let in -external visible resemblances, or ideas of things without: which, would -they but stay there, and lie so orderly as to be found upon occasion, -it would very much resemble the understanding of a man, in reference to -all objects of sight, and the ideas of them. - -These are my guesses concerning the means whereby the understanding -comes to have and retain simple ideas, and the modes of them, with some -other operations about them. - -I proceed now to examine some of these simple ideas and their modes a -little more particularly. - - - - -CHAPTER XII. -OF COMPLEX IDEAS. - - -1. Made by the Mind out of simple Ones. - -We have hitherto considered those ideas, in the reception whereof the -mind is only passive, which are those simple ones received from -sensation and reflection before mentioned, whereof the mind cannot make -one to itself, nor have any idea which does not wholly consist of them. -As simple ideas are observed to exist in several combinations united -together, so the mind has a power to consider several of them united -together as one idea; and that not only as they are united in external -objects, but as itself has joined them together. Ideas thus made up of -several simple ones put together, I call COMPLEX;—such as are beauty, -gratitude, a man, an army, the universe; which, though complicated of -various simple ideas, or complex ideas made up of simple ones, yet are, -when the mind pleases, considered each by itself, as one entire thing, -signified by one name. - -2. Made voluntarily. - -In this faculty of repeating and joining together its ideas, the mind -has great power in varying and multiplying the objects of its thoughts, -infinitely beyond what sensation or reflection furnished it with: but -all this still confined to those simple ideas which it received from -those two sources, and which are the ultimate materials of all its -compositions. For simple ideas are all from things themselves, and of -these the mind CAN have no more, nor other than what are suggested to -it. It can have no other ideas of sensible qualities than what come -from without [*dropped word] the senses; nor any ideas of other kind of -operations of a thinking substance, than what it finds in itself. But -when it has once got these simple ideas, it is not confined barely to -observation, and what offers itself from without; it can, by its own -power, put together those ideas it has, and make new complex ones, -which it never received so united. - -3. Complex ideas are either of Modes, Substances, or Relations. - -COMPLEX IDEAS, however compounded and decompounded, though their number -be infinite, and the variety endless, wherewith they fill and entertain -the thoughts of men; yet I think they may be all reduced under these -three heads:—1. MODES. 2. SUBSTANCES. 3. RELATIONS. - -4. Ideas of Modes. - -First, MODES I call such complex ideas which, however compounded, -contain not in them the supposition of subsisting by themselves, but -are considered as dependences on, or affections of substances;—such as -are the ideas signified by the words triangle, gratitude, murder, &c. -And if in this I use the word mode in somewhat a different sense from -its ordinary signification, I beg pardon; it being unavoidable in -discourses, differing from the ordinary received notions, either to -make new words, or to use old words in somewhat a new signification; -the later whereof, in our present case, is perhaps the more tolerable -of the two. - -5. Simple and mixed Modes of Ideas. - -Of these MODES, there are two sorts which deserve distinct -consideration:— - -First, there are some which are only variations, or different -combinations of the same simple idea, without the mixture of any -other;—as a dozen, or score; which are nothing but the ideas of so many -distinct units added together, and these I call SIMPLE MODES as being -contained within the bounds of one simple idea. - -Secondly, there are others compounded of simple ideas of several kinds, -put together to make one complex one;—v.g. beauty, consisting of a -certain composition of colour and figure, causing delight to the -beholder; theft, which being the concealed change of the possession of -anything, without the consent of the proprietor, contains, as is -visible, a combination of several ideas of several kinds: and these I -call MIXED MODES. - -6. Ideas of Substances, single or collective. - -Secondly, the ideas of SUBSTANCES are such combinations of simple ideas -as are taken to represent distinct PARTICULAR things subsisting by -themselves; in which the supposed or confused idea of substance, such -as it is, is always the first and chief. Thus if to substance be joined -the simple idea of a certain dull whitish colour, with certain degrees -of weight, hardness, ductility, and fusibility, we have the idea of -lead; and a combination of the ideas of a certain sort of figure, with -the powers of motion, thought and reasoning, joined to substance, make -the ordinary idea of a man. Now of substances also, there are two sorts -of ideas:—one of SINGLE substances, as they exist separately, as of a -man or a sheep; the other of several of those put together, as an army -of men, or flock of sheep—which COLLECTIVE ideas of several substances -thus put together are as much each of them one single idea as that of a -man or an unit. - -7. Ideas of Relation. - -Thirdly, the last sort of complex ideas is that we call RELATION, which -consists in the consideration and comparing one idea with another. - -Of these several kinds we shall treat in their order. - -8. The abstrusest Ideas we can have are all from two Sources. - -If we trace the progress of our minds, and with attention observe how -it repeats, adds together, and unites its simple ideas received from -sensation or reflection, it will lead us further than at first perhaps -we should have imagined. And, I believe, we shall find, if we warily -observe the originals of our notions, that EVEN THE MOST ABSTRUSE -IDEAS, how remote soever they may seem from sense, or from any -operations of our own minds, are yet only such as the understanding -frames to itself, by repeating and joining together ideas that it had -either from objects of sense, or from its own operations about them: so -that those even large and abstract ideas are derived from sensation or -reflection, being no other than what the mind, by the ordinary use of -its own faculties, employed about ideas received from objects of sense, -or from the operations it observes in itself about them, may, and does, -attain unto. - -This I shall endeavour to show in the ideas we have of space, time, and -infinity, and some few others that seem the most remote, from those -originals. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII. -COMPLEX IDEAS OF SIMPLE MODES:—AND FIRST, OF THE SIMPLE MODES OF IDEA -OF SPACE. - - -1. Simple modes of simple ideas. - -Though in the foregoing part I have often mentioned simple ideas, which -are truly the materials of all our knowledge; yet having treated of -them there, rather in the way that they come into the mind, than as -distinguished from others more compounded, it will not be perhaps amiss -to take a view of some of them again under this consideration, and -examine those different modifications of the SAME idea; which the mind -either finds in things existing, or is able to make within itself -without the help of any extrinsical object, or any foreign suggestion. - -Those modifications of any ONE simple idea (which, as has been said, I -call SIMPLE MODES) are as perfectly different and distinct ideas in the -mind as those of the greatest distance or contrariety. For the idea of -two is as distinct from that of one, as blueness from heat, or either -of them from any number: and yet it is made up only of that simple idea -of an unit repeated; and repetitions of this kind joined together make -those distinct simple modes, of a dozen, a gross, a million. Simple -Modes of Idea of Space. - -2. Idea of Space. - -I shall begin with the simple idea of SPACE. I have showed above, chap. -4, that we get the idea of space, both by our sight and touch; which, I -think, is so evident, that it would be as needless to go to prove that -men perceive, by their sight, a distance between bodies of different -colours, or between the parts of the same body, as that they see -colours themselves: nor is it less obvious, that they can do so in the -dark by feeling and touch. - -3. Space and Extension. - -This space, considered barely in length between any two beings, without -considering anything else between them, is called DISTANCE: if -considered in length, breadth, and thickness, I think it may be called -CAPACITY. When considered between the extremities of matter, which -fills the capacity of space with something solid, tangible, and -moveable, it is properly called EXTENSION. And so extension is an idea -belonging to body only; but space may, as is evident, be considered -without it. At least I think it most intelligible, and the best way to -avoid confusion, if we use the word extension for an affection of -matter or the distance of the extremities of particular solid bodies; -and space in the more general signification, for distance, with or -without solid matter possessing it. - -4. Immensity. - -Each different distance is a different modification of space; and each -idea of any different distance, or space, is a SIMPLE MODE of this -idea. Men having, by accustoming themselves to stated lengths of space, -which they use for measuring other distances—as a foot, a yard or a -fathom, a league, or diameter of the earth—made those ideas familiar to -their thoughts, can, in their minds, repeat them as often as they will, -without mixing or joining to them the idea of body, or anything else; -and frame to themselves the ideas of long, square, or cubic feet, yards -or fathoms, here amongst the bodies of the universe, or else beyond the -utmost bounds of all bodies; and, by adding these still one to another, -enlarge their ideas of space as much as they please. The power of -repeating or doubling any idea we have of any distance, and adding it -to the former as often as we will, without being ever able to come to -any stop or stint, let us enlarge it as much as we will, is that which -gives us the idea of IMMENSITY. - -5. Figure. - -There is another modification of this idea, which is nothing but the -relation which the parts of the termination of extension, or -circumscribed space, have amongst themselves. This the touch discovers -in sensible bodies, whose extremities come within our reach; and the -eye takes both from bodies and colours, whose boundaries are within its -view: where, observing how the extremities terminate,—either in -straight lines which meet at discernible angles, or in crooked lines -wherein no angles can be perceived; by considering these as they relate -to one another, in all parts of the extremities of any body or space, -it has that idea we call FIGURE, which affords to the mind infinite -variety. For, besides the vast number of different figures that do -really exist in the coherent masses of matter, the stock that the mind -has in its power, by varying the idea of space, and thereby making -still new compositions, by repeating its own ideas, and joining them as -it pleases, is perfectly inexhaustible. And so it can multiply figures -IN INFINITUM. - -6. Endless variety of figures. - -For the mind having a power to repeat the idea of any length directly -stretched out, and join it to another in the same direction, which is -to double the length of that straight line; or else join another with -what inclination it thinks fit, and so make what sort of angle it -pleases: and being able also to shorten any line it imagines, by taking -from it one half, one fourth, or what part it pleases, without being -able to come to an end of any such divisions, it can make an angle of -any bigness. So also the lines that are its sides, of what length it -pleases, which joining again to other lines, of different lengths, and -at different angles, till it has wholly enclosed any space, it is -evident that it can multiply figures, both in their shape and capacity, -IN INFINITUM; all which are but so many different simple modes of -space. - -The same that it can do with straight lines, it can also do with -crooked, or crooked and straight together; and the same it can do in -lines, it can also in superficies; by which we may be led into farther -thoughts of the endless variety of figures that the mind has a power to -make, and thereby to multiply the simple modes of space. - -7. Place. - -Another idea coming under this head, and belonging to this tribe, is -that we call PLACE. As in simple space, we consider the relation of -distance between any two bodies or points; so in our idea of place, we -consider the relation of distance betwixt anything, and any two or more -points, which are considered as keeping the same distance one with -another, and so considered as at rest. For when we find anything at the -same distance now which it was yesterday, from any two or more points, -which have not since changed their distance one with another, and with -which we then compared it, we say it hath kept the same place: but if -it hath sensibly altered its distance with either of those points, we -say it hath changed its place: though, vulgarly speaking, in the common -notion of place, we do not always exactly observe the distance from -these precise points, but from larger portions of sensible objects, to -which we consider the thing placed to bear relation, and its distance -from which we have some reason to observe. - -8. Place relative to particular bodies. - -Thus, a company of chess-men, standing on the same squares of the -chess-board where we left them, we say they are all in the SAME place, -or unmoved, though perhaps the chessboard hath been in the mean time -carried out of one room into another; because we compared them only to -the parts of the chess-board, which keep the same distance one with -another. The chess-board, we also say, is in the same place it was, if -it remain in the same part of the cabin, though perhaps the ship which -it is in sails all the while. And the ship is said to be in the same -place, supposing it kept the same distance with the parts of the -neighbouring land; though perhaps the earth hath turned round, and so -both chess-men, and board, and ship, have every one changed place, in -respect of remoter bodies, which have kept the same distance one with -another. But yet the distance from certain parts of the board being -that which determines the place of the chess-men; and the distance from -the fixed parts of the cabin (with which we made the comparison) being -that which determined the place of the chess-board; and the fixed parts -of the earth that by which we determined the place of the ship,—these -things may be said to be in the same place in those respects: though -their distance from some other things, which in this matter we did not -consider, being varied, they have undoubtedly changed place in that -respect; and we ourselves shall think so, when we have occasion to -compare them with those other. - -9. Place relative to a present purpose. - -But this modification of distance we call place, being made by men for -their common use, that by it they might be able to design the -particular position of things, where they had occasion for such -designation; men consider and determine of this place by reference to -those adjacent things which best served to their present purpose, -without considering other things which, to another purpose, would -better determine the place of the same thing. Thus in the chess-board, -the use of the designation of the place of each chess-man being -determined only within that chequered piece of wood, it would cross -that purpose to measure it by anything else; but when these very -chess-men are put up in a bag, if any one should ask where the black -king is, it would be proper to determine the place by the part of the -room it was in, and not by the chessboard; there being another use of -designing the place it is now in, than when in play it was on the -chessboard, and so must be determined by other bodies. So if any one -should ask, in what place are the verses which report the story of -Nisus and Euryalus, it would be very improper to determine this place, -by saying, they were in such a part of the earth, or in Bodley’s -library: but the right designation of the place would be by the parts -of Virgil’s works; and the proper answer would be, that these verses -were about the middle of the ninth book of his AEneids, and that they -have been always constantly in the same place ever since Virgil was -printed: which is true, though the book itself hath moved a thousand -times, the use of the idea of place here being, to know in what part of -the book that story is, that so, upon occasion, we may know where to -find it, and have recourse to it for use. - -10. Place of the universe. - -That our idea of place is nothing else but such a relative position of -anything as I have before mentioned, I think is plain, and will be -easily admitted, when we consider that we can have no idea of the place -of the universe, though we can of all the parts of it; because beyond -that we have not the idea of any fixed, distinct, particular beings, in -reference to which we can imagine it to have any relation of distance; -but all beyond it is one uniform space or expansion, wherein the mind -finds no variety, no marks. For to say that the world is somewhere, -means no more than that it does exist; this, though a phrase borrowed -from place, signifying only its existence, not location: and when one -can find out, and frame in his mind, clearly and distinctly the place -of the universe, he will be able to tell us whether it moves or stands -still in the undistinguishable inane of infinite space: though it be -true that the word place has sometimes a more confused sense, and -stands for that space which anybody takes up; and so the universe is in -a place. The idea, therefore, of place we have by the same means that -we get the idea of space, (whereof this is but a particular limited -consideration,) viz. by our sight and touch; by either of which we -receive into our minds the ideas of extension or distance. - -11. Extension and Body not the same. - -There are some that would persuade us, that body and extension are the -same thing, who either change the signification of words, which I would -not suspect them of,—they having so severely condemned the philosophy -of others, because it hath been too much placed in the uncertain -meaning, or deceitful obscurity of doubtful or insignificant terms. If, -therefore, they mean by body and extension the same that other people -do, viz. by BODY something that is solid and extended, whose parts are -separable and movable different ways; and by EXTENSION, only the space -that lies between the extremities of those solid coherent parts, and -which is possessed by them,—they confound very different ideas one with -another; for I appeal to every man’s own thoughts, whether the idea of -space be not as distinct from that of solidity, as it is from the idea -of scarlet colour? It is true, solidity cannot exist without extension, -neither can scarlet colour exist without extension, but this hinders -not, but that they are distinct ideas. Many ideas require others, as -necessary to their existence or conception, which yet are very distinct -ideas. Motion can neither be, nor be conceived, without space; and yet -motion is not space, nor space motion; space can exist without it, and -they are very distinct ideas; and so, I think, are those of space and -solidity. Solidity is so inseparable an idea from body, that upon that -depends its filling of space, its contact, impulse, and communication -of motion upon impulse. And if it be a reason to prove that spirit is -different from body, because thinking includes not the idea of -extension in it; the same reason will be as valid, I suppose, to prove -that space is not body, because it includes not the idea of solidity in -it; SPACE and SOLIDITY being as distinct ideas as THINKING and -EXTENSION, and as wholly separable in the mind one from another. Body -then and extension, it is evident, are two distinct ideas. For, - -12. Extension not solidity. - -First, Extension includes no solidity, nor resistance to the motion of -body, as body does. - -13. The parts of space inseparable, both really and mentally. - -Secondly, The parts of pure space are inseparable one from the other; -so that the continuity cannot be separated, both neither really nor -mentally. For I demand of any one to remove any part of it from -another, with which it is continued, even so much as in thought. To -divide and separate actually is, as I think, by removing the parts one -from another, to make two superficies, where before there was a -continuity: and to divide mentally is, to make in the mind two -superficies, where before there was a continuity, and consider them as -removed one from the other; which can only be done in things considered -by the mind as capable of being separated; and by separation, of -acquiring new distinct superficies, which they then have not, but are -capable of. But neither of these ways of separation, whether real or -mental, is, as I think, compatible to pure space. - -It is true, a man may consider so much of such a space as is answerable -or commensurate to a foot, without considering the rest, which is, -indeed, a partial consideration, but not so much as mental separation -or division; since a man can no more mentally divide, without -considering two superficies separate one from the other, than he can -actually divide, without making two superficies disjoined one from the -other: but a partial consideration is not separating. A man may -consider light in the sun without its heat, or mobility in body without -its extension, without thinking of their separation. One is only a -partial consideration, terminating in one alone; and the other is a -consideration of both, as existing separately. - -14. The parts of space immovable. - -Thirdly, The parts of pure space are immovable, which follows from -their inseparability; motion being nothing but change of distance -between any two things; but this cannot be between parts that are -inseparable, which, therefore, must needs be at perpetual rest one -amongst another. - -Thus the determined idea of simple space distinguishes it plainly and -sufficiently from body; since its parts are inseparable, immovable, and -without resistance to the motion of body. - -15. The Definition of Extension explains it not. - -If any one ask me WHAT this space I speak of IS, I will tell him when -he tells me what his extension is. For to say, as is usually done, that -extension is to have partes extra partes, is to say only, that -extension is extension. For what am I the better informed in the nature -of extension, when I am told that extension is to have parts that are -extended, exterior to parts that are extended, i. e. extension consists -of extended parts? As if one, asking what a fibre was, I should answer -him,—that it was a thing made up of several fibres. Would he thereby be -enabled to understand what a fibre was better than he did before? Or -rather, would he not have reason to think that my design was to make -sport with him, rather than seriously to instruct him? - -16. Division of Beings into Bodies and Spirits proves not Space and -Body the same. - -Those who contend that space and body are the same, bring this -dilemma:—either this space is something or nothing; if nothing be -between two bodies, they must necessarily touch; if it be allowed to be -something, they ask, Whether it be body or spirit? To which I answer by -another question, Who told them that there was, or could be, nothing; -but SOLID BEINGS, WHICH COULD NOT THINK, and THINKING BEINGS THAT WERE -NOT EXTENDED?—which is all they mean by the terms BODY and SPIRIT. - -17. Substance, which we know not, no Proof against Space without Body. - -If it be demanded (as usually it is) whether this space, void of body, -be SUBSTANCE or ACCIDENT, I shall readily answer I know not; nor shall -be ashamed to own my ignorance, till they that ask show me a clear -distinct idea of substance. - -18. Different meanings of substance. - -I endeavour as much as I can to deliver myself from those fallacies -which we are apt to put upon ourselves, by taking words for things. It -helps not our ignorance to feign a knowledge where we have none, by -making a noise with sounds, without clear and distinct significations. -Names made at pleasure, neither alter the nature of things, nor make us -understand them, but as they are signs of and stand for determined -ideas. And I desire those who lay so much stress on the sound of these -two syllables, SUBSTANCE, to consider whether applying it, as they do, -to the infinite, incomprehensible God, to finite spirits, and to body, -it be in the same sense; and whether it stands for the same idea, when -each of those three so different beings are called substances. If so, -whether it will thence follow—that God, spirits, and body, agreeing in -the same common nature of substance, differ not any otherwise than in a -bare different MODIFICATION of that substance; as a tree and a pebble, -being in the same sense body, and agreeing in the common nature of -body, differ only in a bare modification of that common matter, which -will be a very harsh doctrine. If they say, that they apply it to God, -finite spirit, and matter, in three different significations and that -it stands for one idea when God is said to be a substance; for another -when the soul is called substance; and for a third when body is called -so;—if the name substance stands for three several distinct ideas, they -would do well to make known those distinct ideas, or at least to give -three distinct names to them, to prevent in so important a notion the -confusion and errors that will naturally follow from the promiscuous -use of so doubtful a term; which is so far from being suspected to have -three distinct, that in ordinary use it has scarce one clear distinct -signification. And if they can thus make three distinct ideas of -substance, what hinders why another may not make a fourth? - -19. Substance and accidents of little use in Philosophy. - -They who first ran into the notion of ACCIDENTS, as a sort of real -beings that needed something to inhere in, were forced to find out the -word SUBSTANCE to support them. Had the poor Indian philosopher (who -imagined that the earth also wanted something to bear it up) but -thought of this word substance, he needed not to have been at the -trouble to find an elephant to support it, and a tortoise to support -his elephant: the word substance would have done it effectually. And he -that inquired might have taken it for as good an answer from an Indian -philosopher,—that substance, without knowing what it is, is that which -supports the earth, as take it for a sufficient answer and good -doctrine from our European philosophers,—that substance, without -knowing what it is, is that which supports accidents. So that of -substance, we have no idea of what it is, but only a confused obscure -one of what it does. - -20. Sticking on and under-propping. - -Whatever a learned man may do here, an intelligent American, who -inquired into the nature of things, would scarce take it for a -satisfactory account, if, desiring to learn our architecture, he should -be told that a pillar is a thing supported by a basis, and a basis -something that supported a pillar. Would he not think himself mocked, -instead of taught, with such an account as this? And a stranger to them -would be very liberally instructed in the nature of books, and the -things they contained, if he should be told that all learned books -consisted of paper and letters, and that letters were things inhering -in paper, and paper a thing that held forth letters: a notable way of -having clear ideas of letters and paper. But were the Latin words, -inhaerentia and substantio, put into the plain English ones that answer -them, and were called STICKING ON and UNDER-PROPPING, they would better -discover to us the very great clearness there is in the doctrine of -substance and accidents, and show of what use they are in deciding of -questions in philosophy. - -21. A Vacuum beyond the utmost Bounds of Body. - -But to return to our idea of space. If body be not supposed infinite, -(which I think no one will affirm,) I would ask, whether, if God placed -a man at the extremity of corporeal beings, he could not stretch his -hand beyond his body? If he could, then he would put his arm where -there was before space without body; and if there he spread his -fingers, there would still be space between them without body. If he -could not stretch out his hand, it must be because of some external -hindrance; (for we suppose him alive, with such a power of moving the -parts of his body that he hath now, which is not in itself impossible, -if God so pleased to have it; or at least it is not impossible for God -so to move him:) and then I ask,—whether that which hinders his hand -from moving outwards be substance or accident, something or nothing? -And when they have resolved that, they will be able to resolve -themselves,—what that is, which is or may be between two bodies at a -distance, that is not body, and has no solidity. In the mean time, the -argument is at least as good, that, where nothing hinders, (as beyond -the utmost bounds of all bodies,) a body put in motion may move on, as -where there is nothing between, there two bodies must necessarily -touch. For pure space between is sufficient to take away the necessity -of mutual contact; but bare space in the way is not sufficient to stop -motion. The truth is, these men must either own that they think body -infinite, though they are loth to speak it out, or else affirm that -space is not body. For I would fain meet with that thinking man that -can in his thoughts set any bounds to space, more than he can to -duration; or by thinking hope to arrive at the end of either. And -therefore, if his idea of eternity be infinite, so is his idea of -immensity; they are both finite or infinite alike. - -22. The Power of Annihilation proves a Vacuum. - -Farther, those who assert the impossibility of space existing without -matter, must not only make body infinite, but must also deny a power in -God to annihilate any part of matter. No one, I suppose, will deny that -God can put an end to all motion that is in matter, and fix all the -bodies of the universe in a perfect quiet and rest, and continue them -so long as he pleases. Whoever then will allow that God can, during -such a general rest, ANNIHILATE either this book or the body of him -that reads it, must necessarily admit the possibility of a vacuum. For, -it is evident that the space that was filled by the parts of the -annihilated body will still remain, and be a space without body. For -the circumambient bodies being in perfect rest, are a wall of adamant, -and in that state make it a perfect impossibility for any other body to -get into that space. And indeed the necessary motion of one particle of -matter into the place from whence another particle of matter is -removed, is but a consequence from the supposition of plenitude; which -will therefore need some better proof than a supposed matter of fact, -which experiment can never make out;—our own clear and distinct ideas -plainly satisfying that there is no necessary connexion between space -and solidity, since we can conceive the one without the other. And -those who dispute for or against a vacuum, do thereby confess they have -distinct IDEAS of vacuum and plenum, i. e. that they have an idea of -extension void of solidity, though they deny its EXISTENCE; or else -they dispute about nothing at all. For they who so much alter the -signification of words, as to call extension body, and consequently -make the whole essence of body to be nothing but pure extension without -solidity, must talk absurdly whenever they speak of vacuum; since it is -impossible for extension to be without extension. For vacuum, whether -we affirm or deny its existence, signifies space without body; whose -very existence no one can deny to be possible, who will not make matter -infinite, and take from God a power to annihilate any particle of it. - -23. Motion proves a Vacuum. - -But not to go so far as beyond the utmost bounds of body in the -universe, nor appeal to God’s omnipotency to find a vacuum, the motion -of bodies that are in our view and neighbourhood seems to me plainly to -evince it. For I desire any one so to divide a solid body, of any -dimension he pleases, as to make it possible for the solid parts to -move up and down freely every way within the bounds of that -superficies, if there be not left in it a void space as big as the -least part into which he has divided the said solid body. And if, where -the least particle of the body divided is as big as a mustard-seed, a -void space equal to the bulk of a mustard-seed be requisite to make -room for the free motion of the parts of the divided body within the -bounds of its superficies, where the particles of matter are -100,000,000 less than a mustard-seed, there must also be a space void -of solid matter as big as 100,000,000 part of a mustard-seed; for if it -hold in the one it will hold in the other, and so on IN INFINITUM. And -let this void space be as little as it will, it destroys the hypothesis -of plenitude. For if there can be a space void of body equal to the -smallest separate particle of matter now existing in nature, it is -still space without body; and makes as great a difference between space -and body as if it were mega chasma, a distance as wide as any in -nature. And therefore, if we suppose not the void space necessary to -motion equal to the least parcel of the divided solid matter, but to -1/10 or 1/1000 of it, the same consequence will always follow of space -without matter. - -24. The Ideas of Space and Body distinct. - -But the question being here,—Whether the idea of space or extension be -the same with the idea of body? it is not necessary to prove the real -existence of a VACUUM, but the idea of it; which it is plain men have -when they inquire and dispute whether there be a VACUUM or no. For if -they had not the idea of space without body, they could not make a -question about its existence: and if their idea of body did not include -in it something more than the bare idea of space, they could have no -doubt about the plenitude of the world; and it would be as absurd to -demand, whether there were space without body, as whether there were -space without space, or body without body, since these were but -different names of the same idea. - -25. Extension being inseparable from Body, proves it not the same. - -It is true, the idea of extension joins itself so inseparably with all -visible, and most tangible qualities, that it suffers us to SEE no one, -or FEEL very few external objects, without taking in impressions of -extension too. This readiness of extension to make itself be taken -notice of so constantly with other ideas, has been the occasion, I -guess, that some have made the whole essence of body to consist in -extension; which is not much to be wondered at, since some have had -their minds, by their eyes and touch, (the busiest of all our senses,) -so filled with the idea of extension, and, as it were, wholly possessed -with it, that they allowed no existence to anything that had not -extension. I shall not now argue with those men, who take the measure -and possibility of all being only from their narrow and gross -imaginations: but having here to do only with those who conclude the -essence of body to be extension, because they say they cannot imagine -any sensible quality of any body without extension,—I shall desire them -to consider, that, had they reflected on their ideas of tastes and -smells as much as on those of sight and touch; nay, had they examined -their ideas of hunger and thirst, and several other pains, they would -have found that THEY included in them no idea of extension at all, -which is but an affection of body, as well as the rest, discoverable by -our senses, which are scarce acute enough to look into the pure -essences of things. - -26. Essences of Things. - -If those ideas which are constantly joined to all others, must -therefore be concluded to be the essence of those things which have -constantly those ideas joined to them, and are inseparable from them; -then unity is without doubt the essence of everything. For there is not -any object of sensation or reflection which does not carry with it the -idea of one: but the weakness of this kind of argument we have already -shown sufficiently. - -27. Ideas of Space and Solidity distinct. - -To conclude: whatever men shall think concerning the existence of a -VACUUM, this is plain to me—that we have as clear an idea of space -distinct from solidity, as we have of solidity distinct from motion, or -motion from space. We have not any two more distinct ideas; and we can -as easily conceive space without solidity, as we can conceive body or -space without motion, though it be never so certain that neither body -nor motion can exist without space. But whether any one will take space -to be only a RELATION resulting from the existence of other beings at a -distance; or whether they will think the words of the most knowing King -Solomon, ‘The heaven, and the heaven of heavens, cannot contain thee;’ -or those more emphatical ones of the inspired philosopher St. Paul, ‘In -him we live, move, and have our being,’ are to be understood in a -literal sense, I leave every one to consider: only our idea of space -is, I think, such as I have mentioned, and distinct from that of body. -For, whether we consider, in matter itself, the distance of its -coherent solid parts, and call it, in respect of those solid parts, -extension; or whether, considering it as lying between the extremities -of any body in its several dimensions, we call it length, breadth, and -thickness; or else, considering it as lying between any two bodies or -positive beings, without any consideration whether there be any matter -or not between, we call it distance;—however named or considered, it is -always the same uniform simple idea of space, taken from objects about -which our senses have been conversant; whereof, having settled ideas in -our minds, we can revive, repeat, and add them one to another as often -as we will, and consider the space or distance so imagined, either as -filled with solid parts, so that another body cannot come there without -displacing and thrusting out the body that was there before; or else as -void of solidity, so that a body of equal dimensions to that empty or -pure space may be placed in it, without the removing or expulsion of -anything that was there. - -28. Men differ little in clear, simple ideas. - -The knowing precisely what our words stand for, would, I imagine, in -this as well as a great many other cases, quickly end the dispute. For -I am apt to think that men, when they come to examine them, find their -simple ideas all generally to agree, though in discourse with one -another they perhaps confound one another with different names. I -imagine that men who abstract their thoughts, and do well examine the -ideas of their own minds, cannot much differ in thinking; however they -may perplex themselves with words, according to the way of speaking of -the several schools or sects they have been bred up in: though amongst -unthinking men, who examine not scrupulously and carefully their own -ideas, and strip them not from the marks men use for them, but confound -them with words, there must be endless dispute, wrangling, and jargon; -especially if they be learned, bookish men, devoted to some sect, and -accustomed to the language of it, and have learned to talk after -others. But if it should happen that any two thinking men should really -have different ideas, I do not see how they could discourse or argue -one with another. Here I must not be mistaken, to think that every -floating imagination in men’s brains is presently of that sort of ideas -I speak of. It is not easy for the mind to put off those confused -notions and prejudices it has imbibed from custom, inadvertency, and -common conversation. It requires pains and assiduity to examine its -ideas, till it resolves them into those clear and distinct simple ones, -out of which they are compounded; and to see which, amongst its simple -ones, have or have not a NECESSARY connexion and dependence one upon -another. Till a man doth this in the primary and original notions of -things, he builds upon floating and uncertain principles, and will -often find himself at a loss. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV. -IDEA OF DURATION AND ITS SIMPLE MODES. - - -1. Duration is fleeting Extension. - -There is another sort of distance, or length, the idea whereof we get -not from the permanent parts of space, but from the fleeting and -perpetually perishing parts of succession. This we call DURATION; the -simple modes whereof are any different lengths of it whereof we have -distinct ideas, as HOURS, DAYS, YEARS, &c., TIME and ETERNITY. - -2. Its Idea from Reflection on the Train of our Ideas. - -The answer of a great man, to one who asked what time was: Si non rogas -intelligo, (which amounts to this; The more I set myself to think of -it, the less I understand it,) might perhaps persuade one that time, -which reveals all other things, is itself not to be discovered. -Duration, time, and eternity, are, not without reason, thought to have -something very abstruse in their nature. But however remote these may -seem from our comprehension, yet if we trace them right to their -originals, I doubt not but one of those sources of all our knowledge, -viz. sensation and reflection, will be able to furnish us with these -ideas, as clear and distinct as many others which are thought much less -obscure; and we shall find that the idea of eternity itself is derived -from the same common original with the rest of our ideas. - -3. Nature and origin of the idea of Duration. - -To understand TIME and ETERNITY aright, we ought with attention to -consider what idea it is we have of DURATION, and how we came by it. It -is evident to any one who will but observe what passes in his own mind, -that there is a train of ideas which constantly succeed one another in -his understanding, as long as he is awake. Reflection on these -appearances of several ideas one after another in our minds, is that -which furnishes us with the idea of SUCCESSION: and the distance -between any parts of that succession, or between the appearance of any -two ideas in our minds, is that we call DURATION. For whilst we are -thinking, or whilst we receive successively several ideas in our minds, -we know that we do exist; and so we call the existence, or the -continuation of the existence of ourselves, or anything else, -commensurate to the succession of any ideas in our minds, the duration -of ourselves, or any such other thing co-existent with our thinking. - -4. Proof that its idea is got from reflection on the train of our -ideas. - -That we have our notion of succession and duration from this original, -viz. from reflection on the train of ideas, which we find to appear one -after another in our own minds, seems plain to me, in that we have no -perception of duration but by considering the train of ideas that take -their turns in our understandings. When that succession of ideas -ceases, our perception of duration ceases with it; which every one -clearly experiments in himself, whilst he sleeps soundly, whether an -hour or a day, a month or a year; of which duration of things, while he -sleeps or thinks not, he has no perception at all, but it is quite lost -to him; and the moment wherein he leaves off to think, till the moment -he begins to think again, seems to him to have no distance. And so I -doubt not it would be to a waking man, if it were possible for him to -keep ONLY ONE idea in his mind, without variation and the succession of -others. And we see, that one who fixes his thoughts very intently on -one thing, so as to take but little notice of the succession of ideas -that pass in his mind whilst he is taken up with that earnest -contemplation, lets slip out of his account a good part of that -duration, and thinks that time shorter than it is. But if sleep -commonly unites the distant parts of duration, it is because during -that time we have no succession of ideas in our minds. For if a man, -during his sleep, dreams, and variety of ideas make themselves -perceptible in his mind one after another, he hath then, during such -dreaming, a sense of duration, and of the length of it. By which it is -to me very clear, that men derive their ideas of duration from their -reflections on the train of the ideas they observe to succeed one -another in their own understandings; without which observation they can -have no notion of duration, whatever may happen in the world. - -5. The Idea of Duration applicable to Things whilst we sleep. - -Indeed a man having, from reflecting on the succession and number of -his own thoughts, got the notion or idea of duration, he can apply that -notion to things which exist while he does not think; as he that has -got the idea of extension from bodies by his sight or touch, can apply -it to distances, where no body is seen or felt. And therefore, though a -man has no perception of the length of duration which passed whilst he -slept or thought not; yet, having observed the revolution of days and -nights, and found the length of their duration to be in appearance -regular and constant, he can, upon the supposition that that revolution -has proceeded after the same manner whilst he was asleep or thought -not, as it used to do at other times, he can, I say, imagine and make -allowance for the length of duration whilst he slept. But if Adam and -Eve, (when they were alone in the world,) instead of their ordinary -night’s sleep, had passed the whole twenty-four hours in one continued -sleep, the duration of that twenty-four hours had been irrecoverably -lost to them, and been for ever left out of their account of time. - -6. The Idea of Succession not from Motion. - -Thus by reflecting on the appearing of various ideas one after another -in our understandings, we get the notion of succession; which, if any -one should think we did rather get from our observation of motion by -our senses, he will perhaps be of my mind when he considers, that even -motion produces in his mind an idea of succession no otherwise than as -it produces there a continued train of distinguishable ideas. For a man -looking upon a body really moving, perceives yet no motion at all -unless that motion produces a constant train of successive ideas: v.g. -a man becalmed at sea, out of sight of land, in a fair day, may look on -the sun, or sea, or ship, a whole hour together, and perceive no motion -at all in either; though it be certain that two, and perhaps all of -them, have moved during that time a great way. But as soon as he -perceives either of them to have changed distance with some other body, -as soon as this motion produces any new idea in him, then he perceives -that there has been motion. But wherever a man is, with all things at -rest about him, without perceiving any motion at all,—if during this -hour of quiet he has been thinking, he will perceive the various ideas -of his own thoughts in his own mind, appearing one after another, and -thereby observe and find succession where he could observe no motion. - -7. Very slow motions unperceived. - -And this, I think, is the reason why motions very slow, though they are -constant, are not perceived by us; because in their remove from one -sensible part towards another, their change of distance is so slow, -that it causes no new ideas in us, but a good while one after another. -And so not causing a constant train of new ideas to follow one another -immediately in our minds, we have no perception of motion; which -consisting in a constant succession, we cannot perceive that succession -without a constant succession of varying ideas arising from it. - -8. Very swift motions unperceived. - -On the contrary, things that move so swift as not to affect the senses -distinctly with several distinguishable distances of their motion, and -so cause not any train of ideas in the mind, are not also perceived. -For anything that moves round about in a circle, in less times than our -ideas are wont to succeed one another in our minds, is not perceived to -move; but seems to be a perfect entire circle of the matter or colour, -and not a part of a circle in motion. - -9. The Train of Ideas has a certain Degree of Quickness. - -Hence I leave it to others to judge, whether it be not probable that -our ideas do, whilst we are awake, succeed one another in our minds at -certain distances; not much unlike the images in the inside of a -lantern, turned round by the heat of a candle. This appearance of -theirs in train, though perhaps it may be sometimes faster and -sometimes slower, yet, I guess, varies not very much in a waking man: -there seem to be certain bounds to the quickness and slowness of the -succession of those ideas one to another in our minds, beyond which -they can neither delay nor hasten. - -10. Real succession in swift motions without sense of succession. - -The reason I have for this odd conjecture is, from observing that, in -the impressions made upon any of our senses, we can but to a certain -degree perceive any succession; which, if exceeding quick, the sense of -succession is lost, even in cases where it is evident that there is a -real succession. Let a cannon-bullet pass through a room, and in its -way take with it any limb, or fleshy parts of a man, it is as clear as -any demonstration can be, that it must strike successively the two -sides of the room: it is also evident, that it must touch one part of -the flesh first, and another after, and so in succession: and yet, I -believe, nobody who ever felt the pain of such a shot, or heard the -blow against the two distant walls, could perceive any succession -either in the pain or sound of so swift a stroke. Such a part of -duration as this, wherein we perceive no succession, is that which we -call an INSTANT, and is that which takes up the time of only one idea -in our minds, without the succession of another; wherein, therefore, we -perceive no succession at all. - -11. In slow motions. - -This also happens where the motion is so slow as not to supply a -constant train of fresh ideas to the senses, as fast as the mind is -capable of receiving new ones into it; and so other ideas of our own -thoughts, having room to come into our minds between those offered to -our senses by the moving body, there the sense of motion is lost; and -the body, though it really moves, yet, not changing perceivable -distance with some other bodies as fast as the ideas of our own minds -do naturally follow one another in train, the thing seems to stand -still; as is evident in the hands of clocks, and shadows of sun-dials, -and other constant but slow motions, where, though, after certain -intervals, we perceive, by the change of distance, that it hath moved, -yet the motion itself we perceive not. - -12. This Train, the Measure of other Successions. - -So that to me it seems, that the constant and regular succession of -IDEAS in a waking man, is, as it were, the measure and standard of all -other successions. Whereof if any one either exceeds the pace of our -ideas, as where two sounds or pains, &c., take up in their succession -the duration of but one idea; or else where any motion or succession is -so slow, as that it keeps not pace with the ideas in our minds, or the -quickness in which they take their turns, as when any one or more ideas -in their ordinary course come into our mind, between those which are -offered to the sight by the different perceptible distances of a body -in motion, or between sounds or smells following one another,—there -also the sense of a constant continued succession is lost, and we -perceive it not, but with certain gaps of rest between. - -13. The Mind cannot fix long on one invariable Idea. - -If it be so, that the ideas of our minds, whilst we have any there, do -constantly change and shift in a continual succession, it would be -impossible, may any one say, for a man to think long of any one thing. -By which, if it be meant that a man may have one self-same single idea -a long time alone in his mind, without any variation at all, I think, -in matter of fact, it is not possible. For which (not knowing how the -ideas of our minds are framed, of what materials they are made, whence -they have their light, and how they come to make their appearances) I -can give no other reason but experience: and I would have any one try, -whether he can keep one unvaried single idea in his mind, without any -other, for any considerable time together. - -14. Proof. - -For trial, let him take any figure, any degree of light or whiteness, -or what other he pleases, and he will, I suppose, find it difficult to -keep all other ideas out of his mind; but that some, either of another -kind, or various considerations of that idea, (each of which -considerations is a new idea,) will constantly succeed one another in -his thoughts, let him be as wary as he can. - -15. The extent of our power over the succession of our ideas. - -All that is in a man’s power in this case, I think, is only to mind and -observe what the ideas are that take their turns in his understanding; -or else to direct the sort, and call in such as he hath a desire or use -of: but hinder the constant succession of fresh ones, I think he -cannot, though he may commonly choose whether he will heedfully observe -and consider them. - -16. Ideas, however made, include no sense of motion. - -Whether these several ideas in a man’s mind be made by certain motions, -I will not here dispute; but this I am sure, that they include no idea -of motion in their appearance; and if a man had not the idea of motion -otherwise, I think he would have none at all, which is enough to my -present purpose; and sufficiently shows that the notice we take of the -ideas of our own minds, appearing there one after another, is that -which gives us the idea of succession and duration, without which we -should have no such ideas at all. It is not then MOTION, but the -constant train of IDEAS in our minds whilst we are waking, that -furnishes us with the idea of duration; whereof motion no otherwise -gives us any perception than as it causes in our minds a constant -succession of ideas, as I have before showed: and we have as clear an -idea of succession and duration, by the train of other ideas succeeding -one another in our minds, without the idea of any motion, as by the -train of ideas caused by the uninterrupted sensible change of distance -between two bodies, which we have from motion; and therefore we should -as well have the idea of duration were there no sense of motion at all. - -17. Time is Duration set out by Measures. - -Having thus got the idea of duration, the next thing natural for the -mind to do, is to get some measure of this common duration, whereby it -might judge of its different lengths, and consider the distinct order -wherein several things exist; without which a great part of our -knowledge would be confused, and a great part of history be rendered -very useless. This consideration of duration, as set out by certain -periods and marked by certain measures or epochs, is that, I think, -which most properly we call TIME. - -18. A good Measure of Time must divide its whole Duration into equal -Periods. - -In the measuring of extension, there is nothing more required but the -application of the standard or measure we make use of to the thing of -whose extension we would be informed. But in the measuring of duration -this cannot be done, because no two different parts of succession can -be put together to measure one another. And nothing being a measure of -duration but duration, as nothing is of extension but extension, we -cannot keep by us any standing, unvarying measure of duration, which -consists in a constant fleeting succession, as we can of certain -lengths of extension, as inches, feet, yards, &c., marked out in -permanent parcels of matter. Nothing then could serve well for a -convenient measure of time, but what has divided the whole length of -its duration into apparently equal portions, by constantly repeated -periods. What portions of duration are not distinguished, or considered -as distinguished and measured, by such periods, come not so properly -under the notion of time; as appears by such phrases as these, viz. -‘Before all time,’ and ‘When time shall be no more.’ - -19. The Revolutions of the Sun and Moon, the properest Measures of Time -for mankind. - -The diurnal and annual revolutions of the sun, as having been, from the -beginning of nature, constant, regular, and universally observable by -all mankind, and supposed equal to one another, have been with reason -made use of for the measure of duration. But the distinction of days -and years having depended on the motion of the sun, it has brought this -mistake with it, that it has been thought that motion and duration were -the measure one of another. For men, in the measuring of the length of -time, having been accustomed to the ideas of minutes, hours, days, -months, years, &c., which they found themselves upon any mention of -time or duration presently to think on, all which portions of time were -measured out by the motion of those heavenly bodies, they were apt to -confound time and motion; or at least to think that they had a -necessary connexion one with another. Whereas any constant periodical -appearance, or alteration of ideas, in seemingly equidistant spaces of -duration, if constant and universally observable, would have as well -distinguished the intervals of time, as those that have been made use -of. For, supposing the sun, which some have taken to be a fire, had -been lighted up at the same distance of time that it now every day -comes about to the same meridian, and then gone out again about twelve -hours after, and that in the space of an annual revolution it had -sensibly increased in brightness and heat, and so decreased -again,—would not such regular appearances serve to measure out the -distances of duration to all that could observe it, as well without as -with motion? For if the appearances were constant, universally -observable, in equidistant periods, they would serve mankind for -measure of time as well were the motion away. - -20. But not by their Motion, but periodical Appearances. - -For the freezing of water, or the blooming of a plant, returning at -equidistant periods in all parts of the earth, would as well serve men -to reckon their years by, as the motions of the sun: and in effect we -see, that some people in America counted their years by the coming of -certain birds amongst them at their certain seasons, and leaving them -at others. For a fit of an ague; the sense of hunger or thirst; a smell -or a taste; or any other idea returning constantly at equidistant -periods, and making itself universally be taken notice of, would not -fail to measure out the course of succession, and distinguish the -distances of time. Thus we see that men born blind count time well -enough by years, whose revolutions yet they cannot distinguish by -motions that they perceive not. And I ask whether a blind man, who -distinguished his years either by the heat of summer, or cold of -winter; by the smell of any flower of the spring, or taste of any fruit -of the autumn, would not have a better measure of time than the Romans -had before the reformation of their calendar by Julius Caesar, or many -other people, whose years, notwithstanding the motion of the sun, which -they pretended to make use of, are very irregular? And it adds no small -difficulty to chronology, that the exact lengths of the years that -several nations counted by, are hard to be known, they differing very -much one from another, and I think I may say all of them from the -precise motion of the sun. And if the sun moved from the creation to -the flood constantly in the equator, and so equally dispersed its light -and heat to all the habitable parts of the earth, in days all of the -same length without its annual variations to the tropics, as a late -ingenious author supposes, I do not think it very easy to imagine, that -(notwithstanding the motion of the sun) men should in the antediluvian -world, from the beginning, count by years, or measure their time by -periods that had no sensible mark very obvious to distinguish them by. - -21. No two Parts of Duration can be certainly known to be equal. - -But perhaps it will be said,—without a regular motion, such as of the -sun, or some other, how could it ever be known that such periods were -equal? To which I answer,—the equality of any other returning -appearances might be known by the same way that that of days was known, -or presumed to be so at first; which was only by judging of them by the -train of ideas which had passed in men’s minds in the intervals; by -which train of ideas discovering inequality in the natural days, but -none in the artificial days, the artificial days, or nuchthaemera, were -guessed to be equal, which was sufficient to make them serve for a -measure; though exacter search has since discovered inequality in the -diurnal revolutions of the sun, and we know not whether the annual also -be not unequal. These yet, by their presumed and apparent equality, -serve as well to reckon time by (though not to measure the parts of -duration exactly) as if they could be proved to be exactly equal. We -must, therefore, carefully distinguish betwixt duration itself, and the -measures we make use of to judge of its length. Duration, in itself, is -to be considered as going on in one constant, equal, uniform course: -but none of the measures of it which we make use of can be KNOWN to do -so, nor can we be assured that their assigned parts or periods are -equal in duration one to another; for two successive lengths of -duration, however measured, can never be demonstrated to be equal. The -motion of the sun, which the world used so long and so confidently for -an exact measure of duration, has, as I said, been found in its several -parts unequal. And though men have, of late, made use of a pendulum, as -a more steady and regular motion than that of the sun, or, (to speak -more truly,) of the earth;—yet if any one should be asked how he -certainly knows that the two successive swings of a pendulum are equal, -it would be very hard to satisfy him that they are infallibly so; since -we cannot be sure that the cause of that motion, which is unknown to -us, shall always operate equally; and we are sure that the medium in -which the pendulum moves is not constantly the same: either of which -varying, may alter the equality of such periods, and thereby destroy -the certainty and exactness of the measure by motion, as well as any -other periods of other appearances; the notion of duration still -remaining clear, though our measures of it cannot (any of them) be -demonstrated to be exact. Since then no two portions of succession can -be brought together, it is impossible ever certainly to know their -equality. All that we can do for a measure of time is, to take such as -have continual successive appearances at seemingly equidistant periods; -of which seeming equality we have no other measure, but such as the -train of our own ideas have lodged in our memories, with the -concurrence of other PROBABLE reasons, to persuade us of their -equality. - -22. Time not the Measure of Motion - -One thing seems strange to me,—that whilst all men manifestly measured -time by the motion of the great and visible bodies of the world, time -yet should be defined to be the ‘measure of motion’: whereas it is -obvious to every one who reflects ever so little on it, that to measure -motion, space is as necessary to be considered as time; and those who -look a little farther will find also the bulk of the thing moved -necessary to be taken into the computation, by any one who will -estimate or measure motion so as to judge right of it. Nor indeed does -motion any otherwise conduce to the measuring of duration, than as it -constantly brings about the return of certain sensible ideas, in -seeming equidistant periods. For if the motion of the sun were as -unequal as of a ship driven by unsteady winds, sometimes very slow, and -at others irregularly very swift; or if, being constantly equally -swift, it yet was not circular, and produced not the same -appearances,—it would not at all help us to measure time, any more than -the seeming unequal motion of a comet does. - -23. Minutes, hours, days, and years are, then, no more Minutes, Hours, -Days, and Years not necessary Measures of duration, necessary to time -or duration, than inches, feet, yards, and miles, marked out in any -matter, are to extension. For, though we in this part of the universe, -by the constant use of them, as of periods set out by the revolutions -of the sun, or as known parts of such periods, have fixed the ideas of -such lengths of duration in our minds, which we apply to all parts of -time whose lengths we would consider; yet there may be other parts of -the universe, where they no more use these measures of ours, than in -Japan they do our inches, feet, or miles; but yet something analogous -to them there must be. For without some regular periodical returns, we -could not measure ourselves, or signify to others, the length of any -duration; though at the same time the world were as full of motion as -it is now, but no part of it disposed into regular and apparently -equidistant revolutions. But the different measures that may be made -use of for the account of time, do not at all alter the notion of -duration, which is the thing to be measured; no more than the different -standards of a foot and a cubit alter the notion of extension to those -who make use of those different measures. - -24. Our Measure of Time applicable to Duration before Time. - -The mind having once got such a measure of time as the annual -revolution of the sun, can apply that measure to duration wherein that -measure itself did not exist, and with which, in the reality of its -being, it had nothing to do. For should one say, that Abraham was born -in the two thousand seven hundred and twelfth year of the Julian -period, it is altogether as intelligible as reckoning from the -beginning of the world, though there were so far back no motion of the -sun, nor any motion at all. For, though the Julian period be supposed -to begin several hundred years before there were really either days, -nights, or years, marked out by any revolutions of the sun,—yet we -reckon as right, and thereby measure durations as well, as if really at -that time the sun had existed, and kept the same ordinary motion it -doth now. The idea of duration equal to an annual revolution of the -sun, is as easily APPLICABLE in our thoughts to duration, where no sun -or motion was, as the idea of a foot or yard, taken from bodies here, -can be applied in our thoughts to distances beyond the confines of the -world, where are no bodies at all. - -25. As we can measure space in our thoughts where there is no body. - -For supposing it were 5639 miles, or millions of miles, from this place -to the remotest body of the universe, (for, being finite, it must be at -a certain distance,) as we suppose it to be 5639 years from this time -to the first existence of any body in the beginning of the world;—we -can, in our thoughts, apply this measure of a year to duration before -the creation, or beyond the duration of bodies or motion, as we can -this measure of a mile to space beyond the utmost bodies; and by the -one measure duration, where there was no motion, as well as by the -other measure space in our thoughts, where there is no body. - -26. The assumption that the world is neither boundless nor eternal. - -If it be objected to me here, that, in this way of explaining of time, -I have begged what I should not, viz. that the world is neither eternal -nor infinite; I answer, That to my present purpose it is not needful, -in this place, to make use of arguments to evince the world to be -finite both in duration and extension. But it being at least as -conceivable as the contrary, I have certainly the liberty to suppose -it, as well as any one hath to suppose the contrary; and I doubt not, -but that every one that will go about it, may easily conceive in his -mind the beginning of motion, though not of all duration, and so may -come to a step and non ultra in his consideration of motion. So also, -in his thoughts, he may set limits to body, and the extension belonging -to it; but not to space, where no body is, the utmost bounds of space -and duration being beyond the reach of thought, as well as the utmost -bounds of number are beyond the largest comprehension of the mind; and -all for the same reason, as we shall see in another place. - -27. Eternity. - -By the same means, therefore, and from the same original that we come -to have the idea of time, we have also that idea which we call -Eternity; viz. having got the idea of succession and duration, by -reflecting on the train of our own ideas, caused in us either by the -natural appearances of those ideas coming constantly of themselves into -our waking thoughts, or else caused by external objects successively -affecting our senses; and having from the revolutions of the sun got -the ideas of certain lengths of duration,—we can in our thoughts add -such lengths of duration to one another, as often as we please, and -apply them, so added, to durations past or to come. And this we can -continue to do on, without bounds or limits, and proceed in infinitum, -and apply thus the length of the annual motion of the sun to duration, -supposed before the sun’s or any other motion had its being, which is -no more difficult or absurd, than to apply the notion I have of the -moving of a shadow one hour to-day upon the sun-dial to the duration of -something last night, v. g. the burning of a candle, which is now -absolutely separate from all actual motion; and it is as impossible for -the duration of that flame for an hour last night to co-exist with any -motion that now is, or for ever shall be, as for any part of duration, -that was before the beginning of the world, to co exist with the motion -of the sun now. But yet this hinders not but that, having the IDEA of -the length of the motion of the shadow on a dial between the marks of -two hours, I can as distinctly measure in my thoughts the duration of -that candle-light last night, as I can the duration of anything that -does now exist: and it is no more than to think, that, had the sun -shone then on the dial, and moved after the same rate it doth now, the -shadow on the dial would have passed from one hour-line to another -whilst that flame of the candle lasted. - -28. Our measures of Duration dependent on our ideas. - -The notion of an hour, day, or year, being only the idea I have of the -length of certain periodical regular motions, neither of which motions -do ever all at once exist, but only in the ideas I have of them in my -memory derived from my senses or reflection; I can with the same ease, -and for the same reason, apply it in my thoughts to duration antecedent -to all manner of motion, as well as to anything that is but a minute or -a day antecedent to the motion that at this very moment the sun is in. -All things past are equally and perfectly at rest; and to this way of -consideration of them are all one, whether they were before the -beginning of the world, or but yesterday: the measuring of any duration -by some motion depending not at all on the REAL co-existence of that -thing to that motion, or any other periods of revolution, but the -having a clear IDEA of the length of some periodical known motion, or -other interval of duration, in my mind, and applying that to the -duration of the thing I would measure. - -29. The Duration of anything need not be co-existent with the motion we -measure it by. - -Hence we see that some men imagine the duration of of the world, from -its first existence to this present year 1689, to have been 5639 years, -or equal to 5639 annual revolutions of the sun, and others a great deal -more; as the Egyptians of old, who in the time of Alexander counted -23,000 years from the reign of the sun; and the Chinese now, who -account the world 3,269,000 years old, or more; which longer duration -of the world, according to their computation, though I should not -believe to be true, yet I can equally imagine it with them, and as -truly understand, and say one is longer than the other, as I -understand, that Methusalem’s life was longer than Enoch’s. And if the -common reckoning of 5639 should be true, (as it may be as well as any -other assigned,) it hinders not at all my imagining what others mean, -when they make the world one thousand years older, since every one may -with the same facility imagine (I do not say believe) the world to be -50,000 years old, as 5639; and may as well conceive the duration of -50,000 years as 5639. Whereby it appears that, to the measuring the -duration of anything by time, it is not requisite that that thing -should be co-existent to the motion we measure by, or any other -periodical revolution; but it suffices to this purpose, that we have -the idea of the length of ANY regular periodical appearances, which we -can in our minds apply to duration, with which the motion or appearance -never co-existed. - -30. Infinity in Duration. - -For, as in the history of the creation delivered by Moses, I can -imagine that light existed three days before the sun was, or had any -motion, barely by thinking that the duration of light before the sun -was created was so long as (IF the sun had moved then as it doth now) -would have been equal to three of his diurnal revolutions; so by the -same way I can have an idea of the chaos, or angels, being created -before there was either light or any continued motion, a minute, an -hour, a day, a year, or one thousand years. For, if I can but consider -duration equal to one minute, before either the being or motion of any -body, I can add one minute more till I come to sixty; and by the same -way of adding minutes, hours, or years (i.e. such or such parts of the -sun’s revolutions, or any other period whereof I have the idea) proceed -IN INFINITUM, and suppose a duration exceeding as many such periods as -I can reckon, let me add whilst I will, which I think is the notion we -have of eternity; of whose infinity we have no other notion than we -have of the infinity of number, to which we can add for ever without -end. - -31. Origin of our Ideas of Duration, and of the measures of it. - -And thus I think it is plain, that from those two fountains of all -knowledge before mentioned, viz. reflection and sensation, we got the -ideas of duration, and the measures of it. - -For, First, by observing what passes in our minds, how our ideas there -in train constantly some vanish and others begin to appear, we come by -the idea of SUCCESSION. Secondly, by observing a distance in the parts -of this succession, we get the idea of DURATION. - -Thirdly, by sensation observing certain appearances, at certain regular -and seeming equidistant periods, we get the ideas of certain LENGTHS or -MEASURES OF DURATION, as minutes, hours, days, years, &c. - -Fourthly, by being able to repeat those measures of time, or ideas of -stated length of duration, in our minds, as often as we will, we can -come to imagine DURATION,—WHERE NOTHING DOES REALLY ENDURE OR EXIST; -and thus we imagine to-morrow, next year, or seven years hence. - -Fifthly, by being able to repeat ideas of any length of time, as of a -minute, a year, or an age, as often as we will in our own thoughts, and -adding them one to another, without ever coming to the end of such -addition, any nearer than we can to the end of number, to which we can -always add; we come by the idea of ETERNITY, as the future eternal -duration of our souls, as well as the eternity of that infinite Being -which must necessarily have always existed. - -Sixthly, by considering any part of infinite duration, as set out by -periodical measures, we come by the idea of what we call TIME in -general. - - - - -CHAPTER XV. -IDEAS OF DURATION AND EXPANSION, CONSIDERED TOGETHER. - - -1. Both capable of greater and less. - -Though we have in the precedent chapters dwelt pretty long on the -considerations of space and duration, yet, they being ideas of general -concernment, that have something very abstruse and peculiar in their -nature, the comparing them one with another may perhaps be of use for -their illustration; and we may have the more clear and distinct -conception of them by taking a view of them together. Distance or -space, in its simple abstract conception, to avoid confusion, I call -EXPANSION, to distinguish it from extension, which by some is used to -express this distance only as it is in the solid parts of matter, and -so includes, or at least intimates, the idea of body: whereas the idea -of pure distance includes no such thing. I prefer also the word -expansion to space, because space is often applied to distance of -fleeting successive parts, which never exist together, as well as to -those which are permanent. In both these (viz. expansion and duration) -the mind has this common idea of continued lengths, capable of greater -or less quantities. For a man has as clear an idea of the difference of -the length of an hour and a day, as of an inch and a foot. - -2. Expansion not bounded by Matter. - -The mind, having got the idea of the length of any part of expansion, -let it be a span, or a pace, or what length you will, CAN, as has been -said, repeat that idea, and so, adding it to the former, enlarge its -idea of length, and make it equal to two spans, or two paces; and so, -as often as it will, till it equals the distance of any parts of the -earth one from another, and increase thus till it amounts to the -distance of the sun or remotest star. By such a progression as this, -setting out from the place where it is, or any other place, it can -proceed and pass beyond all those lengths, and find nothing to stop its -going on, either in or without body. It is true, we can easily in our -thoughts come to the end of SOLID extension; the extremity and bounds -of all body we have no difficulty to arrive at: but when the mind is -there, it finds nothing to hinder its progress into this endless -expansion; of that it can neither find nor conceive any end. Nor let -any one say, that beyond the bounds of body, there is nothing at all; -unless he will confine God within the limits of matter. Solomon, whose -understanding was filled and enlarged with wisdom, seems to have other -thoughts when he says, ‘Heaven, and the heaven of heavens, cannot -contain thee.’ And he, I think, very much magnifies to himself the -capacity of his own understanding, who persuades himself that he can -extend his thoughts further than God exists, or imagine any expansion -where He is not. - -3. Nor Duration by Motion. - -Just so is it in duration. The mind having got the idea of any length -of duration, can double, multiply, and enlarge it, not only beyond its -own, but beyond the existence of all corporeal beings, and all the -measures of time, taken from the great bodies of all the world and -their motions. But yet every one easily admits, that, though we make -duration boundless, as certainly it is, we cannot yet extend it beyond -all being. God, every one easily allows, fills eternity; and it is hard -to find a reason why any one should doubt that He likewise fills -immensity. His infinite being is certainly as boundless one way as -another; and methinks it ascribes a little too much to matter to say, -where there is no body, there is nothing. - -4. Why Men more easily admit infinite Duration than infinite Expansion. - -Hence I think we may learn the reason why every one familiarly and -without the least hesitation speaks of and supposes Eternity, and -sticks not to ascribe INFINITY to DURATION; but it is with more -doubting and reserve that many admit or suppose the INFINITY OF SPACE. -The reason whereof seems to me to be this,—That duration and extension -being used as names of affections belonging to other beings, we easily -conceive in God infinite duration, and we cannot avoid doing so: but, -not attributing to him extension, but only to matter, which is finite, -we are apter to doubt of the existence of expansion without matter; of -which alone we commonly suppose it an attribute. And, therefore, when -men pursue their thoughts of space, they are apt to stop at the -confines of body: as if space were there at an end too, and reached no -further. Or if their ideas, upon consideration, carry them further, yet -they term what is beyond the limits of the universe, imaginary space: -as if IT were nothing, because there is no body existing in it. Whereas -duration, antecedent to all body, and to the motions which it is -measured by, they never term imaginary: because it is never supposed -void of some other real existence. And if the names of things may at -all direct our thoughts towards the original of men’s ideas, (as I am -apt to think they may very much,) one may have occasion to think by the -name DURATION, that the continuation of existence, with a kind of -resistance to any destructive force, and the continuation of solidity -(which is apt to be confounded with, and if we will look into the -minute anatomical parts of matter, is little different from, hardness) -were thought to have some analogy, and gave occasion to words so near -of kin as durare and durum esse. And that durare is applied to the idea -of hardness, as well as that of existence, we see in Horace, Epod. xvi. -ferro duravit secula. But, be that as it will, this is certain, that -whoever pursues his own thoughts, will find them sometimes launch out -beyond the extent of body, into the infinity of space or expansion; the -idea whereof is distinct and separate from body and all other things: -which may, (to those who please,) be a subject of further meditation. - -5. Time to Duration is as Place to Expansion. - -Time in general is to duration as place to expansion. They are so much -of those boundless oceans of eternity and immensity as is set out and -distinguished from the rest, as it were by landmarks; and so are made -use of to denote the position of FINITE real beings, in respect one to -another, in those uniform infinite oceans of duration and space. These, -rightly considered, are only ideas of determinate distances from -certain known points, fixed in distinguishable sensible things, and -supposed to keep the same distance one from another. From such points -fixed in sensible beings we reckon, and from them we measure our -portions of those infinite quantities; which, so considered, are that -which we call TIME and PLACE. For duration and space being in -themselves uniform and boundless, the order and position of things, -without such known settled points, would be lost in them; and all -things would lie jumbled in an incurable confusion. - -6. Time and Place are taken for so much of either as are set out by the -Existence and Motion of Bodies. - -Time and place, taken thus for determinate distinguishable portions of -those infinite abysses of space and duration, set out or supposed to be -distinguished from the rest, by marks and known boundaries, have each -of them a twofold acceptation. - -FIRST, Time in general is commonly taken for so much of infinite -duration as is measured by, and co-existent with, the existence and -motions of the great bodies of the universe, as far as we know anything -of them: and in this sense time begins and ends with the frame of this -sensible world, as in these phrases before mentioned, ‘Before all -time,’ or, ‘When time shall be no more.’ Place likewise is taken -sometimes for that portion of infinite space which is possessed by and -comprehended within the material world; and is thereby distinguished -from the rest of expansion; though this may be more properly called -extension than place. Within these two are confined, and by the -observable parts of them are measured and determined, the particular -time or duration, and the particular extension and place, of all -corporeal beings. - -7. Sometimes for so much of either as we design by Measures taken from -the Bulk or Motion of Bodies. - -SECONDLY, sometimes the word time is used in a larger sense, and is -applied to parts of that infinite duration, not that were really -distinguished and measured out by this real existence, and periodical -motions of bodies, that were appointed from the beginning to be for -signs and for seasons and for days and years, and are accordingly our -measures of time; but such other portions too of that infinite uniform -duration, which we upon any occasion do suppose equal to certain -lengths of measured time; and so consider them as bounded and -determined. For, if we should suppose the creation, or fall of the -angels, was at the beginning of the Julian period, we should speak -properly enough, and should be understood if we said, it is a longer -time since the creation of angels than the creation of the world, by -7640 years: whereby we would mark out so much of that undistinguished -duration as we suppose equal to, and would have admitted, 7640 annual -revolutions of the sun, moving at the rate it now does. And thus -likewise we sometimes speak of place, distance, or bulk, in the great -INANE, beyond the confines of the world, when we consider so much of -that space as is equal to, or capable to receive, a body of any -assigned dimensions, as a cubic foot; or do suppose a point in it, at -such a certain distance from any part of the universe. - -8. They belong to all finite beings. - -WHERE and WHEN are questions belonging to all finite existences, and -are by us always reckoned from some known parts of this sensible world, -and from some certain epochs marked out to us by the motions observable -in it. Without some such fixed parts or periods, the order of things -would be lost, to our finite understandings, in the boundless -invariable oceans of duration and expansion, which comprehend in them -all finite beings, and in their full extent belong only to the Deity. -And therefore we are not to wonder that we comprehend them not, and do -so often find our thoughts at a loss, when we would consider them, -either abstractly in themselves, or as any way attributed to the first -incomprehensible Being. But when applied to any particular finite -beings, the extension of any body is so much of that infinite space as -the bulk of the body takes up. And place is the position of any body, -when considered at a certain distance from some other. As the idea of -the particular duration of anything is, an idea of that portion of -infinite duration which passes during the existence of that thing; so -the time when the thing existed is, the idea of that space of duration -which passed between some known and fixed period of duration, and the -being of that thing. One shows the distance of the extremities of the -bulk or existence of the same thing, as that it is a foot square, or -lasted two years; the other shows the distance of it in place, or -existence from other fixed points of space or duration, as that it was -in the middle of Lincoln’s Inn Fields, or the first degree of Taurus, -and in the year of our Lord 1671, or the 1000th year of the Julian -period. All which distances we measure by preconceived ideas of certain -lengths of space and duration,—as inches, feet, miles, and degrees, and -in the other, minutes, days, and years, &c. - -9. All the Parts of Extension are Extension, and all the Parts of -Duration are Duration. - -There is one thing more wherein space and duration have a great -conformity, and that is, though they are justly reckoned amongst our -SIMPLE IDEAS, yet none of the distinct ideas we have of either is -without all manner of composition: it is the very nature of both of -them to consist of parts: but their parts being all of the same kind, -and without the mixture of any other idea, hinder them not from having -a place amongst simple ideas. Could the mind, as in number, come to so -small a part of extension or duration as excluded divisibility, THAT -would be, as it were, the indivisible unit or idea; by repetition of -which, it would make its more enlarged ideas of extension and duration. -But, since the mind is not able to frame an idea of ANY space without -parts, instead thereof it makes use of the common measures, which, by -familiar use in each country, have imprinted themselves on the memory -(as inches and feet; or cubits and parasangs; and so seconds, minutes, -hours, days, and years in duration);—the mind makes use, I say, of such -ideas as these, as simple ones: and these are the component parts of -larger ideas, which the mind upon occasion makes by the addition of -such known lengths which it is acquainted with. On the other side, the -ordinary smallest measure we have of either is looked on as an unit in -number, when the mind by division would reduce them into less -fractions. Though on both sides, both in addition and division, either -of space or duration, when the idea under consideration becomes very -big or very small, its precise bulk becomes very obscure and confused; -and it is the NUMBER of its repeated additions or divisions that alone -remains clear and distinct; as will easily appear to any one who will -let his thoughts loose in the vast expansion of space, or divisibility -of matter. Every part of duration is duration too; and every part of -extension is extension, both of them capable of addition or division in -infinitum. But THE LEAST PORTIONS OF EITHER OF THEM, WHEREOF WE HAVE -CLEAR AND DISTINCT IDEAS, may perhaps be fittest to be considered by -us, as the simple ideas of that kind out of which our complex modes of -space, extension, and duration are made up, and into which they can -again be distinctly resolved. Such a small part in duration may be -called a MOMENT, and is the time of one idea in our minds, in the train -of their ordinary succession there. The other, wanting a proper name, I -know not whether I may be allowed to call a SENSIBLE POINT, meaning -thereby the least particle of matter or space we can discern, which is -ordinarily about a minute, and to the sharpest eyes seldom less than -thirty seconds of a circle, whereof the eye is the centre. - -10. Their Parts inseparable. - -Expansion and duration have this further agreement, that, though they -are both considered by us as having parts, yet their parts are not -separable one from another, no not even in thought: though the parts of -bodies from whence we take our MEASURE of the one; and the parts of -motion, or rather the succession of ideas in our minds, from whence we -take the MEASURE of the other, may be interrupted and separated; as the -one is often by rest, and the other is by sleep, which we call rest -too. - -11. Duration is as a Line, Expansion as a Solid. - -But there is this manifest difference between them,—That the ideas of -length which we have of expansion are turned every way, and so make -figure, and breadth, and thickness; but duration is but as it were the -length of one straight line, extended in infinitum, not capable of -multiplicity, variation, or figure; but is one common measure of all -existence whatsoever, wherein all things, whilst they exist, equally -partake. For this present moment is common to all things that are now -in being, and equally comprehends that part of their existence, as much -as if they were all but one single being; and we may truly say, they -all exist in the SAME moment of time. Whether angels and spirits have -any analogy to this, in respect to expansion, is beyond my -comprehension: and perhaps for us, who have understandings and -comprehensions suited to our own preservation, and the ends of our own -being, but not to the reality and extent of all other beings, it is -near as hard to conceive any existence, or to have an idea of any real -being, with a perfect negation of all manner of expansion, as it is to -have the idea of any real existence with a perfect negation of all -manner of duration. And therefore, what spirits have to do with space, -or how they communicate in it, we know not. All that we know is, that -bodies do each singly possess its proper portion of it, according to -the extent of solid parts; and thereby exclude all other bodies from -having any share in that particular portion of space, whilst it remains -there. - -12. Duration has never two Parts together, Expansion altogether. - -DURATION, and TIME which is a part of it, is the idea we have of -PERISHING distance, of which no two parts exist together, but follow -each other in succession; an EXPANSION is the idea of LASTING distance, -all whose parts exist together and are not capable of succession. And -therefore, though we cannot conceive any duration without succession, -nor can put it together in our thoughts that any being does NOW exist -to-morrow, or possess at once more than the present moment of duration; -yet we can conceive the eternal duration of the Almighty far different -from that of man, or any other finite being. Because man comprehends -not in his knowledge or power all past and future things: his thoughts -are but of yesterday, and he knows not what to-morrow will bring forth. -What is once past he can never recall; and what is yet to come he -cannot make present. What I say of man, I say of all finite beings; -who, though they may far exceed man in knowledge and power, yet are no -more than the meanest creature, in comparison with God himself. Finite -or any magnitude holds not any proportion to infinite. God’s infinite -duration, being accompanied with infinite knowledge and infinite power, -he sees all things, past and to come; and they are no more distant from -his knowledge, no further removed from his sight, than the present: -they all lie under the same view: and there is nothing which he cannot -make exist each moment he pleases. For the existence of all things, -depending upon his good pleasure, all things exist every moment that he -thinks fit to have them exist. To conclude: expansion and duration do -mutually embrace and comprehend each other; every part of space being -in every part of duration, and every part of duration in every part of -expansion. Such a combination of two distinct ideas is, I suppose, -scarce to be found in all that great variety we do or can conceive, and -may afford matter to further speculation. - - - - -CHAPTER XVI. -IDEA OF NUMBER. - - -1. Number the simplest and most universal Idea. - -Amongst all the ideas we have, as there is none suggested to the mind -by more ways, so there is none more simple, than that of UNITY, or one: -it has no shadow of variety or composition in it: every object our -senses are employed about; every idea in our understandings; every -thought of our minds, brings this idea along with it. And therefore it -is the most intimate to our thoughts, as well as it is, in its -agreement to all other things, the most universal idea we have. For -number applies itself to men, angels, actions, thoughts; everything -that either doth exist or can be imagined. - -2. Its Modes made by Addition. - -By repeating this idea in our minds, and adding the repetitions -together, we come by the COMPLEX ideas of the MODES of it. Thus, by -adding one to one, we have the complex idea of a couple; by putting -twelve units together we have the complex idea of a dozen; and so of a -score or a million, or any other number. - -3. Each Mode distinct. - -The SIMPLE MODES of NUMBER are of all other the most distinct; every -the least variation, which is an unit, making each combination as -clearly different from that which approacheth nearest to it, as the -most remote; two being as distinct from one, as two hundred; and the -idea of two as distinct from the idea of three, as the magnitude of the -whole earth is from that of a mite. This is not so in other simple -modes, in which it is not so easy, nor perhaps possible for us to -distinguish betwixt two approaching ideas, which yet are really -different. For who will undertake to find a difference between the -white of this paper and that of the next degree to it: or can form -distinct ideas of every the least excess in extension? - -4. Therefore Demonstrations in Numbers the most precise. - -The clearness and distinctness of each mode of number from all others, -even those that approach nearest, makes me apt to think that -demonstrations in numbers, if they are not more evident and exact than -in extension, yet they are more general in their use, and more -determinate in their application. Because the ideas of numbers are more -precise and distinguishable than in extension; where every equality and -excess are not so easy to be observed or measured; because our thoughts -cannot in space arrive at any determined smallness beyond which it -cannot go, as an unit; and therefore the quantity or proportion of any -the least excess cannot be discovered; which is clear otherwise in -number, where, as has been said, 91 is as distinguishable from 90 as -from 9000, though 91 be the next immediate excess to 90. But it is not -so in extension, where, whatsoever is more than just a foot or an inch, -is not distinguishable from the standard of a foot or an inch; and in -lines which appear of an equal length, one may be longer than the other -by innumerable parts: nor can any one assign an angle, which shall be -the next biggest to a right one. - -5. Names necessary to Numbers. - -By the repeating, as has been said, the idea of an unit, and joining it -to another unit, we make thereof one collective idea, marked by the -name two. And whosoever can do this, and proceed on, still adding one -more to the last collective idea which he had of any number, and gave a -name to it, may count, or have ideas, for several collections of units, -distinguished one from another, as far as he hath a series of names for -following numbers, and a memory to retain that series, with their -several names: all numeration being but still the adding of one unit -more, and giving to the whole together, as comprehended in one idea, a -new or distinct name or sign, whereby to know it from those before and -after, and distinguish it from every smaller or greater multitude of -units. So that he that can add one to one, and so to two, and so go on -with his tale, taking still with him the distinct names belonging to -every progression; and so again, by subtracting an unit from each -collection, retreat and lessen them, is capable of all the ideas of -numbers within the compass of his language, or for which he hath names, -though not perhaps of more. For, the several simple modes of numbers -being in our minds but so many combinations of units, which have no -variety, nor are capable of any other difference but more or less, -names or marks for each distinct combination seem more necessary than -in any other sort of ideas. For, without such names or marks, we can -hardly well make use of numbers in reckoning, especially where the -combination is made up of any great multitude of units; which put -together, without a name or mark to distinguish that precise -collection, will hardly be kept from being a heap in confusion. - -6. Another reason for the necessity of names to numbers. - -This I think to be the reason why some Americans I have spoken with, -(who were otherwise of quick and rational parts enough,) could not, as -we do, by any means count to 1000; nor had any distinct idea of that -number, though they could reckon very well to 20. Because their -language being scanty, and accommodated only to the few necessaries of -a needy, simple life, unacquainted either with trade or mathematics, -had no words in it to stand for 1000; so that when they were discoursed -with of those greater numbers, they would show the hairs of their head, -to express a great multitude, which they could not number; which -inability, I suppose, proceeded from their want of names. The -Tououpinambos had no names for numbers above 5; any number beyond that -they made out by showing their fingers, and the fingers of others who -were present. And I doubt not but we ourselves might distinctly number -in words a great deal further than we usually do, would we find out but -some fit denominations to signify them by; whereas, in the way we take -now to name them, by millions of millions of millions, &c., it is hard -to go beyond eighteen, or at most, four and twenty, decimal -progressions, without confusion. But to show how much distinct names -conduce to our well reckoning, or having useful ideas of numbers, let -us see all these following figures in one continued line, as the marks -of one number: v. g. - -Nonillions. 857324 - -Octillions. 162486 - -Septillions. 345896 - -Sextillions. 437918 - -Quintrillions. 423147 - -Quartrillions. 248106 - -Trillions. 235421 - -Billions. 261734 - -Millions. 368149 - -Units. 623137 - -The ordinary way of naming this number in English, will be the often -repeating of millions, of millions, of millions, of millions, of -millions, of millions, of millions, of millions, (which is the -denomination of the second six figures). In which way, it will be very -hard to have any distinguishing notions of this number. But whether, by -giving every six figures a new and orderly denomination, these, and -perhaps a great many more figures in progression, might not easily be -counted distinctly, and ideas of them both got more easily to -ourselves, and more plainly signified to others, I leave it to be -considered. This I mention only to show how necessary distinct names -are to numbering, without pretending to introduce new ones of my -invention. - -7. Why Children number not earlier. - -Thus children, either for want of names to mark the several -progressions of numbers, or not having yet the faculty to collect -scattered ideas into complex ones, and range them in a regular order, -and so retain them in their memories, as is necessary to reckoning, do -not begin to number very early, nor proceed in it very far or steadily, -till a good while after they are well furnished with good store of -other ideas: and one may often observe them discourse and reason pretty -well, and have very clear conceptions of several other things, before -they can tell twenty. And some, through the default of their memories, -who cannot retain the several combinations of numbers, with their -names, annexed in their distinct orders, and the dependence of so long -a train of numeral progressions, and their relation one to another, are -not able all their lifetime to reckon, or regularly go over any -moderate series of numbers. For he that will count twenty, or have any -idea of that number, must know that nineteen went before, with the -distinct name or sign of every one of them, as they stand marked in -their order; for wherever this fails, a gap is made, the chain breaks, -and the progress in numbering can go no further. So that to reckon -right, it is required, (1) That the mind distinguish carefully two -ideas, which are different one from another only by the addition or -subtraction of ONE unit: (2) That it retain in memory the names or -marks of the several combinations, from an unit to that number; and -that not confusedly, and at random, but in that exact order that the -numbers follow one another. In either of which, if it trips, the whole -business of numbering will be disturbed, and there will remain only the -confused idea of multitude, but the ideas necessary to distinct -numeration will not be attained to. - -8. Number measures all Measurables. - -This further is observable in number, that it is that which the mind -makes use of in measuring all things that by us are measurable, which -principally are EXPANSION and DURATION; and our idea of infinity, even -when applied to those, seems to be nothing but the infinity of number. -For what else are our ideas of Eternity and Immensity, but the repeated -additions of certain ideas of imagined parts of duration and expansion, -with the infinity of number; in which we can come to no end of -addition? For such an inexhaustible stock, number (of all other our -ideas) most clearly furnishes us with, as is obvious to every one. For -let a man collect into one sum as great a number as he pleases, this -multitude how great soever, lessens not one jot the power of adding to -it, or brings him any nearer the end of the inexhaustible stock of -number; where still there remains as much to be added, as if none were -taken out. And this ENDLESS ADDITION or ADDIBILITY (if any one like the -word better) of numbers, so apparent to the mind, is that, I think, -which gives us the clearest and most distinct idea of infinity: of -which more in the following chapter. - - - - -CHAPTER XVII. -OF INFINITY. - - -1. Infinity, in its original Intention, attributed to Space, Duration, -and Number. - -He that would know what kind of idea it is to which we give the name of -INFINITY, cannot do it better than by considering to what infinity is -by the mind more immediately attributed; and then how the mind comes to -frame it. - -FINITE and INFINITE seem to me to be looked upon by the mind as the -MODES OF QUANTITY, and to be attributed primarily in their first -designation only to those things which have parts, and are capable of -increase or diminution by the addition or subtraction of any the least -part: and such are the ideas of space, duration, and number, which we -have considered in the foregoing chapters. It is true, that we cannot -but be assured, that the great God, of whom and from whom are all -things, is incomprehensibly infinite: but yet, when we apply to that -first and supreme Being our idea of infinite, in our weak and narrow -thoughts, we do it primarily in respect to his duration and ubiquity; -and, I think, more figuratively to his power, wisdom, and goodness, and -other attributes which are properly inexhaustible and incomprehensible, -&c. For, when we call THEM infinite, we have no other idea of this -infinity but what carries with it some reflection on, and imitation of, -that number or extent of the acts or objects of God’s power, wisdom, -and goodness, which can never be supposed so great, or so many, which -these attributes will not always surmount and exceed, let us multiply -them in our thoughts as far as we can, with all the infinity of endless -number. I do not pretend to say how these attributes are in God, who is -infinitely beyond the reach of our narrow capacities: they do, without -doubt, contain in them all possible perfection: but this, I say, is our -way of conceiving them, and these our ideas of their infinity. - -2. The Idea of Finite easily got. - -Finite then, and infinite, being by the mind looked on as MODIFICATIONS -of expansion and duration, the next thing to be considered, is,—HOW THE -MIND COMES BY THEM. As for the idea of finite, there is no great -difficulty. The obvious portions of extension that affect our senses, -carry with them into the mind the idea of finite: and the ordinary -periods of succession, whereby we measure time and duration, as hours, -days, and years, are bounded lengths. The difficulty is, how we come by -those BOUNDLESS IDEAS of eternity and immensity; since the objects we -converse with come so much short of any approach or proportion to that -largeness. - -3. How we come by the Idea of Infinity. - -Every one that has any idea of any stated lengths of space, as a foot, -finds that he can repeat that idea; and joining it to the former, make -the idea of two feet; and by the addition of a third, three feet; and -so on, without ever coming to an end of his additions, whether of the -same idea of a foot, or, if he pleases, of doubling it, or any other -idea he has of any length, as a mile, or diameter of the earth, or of -the orbis magnus: for whichever of these he takes, and how often soever -he doubles, or any otherwise multiplies it, he finds, that, after he -has continued his doubling in his thoughts, and enlarged his idea as -much as he pleases, he has no more reason to stop, nor is one jot -nearer the end of such addition, than he was at first setting out: the -power of enlarging his idea of space by further additions remaining -still the same, he hence takes the idea of infinite space. - -4. Our Idea of Space boundless. - -This, I think, is the way whereby the mind gets the IDEA of infinite -space. It is a quite different consideration, to examine whether the -mind has the idea of such a boundless space ACTUALLY EXISTING; since -our ideas are not always proofs of the existence of things: but yet, -since this comes here in our way, I suppose I may say, that we are APT -TO THINK that space in itself is actually boundless, to which -imagination the idea of space or expansion of itself naturally leads -us. For, it being considered by us, either as the extension of body, or -as existing by itself, without any solid matter taking it up, (for of -such a void space we have not only the idea, but I have proved, as I -think, from the motion of body, its necessary existence,) it is -impossible the mind should be ever able to find or suppose any end of -it, or be stopped anywhere in its progress in this space, how far -soever it extends its thoughts. Any bounds made with body, even -adamantine walls, are so far from putting a stop to the mind in its -further progress in space and extension that it rather facilitates and -enlarges it. For so far as that body reaches, so far no one can doubt -of extension; and when we are come to the utmost extremity of body, -what is there that can there put a stop, and satisfy the mind that it -is at the end of space, when it perceives that it is not; nay, when it -is satisfied that body itself can move into it? For, if it be necessary -for the motion of body, that there should be an empty space, though -ever so little, here amongst bodies; and if it be possible for body to -move in or through that empty space;—nay, it is impossible for any -particle of matter to move but into an empty space; the same -possibility of a body’s moving into a void space, beyond the utmost -bounds of body, as well as into a void space interspersed amongst -bodies, will always remain clear and evident: the idea of empty pure -space, whether within or beyond the confines of all bodies, being -exactly the same, differing not in nature, though in bulk; and there -being nothing to hinder body from moving into it. So that wherever the -mind places itself by any thought, either amongst, or remote from all -bodies, it can, in this uniform idea of space, nowhere find any bounds, -any end; and so must necessarily conclude it, by the very nature and -idea of each part of it, to be actually infinite. - -5. And so of Duration. - -As, by the power we find in ourselves of repeating, as often as we -will, any idea of space, we get the idea of IMMENSITY; so, by being -able to repeat the idea of any length of duration we have in our minds, -with all the endless addition of number, we come by the idea of -ETERNITY. For we find in ourselves, we can no more come to an end of -such repeated ideas than we can come to the end of number; which every -one perceives he cannot. But here again it is another question, quite -different from our having an IDEA of eternity, to know whether there -were ANY REAL BEING, whose duration has been eternal. And as to this, I -say, he that considers something now existing, must necessarily come to -Something eternal. But having spoke of this in another place, I shall -say here no more of it, but proceed on to some other considerations of -our idea of infinity. - -6. Why other Ideas are not capable of Infinity. - -If it be so, that our idea of infinity be got from the power we observe -in ourselves of repeating, without end, our own ideas, it may be -demanded,—Why we do not attribute infinity to other ideas, as well as -those of space and duration; since they may be as easily, and as often, -repeated in our minds as the other: and yet nobody ever thinks of -infinite sweetness or infinite whiteness, though he can repeat the idea -of sweet or white, as frequently as those of a yard or a day? To which -I answer,—All the ideas that are considered as having parts, and are -capable of increase by the addition of an equal or less parts, afford -us, by their repetition, the idea of infinity; because, with this -endless repetition, there is continued an enlargement of which there -CAN be no end. But for other ideas it is not so. For to the largest -idea of extension or duration that I at present have, the addition of -any the least part makes an increase; but to the perfectest idea I have -of the whitest whiteness, if I add another of a less equal whiteness, -(and of a whiter than I have, I cannot add the idea,) it makes no -increase, and enlarges not my idea at all; and therefore the different -ideas of whiteness, &c. are called degrees. For those ideas that -consist of part are capable of being augmented by every addition of the -least part; but if you take the idea of white, which one parcel of snow -yielded yesterday to our sight, and another idea of white from another -parcel of snow you see to-day, and put them together in your mind, they -embody, as it were, all run into one, and the idea of whiteness is not -at all increased and if we add a less degree of whiteness to a greater, -we are so far from increasing, that we diminish it. Those ideas that -consist not of parts cannot be augmented to what proportion men please, -or be stretched beyond what they have received by their senses; but -space, duration, and number, being capable of increase by repetition, -leave in the mind an idea of endless room for more; nor can we conceive -anywhere a stop to a further addition or progression: and so those -ideas ALONE lead our minds towards the thought of infinity. - -7. Difference between infinity of Space, and Space infinite. - -Though our idea of infinity arise from the contemplation of quantity, -and the endless increase the mind is able to make in quantity, by the -repeated additions of what portions thereof it pleases; yet I guess we -cause great confusion in our thoughts, when we join infinity to any -supposed idea of quantity the mind can be thought to have, and so -discourse or reason about an infinite quantity, as an infinite space, -or an infinite duration. For, as our idea of infinity being, as I -think, AN ENDLESS GROWING IDEA, but the idea of any quantity the mind -has, being at that time TERMINATED in that idea, (for be it as great as -it will, it can be no greater than it is,)—to join infinity to it, is -to adjust a standing measure to a growing bulk; and therefore I think -it is not an insignificant subtilty, if I say, that we are carefully to -distinguish between the idea of the infinity of space, and the idea of -a space infinite. The first is nothing but a supposed endless -progression of the mind, over what repeated ideas of space it pleases; -but to have actually in the mind the idea of a space infinite, is to -suppose the mind already passed over, and actually to have a view of -ALL those repeated ideas of space which an ENDLESS repetition can never -totally represent to it; which carries in it a plain contradiction. - -8. We have no Idea of infinite Space. - -This, perhaps, will be a little plainer, if we consider it in numbers. -The infinity of numbers, to the end of whose addition every one -perceives there is no approach, easily appears to any one that reflects -on it. But, how clear soever this idea of the infinity of number be, -there is nothing yet more evident than the absurdity of the actual idea -of an infinite number. Whatsoever POSITIVE ideas we have in our minds -of any space, duration, or number, let them be ever so great, they are -still finite; but when we suppose an inexhaustible remainder, from -which we remove all bounds, and wherein we allow the mind an endless -progression of thought, without ever completing the idea, there we have -our idea of infinity: which, though it seems to be pretty clear when we -consider nothing else in it but the negation of an end, yet, when we -would frame in our minds the idea of an infinite space or duration, -that idea is very obscure and confused, because it is made up of two -parts, very different, if not inconsistent. For, let a man frame in his -mind an idea of any space or number, as great as he will; it is plain -the mind RESTS AND TERMINATES in that idea, which is contrary to the -idea of infinity, which CONSISTS IN A SUPPOSED ENDLESS PROGRESSION. And -therefore I think it is that we are so easily confounded, when we come -to argue and reason about infinite space or duration, &c. Because the -parts of such an idea not being perceived to be, as they are, -inconsistent, the one side or other always perplexes, whatever -consequences we draw from the other; as an idea of motion not passing -on would perplex any one who should argue from such an idea, which is -not better than an idea of motion at rest. And such another seems to me -to be the idea of a space, or (which is the same thing) a number -infinite, i. e. of a space or number which the mind actually has, and -so views and terminates in; and of a space or number, which, in a -constant and endless enlarging and progression, it can in thought never -attain to. For, how large soever an idea of space I have in my mind, it -is no larger than it is that instant that I have it, though I be -capable the next instant to double it, and so on in infinitum; for that -alone is infinite which has no bounds; and that the idea of infinity, -in which our thoughts can find none. - -9. Number affords us the clearest Idea of Infinity. - -But of all other ideas, it is number, as I have said, which I think -furnishes us with the clearest and most distinct idea of infinity we -are capable of. For, even in space and duration, when the mind pursues -the idea of infinity, it there makes use of the ideas and repetitions -of numbers, as of millions and millions of miles, or years, which are -so many distinct ideas,—kept best by number from running into a -confused heap, wherein the mind loses itself; and when it has added -together as many millions, &c., as it pleases, of known lengths of -space or duration, the clearest idea it can get of infinity, is the -confused incomprehensible remainder of endless addible numbers, which -affords no prospect of stop or boundary. - -10. Our different Conceptions of the Infinity of Number contrasted with -those of Duration and Expansion. - -It will, perhaps, give us a little further light into the idea we have -of infinity, and discover to us, that it is NOTHING BUT THE INFINITY OF -NUMBER APPLIED TO DETERMINATE PARTS, OF WHICH WE HAVE IN OUR MINDS THE -DISTINCT IDEAS, if we consider that number is not generally thought by -us infinite, whereas duration and extension are apt to be so; which -arises from hence,—that in number we are at one end, as it were: for -there being in number nothing LESS than an unit, we there stop, and are -at an end; but in addition, or increase of number, we can set no -bounds: and so it is like a line, whereof one end terminating with us, -the other is extended still forwards, beyond all that we can conceive. -But in space and duration it is otherwise. For in duration we consider -it as if this line of number were extended BOTH ways—to an -unconceivable, undeterminate, and infinite length; which is evident to -anyone that will but reflect on what consideration he hath of Eternity; -which, I suppose, will find to be nothing else but the turning this -infinity of number both ways, a parte ante and a parte post, as they -speak. For, when we would consider eternity, a parte ante, what do we -but, beginning from ourselves and the present time we are in, repeat in -our minds ideas of years, or ages, or any other assignable portion of -duration past, with a prospect of proceeding in such addition with all -the infinity of number: and when we would consider eternity, a parte -post, we just after the same rate begin from ourselves, and reckon by -multiplied periods yet to come, still extending that line of number as -before. And these two being put together, are that infinite duration we -call ETERNITY which, as we turn our view either way, forwards or -backward appears infinite, because we still turn that way the infinite -end of number, i.e. the power still of adding more. - -11. How we conceive the Infinity of Space. - -The same happens also in space, wherein, conceiving ourselves to be, as -it were, in the centre, we do on all sides pursue those indeterminable -lines of number; and reckoning any way from ourselves, a yard, mile, -diameter of the earth or orbis magnus,—by the infinity of number, we -add others to them, as often as we will. And having no more reason to -set bounds to those repeated ideas than we have to set bounds to -number, we have that indeterminable idea of immensity. - -12. Infinite Divisibility. - -And since in any bulk of matter our thoughts can never arrive at the -utmost divisibility, therefore there is an apparent infinity to us also -in that, which has the infinity also of number; but with this -difference,—that, in the former considerations of the infinity of space -and duration, we only use addition of numbers; whereas this is like the -division of an unit into its fractions, wherein the mind also can -proceed in infinitum, as well as in the former additions; it being -indeed but the addition still of new numbers: though in the addition of -the one, we can have no more the POSITIVE idea of a space infinitely -great, than, in the division of the other, we can have the positive -idea of a body infinitely little;—our idea of infinity being, as I may -say, a growing or fugitive idea, still in a boundless progression, that -can stop nowhere. - -13. No positive Idea of Infinity. - -Though it be hard, I think, to find anyone so absurd as to say he has -the POSITIVE idea of an actual infinite number;—the infinity whereof -lies only in a power still of adding any combination of units to any -former number, and that as long and as much as one will; the like also -being in the infinity of space and duration, which power leaves always -to the mind room for endless additions;—yet there be those who imagine -they have positive ideas of infinite duration and space. It would, I -think, be enough to destroy any such positive idea of infinite, to ask -him that has it,—whether he could add to it or no; which would easily -show the mistake of such a positive idea. We can, I think, have no -positive idea of any space or duration which is not made up of, and -commensurate to, repeated numbers of feet or yards, or days and years; -which are the common measures, whereof we have the ideas in our minds, -and whereby we judge of the greatness of this sort of quantities. And -therefore, since an infinite idea of space or duration must needs be -made up of infinite parts, it can have no other infinity than that of -number CAPABLE still of further addition; but not an actual positive -idea of a number infinite. For, I think it is evident, that the -addition of finite things together (as are all lengths whereof we have -the positive ideas) can never otherwise produce the idea of infinite -than as number does; which consisting of additions of finite units one -to another, suggests the idea of infinite, only by a power we find we -have of still increasing the sum, and adding more of the same kind; -without coming one jot nearer the end of such progression. - -14. How we cannot have a positive idea of infinity in Quantity. - -They who would prove their idea of infinite to be positive, seem to me -to do it by a pleasant argument, taken from the negation of an end; -which being negative, the negation on it is positive. He that considers -that the end is, in body, but the extremity or superficies of that -body, will not perhaps be forward to grant that the end is a bare -negative: and he that perceives the end of his pen is black or white, -will be apt to think that the end is something more than a pure -negation. Nor is it, when applied to duration, the bare negation of -existence, but more properly the last moment of it. But as they will -have the end to be nothing but the bare negation of existence, I am -sure they cannot deny but the beginning of the first instant of being, -and is not by any body conceived to be a bare negation; and therefore, -by their own argument, the idea of eternal, A PARTE ANTE, or of a -duration without a beginning, is but a negative idea. - -15. What is positive, what negative, in our Idea of infinite. - -The idea of infinite has, I confess, something of positive in all those -things we apply to it. When we would think of infinite space or -duration, we at first step usually make some very large idea, as -perhaps of millions of ages, or miles, which possibly we double and -multiply several times. All that we thus amass together in our thoughts -is positive, and the assemblage of a great number of positive ideas of -space or duration. But what still remains beyond this we have no more a -positive distinct notion of than a mariner has of the depth of the sea; -where, having let down a large portion of his sounding-line, he reaches -no bottom. Whereby he knows the depth to be so many fathoms, and more; -but how much the more is, he hath no distinct notion at all: and could -he always supply new line, and find the plummet always sink, without -ever stopping, he would be something in the posture of the mind -reaching after a complete and positive idea of infinity. In which case, -let this line be ten, or ten thousand fathoms long, it equally -discovers what is beyond it, and gives only this confused and -comparative idea, that this is not all, but one may yet go farther. So -much as the mind comprehends of any space, it has a positive idea of: -but in endeavouring to make it infinite,—it being always enlarging, -always advancing,—the idea is still imperfect and incomplete. So much -space as the mind takes a view of in its contemplation of greatness, is -a clear picture, and positive in the understanding: but infinite is -still greater. 1. Then the idea of SO MUCH is positive and clear. 2. -The idea of GREATER is also clear; but it is but a comparative idea, -the idea of SO MUCH GREATER AS CANNOT BE COMPREHENDED. 3. And this is -plainly negative: not positive. For he has no positive clear idea of -the largeness of any extension, (which is that sought for in the idea -of infinite), that has not a comprehensive idea of the dimensions of -it: and such, nobody, I think, pretends to in what is infinite. For to -say a man has a positive clear idea of any quantity, without knowing -how great it is, is as reasonable as to say, he has the positive clear -idea of the number of the sands on the sea-shore, who knows not how -many there be, but only that they are more than twenty. For just such a -perfect and positive idea has he of an infinite space or duration, who -says it is LARGER THAN the extent or duration of ten, one hundred, one -thousand, or any other number of miles, or years, whereof he has or can -have a positive idea; which is all the idea, I think, we have of -infinite. So that what lies beyond our positive idea TOWARDS infinity, -lies in obscurity, and has the indeterminate confusion of a negative -idea, wherein I know I neither do nor can comprehend all I would, it -being too large for a finite and narrow capacity. And that cannot but -be very far from a positive complete idea, wherein the greatest part of -what I would comprehend is left out, under the undeterminate intimation -of being still greater. For to say, that, having in any quantity -measured so much, or gone so far, you are not yet at the end, is only -to say that that quantity is greater. So that the negation of an end in -any quantity is, in other words, only to say that it is bigger; and a -total negation of an end is but carrying this bigger still with you, in -all the progressions your thoughts shall make in quantity; and adding -this IDEA OF STILL GREATER to ALL the ideas you have, or can be -supposed to have, of quantity. Now, whether such an idea as that be -positive, I leave any one to consider. - -16. We have no positive Idea of an infinite Duration. - -I ask those who say they have a positive idea of eternity, whether -their idea of duration includes in it succession, or not? If it does -not, they ought to show the difference of their notion of duration, -when applied to an eternal Being, and to a finite; since, perhaps, -there may be others as well as I, who will own to them their weakness -of understanding in this point, and acknowledge that the notion they -have of duration forces them to conceive, that whatever has duration, -is of a longer continuance to-day than it was yesterday. If, to avoid -succession in external existence, they return to the punctum stans of -the schools, I suppose they will thereby very little mend the matter, -or help us to a more clear and positive idea of infinite duration; -there being nothing more inconceivable to me than duration without -succession. Besides, that punctum stans, if it signify anything, being -not quantum, finite or infinite cannot belong to it. But, if our weak -apprehensions cannot separate succession from any duration whatsoever, -our idea of eternity can be nothing but of INFINITE SUCCESSION OF -MOMENTS OF DURATION WHEREIN ANYTHING DOES EXIST; and whether any one -has, or can have, a positive idea of an actual infinite number, I leave -him to consider, till his infinite number be so great that he himself -can add no more to it; and as long as he can increase it, I doubt he -himself will think the idea he hath of it a little too scanty for -positive infinity. - -17. No complete Idea of Eternal Being. - -I think it unavoidable for every considering, rational creature, that -will but examine his own or any other existence, to have the notion of -an eternal, wise Being, who had no beginning: and such an idea of -infinite duration I am sure I have. But this negation of a beginning, -being but the negation of a positive thing, scarce gives me a positive -idea of infinity; which, whenever I endeavour to extend my thoughts to, -I confess myself at a loss, and I find I cannot attain any clear -comprehension of it. - -18. No positive Idea of infinite Space. - -He that thinks he has a positive idea of infinite space, will, when he -considers it, find that he can no more have a positive idea of the -greatest, than he has of the least space. For in this latter, which -seems the easier of the two, and more within our comprehension, we are -capable only of a comparative idea of smallness, which will always be -less than any one whereof we have the positive idea. All our POSITIVE -ideas of any quantity, whether great or little, have always bounds, -though our COMPARATIVE idea, whereby we can always add to the one, and -take from the other, hath no bounds. For that which remains, either -great or little, not being comprehended in that positive idea which we -have, lies in obscurity; and we have no other idea of it, but of the -power of enlarging the one and diminishing the other, WITHOUT CEASING. -A pestle and mortar will as soon bring any particle of matter to -indivisibility, as the acutest thought of a mathematician; and a -surveyor may as soon with his chain measure out infinite space, as a -philosopher by the quickest flight of mind reach it or by thinking -comprehend it; which is to have a positive idea of it. He that thinks -on a cube of an inch diameter, has a clear and positive idea of it in -his mind, and so can frame one of 1/2, 1/4, 1/8, and so on, till he has -the idea in his thoughts of something very little; but yet reaches not -the idea of that incomprehensible littleness which division can -produce. What remains of smallness is as far from his thoughts as when -he first began; and therefore he never comes at all to have a clear and -positive idea of that smallness which is consequent to infinite -divisibility. - -19. What is positive, what negative, in our Idea of Infinite. - -Every one that looks towards infinity does, as I have said, at first -glance make some very large idea of that which he applies it to, let it -be space or duration; and possibly he wearies his thoughts, by -multiplying in his mind that first large idea: but yet by that he comes -no nearer to the having a positive clear idea of what remains to make -up a positive infinite, than the country fellow had of the water which -was yet to come, and pass the channel of the river where he stood: - -‘Rusticus expectat dum defluat amnis, at ille -Labitur, et labetur in omne volubilis ævum.’ - - -20. Some think they have a positive Idea of Eternity, and not of -infinite Space. - -There are some I have met that put so much difference between infinite -duration and infinite space, that they persuade themselves that they -have a positive idea of eternity, but that they have not, nor can have -any idea of infinite space. The reason of which mistake I suppose to be -this—that finding, by a due contemplation of causes and effects, that -it is necessary to admit some Eternal Being, and so to consider the -real existence of that Being as taken up and commensurate to their idea -of eternity; but, on the other side, not finding it necessary, but, on -the contrary, apparently absurd, that body should be infinite, they -forwardly conclude that they can have no idea of infinite space, -because they can have no idea of infinite matter. Which consequence, I -conceive, is very ill collected, because the existence of matter is no -ways necessary to the existence of space, no more than the existence of -motion, or the sun, is necessary to duration, though duration uses to -be measured by it. And I doubt not but that a man may have the idea of -ten thousand miles square, without any body so big, as well as the idea -of ten thousand years, without any body so old. It seems as easy to me -to have the idea of space empty of body, as to think of the capacity of -a bushel without corn, or the hollow of a nut-shell without a kernel in -it: it being no more necessary that there should be existing a solid -body, infinitely extended, because we have an idea of the infinity of -space, than it is necessary that the world should be eternal, because -we have an idea of infinite duration. And why should we think our idea -of infinite space requires the real existence of matter to support it, -when we find that we have as clear an idea of an infinite duration to -come, as we have of infinite duration past? Though I suppose nobody -thinks it conceivable that anything does or has existed in that future -duration. Nor is it possible to join our idea of future duration with -present or past existence, any more than it is possible to make the -ideas of yesterday, to-day, and to-morrow to be the same; or bring ages -past and future together, and make them contemporary. But if these men -are of the mind, that they have clearer ideas of infinite duration than -of infinite space, because it is past doubt that God has existed from -all eternity, but there is no real matter co-extended with infinite -space; yet those philosophers who are of opinion that infinite space is -possessed by God’s infinite omnipresence, as well as infinite duration -by his eternal existence, must be allowed to have as clear an idea of -infinite space as of infinite duration; though neither of them, I -think, has any positive idea of infinity in either case. For whatsoever -positive ideas a man has in his mind of any quantity, he can repeat it, -and add it to the former, as easy as he can add together the ideas of -two days, or two paces, which are positive ideas of lengths he has in -his mind, and so on as long as he pleases: whereby, if a man had a -positive idea of infinite, either duration or space, he could add two -infinites together; nay, make one infinite infinitely bigger than -another—absurdities too gross to be confuted. - -21. Supposed positive Ideas of Infinity, cause of Mistakes. - -But yet if after all this, there be men who persuade themselves that -they have clear positive comprehensive ideas of infinity, it is fit -they enjoy their privilege: and I should be very glad (with some others -that I know, who acknowledge they have none such) to be better informed -by their communication. For I have been hitherto apt to think that the -great and inextricable difficulties which perpetually involve all -discourses concerning infinity,—whether of space, duration, or -divisibility, have been the certain marks of a defect in our ideas of -infinity, and the disproportion the nature thereof has to the -comprehension of our narrow capacities. For, whilst men talk and -dispute of infinite space or duration, as if they had as complete and -positive ideas of them as they have of the names they use for them, or -as they have of a yard, or an hour, or any other determinate quantity; -it is no wonder if the incomprehensible nature of the thing they -discourse of, or reason about, leads them into perplexities and -contradictions, and their minds be overlaid by an object too large and -mighty to be surveyed and managed by them. - -22. All these are modes of Ideas got from Sensation and Reflection. - -If I have dwelt pretty long on the consideration of duration, space, -and number, and what arises from the contemplation of them,—Infinity, -it is possibly no more than the matter requires; there being few simple -ideas whose MODES give more exercise to the thoughts of men than those -do. I pretend not to treat of them in their full latitude. It suffices -to my design to show how the mind receives them, such as they are, from -sensation and reflection; and how even the idea we have of infinity, -how remote soever it may seem to be from any object of sense, or -operation of our mind, has, nevertheless, as all our other ideas, its -original there. Some mathematicians perhaps, of advanced speculations, -may have other ways to introduce into their minds ideas of infinity. -But this hinders not but that they themselves, as well as all other -men, got the first ideas which they had of infinity from sensation and -reflection, in the method we have here set down. - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII. -OTHER SIMPLE MODES. - - -1. Other simple Modes of simple Ideas of sensation. - -Though I have, in the foregoing chapters, shown how from simple ideas -taken in by sensation, the mind comes to extend itself even to -infinity; which, however it may of all others seem most remote from any -sensible perception, yet at last hath nothing in it but what is made -out of simple ideas: received into the mind by the senses, and -afterwards there put together, by the faculty the mind has to repeat -its own ideas; —Though, I say, these might be instances enough of -simple modes of the simple ideas of sensation, and suffice to show how -the mind comes by them, yet I shall, for method’s sake, though briefly, -give an account of some few more, and then proceed to more complex -ideas. - -2. Simple modes of motion. - -To slide, roll, tumble, walk, creep, run, dance, leap, skip, and -abundance of others that might be named, are words which are no sooner -heard but every one who understands English has presently in his mind -distinct ideas, which are all but the different modifications of -motion. Modes of motion answer those of extension; swift and slow are -two different ideas of motion, the measures whereof are made of the -distances of time and space put together; so they are complex ideas, -comprehending time and space with motion. - -3. Modes of Sounds. - -The like variety have we in sounds. Every articulate word is a -different modification of sound; by which we see that, from the sense -of hearing, by such modifications, the mind may be furnished with -distinct ideas, to almost an infinite number. Sounds also, besides the -distinct cries of birds and beasts, are modified by diversity of notes -of different length put together, which make that complex idea called a -tune, which a musician may have in his mind when he hears or makes no -sound at all, by reflecting on the ideas of those sounds, so put -together silently in his own fancy. - -4. Modes of Colours. - -Those of colours are also very various: some we take notice of as the -different degrees, or as they were termed shades, of the same colour. -But since we very seldom make assemblages of colours, either for use or -delight, but figure is taken in also, and has its part in it, as in -painting, weaving, needleworks, &c.;—those which are taken notice of do -most commonly belong to MIXED MODES, as being made up of ideas of -divers kinds, viz. figure and colour, such as beauty, rainbow, &c. - -5. Modes of Tastes. - -All compounded tastes and smells are also modes, made up of the simple -ideas of those senses. But they, being such as generally we have no -names for, are less taken notice of, and cannot be set down in writing; -and therefore must be left without enumeration to the thoughts and -experience of my reader. - -6. Some simple Modes have no Names. - -In general it may be observed, that those simple modes which are -considered but as different DEGREES of the same simple idea, though -they are in themselves many of them very distinct ideas, yet have -ordinarily no distinct names, nor are much taken notice of, as distinct -ideas, where the difference is but very small between them. Whether men -have neglected these modes, and given no names to them, as wanting -measures nicely to distinguish them; or because, when they were so -distinguished, that knowledge would not be of general or necessary use, -I leave it to the thoughts of others. It is sufficient to my purpose to -show, that all our simple ideas come to our minds only by sensation and -reflection; and that when the mood has them, it can variously repeat -and compound them, and so make new complex ideas. But, though white, -red, or sweet, &c. have not been modified, or made into complex ideas, -by several combinations, so as to be named, and thereby ranked into -species; yet some others of the simple ideas, viz. those of unity, -duration, and motion, &c., above instanced in, as also power and -thinking, have been thus modified to a great variety of complex ideas, -with names belonging to them. - -7. Why some Modes have, and others have not, Names. - -The reason whereof, I suppose, has been this,—That the great -concernment of men being with men one amongst another, the knowledge of -men, and their actions, and the signifying of them to one another, was -most necessary; and therefore they made ideas of ACTIONS very nicely -modified, and gave those complex ideas names, that they might the more -easily record and discourse of those things they were daily conversant -in, without long ambages and circumlocutions; and that the things they -were continually to give and receive information about might be the -easier and quicker understood. That this is so, and that men in framing -different complex ideas, and giving them names, have been much governed -by the end of speech in general, (which is a very short and expedite -way of conveying their thoughts one to another), is evident in the -names which in several arts have been found out, and applied to several -complex ideas of modified actions, belonging to their several trades, -for dispatch sake, in their direction or discourses about them. Which -ideas are not generally framed in the minds of men not conversant about -these operations. And thence the words that stand for them, by the -greatest part of men of the same language, are not understood: v. g. -COLTSHIRE, DRILLING, FILTRATION, COHOBATION, are words standing for -certain complex ideas, which being seldom in the minds of any but those -few whose particular employments do at every turn suggest them to their -thoughts, those names of them are not generally understood but by -smiths and chymists; who, having framed the complex ideas which these -words stand for, and having given names to them, or received them from -others, upon hearing of these names in communication, readily conceive -those ideas in their minds;-as by COHOBATION all the simple ideas of -distilling, and the pouring the liquor distilled from anything back -upon the remaining matter, and distilling it again. Thus we see that -there are great varieties of simple ideas, as of tastes and smells, -which have no names; and of modes many more; which either not having -been generally enough observed, or else not being of any great use to -be taken notice of in the affairs and converse of men, they have not -had names given to them, and so pass not for species. This we shall -have occasion hereafter to consider more at large, when we come to -speak of WORDS. - - - - -CHAPTER XIX. -OF THE MODES OF THINKING. - - -1. Sensation, Remembrance, Contemplation, &c., modes of thinking. - -When the mind turns its view inwards upon itself, and contemplates its -own actions, THINKING is the first that occurs. In it the mind observes -a great variety of modifications, and from thence receives distinct -ideas. Thus the perception or thought which actually accompanies, and -is annexed to, any impression on the body, made by an external object, -being distinct from all other modifications of thinking, furnishes the -mind with a distinct idea, which we call SENSATION;—which is, as it -were, the actual entrance of any idea into the understanding by the -senses. The same idea, when it again recurs without the operation of -the like object on the external sensory, is REMEMBRANCE: if it be -sought after by the mind, and with pain and endeavour found, and -brought again in view, it is RECOLLECTION: if it be held there long -under attentive consideration, it is CONTEMPLATION: when ideas float in -our mind without any reflection or regard of the understanding, it is -that which the French call REVERIE; our language has scarce a name for -it: when the ideas that offer themselves (for, as I have observed in -another place, whilst we are awake, there will always be a train of -ideas succeeding one another in our minds) are taken notice of, and, as -it were, registered in the memory, it is ATTENTION: when the mind with -great earnestness, and of choice, fixes its view on any idea, considers -it on all sides, and will not be called off by the ordinary -solicitation of other ideas, it is that we call INTENTION or STUDY: -sleep, without dreaming, is rest from all these: and DREAMING itself is -the having of ideas (whilst the outward senses are stopped, so that -they receive not outward objects with their usual quickness) in the -mind, not suggested by any external objects, or known occasion; nor -under any choice or conduct of the understanding at all: and whether -that which we call ECSTASY be not dreaming with the eyes open, I leave -to be examined. - -2. Other modes of thinking. - -These are some few instances of those various modes of thinking, which -the mind may observe in itself, and so have as distinct ideas of as it -hath of white and red, a square or a circle. I do not pretend to -enumerate them all, nor to treat at large of this set of ideas, which -are got from reflection: that would be to make a volume. It suffices to -my present purpose to have shown here, by some few examples, of what -sort these ideas are, and how the mind comes by them; especially since -I shall have occasion hereafter to treat more at large of REASONING, -JUDGING, VOLITION, and KNOWLEDGE, which are some of the most -considerable operations of the mind, and modes of thinking. - -3. The various degrees of Attention in thinking. - -But perhaps it may not be an unpardonable digression, nor wholly -impertinent to our present design, if we reflect here upon the -different state of the mind in thinking, which those instances of -attention, reverie, and dreaming, &c., before mentioned, naturally -enough suggest. That there are ideas, some or other, always present in -the mind of a waking man, every one’s experience convinces him; though -the mind employs itself about them with several degrees of attention. -Sometimes the mind fixes itself with so much earnestness on the -contemplation of some objects, that it turns their ideas on all sides; -marks their relations and circumstances; and views every part so nicely -and with such intention, that it shuts out all other thoughts, and -takes no notice of the ordinary impressions made then on the senses, -which at another season would produce very sensible perceptions: at -other times it barely observes the train of ideas that succeed in the -understanding, without directing and pursuing any of them: and at other -times it lets them pass almost quite unregarded, as faint shadows that -make no impression. - -4. Hence it is probable that Thinking is the Action, not the Essence of -the Soul. - -This difference of intention, and remission of the mind in thinking, -with a great variety of degrees between earnest study and very near -minding nothing at all, every one, I think, has experimented in -himself. Trace it a little further, and you find the mind in sleep -retired as it were from the senses, and out of the reach of those -motions made on the organs of sense, which at other times produce very -vivid and sensible ideas. I need not, for this, instance in those who -sleep out whole stormy nights, without hearing the thunder, or seeing -the lightning, or feeling the shaking of the house, which are sensible -enough to those who are waking. But in this retirement of the mind from -the senses, it often retains a yet more loose and incoherent manner of -thinking, which we call dreaming. And, last of all, sound sleep closes -the scene quite, and puts an end to all appearances. This, I think -almost every one has experience of in himself, and his own observation -without difficulty leads him thus far. That which I would further -conclude from hence is, that since the mind can sensibly put on, at -several times, several degrees of thinking, and be sometimes, even in a -waking man, so remiss, as to have thoughts dim and obscure to that -degree that they are very little removed from none at all; and at last, -in the dark retirements of sound sleep, loses the sight perfectly of -all ideas whatsoever: since, I say, this is evidently so in matter of -fact and constant experience, I ask whether it be not probable, that -thinking is the action and not the essence of the soul? Since the -operations of agents will easily admit of intention and remission: but -the essences of things are not conceived capable of any such variation. -But this by the by. - - - - -CHAPTER XX. -OF MODES OF PLEASURE AND PAIN. - - -1. Pleasure and Pain, simple Ideas. - -AMONGST the simple ideas which we receive both from sensation and -reflection, PAIN and PLEASURE are two very considerable ones. For as in -the body there is sensation barely in itself, or accompanied with pain -or pleasure, so the thought or perception of the mind is simply so, or -else accompanied also with pleasure or pain, delight or trouble, call -it how you please. These, like other simple ideas, cannot be described, -nor their names defined; the way of knowing them is, as of the simple -ideas of the senses, only by experience. For, to define them by the -presence of good or evil, is no otherwise to make them known to us than -by making us reflect on what we feel in ourselves, upon the several and -various operations of good and evil upon our minds, as they are -differently applied to or considered by us. - -2. Good and evil, what. - -Things then are good or evil, only in reference to pleasure or pain. -That we call GOOD, which is apt to cause or increase pleasure, or -diminish pain in us; or else to procure or preserve us the possession -of any other good or absence of any evil. And, on the contrary, we name -that EVIL which is apt to produce or increase any pain, or diminish any -pleasure in us: or else to procure us any evil, or deprive us of any -good. By pleasure and pain, I must be understood to mean of body or -mind, as they are commonly distinguished; though in truth they be only -different constitutions of the MIND, sometimes occasioned by disorder -in the body, sometimes by thoughts of the mind. - -3. Our passions moved by Good and Evil. - -Pleasure and pain and that which causes them,—good and evil, are the -hinges on which our passions turn. And if we reflect on ourselves, and -observe how these, under various considerations, operate in us; what -modifications or tempers of mind, what internal sensations (if I may so -call them) they produce in us we may thence form to ourselves the ideas -of our passions. - -4. Love. - -Thus any one reflecting upon the thought he has of the delight which -any present or absent thing is apt to produce in him, has the idea we -call LOVE. For when a man declares in autumn when he is eating them, or -in spring when there are none, that he loves grapes, it is no more but -that the taste of grapes delights him: let an alteration of health or -constitution destroy the delight of their taste, and he then can be -said to love grapes no longer. - -5. Hatred. - -On the contrary, the thought of the pain which anything present or -absent is apt to produce in us, is what we call HATRED. Were it my -business here to inquire any further than into the bare ideas of our -passions, as they depend on different modifications of pleasure and -pain, I should remark that our love and hatred of inanimate insensible -beings is commonly founded on that pleasure and pain which we receive -from their use and application any way to our senses though with their -destruction. But hatred or love, to beings capable of happiness or -misery, is often the uneasiness of delight which we find in ourselves, -arising from their very being or happiness. Thus the being and welfare -of a man’s children or friends, producing constant delight in him, he -is said constantly to love them. But it suffices to note, that our -ideas of love and hatred are but the dispositions of the mind, in -respect of pleasure and pain in general, however caused in us. - -6. Desire. - -The uneasiness a man finds in himself upon the absence of anything -whose present enjoyment carries the idea of delight with it, is that we -call DESIRE; which is greater or less as that uneasiness is more or -less vehement. Where, by the by, it may perhaps be of some use to -remark, that the chief, if not only spur to human industry and action -is UNEASINESS. For whatsoever good is proposed, if its absence carries -no displeasure or pain with it, if a man be easy and content without -it, there is no desire of it, nor endeavour after it; there is no more -but a bare velleity, the term used to signify the lowest degree of -desire, and that which is next to none at all, when there is so little -uneasiness in the absence of anything, that it carries a man no further -than some faint wishes for it, without any more effectual or vigorous -use of the means to attain it. Desire also is stopped or abated by the -opinion of the impossibility or unattainableness of the good proposed, -as far as the uneasiness is cured or allayed by that consideration. -This might carry our thoughts further, were it seasonable in this -place. - -7. Joy. - -JOY is a delight of the mind, from the consideration of the present or -assured approaching possession of a good; and we are then possessed of -any good, when we have it so in our power that we can use it when we -please. Thus a man almost starved has joy at the arrival of relief, -even before he has the pleasure of using it: and a father, in whom the -very well-being of his children causes delight, is always, as long as -his children are in such a state, in the possession of that good; for -he needs but to reflect on it, to have that pleasure. - -8. Sorrow. - -SORROW is uneasiness in the mind, upon the thought of a good lost, -which might have been enjoyed longer; or the sense of a present evil. - -9. Hope. - -HOPE is that pleasure in the mind, which every one finds in himself, -upon the thought of a probable future enjoyment of a thing which is apt -to delight him. - -10. Fear. - -FEAR is an uneasiness of the mind, upon the thought of future evil -likely to befall us. - -11. Despair. - -DESPAIR is the thought of the unattainableness of any good, which works -differently in men’s minds, sometimes producing uneasiness or pain, -sometimes rest and indolency. - -12. Anger. - -ANGER is uneasiness or discomposure of the mind, upon the receipt of -any injury, with a present purpose of revenge. - -13. Envy. - -ENVY is an uneasiness of the mind, caused by the consideration of a -good we desire obtained by one we think should not have had it before -us. - -14. What Passions all Men have. - -These two last, ENVY and ANGER, not being caused by pain and pleasure -simply in themselves, but having in them some mixed considerations of -ourselves and others, are not therefore to be found in all men, because -those other parts, of valuing their merits, or intending revenge, is -wanting in them. But all the rest, terminating purely in pain and -pleasure, are, I think, to be found in all men. For we love, desire, -rejoice, and hope, only in respect of pleasure; we hate, fear, and -grieve, only in respect of pain ultimately. In fine, all these passions -are moved by things, only as they appear to be the causes of pleasure -and pain, or to have pleasure or pain some way or other annexed to -them. Thus we extend our hatred usually to the subject (at least, if a -sensible or voluntary agent) which has produced pain in us; because the -fear it leaves is a constant pain: but we do not so constantly love -what has done us good; because pleasure operates not so strongly on us -as pain, and because we are not so ready to have hope it will do so -again. But this by the by. - -15. Pleasure and Pain, what. - -By pleasure and pain, delight and uneasiness, I must all along be -understood (as I have above intimated) to mean not only bodily pain and -pleasure, but whatsoever delight or uneasiness is felt by us, whether -arising from any grateful or unacceptable sensation or reflection. - -16. Removal or lessening of either. - -It is further to be considered, that, in reference to the passions, the -removal or lessening of a pain is considered, and operates, as a -pleasure: and the loss or diminishing of a pleasure, as a pain. - -17. Shame. - -The passions too have most of them, in most persons, operations on the -body, and cause various changes in it; which not being always sensible, -do not make a necessary part of the idea of each passion. For SHAME, -which is an uneasiness of the mind upon the thought of having done -something which is indecent, or will lessen the valued esteem which -others have for us, has not always blushing accompanying it. - -18. These Instances to show how our Ideas of the Passions are got from -Sensation and Reflection. - -I would not be mistaken here, as if I meant this as a Discourse of the -Passions; they are many more than those I have here named: and those I -have taken notice of would each of them require a much larger and more -accurate discourse. I have only mentioned these here, as so many -instances of modes of pleasure and pain resulting in our minds from -various considerations of good and evil. I might perhaps have instanced -in other modes of pleasure and pain, more simple than these; as the -pain of hunger and thirst, and the pleasure of eating and drinking to -remove them: the pain of teeth set on edge; the pleasure of music; pain -from captious uninstructive wrangling, and the pleasure of rational -conversation with a friend, or of well-directed study in the search and -discovery of truth. But the passions being of much more concernment to -us, I rather made choice to instance in them, and show how the ideas we -have of them are derived from sensation or reflection. - - - - -CHAPTER XXI. -OF POWER. - - -1. This Idea how got. - -The mind being every day informed, by the senses, of the alteration of -those simple ideas it observes in things without; and taking notice how -one comes to an end, and ceases to be, and another begins to exist -which was not before; reflecting also on what passes within itself, and -observing a constant change of its ideas, sometimes by the impression -of outward objects on the senses, and sometimes by the determination of -its own choice; and concluding from what it has so constantly observed -to have been, that the like changes will for the future be made in the -same things, by like agents, and by the like ways,—considers in one -thing the possibility of having any of its simple ideas changed, and in -another the possibility of making that change; and so comes by that -idea which we call POWER. Thus we say, Fire has a power to melt gold, -i. e. to destroy the consistency of its insensible parts, and -consequently its hardness, and make it fluid; and gold has a power to -be melted; that the sun has a power to blanch wax, and wax a power to -be blanched by the sun, whereby the yellowness is destroyed, and -whiteness made to exist in its room. In which, and the like cases, the -power we consider is in reference to the change of perceivable ideas. -For we cannot observe any alteration to be made in, or operation upon -anything, but by the observable change of its sensible ideas; nor -conceive any alteration to be made, but by conceiving a change of some -of its ideas. - -2. Power, active and passive. - -Power thus considered is two-fold, viz. as able to make, or able to -receive any change. The one may be called ACTIVE, and the other PASSIVE -power. Whether matter be not wholly destitute of active power, as its -author, God, is truly above all passive power; and whether the -intermediate state of created spirits be not that alone which is -capable of both active and passive power, may be worth consideration. I -shall not now enter into that inquiry, my present business being not to -search into the original of power, but how we come by the IDEA of it. -But since active powers make so great a part of our complex ideas of -natural substances, (as we shall see hereafter,) and I mention them as -such, according to common apprehension; yet they being not, perhaps, so -truly ACTIVE powers as our hasty thoughts are apt to represent them, I -judge it not amiss, by this intimation, to direct our minds to the -consideration of God and spirits, for the clearest idea of ACTIVE -power. - -3. Power includes Relation. - -I confess power includes in it some kind of RELATION (a relation to -action or change,) as indeed which of our ideas of what kind soever, -when attentively considered, does not. For, our ideas of extension, -duration, and number, do they not all contain in them a secret relation -of the parts? Figure and motion have something relative in them much -more visibly. And sensible qualities, as colours and smells, &c. what -are they but the powers of different bodies, in relation to our -perception, &c.? And, if considered in the things themselves, do they -not depend on the bulk, figure, texture, and motion of the parts? All -which include some kind of relation in them. Our idea therefore of -power, I think, may well have a place amongst other SIMPLE IDEAS, and -be considered as one of them; being one of those that make a principal -ingredient in our complex ideas of substances, as we shall hereafter -have occasion to observe. - -4. The clearest Idea of active Power had from Spirit. - -Of passive power all sensible things abundantly furnish us with -sensible ideas, whose sensible qualities and beings we find to be in -continual flux. And therefore with reason we look on them as liable -still to the same change. Nor have we of ACTIVE power (which is the -more proper signification of the word power) fewer instances. Since -whatever change is observed, the mind must collect a power somewhere -able to make that change, as well as a possibility in the thing itself -to receive it. But yet, if we will consider it attentively, bodies, by -our senses, do not afford us so clear and distinct an idea of active -power, as we have from reflection on the operations of our minds. For -all power relating to action, and there being but two sorts of action -whereof we have an idea, viz. thinking and motion, let us consider -whence we have the clearest ideas of the powers which produce these -actions. (1) Of thinking, body affords us no idea at all; it is only -from reflection that we have that. (2) Neither have we from body any -idea of the beginning of motion. A body at rest affords us no idea of -any active power to move; and when it is set in motion itself, that -motion is rather a passion than an action in it. For, when the ball -obeys the motion of a billiard-stick, it is not any action of the ball, -but bare passion. Also when by impulse it sets another ball in motion -that lay in its way, it only communicates the motion it had received -from another, and loses in itself so much as the other received: which -gives us but a very obscure idea of an ACTIVE power of moving in body, -whilst we observe it only to TRANSFER, but not PRODUCE any motion. For -it is but a very obscure idea of power which reaches not the production -of the action, but the continuation of the passion. For so is motion in -a body impelled by another; the continuation of the alteration made in -it from rest to motion being little more an action, than the -continuation of the alteration of its figure by the same blow is an -action. The idea of the BEGINNING of motion we have only from -reflection on what passes in ourselves; where we find by experience, -that, barely by willing it, barely by a thought of the mind, we can -move the parts of our bodies, which were before at rest. So that it -seems to me, we have, from the observation of the operation of bodies -by our senses, but a very imperfect obscure idea of ACTIVE power; since -they afford us not any idea in themselves of the power to begin any -action, either motion or thought. But if, from the impulse bodies are -observed to make one upon another, any one thinks he has a clear idea -of power, it serves as well to my purpose; sensation being one of those -ways whereby the mind comes by its ideas: only I thought it worth while -to consider here, by the way, whether the mind doth not receive its -idea of active power clearer from reflection on its own operations, -than it doth from any external sensation. - -5. Will and Understanding two Powers in Mind or Spirit. - -This, at least, I think evident,—That we find in ourselves a power to -begin or forbear, continue or end several actions of our minds, and -motions of our bodies, barely by a thought or preference of the mind -ordering, or as it were commanding, the doing or not doing such or such -a particular action. This power which the mind has thus to order the -consideration of any idea, or the forbearing to consider it; or to -prefer the motion of any part of the body to its rest, and vice versa, -in any particular instance, is that which we call the WILL. The actual -exercise of that power, by directing any particular action, or its -forbearance, is that which we call VOLITION or WILLING. The forbearance -of that action, consequent to such order or command of the mind, is -called VOLUNTARY. And whatsoever action is performed without such a -thought of the mind, is called INVOLUNTARY. The power of perception is -that which we call the UNDERSTANDING. Perception, which we make the act -of the understanding, is of three sorts:—1. The perception of ideas in -our minds. 2. The perception of the signification of signs. 3. The -perception of the connexion or repugnancy, agreement or disagreement, -that there is between any of our ideas. All these are attributed to the -understanding, or perceptive power, though it be the two latter only -that use allows us to say we understand. - -6. Faculties not real beings. - -These powers of the mind, viz. of perceiving, and of preferring, are -usually called by another name. And the ordinary way of speaking is, -that the understanding and will are two FACULTIES of the mind; a word -proper enough, if it be used, as all words should be, so as not to -breed any confusion in men’s thoughts, by being supposed (as I suspect -it has been) to stand for some real beings in the soul that performed -those actions of understanding and volition. For when we say the WILL -is the commanding and superior faculty of the soul; that it is or is -not free; that it determines the inferior faculties; that it follows -the dictates of the understanding, &c.,—though these and the like -expressions, by those that carefully attend to their own ideas, and -conduct their thoughts more by the evidence of things than the sound of -words, may be understood in a clear and distinct sense—yet I suspect, I -say, that this way of speaking of FACULTIES has misled many into a -confused notion of so many distinct agents in us, which had their -several provinces and authorities, and did command, obey, and perform -several actions, as so many distinct beings; which has been no small -occasion of wrangling, obscurity, and uncertainty, in questions -relating to them. - -7. Whence the Ideas of Liberty and Necessity. - -Every one, I think, finds in HIMSELF a power to begin or forbear, -continue or put an end to several actions in himself. From the -consideration of the extent of this power of the mind over the actions -of the man, which everyone finds in himself, arise the IDEAS of LIBERTY -and NECESSITY. - -8. Liberty, what. - -All the actions that we have any idea of reducing themselves, as has -been said, to these two, viz. thinking and motion; so far as a man has -power to think or not to think, to move or not to move, according to -the preference or direction of his own mind, so far is a man FREE. -Wherever any performance or forbearance are not equally in a man’s -power; wherever doing or not doing will not equally FOLLOW upon the -preference of his mind directing it, there he is not free, though -perhaps the action may be voluntary. So that the idea of LIBERTY is, -the idea of a power in any agent to do or forbear any particular -action, according to the determination or thought of the mind, whereby -either of them is preferred to the other: where either of them is not -in the power of the agent to be produced by him according to his -volition, there he is not at liberty; that agent is under NECESSITY. So -that liberty cannot be where there is no thought, no volition, no will; -but there may be thought, there may be will, there may be volition, -where there is no liberty. A little consideration of an obvious -instance or two may make this clear. - -9. Supposes Understanding and Will. - -A tennis-ball, whether in motion by the stroke of a racket, or lying -still at rest, is not by any one taken to be a free agent. If we -inquire into the reason, we shall find it is because we conceive not a -tennis-ball to think, and consequently not to have any volition, or -PREFERENCE of motion to rest, or vice versa; and therefore has not -liberty, is not a free agent; but all its both motion and rest come -under our idea of necessary, and are so called. Likewise a man falling -into the water, (a bridge breaking under him,) has not herein liberty, -is not a free agent. For though he has volition, though he prefers his -not falling to falling; yet the forbearance of that motion not being in -his power, the stop or cessation of that motion follows not upon his -volition; and therefore therein he is not free. So a man striking -himself, or his friend, by a convulsive motion of his arm, which it is -not in his power, by volition or the direction of his mind, to stop or -forbear, nobody thinks he has in this liberty; every one pities him, as -acting by necessity and constraint. - -10. Belongs not to Volition. - -Again: suppose a man be carried, whilst fast asleep, into a room where -is a person he longs to see and speak with; and be there locked fast -in, beyond his power to get out: he awakes, and is glad to find himself -in so desirable company, which he stays willingly in, i. e. prefers his -stay to going away. I ask, is not this stay voluntary? I think nobody -will doubt it: and yet, being locked fast in, it is evident he is not -at liberty not to stay, he has not freedom to be gone. So that liberty -is not an idea belonging to volition, or preferring; but to the person -having the power of doing, or forbearing to do, according as the mind -shall choose or direct. Our idea of liberty reaches as far as that -power, and no farther. For wherever restraint comes to check that -power, or compulsion takes away that indifferency of ability to act, or -to forbear acting, there liberty, and our notion of it, presently -ceases. - -11. Voluntary opposed to involuntary. - -We have instances enough, and often more than enough, in our own -bodies. A man’s heart beats, and the blood circulates, which it is not -in his power by any thought or volition to stop; and therefore in -respect of these motions, where rest depends not on his choice, nor -would follow the determination of his mind, if it should prefer it, he -is not a free agent. Convulsive motions agitate his legs, so that -though he wills it ever so much, he cannot by any power of his mind -stop their motion, (as in that odd disease called chorea sancti viti), -but he is perpetually dancing; he is not at liberty in this action, but -under as much necessity of moving, as a stone that falls, or a -tennis-ball struck with a racket. On the other side, a palsy or the -stocks hinder his legs from obeying the determination of his mind, if -it would thereby transfer his body to another place. In all these there -is want of freedom; though the sitting still, even of a paralytic, -whilst he prefers it to a removal, is truly voluntary. Voluntary, then, -is not opposed to necessary but to involuntary. For a man may prefer -what he can do, to what he cannot do; the state he is in, to its -absence or change; though necessity has made it in itself unalterable. - -12. Liberty, what. - -As it is in the motions of the body, so it is in the thoughts of our -minds: where any one is such, that we have power to take it up, or lay -it by, according to the preference of the mind, there we are at -liberty. A waking man, being under the necessity of having some ideas -constantly in his mind, is not at liberty to think or not to think; no -more than he is at liberty, whether his body shall touch any other or -no, but whether he will remove his contemplation from one idea to -another is many times in his choice; and then he is, in respect of his -ideas, as much at liberty as he is in respect of bodies he rests on; he -can at pleasure remove himself from one to another. But yet some ideas -to the mind, like some motions to the body, are such as in certain -circumstances it cannot avoid, nor obtain their absence by the utmost -effort it can use. A man on the rack is not at liberty to lay by the -idea of pain, and divert himself with other contemplations: and -sometimes a boisterous passion hurries our thoughts, as a hurricane -does our bodies, without leaving us the liberty of thinking on other -things, which we would rather choose. But as soon as the mind regains -the power to stop or continue, begin or forbear, any of these motions -of the body without, or thoughts within, according as it thinks fit to -prefer either to the other, we then consider the man as a FREE AGENT -again. - -13. Wherever thought is wholly wanting, or the power to act or forbear -according to the direction of thought, there necessity takes place. -This, in an agent capable of volition, when the beginning or -continuation of any action is contrary to that preference of his mind, -is called compulsion; when the hindering or stopping any action is -contrary to his volition, it is called restraint. Agents that have no -thought, no volition at all, are in everything NECESSARY AGENTS. - -14. If this be so, (as I imagine it is,) I leave it to be considered, -whether it may not help to put an end to that long agitated, and, I -think, unreasonable, because unintelligible question, viz. WHETHER -MAN’S WILL BE FREE OR NO? For if I mistake not, it follows from what I -have said, that the question itself is altogether improper; and it is -as insignificant to ask whether man’s WILL be free, as to ask whether -his sleep be swift, or his virtue square: liberty being as little -applicable to the will, as swiftness of motion is to sleep, or -squareness to virtue. Every one would laugh at the absurdity of such a -question as either of these: because it is obvious that the -modifications of motion belong not to sleep, nor the difference of -figure to virtue; and when any one well considers it, I think he will -as plainly perceive that liberty, which is but a power, belongs only to -Agents, and cannot be an attribute or modification of the will, which -is also but a power. - -15. Volition. - -Such is the difficulty of explaining and giving clear notions of -internal actions by sounds, that I must here warn my reader, that -ORDERING, DIRECTING, CHOOSING, PREFERRING, &c. which I have made use -of, will not distinctly enough express volition, unless he will reflect -on what he himself does when he wills. For example, preferring, which -seems perhaps best to express the act of volition, does it not -precisely. For though a man would prefer flying to walking, yet who can -say he ever wills it? Volition, it is plain, is an act of the mind -knowingly exerting that dominion it takes itself to have over any part -of the man, by employing it in, or withholding it from, any particular -action. And what is the will, but the faculty to do this? And is that -faculty anything more in effect than a power; the power of the mind to -determine its thought, to the producing, continuing, or stopping any -action, as far as it depends on us? For can it be denied that whatever -agent has a power to think on its own actions, and to prefer their -doing or omission either to other, has that faculty called will? WILL, -then, is nothing but such a power. LIBERTY, on the other side, is the -power a MAN has to do or forbear doing any particular action according -as its doing or forbearance has the actual preference in the mind; -which is the same thing as to say, according as he himself wills it. - -16. Powers belonging to Agents. - -It is plain then that the will is nothing but one power or ability, and -FREEDOM another power or ability so that, to ask, whether the will has -freedom, is to ask whether one power has another power, one ability -another ability; a question at first sight too grossly absurd to make a -dispute, or need an answer. For, who is it that sees not that powers -belong only to agents, and are attributes only of substances, and not -of powers themselves? So that this way of putting the question (viz. -whether the will be free) is in effect to ask, whether the will be a -substance, an agent, or at least to suppose it, since freedom can -properly be attributed to nothing else. If freedom can with any -propriety of speech be applied to power, it may be attributed to the -power that is in a man to produce, or forbear producing, motion in -parts of his body, by choice or preference; which is that which -denominates him free, and is freedom itself. But if any one should ask, -whether freedom were free, he would be suspected not to understand well -what he said; and he would be thought to deserve Midas’s ears, who, -knowing that rich was a denomination for the possession of riches, -should demand whether riches themselves were rich. - -17. How the will instead of the man is called free. - -However, the name FACULTY, which men have given to this power called -the will, and whereby they have been led into a way of talking of the -will as acting, may, by an appropriation that disguises its true sense, -serve a little to palliate the absurdity; yet the will, in truth, -signifies nothing but a power or ability to prefer or choose: and when -the will, under the name of a faculty, is considered as it is, barely -as an ability to do something, the absurdity in saying it is free, or -not free, will easily discover itself. For, if it be reasonable to -suppose and talk of faculties as distinct beings that can act, (as we -do, when we say the will orders, and the will is free,) it is fit that -we should make a speaking faculty, and a walking faculty, and a dancing -faculty, by which these actions are produced, which are but several -modes of motion; as well as we make the will and understanding to be -faculties, by which the actions of choosing and perceiving are -produced, which are but several modes of thinking. And we may as -properly say that it is the singing faculty sings, and the dancing -faculty dances, as that the will chooses, or that the understanding -conceives; or, as is usual, that the will directs the understanding, or -the understanding obeys or obeys not the will: it being altogether as -proper and intelligible to say that the power of speaking directs the -power of singing, or the power of singing obeys or disobeys the power -of speaking. - -18. This way of talking causes confusion of thought. - -This way of talking, nevertheless, has prevailed, and, as I guess, -produced great confusion. For these being all different powers in the -mind, or in the man, to do several actions, he exerts them as he thinks -fit: but the power to do one action is not operated on by the power of -doing another action. For the power of thinking operates not on the -power of choosing, nor the power of choosing on the power of thinking; -no more than the power of dancing operates on the power of singing, or -the power of singing on the power of dancing, as any one who reflects -on it will easily perceive. And yet this is it which we say when we -thus speak, that the will operates on the understanding, or the -understanding on the will. - -19. Powers are relations, not agents. - -I grant, that this or that actual thought may be the occasion of -volition, or exercising the power a man has to choose; or the actual -choice of the mind, the cause of actual thinking on this or that thing: -as the actual singing of such a tune may be the cause of dancing such a -dance, and the actual dancing of such a dance the occasion of singing -such a tune. But in all these it is not one POWER that operates on -another: but it is the mind that operates, and exerts these powers; it -is the man that does the action; it is the agent that has power, or is -able to do. For powers are relations, not agents: and that which has -the power or not the power to operate, is that alone which is or is not -free, and not the power itself. For freedom, or not freedom, can belong -to nothing but what has or has not a power to act. - -20. Liberty belongs not to the Will. - -The attributing to faculties that which belonged not to them, has given -occasion to this way of talking: but the introducing into discourses -concerning the mind, with the name of faculties, a notion of THEIR -operating, has, I suppose, as little advanced our knowledge in that -part of ourselves, as the great use and mention of the like invention -of faculties, in the operations of the body, has helped us in the -knowledge of physic. Not that I deny there are faculties, both in the -body and mind: they both of them have their powers of operating, else -neither the one nor the other could operate. For nothing can operate -that is not able to operate; and that is not able to operate that has -no power to operate. Nor do I deny that those words, and the like, are -to have their place in the common use of languages that have made them -current. It looks like too much affectation wholly to lay them by: and -philosophy itself, though it likes not a gaudy dress, yet, when it -appears in public, must have so much complacency as to be clothed in -the ordinary fashion and language of the country, so far as it can -consist with truth and perspicuity. But the fault has been, that -faculties have been spoken of and represented as so many distinct -agents. For, it being asked, what it was that digested the meat in our -stomachs? it was a ready and very satisfactory answer to say, that it -was the DIGESTIVE FACULTY. What was it that made anything come out of -the body? the EXPULSIVE FACULTY. What moved? the MOTIVE FACULTY. And so -in the mind, the INTELLECTUAL FACULTY, or the understanding, -understood; and the ELECTIVE FACULTY, or the will, willed or commanded. -This is, in short, to say, that the ability to digest, digested; and -the ability to move, moved; and the ability to understand, understood. -For faculty, ability, and power, I think, are but different names of -the same things: which ways of speaking, when put into more -intelligible words, will, I think, amount to thus much;—That digestion -is performed by something that is able to digest, motion by something -able to move, and understanding by something able to understand. And, -in truth, it would be very strange if it should be otherwise; as -strange as it would be for a man to be free without being able to be -free. - -21. But to the Agent, or Man. - -To return, then, to the inquiry about liberty, I think the question is -not proper, WHETHER THE WILL BE FREE, but WHETHER A MAN BE FREE. Thus, -I think, - -First, That so far as any one can, by the direction or choice of his -mind, preferring the existence of any action to the non-existence of -that action, and vice versa, make IT to exist or not exist, so far HE -is free. For if I can, by a thought directing the motion of my finger, -make it move when it was at rest, or vice versa, it is evident, that in -respect of that I am free: and if I can, by a like thought of my mind, -preferring one to the other, produce either words or silence, I am at -liberty to speak or hold my peace: and as far as this power reaches, of -acting or not acting, by the determination of his own thought -preferring either, so far is a man free. For how can we think any one -freer, than to have the power to do what he will? And so far as any one -can, by preferring any action to its not being, or rest to any action, -produce that action or rest, so far can he do what he will. For such a -preferring of action to its absence, is the willing of it: and we can -scarce tell how to imagine any being freer, than to be able to do what -he wills. So that in respect of actions within the reach of such a -power in him, a man seems as free as it is possible for freedom to make -him. - -22. In respect of willing, a Man is not free. - -But the inquisitive mind of man, willing to shift off from himself, as -far as he can, all thoughts of guilt, though it be by putting himself -into a worse state than that of fatal necessity, is not content with -this: freedom, unless it reaches further than this, will not serve the -turn: and it passes for a good plea, that a man is not free at all, if -he be not as FREE TO WILL as he is to ACT WHAT HE WILLS. Concerning a -man’s liberty, there yet, therefore, is raised this further question, -WHETHER A MAN BE FREE TO WILL? which I think is what is meant, when it -is disputed whether the will be free. And as to that I imagine. - -23. How a man cannot be free to will. - -Secondly, That willing, or volition, being an action, and freedom -consisting in a power of acting or not acting, a man in respect of -willing or the act of volition, when any action in his power is once -proposed to his thoughts, as presently to be done, cannot be free. The -reason whereof is very manifest. For, it being unavoidable that the -action depending on his will should exist or not exist, and its -existence or not existence following perfectly the determination and -preference of his will, he cannot avoid willing the existence or -non-existence of that action; it is absolutely necessary that he will -the one or the other; i.e. prefer the one to the other: since one of -them must necessarily follow; and that which does follow follows by the -choice and determination of his mind; that is, by his willing it: for -if he did not will it, it would not be. So that, in respect of the act -of willing, a man is not free: liberty consisting in a power to act or -not to act; which, in regard of volition, a man, has not. - -24. Liberty is freedom to execute what is willed. - -This, then, is evident, That A MAN IS NOT AT LIBERTY TO WILL, OR NOT TO -WILL, ANYTHING IN HIS POWER THAT HE ONCE CONSIDERS OF: liberty -consisting in a power to act or to forbear acting, and in that only. -For a man that sits still is said yet to be at liberty; because he can -walk if he wills it. A man that walks is at liberty also, not because -he walks or moves; but because he can stand still if he wills it. But -if a man sitting still has not a power to remove himself, he is not at -liberty; so likewise a man falling down a precipice, though in motion, -is not at liberty, because he cannot stop that motion if he would. This -being so, it is plain that a man that is walking, to whom it is -proposed to give off walking, is not at liberty, whether he will -determine himself to walk, or give off walking or not: he must -necessarily prefer one or the other of them; walking or not walking. -And so it is in regard of all other actions in our power; they being -once proposed, the mind has not a power to act or not to act, wherein -consists liberty. The mind, in that case, has not a power to forbear -WILLING; it cannot avoid some determination concerning them, let the -consideration be as short, the thought as quick as it will, it either -leaves the man in the state he was before thinking, or changes it; -continues the action, or puts an end to it. Whereby it is manifest, -that IT orders and directs one, in preference to, or with neglect of -the other, and thereby either the continuation or change becomes -UNAVOIDABLY voluntary. - -25. The Will determined by something without it. - -Since then it is plain that, in most cases, a man is not at liberty, -whether he will or no, (for, when an action in his power is proposed to -his thoughts, he CANNOT forbear volition; he MUST determine one way or -the other;) the next thing demanded is,—WHETHER A MAN BE AT LIBERTY TO -WILL WHICH OF THE TWO HE PLEASES, MOTION OR REST? This question carries -the absurdity of it so manifestly in itself, that one might thereby -sufficiently be convinced that liberty concerns not the will. For, to -ask whether a man be at liberty to will either motion or rest, speaking -or silence, which he pleases, is to ask whether a man can will what he -wills, or be pleased with what he is pleased with? A question which, I -think, needs no answer: and they who can make a question of it must -suppose one will to determine the acts of another, and another to -determine that, and so on in infinitum. - -26. The ideas of LIBERTY and VOLITION must be defined. - -To avoid these and the like absurdities, nothing can be of greater use -than to establish in our minds determined ideas of the things under -consideration. If the ideas of liberty and volition were well fixed in -our understandings, and carried along with us in our minds, as they -ought, through all the questions that are raised about them, I suppose -a great part of the difficulties that perplex men’s thoughts, and -entangle their understandings, would be much easier resolved; and we -should perceive where the confused signification of terms, or where the -nature of the thing caused the obscurity. - -27. Freedom. - -First, then, it is carefully to be remembered, That freedom consists in -the dependence of the existence, or not existence of any ACTION, upon -our VOLITION of it; and not in the dependence of any action, or its -contrary, on our PREFERENCE. A man standing on a cliff, is at liberty -to leap twenty yards downwards into the sea, not because he has a power -to do the contrary action, which is to leap twenty yards upwards, for -that he cannot do; but he is therefore free, because he has a power to -leap or not to leap. But if a greater force than his, either holds him -fast, or tumbles him down, he is no longer free in that case; because -the doing or forbearance of that particular action is no longer in his -power. He that is a close prisoner in a room twenty feet square, being -at the north side of his chamber, is at liberty to walk twenty feet -southward, because he can walk or not walk it; but is not, at the same -time, at liberty to do the contrary, i.e. to walk twenty feet -northward. - -In this, then, consists FREEDOM, viz. in our being able to act or not -to act, according as we shall choose or will. - -28. What Volition and action mean. - -Secondly, we must remember, that VOLITION or WILLING is an act of the -mind directing its thought to the production of any action, and thereby -exerting its power to produce it. To avoid multiplying of words, I -would crave leave here, under the word ACTION, to comprehend the -forbearance too of any action proposed: sitting still, or holding one’s -peace, when walking or speaking are proposed, though mere forbearances, -requiring as much the determination of the will, and being as often -weighty in their consequences, as the contrary actions, may, on that -consideration, well enough pass for actions too: but this I say, that I -may not be mistaken, if (for brevity’s sake) I speak thus. - -29. What determines the Will. - -Thirdly, the will being nothing but a power in the mind to direct the -operative faculties of a man to motion or rest as far as they depend on -such direction; to the question, What is it determines the will? the -true and proper answer is, The mind. For that which determines the -general power of directing, to this or that particular direction, is -nothing but the agent itself exercising the power it has that -particular way. If this answer satisfies not, it is plain the meaning -of the question, What determines the will? is this,—What moves the -mind, in every particular instance, to determine its general power of -directing, to this or that particular motion or rest? And to this I -answer,—The motive for continuing in the same state or action, is only -the present satisfaction in it; the motive to change is always some -uneasiness: nothing setting us upon the change of state, or upon any -new action, but some uneasiness. This is the great motive that works on -the mind to put it upon action, which for shortness’ sake we will call -determining of the will, which I shall more at large explain. - -30. Will and Desire must not be confounded. - -But, in the way to it, it will be necessary to premise, that, though I -have above endeavoured to express the act of volition, by CHOOSING, -PREFERRING, and the like terms, that signify desire as well as -volition, for want of other words to mark that act of the mind whose -proper name is WILLING or VOLITION; yet, it being a very simple act, -whosoever desires to understand what it is, will better find it by -reflecting on his own mind, and observing what it does when it wills, -than by any variety of articulate sounds whatsoever. This caution of -being careful not to be misled by expressions that do not enough keep -up the difference between the WILL and several acts of the mind that -are quite distinct from it, I think the more necessary, because I find -the will often confounded with several of the affections, especially -DESIRE, and one put for the other; and that by men who would not -willingly be thought not to have had very distinct notions of things, -and not to have writ very clearly about them. This, I imagine, has been -no small occasion of obscurity and mistake in this matter; and -therefore is, as much as may be, to be avoided. For he that shall turn -his thoughts inwards upon what passes in his mind when he wills, shall -see that the will or power of volition is conversant about nothing but -our own ACTIONS; terminates there; and reaches no further; and that -volition is nothing but that particular determination of the mind, -whereby, barely by a thought, the mind endeavours to give rise, -continuation, or stop, to any action which it takes to be in its power. -This, well considered, plainly shows that the will is perfectly -distinguished from desire; which, in the very same action, may have a -quite contrary tendency from that which our will sets us upon. A man, -whom I cannot deny, may oblige me to use persuasions to another, which, -at the same time I am speaking, I may wish may not prevail on him. In -this case, it is plain the will and desire run counter. I will the -action; that tends one way, whilst my desire tends another, and that -the direct contrary way. A man who, by a violent fit of the gout in his -limbs, finds a doziness in his head, or a want of appetite in his -stomach removed, desires to be eased too of the pain of his feet or -hands, (for wherever there is pain, there is a desire to be rid of it,) -though yet, whilst he apprehends that the removal of the pain may -translate the noxious humour to a more vital part, his will is never -determined to any one action that may serve to remove this pain. Whence -it is evident that desiring and willing are two distinct acts of the -mind; and consequently, that the will, which is but the power of -volition, is much more distinct from desire. - -31. Uneasiness determines the Will. - -To return, then, to the inquiry, what is it that determines the will in -regard to our actions? And that, upon second thoughts, I am apt to -imagine is not, as is generally supposed, the greater good in view; but -some (and for the most part the most pressing) UNEASINESS a man is at -present under. This is that which successively determines the will, and -sets us upon those actions we perform. This uneasiness we may call, as -it is, DESIRE; which is an uneasiness of the mind for want of some -absent good. All pain of the body, of what sort soever, and disquiet of -the mind, is uneasiness: and with this is always joined desire, equal -to the pain or uneasiness felt; and is scarce distinguishable from it. -For desire being nothing but an uneasiness in the want of an absent -good, in reference to any pain felt, ease is that absent good; and till -that ease be attained, we may call it desire; nobody feeling pain that -he wishes not to be eased of, with a desire equal to that pain, and -inseparable from it. Besides this desire of ease from pain, there is -another of absent positive good; and here also the desire and -uneasiness are equal. As much as we desire any absent good, so much are -we in pain for it. But here all absent good does not, according to the -greatness it has, or is acknowledged to have, cause pain equal to that -greatness; as all pain causes desire equal to itself: because the -absence of good is not always a pain, as the presence of pain is. And -therefore absent good may be looked on and considered without desire. -But so much as there is anywhere of desire, so much there is of -uneasiness. - -32. Desire is Uneasiness. - -That desire is a state of uneasiness, every one who reflects on himself -will quickly find. Who is there that has not felt in desire what the -wise man says of hope, (which is not much different from it,) that it -being ‘deferred makes the heart sick’; and that still proportionable to -the greatness of the desire, which sometimes raises the uneasiness to -that pitch, that it makes people cry out, ‘Give me children,’ give me -the thing desired, ‘or I die.’ Life itself, and all its enjoyments, is -a burden cannot be borne under the lasting and unremoved pressure of -such an uneasiness. - -33. The Uneasiness of Desire determines the Will. - -Good and evil, present and absent, it is true, work upon the mind. But -that which IMMEDIATELY determines the will from time to time, to every -voluntary action, is the UNEASINESS OF DESIRE, fixed on some absent -good: either negative, as indolence to one in pain; or positive, as -enjoyment of pleasure. That it is this uneasiness that determines the -will to the successive voluntary actions, whereof the greatest part of -our lives is made up, and by which we are conducted through different -courses to different ends, I shall endeavour to show, both from -experience, and the reason of the thing. - -34. This is the Spring of Action. - -When a man is perfectly content with the state he is in—which is when -he is perfectly without any uneasiness—what industry, what action, what -will is there left, but to continue in it? Of this every man’s -observation will satisfy him. And thus we see our all-wise Maker, -suitably to our constitution and frame, and knowing what it is that -determines the will, has put into man the uneasiness of hunger and -thirst, and other natural desires, that return at their seasons, to -move and determine their wills, for the preservation of themselves, and -the continuation of their species. For I think we may conclude, that, -if the BARE CONTEMPLATION of these good ends to which we are carried by -these several uneasinesses had been sufficient to determine the will, -and set us on work, we should have had none of these natural pains, and -perhaps in this world little or no pain at all. ‘It is better to marry -than to burn,’ says St. Paul, where we may see what it is that chiefly -drives men into the enjoyments of a conjugal life. A little burning -felt pushes us more powerfully than greater pleasure in prospect draw -or allure. - -35. The greatest positive Good determines not the Will, but present -Uneasiness alone. - -It seems so established and settled a maxim, by the general consent of -all mankind, that good, the greater good, determines the will, that I -do not at all wonder that, when I first published my thoughts on this -subject I took it for granted; and I imagine that, by a great many, I -shall be thought more excusable for having then done so, than that now -I have ventured to recede from so received an opinion. But yet, upon a -stricter inquiry, I am forced to conclude that GOOD, the GREATER GOOD, -though apprehended and acknowledged to be so, does not determine the -will, until our desire, raised proportionably to it, makes us uneasy in -the want of it. Convince a man never so much, that plenty has its -advantages over poverty; make him see and own, that the handsome -conveniences of life are better than nasty penury: yet, as long as he -is content with the latter, and finds no uneasiness in it, he moves -not; his will never is determined to any action that shall bring him -out of it. Let a man be ever so well persuaded of the advantages of -virtue, that it is as necessary to a man who has any great aims in this -world, or hopes in the next, as food to life: yet, till he hungers or -thirsts after righteousness, till he FEELS AN UNEASINESS in the want of -it, his WILL will not be determined to any action in pursuit of this -confessed greater good; but any other uneasiness he feels in himself -shall take place, and carry his will to other actions. On the other -side, let a drunkard see that his health decays, his estate wastes; -discredit and diseases, and the want of all things, even of his beloved -drink, attends him in the course he follows: yet the returns of -uneasiness to miss his companions, the habitual thirst after his cups -at the usual time, drives him to the tavern, though he has in his view -the loss of health and plenty, and perhaps of the joys of another life: -the least of which is no inconsiderable good, but such as he confesses -is far greater than the tickling of his palate with a glass of wine, or -the idle chat of a soaking club. It is not want of viewing the greater -good: for he sees and acknowledges it, and, in the intervals of his -drinking hours, will take resolutions to pursue the greater good; but -when the uneasiness to miss his accustomed delight returns, the greater -acknowledged good loses its hold, and the present uneasiness determines -the will to the accustomed action; which thereby gets stronger footing -to prevail against the next occasion, though he at the same time makes -secret promises to himself that he will do so no more; this is the last -time he will act against the attainment of those greater goods. And -thus he is, from time to time, in the state of that unhappy complainer, -Video meliora, proboque, deteriora sequor: which sentence, allowed for -true, and made good by constant experience, may in this, and possibly -no other way, be easily made intelligible. - -36. Because the Removal of Uneasiness is the first Step to Happiness. - -If we inquire into the reason of what experience makes so evident in -fact, and examine, why it is uneasiness alone operates on the will, and -determines it in its choice, we shall find that, we being capable but -of one determination of the will to one action at once, the present -uneasiness that we are under does NATURALLY determine the will, in -order to that happiness which we all aim at in all our actions. For, as -much as whilst we are under any uneasiness, we cannot apprehend -ourselves happy, or in the way to it; pain and uneasiness being, by -every one, concluded and felt to be inconsistent with happiness, -spoiling the relish even of those good things which we have: a little -pain serving to mar all the pleasure we rejoiced in. And, therefore, -that which of course determines the choice of our will to the next -action will always be—the removing of pain, as long as we have any -left, as the first and necessary step towards happiness. - -37. Because Uneasiness alone is present. - -Another reason why it is uneasiness alone determines the will, is this: -because that alone is present and, it is against the nature of things, -that what is absent should operate where it is not. It may be said that -absent good may, by contemplation, be brought home to the mind and made -present. The idea of it indeed may be in the mind and viewed as present -there; but nothing will be in the mind as a present good, able to -counterbalance the removal of any uneasiness which we are under, till -it raises our desire; and the uneasiness of that has the prevalency in -determining the will. Till then, the idea in the mind of whatever is -good is there only, like other ideas, the object of bare unactive -speculation; but operates not on the will, nor sets us on work; the -reason whereof I shall show by and by. How many are to be found that -have had lively representations set before their minds of the -unspeakable joys of heaven, which they acknowledge both possible and -probable too, who yet would be content to take up with their happiness -here? And so the prevailing uneasiness of their desires, let loose -after the enjoyments of this life, take their turns in the determining -their wills; and all that while they take not one step, are not one jot -moved, towards the good things of another life, considered as ever so -great. - -38. Because all who allow the Joys of Heaven possible, pursue them not. - -Were the will determined by the views of good, as it appears in -contemplation greater or less to the understanding, which is the state -of all absent good, and that which, in the received opinion, the will -is supposed to move to, and to be moved by,—I do not see how it could -ever get loose from the infinite eternal joys of heaven, once proposed -and considered as possible. For, all absent good, by which alone, -barely proposed, and coming in view, the will is thought to be -determined, and so to set us on action, being only possible, but not -infallibly certain, it is unavoidable that the infinitely greater -possible good should regularly and constantly determine the will in all -the successive actions it directs; and then we should keep constantly -and steadily in our course towards heaven, without ever standing still, -or directing our actions to any other end: the eternal condition of a -future state infinitely outweighing the expectation of riches, or -honour, or any other worldly pleasure which we can propose to -ourselves, though we should grant these the more probable to be -obtained: for nothing future is yet in possession, and so the -expectation even of these may deceive us. If it were so that the -greater good in view determines the will, so great a good, once -proposed, could not but seize the will, and hold it fast to the pursuit -of this infinitely greatest good, without ever letting it go again: for -the will having a power over, and directing the thoughts, as well as -other actions, would, if it were so, hold the contemplation of the mind -fixed to that good. - -39. But any great Uneasiness is never neglected. - -This would be the state of the mind, and regular tendency of the will -in all its determinations, were it determined by that which is -considered and in view the greater good. But that it is not so, is -visible in experience; the infinitely greatest confessed good being -often neglected, to satisfy the successive uneasiness of our desires -pursuing trifles. But, though the greatest allowed, even everlasting -unspeakable, good, which has sometimes moved and affected the mind, -does not stedfastly hold the will, yet we see any very great and -prevailing uneasiness having once laid hold on the will, let it not go; -by which we may be convinced, what it is that determines the will. Thus -any vehement pain of the body; the ungovernable passion of a man -violently in love; or the impatient desire of revenge, keeps the will -steady and intent; and the will, thus determined, never lets the -understanding lay by the object, but all the thoughts of the mind and -powers of the body are uninterruptedly employed that way, by the -determination of the will, influenced by that topping uneasiness, as -long as it lasts; whereby it seems to me evident, that the will, or -power of setting us upon one action in preference to all others, is -determined in us by uneasiness: and whether this be not so, I desire -every one to observe in himself. - -40. Desire accompanies all Uneasiness. - -I have hitherto chiefly instanced in the UNEASINESS of desire, as that -which determines the will: because that is the chief and most sensible; -and the will seldom orders any action, nor is there any voluntary -action performed, without some desire accompanying it; which I think is -the reason why the will and desire are so often confounded. But yet we -are not to look upon the uneasiness which makes up, or at least -accompanies, most of the other passions, as wholly excluded in the -case. Aversion, fear, anger, envy, shame, &c. have each their -uneasinesses too, and thereby influence the will. These passions are -scarce any of them, in life and practice, simple and alone, and wholly -unmixed with others; though usually, in discourse and contemplation, -that carries the name which operates strongest, and appears most in the -present state of the mind. Nay, there is, I think, scarce any of the -passions to be found without desire joined with it. I am sure wherever -there is uneasiness, there is desire. For we constantly desire -happiness; and whatever we feel of uneasiness, so much it is certain we -want of happiness; even in our own opinion, let our state and condition -otherwise be what it will. Besides, the present moment not being our -eternity, whatever our enjoyment be, we look beyond the present, and -desire goes with our foresight, and that still carries the will with -it. So that even in joy itself, that which keeps up the action whereon -the enjoyment depends, is the desire to continue it, and fear to lose -it: and whenever a greater uneasiness than that takes place in the -mind, the will presently is by that determined to some new action, and -the present delight neglected. - -41. The most pressing Uneasiness naturally determines the Will. - -But we being in this world beset with sundry uneasinesses, distracted -with different desires, the next inquiry naturally will be,—Which of -them has the precedency in determining the will to the next action? and -to that the answer is,—That ordinarily which is the most pressing of -those that are judged capable of being then removed. For, the will -being the power of directing our operative faculties to some action, -for some end, cannot at any time be moved towards what is judged at -that time unattainable: that would be to suppose an intelligent being -designedly to act for an end, only to lose its labour; for so it is to -act for what is judged not attainable; and therefore very great -uneasinesses move not the will, when they are judged not capable of a -cure: they in that case put us not upon endeavours. But, these set -apart the most important and urgent uneasiness we at that time feel, is -that which ordinarily determines the will, successively, in that train -of voluntary actions which makes up our lives. The greatest present -uneasiness is the spur to action, that is constantly most felt, and for -the most part determines the will in its choice of the next action. For -this we must carry along with us, that the proper and only object of -the will is some action of ours, and nothing else. For we producing -nothing by our willing it, but some action in our power, it is there -the will terminates, and reaches no further. - -42. All desire Happiness. - -If it be further asked,—What it is moves desire? I answer,—happiness, -and that alone. Happiness and misery are the names of two extremes, the -utmost bounds whereof we know not; it is what be in itself good; and -what is apt to produce any degree of pain be evil; yet it often happens -that we do not call it so when it comes in competition with a greater -of its sort; because, when they come in competition, the degrees also -of pleasure and pain have justly a preference. So that if we will -rightly estimate what we call good and evil, we shall find it lies much -in comparison: for the cause of every less degree of pain, as well as -every greater degree of pleasure, has the nature of good, and vice -versa. - -43. [* missing] - -44. What Good is desired, what not. - -Though this be that which is called good and evil, and all good be the -proper object of desire in general; yet all good, even seen and -confessed to be so, does not necessarily move every particular man’s -desire; but only that part, or so much of it as is considered and taken -to make a necessary part of HIS happiness. All other good, however -great in reality or appearance, excites not a man’s desires who looks -not on it to make a part of that happiness wherewith he, in his present -thoughts, can satisfy himself. Happiness, under this view, every one -constantly pursues, and desires what makes any part of it: other -things, acknowledged to be good, he can look upon without desire, pass -by, and be content without. There is nobody, I think, so senseless as -to deny that there is pleasure in knowledge: and for the pleasures of -sense, they have too many followers to let it be questioned whether men -are taken with them or no. Now, let one man place his satisfaction in -sensual pleasures, another in the delight of knowledge: though each of -them cannot but confess, there is great pleasure in what the other -pursues; yet, neither of them making the other’s delight a part of HIS -happiness, their desires are not moved, but each is satisfied without -what the other enjoys; and so his will is not determined to the pursuit -of it. But yet, as soon as the studious man’s hunger and thirst make -him uneasy, he, whose will was never determined to any pursuit of good -cheer, poignant sauces, delicious wine, by the pleasant taste he has -found in them, is, by the uneasiness of hunger and thirst, presently -determined to eating and drinking, though possibly with great -indifferency, what wholesome food comes in his way. And, on the other -side, the epicure buckles to study, when shame, or the desire to -recommend himself to his mistress, shall make him uneasy in the want of -any sort of knowledge. Thus, how much soever men are in earnest and -constant in pursuit of happiness, yet they may have a clear view of -good, great and confessed good, without being concerned for it, or -moved by it, if they think they can make up their happiness without it. -Though as to pain, THAT they are always concerned for; they can feel no -uneasiness without being moved. And therefore, being uneasy in the want -of whatever is judged necessary to their happiness, as soon as any good -appears to make a part of their portion of happiness, they begin to -desire it. - -45. Why the greatest Good is not always desired. - -This, I think, any one may observe in himself and others,—That the -greater visible good does not always raise men’s desires in proportion -to the greatness it appears, and is acknowledged, to have: though every -little trouble moves us, and sets us on work to get rid of it. The -reason whereof is evident from the nature of our happiness and misery -itself. All present pain, whatever it be, makes a part of our present -misery: but all absent good does not at any time make a necessary part -of our present happiness, nor the absence of it make a part of our -misery. If it did, we should be constantly and infinitely miserable; -there being infinite degrees of happiness which are not in our -possession. All uneasiness therefore being removed, a moderate portion -of good serve at present to content men; and a few degrees of pleasure -in a succession of ordinary enjoyments, make up a happiness wherein -they can be satisfied. If this were not so, there could be no room for -those indifferent and visibly trifling actions, to which our wills are -so often determined, and wherein we voluntarily waste so much of our -lives; which remissness could by no means consist with a constant -determination of will or desire to the greatest apparent good. That -this is so, I think few people need go far from home to be convinced. -And indeed in this life there are not many whose happiness reaches so -far as to afford them a constant train of moderate mean pleasures, -without any mixture of uneasiness; and yet they could be content to -stay here for ever: though they cannot deny, but that it is possible -there may be a state of eternal durable joys after this life, far -surpassing all the good that is to be found here. Nay, they cannot but -see that it is more possible than the attainment and continuation of -that pittance of honour, riches, or pleasure which they pursue, and for -which they neglect that eternal state. But yet, in full view of this -difference, satisfied of the possibility of a perfect, secure, and -lasting happiness in a future state, and under a clear conviction that -it is not to be had here,—whilst they bound their happiness within some -little enjoyment or aim of this life, and exclude the joys of heaven -from making any necessary part of it,—their desires are not moved by -this greater apparent good, nor their wills determined to any action, -or endeavour for its attainment. - -46. Why not being desired, it moves not the Will. - -The ordinary necessities of our lives fill a great part of them with -the uneasinesses of hunger, thirst, heat, cold, weariness, with labour, -and sleepiness, in their constant returns, &c. To which, if, besides -accidental harms, we add the fantastical uneasiness (as itch after -honour, power, or riches, &c.) which acquired habits, by fashion, -example, and education, have settled in us, and a thousand other -irregular desires, which custom has made natural to us, we shall find -that a very little part of our life is so vacant from THESE -uneasinesses, as to leave us free to the attraction of remoter absent -good. We are seldom at ease, and free enough from the solicitation of -our natural or adopted desires, but a constant succession of -uneasinesses out of that stock which natural wants or acquired habits -have heaped up, take the will in their turns; and no sooner is one -action dispatched, which by such a determination of the will we are set -upon, but another uneasiness is ready to set us on work. For, the -removing of the pains we feel, and are at present pressed with, being -the getting out of misery, and consequently the first thing to be done -in order to happiness,—absent good, though thought on, confessed, and -appearing to be good, not making any part of this unhappiness in its -absence, is justled out, to make way for the removal of those -uneasinesses we feel; till due and repeated contemplation has brought -it nearer to our mind, given some relish of it, and raised in us some -desire: which then beginning to make a part of our present uneasiness, -stands upon fair terms with the rest to be satisfied, and so, according -to its greatness and pressure, comes in its turn to determine the will. - -47. Due Consideration raises Desire. - -And thus, by a due consideration, and examining any good proposed, it -is in our power to raise our desires in a due proportion to the value -of that good, whereby in its turn and place it may come to work upon -the will, and be pursued. For good, though appearing and allowed ever -so great, yet till it has raised desires in our minds, and thereby made -us uneasy in its want, it reaches not our wills; we are not within the -sphere of its activity, our wills being under the determination only of -those uneasinesses which are present to us, which (whilst we have any) -are always soliciting, and ready at hand, to give the will its next -determination. The balancing, when there is any in the mind, being -only, which desire shall be next satisfied, which uneasiness first -removed. Whereby it comes to pass that, as long as any uneasiness, any -desire, remains in our mind, there is no room for good, barely as such, -to come at the will, or at all to determine it. Because, as has been -said, the FIRST step in our endeavours after happiness being to get -wholly out of the confines of misery, and to feel no part of it, the -will can be at leisure for nothing else, till every uneasiness we feel -be perfectly removed: which, in the multitude of wants and desires we -are beset with in this imperfect state, we are not like to be ever -freed from in this world. - -48. The Power to suspend the Prosecution of any Desire makes way for -consideration. - -There being in us a great many uneasinesses, always soliciting and -ready to determine the will, it is natural, as I have said, that the -greatest and most pressing should determine the will to the next -action; and so it does for the most part, but not always. For, the mind -having in most cases, as is evident in experience, a power to SUSPEND -the execution and satisfaction of any of its desires; and so all, one -after another; is at liberty to consider the objects of them, examine -them on all sides, and weigh them with others. In this lies the liberty -man has; and from the not using of it right comes all that variety of -mistakes, errors, and faults which we run into in the conduct of our -lives, and our endeavours after happiness; whilst we precipitate the -determination of our wills, and engage too soon, before due -examination. To prevent this, we have a power to suspend the -prosecution of this or that desire; as every one daily may experiment -in himself. This seems to me the source of all liberty; in this seems -to consist that which is (as I think improperly) called FREE-WILL. For, -during this suspension of any desire, before the will be determined to -action, and the action (which follows that determination) done, we have -opportunity to examine, view, and judge of the good or evil of what we -are going to do; and when, upon due examination, we have judged, we -have done our duty, all that we can, or ought to do, in pursuit of our -happiness; and it is not a fault, but a perfection of our nature, to -desire, will, and act according to the last result of a fair -examination. - -49. To be determined by our own Judgment, is no Restraint to Liberty. - -This is so far from being a restraint or diminution of freedom, that it -is the very improvement and benefit of it; it is not an abridgment, it -is the end and use of our liberty; and the further we are removed from -such a determination, the nearer we are to misery and slavery. A -perfect indifference in the mind, not determinable by its last judgment -of the good or evil that is thought to attend its choice, would be so -far from being an advantage and excellency of any intellectual nature, -that it would be as great an imperfection, as the want of indifferency -to act, or not to act, till determined by the will, would be an -imperfection on the other side. A man is at liberty to lift up his hand -to his head, or let it rest quiet: he is perfectly indifferent in -either; and it would be an imperfection in him, if he wanted that -power, if he were deprived of that indifferency. But it would be as -great an imperfection, if he had the same indifferency, whether he -would prefer the lifting up his hand, or its remaining in rest, when it -would save his head or eyes from a blow he sees coming: it is as much a -perfection, that desire, or the power of preferring, should be -determined by good, as that the power of acting should be determined by -the will; and the certainer such determination is, the greater is the -perfection. Nay, were we determined by anything but the last result of -our own minds, judging of the good or evil of any action, we were not -free. - -50. The freest Agents are so determined. - -If we look upon those superior beings above us, who enjoy perfect -happiness, we shall have reason to judge that they are more steadily -determined in their choice of good than we; and yet we have no reason -to think they are less happy, or less free, than we are. And if it were -fit for such poor finite creatures as we are to pronounce what infinite -wisdom and goodness could do, I think we might say, that God himself -CANNOT choose what is not good; the freedom of the Almighty hinders not -his being determined by what is best. - -51. A constant Determination to a Pursuit of Happiness no Abridgment of -Liberty. - -But to give a right view of this mistaken part of liberty let me -ask,—Would any one be a changeling, because he is less determined by -wise considerations than a wise man? Is it worth the name of freedom to -be at liberty to play the fool, and draw shame and misery upon a man’s -self? If to break loose from the conduct of reason, and to want that -restraint of examination and judgment which keeps us from choosing or -doing the worse, be liberty, true liberty, madmen and fools are the -only freemen: but yet, I think, nobody would choose to be mad for the -sake of such liberty, but he that is mad already. The constant desire -of happiness, and the constraint it puts upon us to act for it, nobody, -I think, accounts an abridgment of liberty, or at least an abridgment -of liberty to be complained of. God Almighty himself is under the -necessity of being happy; and the more any intelligent being is so, the -nearer is its approach to infinite perfection and happiness. That, in -this state of ignorance, we short-sighted creatures might not mistake -true felicity, we are endowed with a power to suspend any particular -desire, and keep it from determining the will, and engaging us in -action. This is standing still, where we are not sufficiently assured -of the way: examination is consulting a guide. The determination of the -will upon inquiry, is following the direction of that guide: and he -that has a power to act or not to act, according as SUCH determination -directs, is a free agent: such determination abridges not that power -wherein liberty consists. He that has his chains knocked off, and the -prison doors set open to him, is perfectly at liberty, because he may -either go or stay, as he best likes, though his preference be -determined to stay, by the darkness of the night, or illness of the -weather, or want of other lodging. He ceases not to be free; though the -desire of some convenience to be had there absolutely determines his -preference, and makes him stay in his prison. - -52. The Necessity of pursuing true Happiness the Foundation of Liberty. - -As therefore the highest perfection of intellectual nature lies in a -careful and constant pursuit of true and solid happiness; so the care -of ourselves, that we mistake not imaginary for real happiness, is the -necessary foundation of our liberty. The stronger ties we have to an -unalterable pursuit of happiness in general, which is our greatest -good, and which as such, our desires always follow, the more are we -free from any necessary determination of our will to any particular -action, and from a necessary compliance with our desire, so upon any -particular, and then appearing preferable good, till we have duly -examined whether it has a tendency to, or be inconsistent with, our -real happiness: and therefore, till we are as much informed upon this -inquiry as the weight of the matter, and the nature of the case -demands, we are, by the necessity of preferring and pursuing true -happiness as our greatest good, obliged to suspend the satisfaction of -our desires in particular cases. - -53. Power to Suspend. - -This is the hinge on which turns the LIBERTY of intellectual beings, in -their constant endeavours after, and a steady prosecution of true -felicity,—That they CAN SUSPEND this prosecution in particular cases, -till they have looked before them, and informed themselves whether that -particular thing which is then proposed or desired lie in the way to -their main end, and make a real part of that which is their greatest -good. For, the inclination and tendency of their nature to happiness is -an obligation and motive to them, to take care not to mistake or miss -it; and so necessarily puts them upon caution, deliberation, and -wariness, in the direction of their particular actions, which are the -means to obtain it. Whatever necessity determines to the pursuit of -real bliss, the same necessity, with the same force, establishes -suspense, deliberation, and scrutiny of each successive desire, whether -the satisfaction of it does not interfere with our true happiness, and -mislead us from it. This, as seems to me, is the great privilege of -finite intellectual beings; and I desire it may be well considered, -whether the great inlet and exercise of all the liberty men have, are -capable of, or can be useful to them, and that whereon depends the turn -of their actions, does not lie in this,—That they can suspend their -desires, and stop them from determining their wills to any action, till -they have duly and fairly examined the good and evil of it, as far -forth as the weight of the thing requires. This we are able to do; and -when we have done it, we have done our duty, and all that is in our -power; and indeed all that needs. For, since the will supposes -knowledge to guide its choice, all that we can do is to hold our wills -undetermined, till we have examined the good and evil of what we -desire. What follows after that, follows in a chain of consequences, -linked one to another, all depending on the last determination of the -judgment, which, whether it shall be upon a hasty and precipitate view, -or upon a due and mature examination, is in our power; experience -showing us, that in most cases, we are able to suspend the present -satisfaction of any desire. - -54. Government of our Passions the right Improvement of Liberty. - -But if any extreme disturbance (as sometimes it happens) possesses our -whole mind, as when the pain of the rack, an impetuous uneasiness, as -of love, anger, or any other violent passion, running away with us, -allows us not the liberty of thought, and we are not masters enough of -our own minds to consider thoroughly and examine fairly;—God, who knows -our frailty, pities our weakness, and requires of us no more than we -are able to do, and sees what was and what was not in our power, will -judge as a kind and merciful Father. But the forbearance of a too hasty -compliance with our desires, the moderation and restraint of our -passions, so that our understandings may be free to examine, and reason -unbiassed, give its judgment, being that whereon a right direction of -our conduct to true happiness depends; it is in this we should employ -our chief care and endeavours. In this we should take pains to suit the -relish of our minds to the true intrinsic good or ill that is in -things; and not permit an allowed or supposed possible great and -weighty good to slip out of our thoughts, without leaving any relish, -any desire of itself there till, by a due consideration of its true -worth, we have formed appetites in our minds suitable to it, and made -ourselves uneasy in the want of it, or in the fear of losing it. And -how much this is in every one’s power, by making resolutions to -himself, such as he may keep, is easy for every one to try. Nor let any -one say, he cannot govern his passions, nor hinder them from breaking -out, and carrying him into action; for what he can do before a prince -or a great man, he can do alone, or in the presence of God, if he will. - -55. How Men come to pursue different, and often evil Courses. - -From what has been said, it is easy to give an account how it comes to -pass, that, though all men desire happiness, yet their wills carry them -so contrarily; and consequently, some of them to what is evil. And to -this I say, that the various and contrary choices that men make in the -world do not argue that they do not all pursue good; but that the same -thing is not good to every man alike. This variety of pursuits shows, -that every one does not place his happiness in the same thing, or -choose the same way to it. Were all the concerns of man terminated in -this life, why one followed study and knowledge, and another hawking -and hunting: why one chose luxury and debauchery, and another sobriety -and riches, would not be because every one of these did NOT aim at his -own happiness; but because their happiness was placed in different -things. And therefore it was a right answer of the physician to his -patient that had sore eyes:—If you have more pleasure in the taste of -wine than in the use of your sight, wine is good for you; but if the -pleasure of seeing be greater to you than that of drinking, wine is -naught. - -56. All men seek happiness, but not of the same sort. - -The mind has a different relish, as well as the palate; and you will as -fruitlessly endeavour to delight all men with riches or glory (which -yet some men place their happiness in) as you would to satisfy all -men’s hunger with cheese or lobsters; which, though very agreeable and -delicious fare to some, are to others extremely nauseous and offensive: -and many persons would with reason prefer the griping of an hungry -belly to those dishes which are a feast to others. Hence it was, I -think, that the philosophers of old did in vain inquire, whether summum -bonum consisted in riches, or bodily delights, or virtue, or -contemplation: and they might have as reasonably disputed, whether the -best relish were to be found in apples, plums, or nuts, and have -divided themselves into sects upon it. For, as pleasant tastes depend -not on the things themselves, but on their agreeableness to this or -that particular palate, wherein there is great variety; so the greatest -happiness consists in the having those things which produce the -greatest pleasure, and in the absence of those which cause any -disturbance, any pain. Now these, to different men, are very different -things. If, therefore, men in this life only have hope; if in this life -only they can enjoy, it is not strange nor unreasonable, that they -should seek their happiness by avoiding all things that disease them -here, and by pursuing all that delight them; wherein it will be no -wonder to find variety and difference. For if there be no prospect -beyond the grave, the inference is certainly right—‘Let us eat and -drink,’ let us enjoy what we delight in, ‘for to-morrow we shall die.’ -This, I think, may serve to show us the reason, why, though all men’s -desires tend to happiness, yet they are not moved by the same object. -Men may choose different things, and yet all choose right; supposing -them only like a company of poor insects; whereof some are bees, -delighted with flowers and their sweetness; others beetles, delighted -with other kinds of viands, which having enjoyed for a season, they -would cease to be, and exist no more for ever. - -57. [not in early editions] - -58. Why men choose what makes them miserable. - -What has been said may also discover to us the reason why men in this -world prefer different things, and pursue happiness by contrary -courses. But yet, since men are always constant and in earnest in -matters of happiness and misery, the question still remains, How men -come often to prefer the worse to the better; and to choose that, -which, by their own confession, has made them miserable? - -59. The causes of this. - -To account for the various and contrary ways men take, though all aim -at being happy, we must consider whence the VARIOUS UNEASINESSES that -determine the will, in the preference of each voluntary action, have -their rise:— - -1. From bodily pain. - -Some of them come from causes not in our power; such as are often the -pains of the body from want, disease, or outward injuries, as the rack, -etc.; which, when present and violent, operate for the most part -forcibly on the will, and turn the courses of men’s lives from virtue, -piety, and religion, and what before they judged to lead to happiness; -every one not endeavouring, or not being able, by the contemplation of -remote and future good, to raise in himself desires of them strong -enough to counterbalance the uneasiness he feels in those bodily -torments, and to keep his will steady in the choice of those actions -which lead to future happiness. A neighbouring country has been of late -a tragical theatre from which we might fetch instances, if there needed -any, and the world did not in all countries and ages furnish examples -enough to confirm that received observation: NECESSITAS COGIT AD -TURPIA; and therefore there is great reason for us to pray, ‘Lead us -not into temptation.’ - -2. From wrong Desires arising from wrong Judgments. - -Other uneasinesses arise from our desires of absent good; which desires -always bear proportion to, and depend on, the judgment we make, and the -relish we have of any absent good; in both which we are apt to be -variously misled, and that by our own fault. - -60. Our judgment of present Good or Evil always right. - -In the first place, I shall consider the wrong judgments men make of -FUTURE good and evil, whereby their desires are misled. For, as to -PRESENT happiness and misery, when that alone comes into consideration, -and the consequences are quite removed, a man never chooses amiss: he -knows what best pleases him, and that he actually prefers. Things in -their present enjoyment are what they seem: the apparent and real good -are, in this case, always the same. For the pain or pleasure being just -so great and no greater than it is felt, the present good or evil is -really so much as it appears. And therefore were every action of ours -concluded within itself, and drew no consequences after it, we should -undoubtedly never err in our choice of good: we should always -infallibly prefer the best. Were the pains of honest industry, and of -starving with hunger and cold set together before us, nobody would be -in doubt which to choose: were the satisfaction of a lust and the joys -of heaven offered at once to any one’s present possession, he would not -balance, or err in the determination of his choice. - -61. Our wrong judgments have regard to future good and evil only. - -But since our voluntary actions carry not all the happiness and misery -that depend on them along with them in their present performance, but -are the precedent causes of good and evil, which they draw after them, -and bring upon us, when they themselves are past and cease to be; our -desires look beyond our present enjoyments, and carry the mind out to -ABSENT GOOD, according to the necessity which we think there is of it, -to the making or increase of our happiness. It is our opinion of such a -necessity that gives it its attraction: without that, we are not moved -by absent good. For, in this narrow scantling of capacity which we are -accustomed to and sensible of here, wherein we enjoy but one pleasure -at once, which, when all uneasiness is away, is, whilst it lasts, -sufficient to make us think ourselves happy, it is not all remote and -even apparent good that affects us. Because the indolency and enjoyment -we have, sufficing for our present happiness, we desire not to venture -the change; since we judge that we are happy already, being content, -and that is enough. For who is content is happy. But as soon as any new -uneasiness comes in, this happiness is disturbed, and we are set afresh -on work in the pursuit of happiness. - -62. From a wrong Judgment of what makes a necessary Part of their -Happiness. - -Their aptness therefore to conclude that they can be happy without it, -is one great occasion that men often are not raised to the desire of -the greatest ABSENT good. For, whilst such thoughts possess them, the -joys of a future state move them not; they have little concern or -uneasiness about them; and the will, free from the determination of -such desires, is left to the pursuit of nearer satisfactions, and to -the removal of those uneasinesses which it then feels, in its want of -any longings after them. Change but a man’s view of these things; let -him see that virtue and religion are necessary to his happiness; let -him look into the future state of bliss or misery, and see there God, -the righteous Judge, ready to ‘render to every man according to his -deeds; to them who by patient continuance in well-doing seek for glory, -and honour, and immortality, eternal life; but unto every soul that -doth evil, indignation and wrath, tribulation and anguish.’ To him, I -say, who hath a prospect of the different state of perfect happiness or -misery that attends all men after this life, depending on their -behaviour here, the measures of good and evil that govern his choice -are mightily changed. For, since nothing of pleasure and pain in this -life can bear any proportion to the endless happiness or exquisite -misery of an immortal soul hereafter, actions in his power will have -their preference, not according to the transient pleasure or pain that -accompanies or follows them here, but as they serve to secure that -perfect durable happiness hereafter. - -63. A more particular Account of wrong Judgments. - -But, to account more particularly for the misery that men often bring -on themselves, notwithstanding that they do all in earnest pursue -happiness, we must consider how things come to be represented to our -desires under deceitful appearances: and that is by the judgment -pronouncing wrongly concerning them. To see how far this reaches, and -what are the causes of wrong judgment, we must remember that things are -judged good or bad in a double sense:— - -First, THAT WHICH IS PROPERLY GOOD OR BAD, IS NOTHING BUT BARELY -PLEASURE OR PAIN. - -Secondly, But because not only present pleasure and pain, but that also -which is apt by its efficacy or consequences to bring it upon us at a -distance, is a proper object of our desires, and apt to move a creature -that has foresight; therefore THINGS ALSO THAT DRAW AFTER THEM PLEASURE -AND PAIN, ARE CONSIDERED AS GOOD AND EVIL. - -64. No one chooses misery willingly, but only by wrong judgment. - -The wrong judgment that misleads us, and makes the will often fasten on -the worse side, lies in misreporting upon the various comparisons of -these. The wrong judgment I am here speaking of is not what one man may -think of the determination of another, but what every man himself must -confess to be wrong. For, since I lay it for a certain ground, that -every intelligent being really seeks happiness, which consists in the -enjoyment of pleasure, without any considerable mixture of uneasiness; -it is impossible any one should willingly put into his own draught any -bitter ingredient, or leave out anything in his power that would tend -to his satisfaction, and the completing of his happiness, but only by a -WRONG JUDGMENT. I shall not here speak of that mistake which is the -consequence of INVINCIBLE error, which scarce deserves the name of -wrong judgment; but of that wrong judgment which every man himself must -confess to be so. - -65. Men may err on comparing Present and Future. - -(I) Therefore, as to present pleasure and pain, the mind, as has been -said, never mistakes that which is really good or evil; that which is -the greater pleasure, or the greater pain, is really just as it -appears. But, though present pleasure and pain show their difference -and degrees so plainly as not to leave room to mistake; yet, WHEN WE -COMPARE PRESENT PLEASURE OR PAIN WITH FUTURE, (which is usually the -case in most important determinations of the will,) we often make wrong -judgments of them; taking our measures of them in different positions -of distance. Objects near our view are apt to be thought greater than -those of a larger size that are more remote. And so it is with -pleasures and pains: the present is apt to carry it; and those at a -distance have the disadvantage in the comparison. Thus most men, like -spendthrift heirs, are apt to judge a little in hand better than a -great deal to come; and so, for small matters in possession, part with -greater ones in reversion. But that this is a wrong judgment every one -must allow, let his pleasure consist in whatever it will: since that -which is future will certainly come to be present; and then, having the -same advantage of nearness, will show itself in its full dimensions, -and discover his wilful mistake who judged of it by unequal measures. -Were the pleasure of drinking accompanied, the very moment a man takes -off his glass, with that sick stomach and aching head which, in some -men, are sure to follow not many hours after, I think nobody, whatever -pleasure he had in his cups, would, on these conditions, ever let wine -touch his lips; which yet he daily swallows, and the evil side comes to -be chosen only by the fallacy of a little difference in time. But, if -pleasure or pain can be so lessened only by a few hours’ removal, how -much more will it be so by a further distance to a man that will not, -by a right judgment, do what time will, i. e. bring it home upon -himself, and consider it as present, and there take its true -dimensions? This is the way we usually impose on ourselves, in respect -of bare pleasure and pain, or the true degrees of happiness or misery: -the future loses its just proportion, and what is present obtains the -preference as the greater. I mention not here the wrong judgment, -whereby the absent are not only lessened, but reduced to perfect -nothing; when men enjoy what they can in present, and make sure of -that, concluding amiss that no evil will thence follow. For that lies -not in comparing the greatness of future good and evil, which is that -we are here speaking of; but in another sort of wrong judgment, which -is concerning good or evil, as it is considered to be the cause and -procurement of pleasure or pain that will follow from it. - -66. Causes of our judging amiss when we compare present pleasure and -pain with future. - -The cause of our judging amiss, when we compare our present pleasure or -pain with future, seems to me to be THE WEAK AND NARROW CONSTITUTION OF -OUR MINDS. We cannot well enjoy two pleasures at once; much less any -pleasure almost, whilst pain possesses us. The present pleasure, if it -be not very languid, and almost none at all, fills our narrow souls, -and so takes up the whole mind that it scarce leaves any thought of -things absent: or if among our pleasures there are some which are not -strong enough to exclude the consideration of things at a distance, yet -we have so great an abhorrence of pain, that a little of it -extinguishes all our pleasures. A little bitter mingled in our cup, -leaves no relish of the sweet. Hence it comes that, at any rate, we -desire to be rid of the present evil, which we are apt to think nothing -absent can equal; because, under the present pain, we find not -ourselves capable of any the least degree of happiness. Men’s daily -complaints are a loud proof of this: the pain that any one actually -feels is still of all other the worst; and it is with anguish they cry -out,—‘Any rather than this: nothing can be so intolerable as what I now -suffer.’ And therefore our whole endeavours and thoughts are intent to -get rid of the present evil, before all things, as the first necessary -condition to our happiness; let what will follow. Nothing, as we -passionately think, can exceed, or almost equal, the uneasiness that -sits so heavy upon us. And because the abstinence from a present -pleasure that offers itself is a pain, nay, oftentimes a very great -one, the desire being inflamed by a near and tempting object, it is no -wonder that that operates after the same manner pain does, and lessens -in our thoughts what is future; and so forces us, as it were blindfold, -into its embraces. - -67. Absent good unable to counterbalance present uneasiness. - -Add to this, that absent good, or, which is the same thing, future -pleasure,—especially if of a sort we are unacquainted with,—seldom is -able to counterbalance any uneasiness, either of pain or desire, which -is present. For, its greatness being no more than what shall be really -tasted when enjoyed, men are apt enough to lessen that; to make it give -place to any present desire; and conclude with themselves that, when it -comes to trial, it may possibly not answer the report or opinion that -generally passes of it: they having often found that, not only what -others have magnified, but even what they themselves have enjoyed with -great pleasure and delight at one time, has proved insipid or nauseous -at another; and therefore they see nothing in it for which they should -forego a present enjoyment. But that this is a false way of judging, -when applied to the happiness of another life, they must confess; -unless they will say, God cannot make those happy he designs to be so. -For that being intended for a state of happiness, it must certainly be -agreeable to every one’s wish and desire: could we suppose their -relishes as different there as they are here, yet the manna in heaven -will suit every one’s palate. Thus much of the wrong judgment we make -of present and future pleasure and pain, when they are compared -together, and so the absent considered as future. - -68. Wrong judgment in considering Consequences of Actions. - -(II). As to THINGS GOOD OR BAD IN THEIR CONSEQUENCES, and by the -aptness that is in them to procure us good or evil in the future, we -judge amiss several ways. - -1. When we judge that so much evil does not really depend on them as in -truth there does. - -2. When we judge that, though the consequence be of that moment, yet it -is not of that certainty, but that it may otherwise fall out, or else -by some means be avoided; as by industry, address, change, repentance, -&c. - -That these are wrong ways of judging, were easy to show in every -particular, if I would examine them at large singly: but I shall only -mention this in general, viz. that it is a very wrong and irrational -way of proceeding, to venture a greater good for a less, upon uncertain -guesses; and before a due examination be made, proportionable to the -weightiness of the matter, and the concernment it is to us not to -mistake. This I think every one must confess, especially if he -considers the usual cause of this wrong judgment, whereof these -following are some:— - -69. Causes of this. - -(i) IGNORANCE: He that judges without informing himself to the utmost -that he is capable, cannot acquit himself of judging amiss. - -(ii) INADVERTENCY: When a man overlooks even that which he does know. -This is an affected and present ignorance, which misleads our judgments -as much as the other. Judging is, as it were, balancing an account, and -determining on which side the odds lie. If therefore either side be -huddled up in haste, and several of the sums that should have gone into -the reckoning be overlooked and left out, this precipitancy causes as -wrong a judgment as if it were a perfect ignorance. That which most -commonly causes this is, the prevalency of some present pleasure or -pain, heightened by our feeble passionate nature, most strongly wrought -on by what is present. To check this precipitancy, our understanding -and reason were given us, if we will make a right use of them, to -search and see, and then judge thereupon. How much sloth and -negligence, heat and passion, the prevalency of fashion or acquired -indispositions do severally contribute, on occasion, to these wrong -judgments, I shall not here further inquire. I shall only add one other -false judgment, which I think necessary to mention, because perhaps it -is little taken notice of, though of great influence. - -70. Wrong judgment of what is necessary to our Happiness. - -All men desire happiness, that is past doubt: but, as has been already -observed, when they are rid of pain, they are apt to take up with any -pleasure at hand, or that custom has endeared to them; to rest -satisfied in that; and so being happy, till some new desire, by making -them uneasy, disturbs that happiness, and shows them that they are not -so, they look no further; nor is the will determined to any action in -pursuit of any other known or apparent good. For since we find that we -cannot enjoy all sorts of good, but one excludes another; we do not fix -our desires on every apparent greater good, unless it be judged to be -necessary to our happiness: if we think we can be happy without it, it -moves us not. This is another occasion to men of judging wrong; when -they take not that to be necessary to their happiness which really is -so. This mistake misleads us, both in the choice of the good we aim at, -and very often in the means to it, when it is a remote good. But, which -way ever it be, either by placing it where really it is not, or by -neglecting the means as not necessary to it;—when a man misses his -great end, happiness, he will acknowledge he judged not right. That -which contributes to this mistake is the real or supposed -unpleasantness of the actions which are the way to this end; it seeming -so preposterous a thing to men, to make themselves unhappy in order to -happiness, that they do not easily bring themselves to it. - -71. We can change the Agreeableness or Disagreeableness in Things. - -The last inquiry, therefore, concerning this matter is,—Whether it be -in a man’s power to change the pleasantness and unpleasantness that -accompanies any sort of action? And as to that, it is plain, in many -cases he can. Men may and should correct their palates, and give relish -to what either has, or they suppose has none. The relish of the mind is -as various as that of the body, and like that too may be altered; and -it is a mistake to think that men cannot change the displeasingness or -indifferency that is in actions into pleasure and desire, if they will -do but what is in their power. A due consideration will do it in some -cases; and practice, application, and custom in most. Bread or tobacco -may be neglected where they are shown to be useful to health, because -of an indifferency or disrelish to them; reason and consideration at -first recommends, and begins their trial, and use finds, or custom -makes them pleasant. That this is so in virtue too, is very certain. -Actions are pleasing or displeasing, either in themselves, or -considered as a means to a greater and more desirable end. The eating -of a well-seasoned dish, suited to a man’s palate, may move the mind by -the delight itself that accompanies the eating, without reference to -any other end; to which the consideration of the pleasure there is in -health and strength (to which that meat is subservient) may add a new -GUSTO, able to make us swallow an ill-relished potion. In the latter of -these, any action is rendered more or less pleasing, only by the -contemplation of the end, and the being more or less persuaded of its -tendency to it, or necessary connexion with it: but the pleasure of the -action itself is best acquired or increased by use and practice. Trials -often reconcile us to that, which at a distance we looked on with -aversion; and by repetitions wear us into a liking of what possibly, in -the first essay, displeased us. Habits have powerful charms, and put so -strong attractions of easiness and pleasure into what we accustom -ourselves to, that we cannot forbear to do, or at least be easy in the -omission of, actions, which habitual practice has suited, and thereby -recommends to us. Though this be very visible, and every one’s -experience shows him he can do so; yet it is a part in the conduct of -men towards their happiness, neglected to a degree, that it will be -possibly entertained as a paradox, if it be said, that men can MAKE -things or actions more or less pleasing to themselves; and thereby -remedy that, to which one may justly impute a great deal of their -wandering. Fashion and the common opinion having settled wrong notions, -and education and custom ill habits, the just values of things are -misplaced, and the palates of men corrupted. Pains should be taken to -rectify these; and contrary habits change our pleasures, and give a -relish to that which is necessary or conducive to our happiness. This -every one must confess he can do; and when happiness is lost, and -misery overtakes him, he will confess he did amiss in neglecting it, -and condemn himself for it; and I ask every one, whether he has not -often done so? - -72. Preference of Vice to Virtue a manifest wrong Judgment. - -I shall not now enlarge any further on the wrong judgments and neglect -of what is in their power, whereby men mislead themselves. This would -make a volume, and is not my business. But whatever false notions, or -shameful neglect of what is in their power, may put men out of their -way to happiness, and distract them, as we see, into so different -courses of life, this yet is certain, that morality established upon -its true foundations, cannot but determine the choice in any one that -will but consider: and he that will not be so far a rational creature -as to reflect seriously upon INFINITE happiness and misery, must needs -condemn himself as not making that use of his understanding he should. -The rewards and punishments of another life which the Almighty has -established, as the enforcements of his law, are of weight enough to -determine the choice against whatever pleasure or pain this life can -show, where the eternal state is considered but in its bare possibility -which nobody can make any doubt of. He that will allow exquisite and -endless happiness to be but the possible consequence of a good life -here, and the contrary state the possible reward of a bad one, must own -himself to judge very much amiss if he does not conclude,—That a -virtuous life, with the certain expectation of everlasting bliss, which -may come, is to be preferred to a vicious one, with the fear of that -dreadful state of misery, which it is very possible may overtake the -guilty; or, at best, the terrible uncertain hope of annihilation. This -is evidently so, though the virtuous life here had nothing but pain, -and the vicious continual pleasure: which yet is, for the most part, -quite otherwise, and wicked men have not much the odds to brag of, even -in their present possession; nay, all things rightly considered, have, -I think, even the worse part here. But when infinite happiness is put -into one scale, against infinite misery in the other; if the worst that -comes to the pious man, if he mistakes, be the best that the wicked can -attain to, if he be in the right, who can without madness run the -venture? Who in his wits would choose to come within a possibility of -infinite misery; which if he miss, there is yet nothing to be got by -that hazard? Whereas, on the other side, the sober man ventures nothing -against infinite happiness to be got, if his expectation comes not to -pass. If the good man be in the right, he is eternally happy; if he -mistakes, he is not miserable, he feels nothing. On the other side, if -the wicked man be in the right, he is not happy; if he mistakes, he is -infinitely miserable. Must it not be a most manifest wrong judgment -that does not presently see to which side, in this case, the preference -is to be given? I have forborne to mention anything of the certainty or -probability of a future state, designing here to show the wrong -judgment that any one must allow he makes, upon his own principles, -laid how he pleases, who prefers the short pleasures of a vicious life -upon any consideration, whilst he knows, and cannot but be certain, -that a future life is at least possible. - -73. Recapitulation—Liberty of indifferency. - -To conclude this inquiry into human liberty, which, as it stood before, -I myself from the beginning fearing, and a very judicious friend of -mine, since the publication, suspecting to have some mistake in it, -though he could not particularly show it me, I was put upon a stricter -review of this chapter. Wherein lighting upon a very easy and scarce -observable slip I had made, in putting one seemingly indifferent word -for another that discovery opened to me this present view, which here, -in this second edition, I submit to the learned world, and which, in -short, is this: LIBERTY is a power to act or not to act, according as -the mind directs. A power to direct the operative faculties to motion -or rest in particular instances is that which we call the WILL. That -which in the train of our voluntary actions determines the will to any -change of operation is SOME PRESENT UNEASINESS, which is, or at least -is always accompanied with that of DESIRE. Desire is always moved by -evil, to fly it: because a total freedom from pain always makes a -necessary part of our happiness: but every good, nay, every greater -good, does not constantly move desire, because it may not make, or may -not be taken to make, any necessary part of our happiness. For all that -we desire, is only to be happy. But, though this general desire of -happiness operates constantly and invariably, yet the satisfaction of -any particular desire CAN BE SUSPENDED from determining the will to any -subservient action, till we have maturely examined whether the -particular apparent good which we then desire makes a part of our real -happiness, or be consistent or inconsistent with it. The result of our -judgment upon that examination is what ultimately determines the man; -who could not be FREE if his will were determined by anything but his -own desire, guided by his own judgment. - -74. Active and passive power, in motions and in thinking. - -True notions concerning the nature and extent of LIBERTY are of so -great importance, that I hope I shall be pardoned this digression, -which my attempt to explain it has led me into. The ideas of will, -volition, liberty, and necessity, in this Chapter of Power, came -naturally in my way. In a former edition of this Treatise I gave an -account of my thoughts concerning them, according to the light I then -had. And now, as a lover of truth, and not a worshipper of my own -doctrines, I own some change of my opinion; which I think I have -discovered ground for. In what I first writ, I with an unbiassed -indifferency followed truth, whither I thought she led me. But neither -being so vain as to fancy infallibility, nor so disingenuous as to -dissemble my mistakes for fear of blemishing my reputation, I have, -with the same sincere design for truth only, not been ashamed to -publish what a severer inquiry has suggested. It is not impossible but -that some may think my former notions right; and some (as I have -already found) these latter; and some neither. I shall not at all -wonder at this variety in men’s opinions: impartial deductions of -reason in controverted points being so rare, and exact ones in abstract -notions not so very easy especially if of any length. And, therefore, I -should think myself not a little beholden to any one, who would, upon -these or any other grounds, fairly clear this subject of LIBERTY from -any difficulties that may yet remain. - -75. Summary of our Original ideas. - -And thus I have, in a short draught, given a view of OUR ORIGINAL -IDEAS, from whence all the rest are derived, and of which they are made -up; which, if I would consider as a philosopher, and examine on what -causes they depend, and of what they are made, I believe they all might -be reduced to these very few primary and original ones, viz. EXTENSION, -SOLIDITY, MOBILITY, or the power of being moved; which by our senses we -receive from body: PERCEPTIVITY, or the power of perception, or -thinking; MOTIVITY, or the power of moving: which by reflection we -receive from OUR MINDS. - -I crave leave to make use of these two new words, to avoid the danger -of being mistaken in the use of those which are equivocal. - -To which if we add EXISTENCE, DURATION, NUMBER, which belong both to -the one and the other, we have, perhaps, all the original ideas on -which the rest depend. For by these, I imagine, might be EXPLAINED the -nature of colours, sounds, tastes, smells, and ALL OTHER IDEAS WE HAVE, -if we had but faculties acute enough to perceive the severally modified -extensions and motions of these minute bodies, which produce those -several sensations in us. But my present purpose being only to inquire -into the knowledge the mind has of things, by those ideas and -appearances which God has fitted it to receive from them, and how the -mind comes by that knowledge; rather than into their causes or manner -of Production, I shall not, contrary to the design of this Essay, see -myself to inquire philosophically into the peculiar constitution of -BODIES, and the configuration of parts, whereby THEY have the power to -produce in us the ideas of their sensible qualities. I shall not enter -any further into that disquisition; it sufficing to my purpose to -observe, that gold or saffron has power to produce in us the idea of -yellow, and snow or milk the idea of white, which we can only have by -our sight without examining the texture of the parts of those bodies or -the particular figures or motion of the particles which rebound from -them, to cause in us that particular sensation, though, when we go -beyond the bare ideas in our minds and would inquire into their causes, -we cannot conceive anything else to be in any sensible object, whereby -it produces different ideas in us, but the different bulk, figure, -number, texture, and motion of its insensible parts. - - - - -CHAPTER XXII. -OF MIXED MODES. - - -1. Mixed Modes, what. - -Having treated of SIMPLE MODES in the foregoing chapters, and given -several instances of some of the most considerable of them, to show -what they are, and how we come by them; we are now in the next place to -consider those we call MIXED MODES; such are the complex ideas we mark -by the names OBLIGATION, DRUNKENNESS, a LIE, &c.; which consisting of -several combinations of simple ideas of DIFFERENT kinds, I have called -mixed modes, to distinguish them from the more simple modes, which -consist only of simple ideas of the SAME kind. These mixed modes, being -also such combinations of simple ideas as are not looked upon to be -characteristical marks of any real beings that have a steady existence, -but scattered and independent ideas put together by the mind, are -thereby distinguished from the complex ideas of substances. - -2. Made by the Mind. - -That the mind, in respect of its simple ideas, is wholly passive, and -receives them all from the existence and operations of things, such as -sensation or reflection offers them, without being able to MAKE any one -idea, experience shows us. But if we attentively consider these ideas I -call mixed modes, we are now speaking of, we shall find their origin -quite different. The mind often exercises an ACTIVE power in making -these several combinations. For, it being once furnished with simple -ideas, it can put them together in several compositions, and so make -variety of complex ideas, without examining whether they exist so -together in nature. And hence I think it is that these ideas are called -NOTIONS: as they had their original, and constant existence, more in -the thoughts of men, than in the reality of things; and to form such -ideas, it sufficed that the mind put the parts of them together, and -that they were consistent in the understanding without considering -whether they had any real being: though I do not deny but several of -them might be taken from observation, and the existence of several -simple ideas so combined, as they are put together in the -understanding. For the man who first framed the idea of HYPOCRISY, -might have either taken it at first from the observation of one who -made show of good qualities which he had not; or else have framed that -idea in his mind without having any such pattern to fashion it by. For -it is evident that, in the beginning of languages and societies of men, -several of those complex ideas, which were consequent to the -constitutions established amongst them, must needs have been in the -minds of men before they existed anywhere else; and that many names -that stood for such complex ideas were in use, and so those ideas -framed, before the combinations they stood for ever existed. - -3. Sometimes got by the Explication of their Names. - -Indeed, now that languages are made, and abound with words standing for -such combinations, an usual way of GETTING these complex ideas is, by -the explication of those terms that stand for them. For, consisting of -a company of simple ideas combined, they may, by words standing for -those simple ideas, be represented to the mind of one who understands -those words, though that complex combination of simple ideas were never -offered to his mind by the real existence of things. Thus a man may -come to have the idea of SACRILEGE or MURDER, by enumerating to him the -simple ideas which these words stand for; without ever seeing either of -them committed. - -4. The Name ties the Parts of mixed Modes into one Idea. - -Every mixed mode consisting of many distinct simple ideas, it seems -reasonable to inquire, Whence it has its unity; and how such a precise -multitude comes to make but one idea; since that combination does not -always exist together in nature? To which I answer, it is plain it has -its unity from an act of the mind, combining those several simple ideas -together, and considering them as one complex one, consisting of those -parts; and the mark of this union, or that which is looked on generally -to complete it, is one NAME given to that combination. For it is by -their names that men commonly regulate their account of their distinct -species of mixed modes, seldom allowing or considering any number of -simple ideas to make one complex one, but such collections as there be -names for. Thus, though the killing of an old man be as fit in nature -to be united into one complex idea, as the killing a man’s father; yet, -there being no name standing precisely for the one, as there is the -name of PARRICIDE to mark the other, it is not taken for a particular -complex idea, nor a distinct species of actions from that of killing a -young man, or any other man. - -5. The Cause of making mixed Modes. - -If we should inquire a little further, to see what it is that occasions -men to make several combinations of simple ideas into distinct, and, as -it were, settled modes, and neglect others, which in the nature of -things themselves, have as much an aptness to be combined and make -distinct ideas, we shall find the reason of it to be the end of -language; which being to mark, or communicate men’s thoughts to one -another with all the dispatch that may be, they usually make SUCH -collections of ideas into complex modes, and affix names to them, as -they have frequent use of in their way of living and conversation, -leaving others which they have but seldom an occasion to mention, loose -and without names that tie them together: they rather choosing to -enumerate (when they have need) such ideas as make them up, by the -particular names that stand for them, than to trouble their memories by -multiplying of complex ideas with names to them, which they seldom or -never have any occasion to make use of. - -6. Why Words in one Language have none answering in another. - -This shows us how it comes to pass that there are in every language -many particular words which cannot be rendered by any one single word -of another. For the several fashions, customs, and manners of one -nation, making several combinations of ideas familiar and necessary in -one, which another people have had never an occasion to make, or -perhaps so much as take notice of, names come of course to be annexed -to them, to avoid long periphrases in things of daily conversation; and -so they become so many distinct complex ideas in their minds. Thus -ostrakismos amongst the Greeks, and proscriptio amongst the Romans, -were words which other languages had no names that exactly answered; -because they stood for complex ideas which were not in the minds of the -men of other nations. Where there was no such custom, there was no -notion of any such actions; no use of such combinations of ideas as -were united, and, as it were, tied together, by those terms: and -therefore in other countries there were no names for them. - -7. And Languages change. - -Hence also we may see the reason, why languages constantly change, take -up new and lay by old terms. Because change of customs and opinions -bringing with it new combinations of ideas, which it is necessary -frequently to think on and talk about, new names, to avoid long -descriptions, are annexed to them; and so they become new species of -complex modes. What a number of different ideas are by this means -wrapped up in one short sound, and how much of our time and breath is -thereby saved, any one will see, who will but take the pains to -enumerate all the ideas that either REPRIEVE or APPEAL stand for; and -instead of either of those names, use a periphrasis, to make any one -understand their meaning. - -8. Mixed Modes - -Though I shall have occasion to consider this more at-large when I come -to treat of Words and their use, yet I could not avoid to take thus -much notice here of the NAMES OF MIXED MODES; which being fleeting and -transient combinations of simple ideas, which have but a short -existence anywhere but in the minds of men, and there too have no -longer any existence than whilst they are thought on, have not so much -anywhere the appearance of a constant and lasting existence as in their -names: which are therefore, in this sort of ideas, very apt to be taken -for the ideas themselves. For, if we should inquire where the idea of a -TRIUMPH or APOTHEOSIS exists, it is evident they could neither of them -exist altogether anywhere in the things themselves, being actions that -required time to their performance, and so could never all exist -together; and as to the minds of men, where the ideas of these actions -are supposed to be lodged, they have there too a very uncertain -existence: and therefore we are apt to annex them to the names that -excite them in us. - -9. How we get the Ideas of mixed Modes. - -There are therefore three ways whereby we get these complex ideas of -mixed modes:—(1) By experience and OBSERVATION of things themselves: -thus, by seeing two men mixed wrestle or fence, we get the idea of -wrestling or fencing. (2) By INVENTION, or voluntary putting together -of several simple ideas in our own minds: so he that first invented -printing or etching, had an idea of it in his mind before it ever -existed. (3) Which is the most usual way, by EXPLAINING THE NAMES of -actions we never saw, or motions we cannot see; and by enumerating, and -thereby, as it were, setting before our imaginations all those ideas -which go to the making them up, and are the constituent parts of them. -For, having by sensation and reflection stored our minds with simple -ideas, and by use got the names that stand for them, we can by those -means represent to another any complex idea we would have him conceive; -so that it has in it no simple ideas but what he knows, and has with us -the same name for. For all our complex ideas are ultimately resolvable -into simple ideas, of which they are compounded and originally made up, -though perhaps their immediate ingredients, as I may so say, are also -complex ideas. Thus, the mixed mode which the word LIE stands for is -made of these simple ideas:—(1) Articulate sounds. (2) Certain ideas in -the mind of the speaker. (3) Those words the signs of those ideas. (4) -Those signs put together, by affirmation or negation, otherwise than -the ideas they stand for are in the mind of the speaker. I think I need -not go any further in the analysis of that complex idea we call a lie: -what I have said is enough to show that it is made up of simple ideas. -And it could not be but an offensive tediousness to my reader, to -trouble him with a more minute enumeration of every particular simple -idea that goes to this complex one; which, from what has been said, he -cannot but be able to make out to himself. The same may be done in all -our complex ideas whatsoever; which, however compounded and -decompounded, may at last be resolved into simple ideas, which are all -the materials of knowledge or thought we have, or can have. Nor shall -we have reason to fear that the mind is hereby stinted to too scanty a -number of ideas, if we consider what an inexhaustible stock of simple -modes number and figure alone afford us. How far then mixed modes, -which admit of the various combinations of different simple ideas, and -their infinite modes, are from being few and scanty, we may easily -imagine. So that, before we have done, we shall see that nobody need be -afraid he shall not have scope and compass enough for his thoughts to -range in, though they be, as I pretend, confined only to simple ideas, -received from sensation or reflection, and their several combinations. - -10. Motion, Thinking, and Power have been most modified. - -It is worth our observing, which of all our simple ideas have been MOST -modified, and had most mixed ideas made out of them, with names given -to them. And those have been these three:—THINKING and MOTION (which -are the two ideas which comprehend in them all action,) and POWER, from -whence these actions are conceived to flow. These simple ideas, I say, -of thinking, motion, and power, have been those which have been most -modified; and out of whose modifications have been made most complex -modes, with names to them. For ACTION being the great business of -mankind, and the whole matter about which all laws are conversant, it -is no wonder that the several modes of thinking and motion should be -taken notice of, the ideas of them observed, and laid up in the memory, -and have names assigned to them; without which laws could be but ill -made, or vice and disorders repressed. Nor could any communication be -well had amongst men without such complex ideas, with names to them: -and therefore men have settled names, and supposed settled ideas in -their minds, of modes of actions, distinguished by their causes, means, -objects, ends, instruments, time, place, and other circumstances; and -also of their powers fitted for those actions: v.g. BOLDNESS is the -power to speak or do what we intend, before others, without fear or -disorder; and the Greeks call the confidence of speaking by a peculiar -name, [word in Greek]: which power or ability in man of doing anything, -when it has been acquired by frequent doing the same thing, is that -idea we name HABIT; when it is forward, and ready upon every occasion -to break into action, we call it DISPOSITION. Thus, TESTINESS is a -disposition or aptness to be angry. - -To conclude: Let us examine any modes of action, v.g. CONSIDERATION and -ASSENT, which are actions of the mind; RUNNING and SPEAKING, which are -actions of the body; REVENGE and MURDER, which are actions of both -together, and we shall find them but so many collections of simple -ideas, which, together, make up the complex ones signified by those -names. - -11. Several Words seeming to signify Action, signify but the effect. - -POWER being the source from whence all action proceeds, the substances -wherein these powers are, when they *[lost line??] exert this power -into act, are called CAUSES, and the substances which thereupon are -produced, or the simple ideas which are introduced into any subject by -the exerting of that power, are called EFFECTS. The EFFICACY whereby -the new substance or idea is produced is called, in the subject -exerting that power, ACTION; but in the subject wherein any simple idea -is changed or produced, it is called PASSION: which efficacy, however -various, and the effects almost infinite, yet we can, I think, conceive -it, in intellectual agents, to be nothing else but modes of thinking -and willing; in corporeal agents, nothing else but modifications of -motion. I say I think we cannot conceive it to be any other but these -two. For whatever sort of action besides these produces any effects, I -confess myself to have no notion nor idea of; and so it is quite remote -from my thoughts, apprehensions, and knowledge; and as much in the dark -to me as five other senses, or as the ideas of colours to a blind man. -And therefore many words which seem to express some action, signify -nothing of the action or MODUS OPERANDI at all, but barely the effect, -with some circumstances of the subject wrought on, or cause operating: -v.g. CREATION, ANNIHILATION, contain in them no idea of the action or -manner whereby they are produced, but barely of the cause, and the -thing done. And when a countryman says the cold freezes water, though -the word freezing seems to import some action, yet truly it signifies -nothing but the effect, viz. that water that was before fluid is become -hard and consistent, without containing any idea of the action whereby -it is done. - -12. Mixed Modes made also of other Ideas than those of Power and -Action. - -I think I shall not need to remark here that, though power and action -make the greatest part of mixed modes, marked by names, and familiar in -the minds and mouths of men, yet other simple ideas, and their several -combinations, are not excluded: much less, I think, will it be -necessary for me to enumerate all the mixed modes which have been -settled, with names to them. That would be to make a dictionary of the -greatest part of the words made use of in divinity, ethics, law, and -politics, and several other sciences. All that is requisite to my -present design, is to show what sort of ideas those are which I call -mixed modes; how the mind comes by them; and that they are compositions -made up of simple ideas got from sensation and reflection; which I -suppose I have done. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIII. -OF OUR COMPLEX IDEAS OF SUBSTANCES. - - -The mind being, as I have declared, furnished with a great number of -the simple ideas, conveyed in by the senses as they are found in -exterior things, or by reflection on its own operations, takes notice -also that a certain number of these simple ideas go constantly -together; which being presumed to belong to one thing, and words being -suited to common apprehensions, and made use of for quick dispatch are -called, so united in one subject, by one name; which, by inadvertency, -we are apt afterward to talk of and consider as one simple idea, which -indeed is a complication of many ideas together: because, as I have -said, not imagining how these simple ideas CAN subsist by themselves, -we accustom ourselves to suppose some SUBSTRATUM wherein they do -subsist, and from which they do result, which therefore we call -SUBSTANCE. - -2. Our obscure Idea of Substance in general. - -So that if any one will examine himself concerning his notion of pure -substance in general, he will find he has no other idea of it at all, -but only a supposition of he knows not what SUPPORT of such qualities -which are capable of producing simple ideas in us; which qualities are -commonly called accidents. If any one should be asked, what is the -subject wherein colour or weight inheres, he would have nothing to say, -but the solid extended parts; and if he were demanded, what is it that -solidity and extension adhere in, he would not be in a much better case -than the Indian before mentioned who, saying that the world was -supported by a great elephant, was asked what the elephant rested on; -to which his answer was—a great tortoise: but being again pressed to -know what gave support to the broad-backed tortoise, replied—SOMETHING, -HE KNEW NOT WHAT. And thus here, as in all other cases where we use -words without having clear and distinct ideas, we talk like children: -who, being questioned what such a thing is, which they know not, -readily give this satisfactory answer, that it is SOMETHING: which in -truth signifies no more, when so used, either by children or men, but -that they know not what; and that the thing they pretend to know, and -talk of, is what they have no distinct idea of at all, and so are -perfectly ignorant of it, and in the dark. The idea then we have, to -which we give the GENERAL name substance, being nothing but the -supposed, but unknown, support of those qualities we find existing, -which we imagine cannot subsist SINE RE SUBSTANTE, without something to -support them, we call that support SUBSTANTIA; which, according to the -true import of the word, is, in plain English, standing under or -upholding. - -3. Of the Sorts of Substances. - -An obscure and relative idea of SUBSTANCE IN GENERAL being thus made we -come to have the ideas of PARTICULAR SORTS OF SUBSTANCES, by collecting -SUCH combinations of simple ideas as are, by experience and observation -of men’s senses, taken notice of to exist together; and are therefore -supposed to flow from the particular internal constitution, or unknown -essence of that substance. Thus we come to have the ideas of a man, -horse, gold, water, &c.; of which substances, whether any one has any -other CLEAR idea, further than of certain simple ideas co-existent -together, I appeal to every one’s own experience. It is the ordinary -qualities observable in iron, or a diamond, put together, that make the -true complex idea of those substances, which a smith or a jeweller -commonly knows better than a philosopher; who, whatever SUBSTANTIAL -FORMS he may talk of, has no other idea of those substances, than what -is framed by a collection of those simple ideas which are to be found -in them: only we must take notice, that our complex ideas of -substances, besides all those simple ideas they are made up of, have -always the confused idea of something to which they belong, and in -which they subsist: and therefore when we speak of any sort of -substance, we say it is a thing having such or such qualities; as body -is a thing that is extended, figured, and capable of motion; spirit, a -thing capable of thinking; and so hardness, friability, and power to -draw iron, we say, are qualities to be found in a loadstone. These, and -the like fashions of speaking, intimate that the substance is supposed -always SOMETHING BESIDES the extension, figure, solidity, motion, -thinking, or other observable ideas, though we know not what it is. - -4. No clear or distinct idea of Substance in general. - -Hence, when we talk or think of any particular sort of corporeal -substances, as horse, stone, &c., though the idea we have of either of -them be but the complication or collection of those several simple -ideas of sensible qualities, which we used to find united in the thing -called horse or stone; yet, BECAUSE WE CANNOT CONCEIVE HOW THEY SHOULD -SUBSIST ALONE, NOR ONE IN ANOTHER, we suppose them existing in and -supported by some common subject; which support we denote by the name -substance, though it be certain we have no clear or distinct idea of -that thing we suppose a support. - -5. As clear an Idea of spiritual substance as of corporeal substance. - -The same happens concerning the operations of the mind, viz. thinking, -reasoning, fearing, &c., which we concluding not to subsist of -themselves, nor apprehending how they can belong to body, or be -produced by it, we are apt to think these the actions of some other -SUBSTANCE, which we call SPIRIT; whereby yet it is evident that, having -no other idea or notion of matter, but something wherein those many -sensible qualities which affect our senses do subsist; by supposing a -substance wherein thinking, knowing, doubting, and a power of moving, -&c., do subsist, we have as clear a notion of the substance of spirit, -as we have of body; the one being supposed to be (without knowing what -it is) the SUBSTRATUM to those simple ideas we have from without; and -the other supposed (with a like ignorance of what it is) to be the -SUBSTRATUM to those operations we experiment in ourselves within. It is -plain then, that the idea of CORPOREAL SUBSTANCE in matter is as remote -from our conceptions and apprehensions, as that of SPIRITUAL SUBSTANCE, -or spirit: and therefore, from our not having any notion of the -substance of spirit, we can no more conclude its non-existence, than we -can, for the same reason, deny the existence of body; it being as -rational to affirm there is no body, because we have no clear and -distinct idea of the substance of matter, as to say there is no spirit, -because we have no clear and distinct idea of the substance of a -spirit. - -6. Our ideas of particular Sorts of Substances. - -Whatever therefore be the secret abstract nature of substance in -general, all the ideas we have of particular distinct sorts of -substances are nothing but several combinations of simple ideas, -co-existing in such, though unknown, cause of their union, as makes the -whole subsist of itself. It is by such combinations of simple ideas, -and nothing else, that we represent particular sorts of substances to -ourselves; such are the ideas we have of their several species in our -minds; and such only do we, by their specific names, signify to others, -v.g. man, horse, sun, water, iron: upon hearing which words, every one -who understands the language, frames in his mind a combination of those -several simple ideas which he has usually observed, or fancied to exist -together under that denomination; all which he supposes to rest in and -be, as it were, adherent to that unknown common subject, which inheres -not in anything else. Though, in the meantime, it be manifest, and -every one, upon inquiry into his own thoughts, will find, that he has -no other idea of any substance, v.g. let it be gold, horse, iron, man, -vitriol, bread, but what he has barely of those sensible qualities, -which he supposes to inhere; with a supposition of such a substratum as -gives, as it were, a support to those qualities or simple ideas, which -he has observed to exist united together. Thus, the idea of the -sun,—what is it but an aggregate of those several simple ideas, bright, -hot, roundish, having a constant regular motion, at a certain distance -from us, and perhaps some other: as he who thinks and discourses of the -sun has been more or less accurate in observing those sensible -qualities, ideas, or properties, which are in that thing which he calls -the sun. - -7. Their active and passive Powers a great part of our complex Ideas of -Substances. - -For he has the perfectest idea of any of the particular sorts of -substances, who has gathered, and put together, most of those simple -ideas which do exist in it; among which are to be reckoned its active -powers, and passive capacities, which, though not simple ideas, yet in -this respect, for brevity’s sake, may conveniently enough be reckoned -amongst them. Thus, the power of drawing iron is one of the ideas of -the complex one of that substance we call a loadstone; and a power to -be so drawn is a part of the complex one we call iron: which powers -pass for inherent qualities in those subjects. Because every substance, -being as apt, by the powers we observe in it, to change some sensible -qualities in other subjects, as it is to produce in us those simple -ideas which we receive immediately from it, does, by those new sensible -qualities introduced into other subjects, discover to us those powers -which do thereby mediately affect our senses, as regularly as its -sensible qualities do it immediately: v. g. we immediately by our -senses perceive in fire its heat and colour; which are, if rightly -considered, nothing but powers in it to produce those ideas in US: we -also by our senses perceive the colour and brittleness of charcoal, -whereby we come by the knowledge of another power in fire, which it has -to change the colour and consistency of WOOD. By the former, fire -immediately, by the latter, it mediately discovers to us these several -powers; which therefore we look upon to be a part of the qualities of -fire, and so make them a part of the complex idea of it. For all those -powers that we take cognizance of, terminating only in the alteration -of some sensible qualities in those subjects on which they operate, and -so making them exhibit to us new sensible ideas, therefore it is that I -have reckoned these powers amongst the simple ideas which make the -complex ones of the sorts of substances; though these powers considered -in themselves, are truly complex ideas. And in this looser sense I -crave leave to be understood, when I name any of these POTENTIALITIES -among the simple ideas which we recollect in our minds when we think of -PARTICULAR SUBSTANCES. For the powers that are severally in them are -necessary to be considered, if we will have true distinct notions of -the several sorts of substances. - -8. And why. - -Nor are we to wonder that powers make a great part of our complex ideas -of substances; since their secondary qualities are those which in most -of them serve principally to distinguish substances one from another, -and commonly make a considerable part of the complex idea of the -several sorts of them. For, our senses failing us in the discovery of -the bulk, texture, and figure of the minute parts of bodies, on which -their real constitutions and differences depend, we are fain to make -use of their secondary qualities as the characteristical notes and -marks whereby to frame ideas of them in our minds, and distinguish them -one from another: all which secondary qualities, as has been shown, are -nothing but bare powers. For the colour and taste of opium are, as well -as its soporific or anodyne virtues, mere powers, depending on its -primary qualities, whereby it is fitted to produce different operations -on different parts of our bodies. - -9. Three sorts of Ideas make our complex ones of Corporeal Substances. - -The ideas that make our complex ones of corporeal substances, are of -these three sorts. First, the ideas of the primary qualities of things, -which are discovered by our senses, and are in them even when we -perceive them not; such are the bulk, figure, number, situation, and -motion of the parts of bodies; which are really in them, whether we -take notice of them or not. Secondly, the sensible secondary qualities, -which, depending on these, are nothing but the powers those substances -have to produce several ideas in us by our senses; which ideas are not -in the things themselves, otherwise than as anything is in its cause. -Thirdly, the aptness we consider in any substance, to give or receive -such alterations of primary qualities, as that the substance so altered -should produce in us different ideas from what it did before; these are -called active and passive powers: all which powers, as far as we have -any notice or notion of them, terminate only in sensible simple ideas. -For whatever alteration a loadstone has the power to make in the minute -particles of iron, we should have no notion of any power it had at all -to operate on iron, did not its sensible motion discover it: and I -doubt not, but there are a thousand changes, that bodies we daily -handle have a power to cause in one another, which we never suspect, -because they never appear in sensible effects. - -10. Powers thus make a great Part of our complex Ideas of particular -Substances. - -POWERS therefore justly make a great part of our complex ideas of -substances. He that will examine his complex idea of gold, will find -several of its ideas that make it up to be only powers; as the power of -being melted, but of not spending itself in the fire; of being -dissolved in AQUA REGIA, are ideas as necessary to make up our complex -idea of gold, as its colour and weight: which, if duly considered, are -also nothing but different powers. For, to speak truly, yellowness is -not actually in gold, but is a power in gold to produce that idea in us -by our eyes, when placed in a due light: and the heat, which we cannot -leave out of our ideas of the sun, is no more really in the sun, than -the white colour it introduces into wax. These are both equally powers -in the sun, operating, by the motion and figure of its sensible parts, -so on a man, as to make him have the idea of heat; and so on wax, as to -make it capable to produce in a man the idea of white. - -11. The now secondary Qualities of Bodies would disappear, if we could -discover the primary ones of their minute Parts. - -Had we senses acute enough to discern the minute particles of bodies, -and the real constitution on which their sensible qualities depend, I -doubt not but they would produce quite different ideas in us: and that -which is now the yellow colour of gold, would then disappear, and -instead of it we should see an admirable texture of parts, of a certain -size and figure. This microscopes plainly discover to us; for what to -our naked eyes produces a certain colour, is, by thus augmenting the -acuteness of our senses, discovered to be quite a different thing; and -the thus altering, as it were, the proportion of the bulk of the minute -parts of a coloured object to our usual sight, produces different ideas -from what it did before. Thus, sand or pounded glass, which is opaque, -and white to the naked eye, is pellucid in a microscope; and a hair -seen in this way, loses its former colour, and is, in a great measure, -pellucid, with a mixture of some bright sparkling colours, such as -appear from the refraction of diamonds, and other pellucid bodies. -Blood, to the naked eye, appears all red; but by a good microscope, -wherein its lesser parts appear, shows only some few globules of red, -swimming in a pellucid liquor, and how these red globules would appear, -if glasses could be found that could yet magnify them a thousand or ten -thousand times more, is uncertain. - -12. Our Faculties for Discovery of the Qualities and powers of -Substances suited to our State. - -The infinite wise Contriver of us, and all things about us, hath fitted -our senses, faculties, and organs, to the conveniences of life, and the -business we have to do here. We are able, by our senses, to know and -distinguish things: and to examine them so far as to apply them to our -uses, and several ways to accommodate the exigences of this life. We -have insight enough into their admirable contrivances and wonderful -effects, to admire and magnify the wisdom, power and goodness of their -Author. Such a knowledge as this which is suited to our present -condition, we want not faculties to attain. But it appears not that God -intended we should have a perfect, clear, and adequate knowledge of -them: that perhaps is not in the comprehension of any finite being. We -are furnished with faculties (dull and weak as they are) to discover -enough in the creatures to lead us to the knowledge of the Creator, and -the knowledge of our duty; and we are fitted well enough with abilities -to provide for the conveniences of living: these are our business in -this world. But were our senses altered, and made much quicker and -acuter, the appearance and outward scheme of things would have quite -another face to us; and, I am apt to think, would be inconsistent with -our being, or at least wellbeing, in the part of the universe which we -inhabit. He that considers how little our constitution is able to bear -a remove into part of this air, not much higher than that we commonly -breathe in, will have reason to be satisfied, that in this globe of -earth allotted for our mansion, the all-wise Architect has suited our -organs, and the bodies that are to affect them, one to another. If our -sense of hearing were but a thousand times quicker than it is, how -would a perpetual noise distract us. And we should in the quietest -retirement be less able to sleep or meditate than in the middle of a -sea-fight. Nay, if that most instructive of our senses, seeing, were in -any man a thousand or a hundred thousand times more acute than it is by -the best microscope, things several millions of times less than the -smallest object of his sight now would then be visible to his naked -eyes, and so he would come nearer to the discovery of the texture and -motion of the minute parts of corporeal things; and in many of them, -probably get ideas of their internal constitutions: but then he would -be in a quite different world from other people: nothing would appear -the same to him and others: the visible ideas of everything would be -different. So that I doubt, whether he and the rest of men could -discourse concerning the objects of sight, or have any communication -about colours, their appearances being so wholly different. And perhaps -such a quickness and tenderness of sight could not endure bright -sunshine, or so much as open daylight; nor take in but a very small -part of any object at once, and that too only at a very near distance. -And if by the help of such MICROSCOPICAL EYES (if I may so call them) a -man could penetrate further than ordinary into the secret composition -and radical texture of bodies, he would not make any great advantage by -the change, if such an acute sight would not serve to conduct him to -the market and exchange; if he could not see things he was to avoid, at -a convenient distance; nor distinguish things he had to do with by -those sensible qualities others do. He that was sharp-sighted enough to -see the configuration of the minute particles of the spring of a clock, -and observe upon what peculiar structure and impulse its elastic motion -depends, would no doubt discover something very admirable: but if eyes -so framed could not view at once the hand, and the characters of the -hour-plate, and thereby at a distance see what o’clock it was, their -owner could not be much benefited by that acuteness; which, whilst it -discovered the secret contrivance of the parts of the machine, made him -lose its use. - -13. Conjecture about the corporeal organs of some Spirits. - -And here give me leave to propose an extravagant conjecture of mine, -viz. That since we have some reason (if there be any credit to be given -to the report of things that our philosophy cannot account for) to -imagine, that Spirits can assume to themselves bodies of different -bulk, figure, and conformation of parts—whether one great advantage -some of them have over us may not lie in this, that they can so frame -and shape to themselves organs of sensation or perception, as to suit -them to their present design, and the circumstances of the object they -would consider. For how much would that man exceed all others in -knowledge, who had but the faculty so to alter the structure of his -eyes, that one sense, as to make it capable of all the several degrees -of vision which the assistance of glasses (casually at first lighted -on) has taught us to conceive? What wonders would he discover, who -could so fit his eyes to all sorts of objects, as to see when he -pleased the figure and motion of the minute particles in the blood, and -other juices of animals, as distinctly as he does, at other times, the -shape and motion of the animals themselves? But to us, in our present -state, unalterable organs, so contrived as to discover the figure and -motion of the minute parts of bodies, whereon depend those sensible -qualities we now observe in them, would perhaps be of no advantage. God -has no doubt made them so as is best for us in our present condition. -He hath fitted us for the neighbourhood of the bodies that surround us, -and we have to do with; and though we cannot, by the faculties we have, -attain to a perfect knowledge of things, yet they will serve us well -enough for those ends above-mentioned, which are our great concernment. -I beg my reader’s pardon for laying before him so wild a fancy -concerning the ways of perception of beings above us; but how -extravagant soever it be, I doubt whether we can imagine anything about -the knowledge of angels but after this manner, some way or other in -proportion to what we find and observe in ourselves. And though we -cannot but allow that the infinite power and wisdom of God may frame -creatures with a thousand other faculties and ways of perceiving things -without them than what we have, yet our thoughts can go no further than -our own: so impossible it is for us to enlarge our very guesses beyond -the ideas received from our own sensation and reflection. The -supposition, at least, that angels do sometimes assume bodies, needs -not startle us; since some of the most ancient and most learned Fathers -of the church seemed to believe that they had bodies: and this is -certain, that their state and way of existence is unknown to us. - -14. Our specific Ideas of Substances. - -But to return to the matter in hand,—the ideas we have of substances, -and the ways we come by them. I say, our SPECIFIC ideas of substances -are nothing else but A COLLECTION OF CERTAIN NUMBER OF SIMPLE IDEAS, -CONSIDERED AS UNITED IN ONE THING. These ideas of substances, though -they are commonly simple apprehensions, and the names of them simple -terms, yet in effect are complex and compounded. Thus the idea which an -Englishman signifies by the name swan, is white colour, long neck, red -beak, black legs, and whole feet, and all these of a certain size, with -a power of swimming in the water, and making a certain kind of noise, -and perhaps, to a man who has long observed this kind of birds, some -other properties: which all terminate in sensible simple ideas, all -united in one common subject. - -15. Our Ideas of spiritual Substances, as clear as of bodily -Substances. - -Besides the complex ideas we have of material sensible substances, of -which I have last spoken,—by the simple ideas we have taken from those -operations of our own minds, which we experiment daily in ourselves, as -thinking, understanding, willing, knowing, and power of beginning -motion, &c., co-existing in some substance, we are able to frame the -COMPLEX IDEA OF AN IMMATERIAL SPIRIT. And thus, by putting together the -ideas of thinking, perceiving, liberty, and power of moving themselves -and other things, we have as clear a perception and notion of -immaterial substances as we have of material. For putting together the -ideas of thinking and willing, or the power of moving or quieting -corporeal motion, joined to substance, of which we have no distinct -idea, we have the idea of an immaterial spirit; and by putting together -the ideas of coherent solid parts, and a power of being moved joined -with substance, of which likewise we have no positive idea, we have the -idea of matter. The one is as clear and distinct an idea as the other: -the idea of thinking, and moving a body, being as clear and distinct -ideas as the ideas of extension, solidity, and being moved. For our -idea of substance is equally obscure, or none at all, in both: it is -but a supposed I know not what, to support those ideas we call -accidents. It is for want of reflection that we are apt to think that -our senses show us nothing but material things. Every act of sensation, -when duly considered, gives us an equal view of both parts of nature, -the corporeal and spiritual. For whilst I know, by seeing or hearing, -&c., that there is some corporeal being without me, the object of that -sensation, I do more certainly know, that there is some spiritual being -within me that sees and hears. This, I must be convinced, cannot be the -action of bare insensible matter; nor ever could be, without an -immaterial thinking being. - -16. No Idea of abstract Substance either in Body or Spirit. - -By the complex idea of extended, figured, coloured, and all other -sensible qualities, which is all that we know of it, we are as far from -the idea of the substance of body, as if we knew nothing at all: nor -after all the acquaintance and familiarity which we imagine we have -with matter, and the many qualities men assure themselves they perceive -and know in bodies, will it perhaps upon examination be found, that -they have any more or clearer primary ideas belonging to body, than -they have belonging to immaterial spirit. - -17. Cohesion of solid parts and Impulse, the primary ideas peculiar to -Body. - -The primary ideas we have PECULIAR TO BODY, as contradistinguished to -spirit, are the COHESION OF SOLID, AND CONSEQUENTLY SEPARABLE, PARTS, -and a POWER OF COMMUNICATING MOTION BY IMPULSE. These, I think, are the -original ideas proper and peculiar to body; for figure is but the -consequence of finite extension. - -18. Thinking and Motivity - -The ideas we have belonging and PECULIAR TO SPIRIT, are THINKING, and -WILL, or A POWER OF PUTTING BODY INTO MOTION BY THOUGHT, AND, WHICH IS -CONSEQUENT TO IT, LIBERTY. For, as body cannot but communicate its -motion by impulse to another body, which it meets with at rest, so the -mind can put bodies into motion, or forbear to do so, as it pleases. -The ideas of EXISTENCE, DURATION, and MOBILITY, are common to them -both. - -19. Spirits capable of Motion. - -There is no reason why it should be thought strange that I make -mobility belong to spirit; for having no other idea of motion, but -change of distance with other beings that are considered as at rest; -and finding that spirits, as well as bodies, cannot operate but where -they are; and that spirits do operate at several times in several -places, I cannot but attribute change of place to all finite spirits: -(for of the Infinite Spirit I speak not here). For my soul, being a -real being as well as my body, is certainly as capable of changing -distance with any other body, or being, as body itself; and so is -capable of motion. And if a mathematician can consider a certain -distance, or a change of that distance between two points, one may -certainly conceive a distance and a change of distance, between two -spirits; and so conceive their motion, their approach or removal, one -from another. - -20. Proof of this. - -Every one finds in himself that his soul can think, will, and operate -on his body in the place where that is, but cannot operate on a body, -or in a place, an hundred miles distant from it. Nobody can imagine -that his soul can think or move a body at Oxford, whilst he is at -London; and cannot but know, that, being united to his body, it -constantly changes place all the whole journey between Oxford and -London, as the coach or horse does that carries him, and I think may be -said to be truly all that while in motion or if that will not be -allowed to afford us a clear idea enough of its motion, its being -separated from the body in death, I think, will; for to consider it as -going out of the body, or leaving it, and yet to have no idea of its -motion, seems to me impossible. - -21. God immoveable because infinite. - -If it be said by any one that it cannot change place, because it hath -none, for the spirits are not IN LOCO, but UBI; I suppose that way of -talking will not now be of much weight to many, in an age that is not -much disposed to admire, or suffer themselves to be deceived by such -unintelligible ways of speaking. But if any one thinks there is any -sense in that distinction, and that it is applicable to our present -purpose, I desire him to put it into intelligible English; and then -from thence draw a reason to show that immaterial spirits are not -capable of motion. Indeed motion cannot be attributed to God; not -because he is an immaterial, but because he is an infinite spirit. - -22. Our complex idea of an immaterial Spirit and our complex idea of -Body compared. - -Let us compare, then, our complex idea of an immaterial spirit with our -complex idea of body, and see whether there be any more obscurity in -one than in the other, and in which most. Our idea of BODY, as I think, -is AN EXTENDED SOLID SUBSTANCE, CAPABLE OF COMMUNICATING MOTION BY -IMPULSE: and our idea of SOUL, AS AN IMMATERIAL SPIRIT, is of A -SUBSTANCE THAT THINKS, AND HAS A POWER OF EXCITING MOTION IN BODY, BY -WILLING, OR THOUGHT. These, I think, are our complex ideas of soul and -body, as contradistinguished; and now let us examine which has most -obscurity in it, and difficulty to be apprehended. I know that people -whose thoughts are immersed in matter, and have so subjected their -minds to their senses that they seldom reflect on anything beyond them, -are apt to say, they cannot comprehend a THINKING thing which perhaps -is true: but I affirm, when they consider it well, they can no more -comprehend an EXTENDED thing. - -23. Cohesion of solid Parts in Body as hard to be conceived as thinking -in a Soul. - -If any one says he knows not what it is thinks in him, he means he -knows not what the substance is of that thinking thing: No more, say I, -knows he what the substance is of that solid thing. Further, if he says -he knows not how he thinks, I answer, Neither knows he how he is -extended, how the solid parts of body are united or cohere together to -make extension. For though the pressure of the particles of air may -account for the cohesion of several parts of matter that are grosser -than the particles of air, and have pores less than the corpuscles of -air, yet the weight or pressure of the air will not explain, nor can be -a cause of the coherence of the particles of air themselves. And if the -pressure of the aether, or any subtiler matter than the air, may unite, -and hold fast together, the parts of a particle of air, as well as -other bodies, yet it cannot make bonds for ITSELF, and hold together -the parts that make up every the least corpuscle of that MATERIA -SUBTILIS. So that that hypothesis, how ingeniously soever explained, by -showing that the parts of sensible bodies are held together by the -pressure of other external insensible bodies, reaches not the parts of -the aether itself; and by how much the more evident it proves, that the -parts of other bodies are held together by the external pressure of the -aether, and can have no other conceivable cause of their cohesion and -union, by so much the more it leaves us in the dark concerning the -cohesion of the parts of the corpuscles of the aether itself: which we -can neither conceive without parts, they being bodies, and divisible, -nor yet how their parts cohere, they wanting that cause of cohesion -which is given of the cohesion of the parts of all other bodies. - -24. Not explained by an ambient fluid. - -But, in truth, the pressure of any ambient fluid, how great soever, can -be no intelligible cause of the cohesion of the solid parts of matter. -For, though such a pressure may hinder the avulsion of two polished -superficies, one from another, in a line perpendicular to them, as in -the experiment of two polished marbles; yet it can never in the least -hinder the separation by a motion, in a line parallel to those -surfaces. Because the ambient fluid, having a full liberty to succeed -in each point of space, deserted by a lateral motion, resists such a -motion of bodies, so joined, no more than it would resist the motion of -that body were it on all sides environed by that fluid, and touched no -other body; and therefore, if there were no other cause of cohesion, -all parts of bodies must be easily separable by such a lateral sliding -motion. For if the pressure of the aether be the adequate cause of -cohesion, wherever that cause operates not, there can be no cohesion. -And since it cannot operate against a lateral separation, (as has been -shown,) therefore in every imaginary plane, intersecting any mass of -matter, there could be no more cohesion than of two polished surfaces, -which will always, notwithstanding any imaginable pressure of a fluid, -easily slide one from another. So that perhaps, how clear an idea -soever we think we have of the extension of body, which is nothing but -the cohesion of solid parts, he that shall well consider it in his -mind, may have reason to conclude, That it is as easy for him to have a -clear idea how the soul thinks as how body is extended. For, since body -is no further, nor otherwise, extended, than by the union and cohesion -of its solid parts, we shall very ill comprehend the extension of body, -without understanding wherein consists the union and cohesion of its -parts; which seems to me as incomprehensible as the manner of thinking, -and how it is performed. - -We can as little understand how the parts cohere in extension as how -our spirits perceive or move. - -25. I allow it is usual for most people to wonder how any one should -find a difficulty in what they think they every day observe. Do we not -see (will they be ready to say) the parts of bodies stick firmly -together? Is there anything more common? And what doubt can there be -made of it? And the like, I say, concerning thinking and voluntary -motion. Do we not every moment experiment it in ourselves, and -therefore can it be doubted? The matter of fact is clear, I confess; -but when we would a little nearer look into it, both in the one and the -other; and can as little understand how the parts of body cohere, as -how we ourselves perceive or move. I would have any one intelligibly -explain to me how the parts of gold, or brass, (that but now in fusion -were as loose from one another as the particles of water, or the sands -of an hour-glass,) come in a few moments to be so united, and adhere so -strongly one to another, that the utmost force of men’s arms cannot -separate them? A considering man will, I suppose, be here at a loss to -satisfy his own, or another man’s understanding. - -26. The cause of coherence of atoms in extended substances -incomprehensible. - -The little bodies that compose that fluid we call water are so -extremely small, that I have never heard of any one who, by a -microscope, (and yet I have heard of some that have magnified to ten -thousand; nay, to much above a hundred thousand times,) pretended to -perceive their distinct bulk, figure, or motion; and the particles of -water are also so perfectly loose one from another, that the least -force sensibly separates them. Nay, if we consider their perpetual -motion, we must allow them to have no cohesion one with another; and -yet let but a sharp cold come, and they unite, they consolidate; these -little atoms cohere, and are not, without great force, separable. He -that could find the bonds that tie these heaps of loose little bodies -together so firmly; he that could make known the cement that makes them -stick so fast one to another, would discover a great and yet unknown -secret: and yet when that was done, would he be far enough from making -the extension of body (which is the cohesion of its solid parts) -intelligible, till he could show wherein consisted the union, or -consolidation of the parts of those bonds or of that cement, or of the -least particle of matter that exists. Whereby it appears that this -primary and supposed obvious quality of body will be found, when -examined, to be as incomprehensible as anything belonging to our minds, -and a solid extended substance as hard to be conceived as a thinking -immaterial one, whatever difficulties some would raise against it. - -27. The supposed pressure [*dropped word] explain cohesion is -unintelligible. - -For, to extend our thoughts a little further, the pressure which is -brought to explain the cohesion of bodies [*dropped line] considered, -as no doubt it is, finite, let any one send his contemplation to the -extremities of the universe, and there see what conceivable hoops, what -bond he can imagine to hold this mass of matter in so close a pressure -together; from whence steel has its firmness, and the parts of a -diamond their hardness and indissolubility. If matter be finite, it -must have its extremes; and there must be something to hinder it from -scattering asunder. If, to avoid this difficulty, any one will throw -himself into the supposition and abyss of infinite matter, let him -consider what light he thereby brings to the cohesion of body, and -whether he be ever the nearer making it intelligible, by resolving it -into a supposition the most absurd and most incomprehensible of all -other: so far is our extension of body (which is nothing but the -cohesion of solid parts) from being clearer, or more distinct, when we -would inquire into the nature, cause, or manner of it, than the idea of -thinking. - -28. Communication of Motion by Impulse, or by Thought, equally -unintelligible. - -Another idea we have of body is, THE POWER OF COMMUNICATION OF MOTION -BY IMPULSE; and of our souls, THE POWER OF EXCITING MOTION BY THOUGHT. -These ideas, the one of body, the other of our minds, every day’s -experience clearly furnishes us with: but if here again we inquire how -this is done, we are equally in the dark. For, in the communication of -motion by impulse, wherein as much motion is lost to one body as is got -to the other, which is the ordinariest case, we can have no other -conception, but of the passing of motion out of one body into another; -which, I think, is as obscure and inconceivable as how our minds move -or stop our bodies by thought, which we every moment find they do. The -increase of motion by impulse, which is observed or believed sometimes -to happen, is yet harder to be understood. We have by daily experience -clear evidence of motion produced both by impulse and by thought; but -the manner how, hardly comes within our comprehension: we are equally -at a loss in both. So that, however we consider motion, and its -communication, either from body or spirit, the idea which belongs to -spirit is at least as clear as that which belongs to body. And if we -consider the active power of moving, or, as I may call it, motivity, it -is much clearer in spirit than body; since two bodies, placed by one -another at rest, will never afford us the idea of a power in the one to -move the other, but by a borrowed motion: whereas the mind every day -affords us ideas of an active power of moving of bodies; and therefore -it is worth our consideration, whether active power be not the proper -attribute of spirits, and passive power of matter. Hence may be -conjectured that created spirits are not totally separate from matter, -because they are both active and passive. Pure spirit, viz. God, is -only active; pure matter is only passive; those beings that are both -active and passive, we may judge to partake of both. But be that as it -will, I think, we have as many and as clear ideas belonging to spirit -as we have belonging to body, the substance of each being equally -unknown to us; and the idea of thinking in spirit, as clear as of -extension in body; and the communication of motion by thought, which we -attribute to spirit, is as evident as that by impulse, which we ascribe -to body. Constant experience makes us sensible of both these, though -our narrow understandings can comprehend neither. For, when the mind -would look beyond those original ideas we have from sensation or -reflection, and penetrate into their causes, and manner of production, -we find still it discovers nothing but its own short-sightedness. - -29. Summary. - -To conclude. Sensation convinces us that there are solid extended -substances; and reflection, that there are thinking ones: experience -assures us of the existence of such beings, and that the one hath a -power to move body by impulse, the other by thought; this we cannot -doubt of. Experience, I say, every moment furnishes us with the clear -ideas both of the one and the other. But beyond these ideas, as -received from their proper sources, our faculties will not reach. If we -would inquire further into their nature, causes, and manner, we -perceive not the nature of extension clearer than we do of thinking. If -we would explain them any further, one is as easy as the other; and -there is no more difficulty to conceive how A SUBSTANCE WE KNOW NOT -should, by thought, set body into motion, than how A SUBSTANCE WE KNOW -NOT should, by impulse, set body into motion. So that we are no more -able to discover wherein the ideas belonging to body consist, than -those belonging to spirit. From whence it seems probable to me, that -the simple ideas we receive from sensation and reflection are the -boundaries of our thoughts; beyond which the mind, whatever efforts it -would make, is not able to advance one jot; nor can it make any -discoveries, when it would pry into the nature and hidden causes of -those ideas. - -30. Our idea of Spirit and our idea of Body compared. - -So that, in short, the idea we have of spirit, compared with the idea -we have of body, stands thus: the substance of spirits is unknown to -us; and so is the substance of body equally unknown to us. Two primary -qualities or properties of body, viz. solid coherent parts and impulse, -we have distinct clear ideas of: so likewise we know, and have distinct -clear ideas, of two primary qualities or properties of spirit, viz. -thinking, and a power of action; i.e. a power of beginning or stopping -several thoughts or motions. We have also the ideas of several -qualities inherent in bodies, and have the clear distinct ideas of -them; which qualities are but the various modifications of the -extension of cohering solid parts, and their motion. We have likewise -the ideas of the several modes of thinking viz. believing, doubting, -intending, fearing, hoping; all which are but the several modes of -thinking. We have also the ideas of willing, and moving the body -consequent to it, and with the body itself too; for, as has been shown, -spirit is capable of motion. - -31. The Notion of Spirit involves no more Difficulty in it than that of -Body. - -Lastly, if this notion of immaterial spirit may have, perhaps, some -difficulties in it not easily to be explained, we have therefore no -more reason to deny or doubt the existence of such spirits, than we -have to deny or doubt the existence of body; because the notion of body -is cumbered with some difficulties very hard, and perhaps impossible to -be explained or understood by us. For I would fain have instanced -anything in our notion of spirit more perplexed, or nearer a -contradiction, than the very notion of body includes in it; the -divisibility IN INFINITUM of any finite extension involving us, whether -we grant or deny it, in consequences impossible to be explicated or -made in our apprehensions consistent; consequences that carry greater -difficulty, and more apparent absurdity, than anything can follow from -the notion of an immaterial knowing substance. - -32. We know nothing of things beyond our simple Ideas of them. - -Which we are not at all to wonder at, since we having but some few -superficial ideas of things, discovered to us only by the senses from -without, or by the mind, reflecting on what it experiments in itself -within, have no knowledge beyond that, much less of the internal -constitution, and true nature of things, being destitute of faculties -to attain it. And therefore experimenting and discovering in ourselves -knowledge, and the power of voluntary motion, as certainly as we -experiment, or discover in things without us, the cohesion and -separation of solid parts, which is the extension and motion of bodies; -we have as much reason to be satisfied with our notion of immaterial -spirit, as with our notion of body, and the existence of the one as -well as the other. For it being no more a contradiction that thinking -should exist separate and independent from solidity, than it is a -contradiction that solidity should exist separate and independent from -thinking, they being both but simple ideas, independent one from -another and having as clear and distinct ideas in us of thinking as of -solidity, I know not why we may not as well allow a thinking thing -without solidity, i.e. immaterial, to exist, as a solid thing without -thinking, i.e. matter, to exist; especially since it is not harder to -conceive how thinking should exist without matter, than how matter -should think. For whensoever we would proceed beyond these simple ideas -we have from sensation and reflection and dive further into the nature -of things, we fall presently into darkness and obscurity, perplexedness -and difficulties, and can discover nothing further but our own -blindness and ignorance. But whichever of these complex ideas be -clearest, that of body, or immaterial spirit, this is evident, that the -simple ideas that make them up are no other than what we have received -from sensation or reflection: and so is it of all our other ideas of -substances, even of God himself. - -33. Our complex idea of God. - -For if we examine the idea we have of the incomprehensible Supreme -Being, we shall find that we come by it the same way; and that the -complex ideas we have both of God, and separate spirits, are made of -the simple ideas we receive from reflection; v.g. having, from what we -experiment in ourselves, got the ideas of existence and duration; of -knowledge and power; of pleasure and happiness; and of several other -qualities and powers, which it is better to have than to be without; -when we would frame an idea the most suitable we can to the Supreme -Being, we enlarge every one of these with our idea of infinity; and so -putting them together, make our complex idea of God. For that the mind -has such a power of enlarging some of its ideas, received from -sensation and reflection, has been already shown. - -34. Our complex idea of God as infinite. - -If I find that I know some few things, and some of them, or all, -perhaps imperfectly, I can frame an idea of knowing twice as many; -which I can double again, as often as I can add to number; and thus -enlarge my idea of knowledge, by extending its comprehension to all -things existing, or possible. The same also I can do of knowing them -more perfectly; i.e. all their qualities, powers, causes, consequences, -and relations, &c., till all be perfectly known that is in them, or can -any way relate to them: and thus frame the idea of infinite or -boundless knowledge. The same may also be done of power, till we come -to that we call infinite; and also of the duration of existence, -without beginning or end, and so frame the idea of an eternal being. -The degrees or extent wherein we ascribe existence, power, wisdom, and -all other perfections (which we can have any ideas of) to that -sovereign Being, which we call G-d, being all boundless and infinite, -we frame the best idea of him our minds are capable of: all which is -done, I say, by enlarging those simple ideas we have taken from the -operations of our own minds, by reflection; or by our senses, from -exterior things, to that vastness to which infinity can extend them. - -35. God in his own essence incognisable. - -For it is infinity, which, joined to our ideas of existence, power, -knowledge, &c., makes that complex idea, whereby we represent to -ourselves, the best we can, the Supreme Being. For, though in his own -essence (which certainly we do not know, not knowing the real essence -of a pebble, or a fly, or of our own selves) God be simple and -uncompounded; yet I think I may say we have no other idea of him, but a -complex one of existence, knowledge, power, happiness, &c., infinite -and eternal: which are all distinct ideas, and some of them, being -relative, are again compounded of others: all which being, as has been -shown, originally got from sensation and reflection, go to make up the -idea or notion we have of God. - -36. No Ideas in our complex ideas of Spirits, but those got from -Sensation or Reflection. - -This further is to be observed, that there is no idea we attribute to -God, bating infinity, which is not also a part of our complex idea of -other spirits. Because, being capable of no other simple ideas, -belonging to anything but body, but those which by reflection we -receive from the operation of our own minds, we can attribute to -spirits no other but what we receive from thence: and all the -difference we can put between them, in our contemplation of spirits, is -only in the several extents and degrees of their knowledge, power, -duration, happiness, &c. For that in our ideas, as well of spirits as -of other things, we are restrained to THOSE WE RECEIVE FROM SENSATION -AND REFLECTION, is evident from hence,—That, in our ideas of spirits, -how much soever advanced in perfection beyond those of bodies, even to -that of infinite, we cannot yet have any idea of the manner wherein -they discover their thoughts one to another: though we must necessarily -conclude that separate spirits, which are beings that have perfecter -knowledge and greater happiness than we, must needs have also a -perfecter way of communicating their thoughts than we have, who are -fain to make use of corporeal signs, and particular sounds; which are -therefore of most general use, as being the best and quickest we are -capable of. But of immediate communication having no experiment in -ourselves, and consequently no notion of it at all, we have no idea how -spirits, which use not words, can with quickness; or much less how -spirits that have no bodies can be masters of their own thoughts, and -communicate or conceal them at pleasure, though we cannot but -necessarily suppose they have such a power. - -37. Recapitulation. - -And thus we have seen what kind of ideas we have of SUBSTANCES OF ALL -KINDS, wherein they consist, and how we came by them. From whence, I -think, it is very evident, - -First, That all our ideas of the several SORTS of substances are -nothing but collections of simple ideas: with a supposition of -SOMETHING to which they belong, and in which they subsist; though of -this supposed something we have no clear distinct idea at all. - -Secondly, That all the simple ideas, that thus united in one common -SUBSTRATUM, make up our complex ideas of several SORTS of substances, -are no other but such as we have received from sensation or reflection. -So that even in those which we think we are most intimately acquainted -with, and that come nearest the comprehension of our most enlarged -conceptions, we cannot go beyond those simple ideas. And even in those -which seem most remote from all we have to do with, and do infinitely -surpass anything we can perceive in ourselves by reflection; or -discover by sensation in other things, we can attain to nothing but -those simple ideas, which we originally received from sensation or -reflection; as is evident in the complex ideas we have of angels, and -particularly of God himself. - -Thirdly, That most of the simple ideas that make up our complex ideas -of substances, when truly considered, are only POWERS, however we are -apt to take them for positive qualities; v.g. the greatest part of the -ideas that make our complex idea of GOLD are yellowness, great weight, -ductility, fusibility, and solubility in AQUA REGIA, &c., all united -together in an unknown SUBSTRATUM: all which ideas are nothing else but -so many relations to other substances; and are not really in the gold, -considered barely in itself, though they depend on those real and -primary qualities of its internal constitution, whereby it has a -fitness differently to operate, and be operated on by several other -substances. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIV. -OF COLLECTIVE IDEAS OF SUBSTANCES. - - -1. A collective idea is one Idea. - -Besides these complex ideas of several SINGLE substances, as of man, -horse, gold, violet, apple, &c., the mind hath also complex COLLECTIVE -ideas of substances; which I so call, because such ideas are made up of -many particular substances considered together, as united into one -idea, and which so joined; are looked on as one; v. g. the idea of such -a collection of men as make an ARMY, though consisting of a great -number of distinct substances, is as much one idea as the idea of a -man: and the great collective idea of all bodies whatsoever, signified -by the name WORLD, is as much one idea as the idea of any the least -particle of matter in it; it sufficing to the unity of any idea, that -it be considered as one representation or picture, though made up of -ever so many particulars. - -2. Made by the Power of composing in the Mind. - -These collective ideas of substances the mind makes, by its power of -composition, and uniting severally either simple or complex ideas into -one, as it does, by the same faculty, make the complex ideas of -particular substances, consisting of an aggregate of divers simple -ideas, united in one substance. And as the mind, by putting together -the repeated ideas of unity, makes the collective mode, or complex -idea, of any number, as a score, or a gross, &c.,—so, by putting -together several particular substances, it makes collective ideas of -substances, as a troop, an army, a swarm, a city, a fleet; each of -which every one finds that he represents to his own mind by one idea, -in one view; and so under that notion considers those several things as -perfectly one, as one ship, or one atom. Nor is it harder to conceive -how an army of ten thousand men should make one idea than how a man -should make one idea; it being as easy to the mind to unite into one -the idea of a great number of men, and consider it as one as it is to -unite into one particular all the distinct ideas that make up the -composition of a man, and consider them all together as one. - -3. Artificial things that are made up of distinct substances are our -collective Ideas. - -Amongst such kind of collective ideas are to be counted most part of -artificial things, at least such of them as are made up of distinct -substances: and, in truth, if we consider all these collective ideas -aright, as ARMY, CONSTELLATION, UNIVERSE, as they are united into so -many single ideas, they are but the artificial draughts of the mind; -bringing things very remote, and independent on one another, into one -view, the better to contemplate and discourse on them, united into one -conception, and signified by one name. For there are no things so -remote, nor so contrary, which the mind cannot, by this art of -composition, bring into one idea; as is visible in that signified by -the name UNIVERSE. - - - - -CHAPTER XXV. -OF RELATION. - - -1. Relation, what. - -BESIDES the ideas, whether simple or complex, that the mind has of -things as they are in themselves, there are others it gets from their -comparison one with another. The understanding, in the consideration of -anything, is not confined to that precise object: it can carry any idea -as it were beyond itself, or at least look beyond it, to see how it -stands in conformity to any other. When the mind so considers one -thing, that it does as it were bring it to, and set it by another, and -carries its view from one to the other—this is, as the words import, -RELATION and RESPECT; and the denominations given to positive things, -intimating that respect, and serving as marks to lead the thoughts -beyond the subject itself denominated, to something distinct from it, -are what we call RELATIVES; and the things so brought together, -RELATED. Thus, when the mind considers Caius as such a positive being, -it takes nothing into that idea but what really exists in Caius; v.g. -when I consider him as a man, I have nothing in my mind but the complex -idea of the species, man. So likewise, when I say Caius is a white man, -I have nothing but the bare consideration of a man who hath that white -colour. But when I give Caius the name HUSBAND, I intimate some other -person; and when I give him the name WHITER, I intimate some other -thing: in both cases my thought is led to something beyond Caius, and -there are two things brought into consideration. And since any idea, -whether simple or complex, may be the occasion why the mind thus brings -two things together, and as it were takes a view of them at once, -though still considered as distinct: therefore any of our ideas may be -the foundation of relation. As in the above-mentioned instance, the -contract and ceremony of marriage with Sempronia is the occasion of the -denomination and relation of husband; and the colour white the occasion -why he is said to be whiter than free-stone. - -2. Ideas of relations without correlative Terms, not easily -apprehended. - -These and the like relations, expressed by relative terms that have -others answering them, with a reciprocal intimation, as father and son, -bigger and less, cause and effect, are very obvious to every one, and -everybody at first sight perceives the relation. For father and son, -husband and wife, and such other correlative terms, seem so nearly to -belong one to another, and, through custom, do so readily chime and -answer one another in people’s memories, that, upon the naming of -either of them, the thoughts are presently carried beyond the thing so -named; and nobody overlooks or doubts of a relation, where it is so -plainly intimated. But where languages have failed to give correlative -names, there the relation is not always so easily taken notice of. -CONCUBINE is, no doubt, a relative name, as well as wife: but in -languages where this and the like words have not a correlative term, -there people are not so apt to take them to be so, as wanting that -evident mark of relation which is between correlatives, which seem to -explain one another, and not to be able to exist, but together. Hence -it is, that many of those names, which, duly considered, do include -evident relations, have been called EXTERNAL DENOMINATIONS. But all -names that are more than empty sounds must signify some idea, which is -either in the thing to which the name is applied, and then it is -positive, and is looked on as united to and existing in the thing to -which the denomination is given; or else it arises from the respect the -mind finds in it to something distinct from it, with which it considers -it, and then it includes a relation. - -3. Some seemingly absolute Terms contain Relations. - -Another sort of relative terms there is, which are not looked on to be -either relative, or so much as external denominations: which yet, under -the form and appearance of signifying something absolute in the -subject, do conceal a tacit, though less observable, relation. Such are -the seemingly positive terms of OLD, GREAT, IMPERFECT, &c., whereof I -shall have occasion to speak more at large in the following chapters. - -4. Relation different from the Things related. - -This further may be observed, That the ideas of relations may be the -same in men who have far different ideas of the things that are -related, or that are thus compared: v. g. those who have far different -ideas of a man, may yet agree in the notion of a father; which is a -notion superinduced to the substance, or man, and refers only to an act -of that thing called man whereby he contributed to the generation of -one of his own kind, let man be what it will. - -5. Change of Relation may be without any Change in the things related. - -The nature therefore of relation consists in the referring or comparing -two things one to another; from which comparison one or both comes to -be denominated. And if either of those things be removed, or cease to -be, the relation ceases, and the denomination consequent to it, though -the other receive in itself no alteration at all; v.g. Caius, whom I -consider to-day as a father, ceases to be so to-morrow, only by the -death of his son, without any alteration made in himself. Nay, barely -by the mind’s changing the object to which it compares anything, the -same thing is capable of having contrary denominations at the same -time: v.g. Caius, compared to several persons, may truly be said to be -older and younger, stronger and weaker, &c. - -6. Relation only betwixt two things. - -Whatsoever doth or can exist, or be considered as one thing is -positive: and so not only simple ideas and substances, but modes also, -are positive beings: though the parts of which they consist are very -often relative one to another: but the whole together considered as one -thing, and producing in us the complex idea of one thing, which idea is -in our minds, as one picture, though an aggregate of divers parts, and -under one name, it is a positive or absolute thing, or idea. Thus a -triangle, though the parts thereof compared one to another be relative, -yet the idea of the whole is a positive absolute idea. The same may be -said of a family, a tune, &c.; for there can be no relation but betwixt -two things considered as two things. There must always be in relation -two ideas or things, either in themselves really separate, or -considered as distinct, and then a ground or occasion for their -comparison. - -7. All Things capable of Relation. - -Concerning relation in general, these things may be considered: - -First, That there is no one thing, whether simple idea, substance, -mode, or relation, or name of either of them, which is not capable of -almost an infinite number of considerations in reference to other -things: and therefore this makes no small part of men’s thoughts and -words: v.g. one single man may at once be concerned in, and sustain all -these following relations, and many more, viz. father, brother, son, -grandfather, grandson, father-in-law, son-in-law, husband, friend, -enemy, subject, general, judge, patron, client, professor, European, -Englishman, islander, servant, master, possessor, captain, superior, -inferior, bigger, less, older, younger, contemporary, like, unlike, -&c., to an almost infinite number: he being capable of as many -relations as there can be occasions of comparing him to other things, -in any manner of agreement, disagreement, or respect whatsoever. For, -as I said, relation is a way of comparing or considering two things -[*dropped line] from that comparison; and sometimes giving even the -relation itself a name. - -8. Our Ideas of Relations often clearer than of the Subjects related. - -Secondly, This further may be considered concerning relation, that -though it be not contained in the real existence of things, but -something extraneous and superinduced, yet the ideas which relative -words stand for are often clearer and more distinct than of those -substances to which they do belong. The notion we have of a father or -brother is a great deal clearer and more distinct than that we have of -a man; or, if you will, PATERNITY is a thing whereof it is easier to -have a clear idea, than of HUMANITY; and I can much easier conceive -what a friend is, than what God; because the knowledge of one action, -or one simple idea, is oftentimes sufficient to give me the notion of a -relation; but to the knowing of any substantial being, an accurate -collection of sundry ideas is necessary. A man, if he compares two -things together, can hardly be supposed not to know what it is wherein -he compares them: so that when he compares any things together, he -cannot but have a very clear idea of that relation. THE IDEAS, THEN, OF -RELATIONS, ARE CAPABLE AT LEAST OF BEING MORE PERFECT AND DISTINCT IN -OUR MINDS THAN THOSE OF SUBSTANCES. Because it is commonly hard to know -all the simple ideas which are really in any substance, but for the -most part easy enough to know the simple ideas that make up any -relation I think on, or have a name for: v.g. comparing two men in -reference to one common parent, it is very easy to frame the ideas of -brothers, without having yet the perfect idea of a man. For significant -relative words, as well as others, standing only for ideas; and those -being all either simple, or made up of simple ones, it suffices for the -knowing the precise idea the relative term stands for, to have a clear -conception of that which is the foundation of the relation; which may -be done without having a perfect and clear idea of the thing it is -attributed to. Thus, having the notion that one laid the egg out of -which the other was hatched, I have a clear idea of the relation of DAM -and CHICK between the two cassiowaries in St. James’s Park; though -perhaps I have but a very obscure and imperfect idea of those birds -themselves. - -9. Relations all terminate in simple Ideas. - -Thirdly, Though there be a great number of considerations wherein -things may be compared one with another, and so a multitude of -relations, yet they all terminate in, and are concerned about those -simple ideas, either of sensation or reflection, which I think to be -the whole materials of all our knowledge. To clear this, I shall show -it in the most considerable relations that we have any notion of; and -in some that seem to be the most remote from sense or reflection: which -yet will appear to have their ideas from thence, and leave it past -doubt that the notions we have of them are but certain simple ideas, -and so originally derived from sense or reflection. - -10. Terms leading the Mind beyond the Subject denominated, are -relative. - -Fourthly, That relation being the considering of one thing with another -which is extrinsical to it, it is evident that all words that -necessarily lead the mind to any other ideas than are supposed really -to exist in that thing to which the words are applied are relative -words: v.g.a MAN, BLACK, MERRY, THOUGHTFUL, THIRSTY, ANGRY, EXTENDED; -these and the like are all absolute, because they neither signify nor -intimate anything but what does or is supposed really to exist in the -man thus denominated; but FATHER, BROTHER, KING, HUSBAND, BLACKER, -MERRIER, &c., are words which, together with the thing they denominate, -imply also something else separate and exterior to the existence of -that thing. - -11. All relatives made up of simple ideas. - -Having laid down these premises concerning relation in general, I shall -now proceed to show, in some instances, how all the ideas we have of -relation are made up, as the others are, only of simple ideas; and that -they all, how refined or remote from sense soever they seem, terminate -at last in simple ideas. I shall begin with the most comprehensive -relation, wherein all things that do, or can exist, are concerned, and -that is the relation of CAUSE and EFFECT: the idea whereof, how derived -from the two fountains of all our knowledge, sensation and reflection, -I shall in the next place consider. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVI. -OF CAUSE AND EFFECT, AND OTHER RELATIONS. - - -1. Whence the Ideas of cause and effect got. - -In the notice that our senses take of the constant vicissitude of -things, we cannot but observe that several particular, both qualities -and substances, begin to exist; and that they receive this their -existence from the due application and operation of some other being. -From this observation we get our ideas of CAUSE and EFFECT. THAT WHICH -PRODUCES ANY SIMPLE OR COMPLEX IDEA we denote by the general name, -CAUSE, and THAT WHICH IS PRODUCED, EFFECT. Thus, finding that in that -substance which we call wax, fluidity, which is a simple idea that was -not in it before, is constantly produced by the application of a -certain degree of heat we call the simple idea of heat, in relation to -fluidity in wax, the cause of it, and fluidity the effect. So also, -finding that the substance, wood, which is a certain collection of -simple ideas so called, by the application of fire, is turned into -another substance, called ashes; i. e., another complex idea, -consisting of a collection of simple ideas, quite different from that -complex idea which we call wood; we consider fire, in relation to -ashes, as cause, and the ashes, as effect. So that whatever is -considered by us to conduce or operate to the producing any particular -simple idea, or collection of simple ideas, whether substance or mode, -which did not before exist, hath thereby in our minds the relation of a -cause, and so is denominated by us. - -2. Creation Generation, making Alteration. - -Having thus, from what our senses are able to discover in the -operations of bodies on one another, got the notion of cause and -effect, viz. that a cause is that which makes any other thing, either -simple idea, substance, or mode, begin to be; and an effect is that -which had its beginning from some other thing; the mind finds no great -difficulty to distinguish the several originals of things into two -sorts:— - -First, When the thing is wholly made new, so that no part thereof did -ever exist before; as when a new particle of matter doth begin to -exist, IN RERUM NATURA, which had before no being, and this we call -CREATION. - -Secondly, When a thing is made up of particles, which did all of them -before exist; but that very thing, so constituted of pre-existing -particles, which, considered all together, make up such a collection of -simple ideas, had not any existence before, as this man, this egg, -rose, or cherry, &c. And this, when referred to a substance, produced -in the ordinary course of nature by internal principle, but set on work -by, and received from, some external agent, or cause, and working by -insensible ways which we perceive not, we call GENERATION. When the -cause is extrinsical, and the effect produced by a sensible separation, -or juxta-position of discernible parts, we call it MAKING; and such are -all artificial things. When any simple idea is produced, which was not -in that subject before, we call it ALTERATION. Thus a man is generated, -a picture made; and either of them altered, when any new sensible -quality or simple idea is produced in either of them, which was not -there before: and the things thus made to exist, which were not there -before, are effects; and those things which operated to the existence, -causes. In which, and all other cases, we may observe, that the notion -of cause and effect has its rise from ideas received by sensation or -reflection; and that this relation, how comprehensive soever, -terminates at last in them. For to have the idea of cause and effect, -it suffices to consider any simple idea or substance, as beginning to -exist, by the operation of some other, without knowing the manner of -that operation. - -3. Relations of Time. - -Time and place are also the foundations of very large relations; and -all finite beings at least are concerned in them. But having already -shown in another place how we get those ideas, it may suffice here to -intimate, that most of the denominations of things received from TIME -are only relations. Thus, when any one says that Queen Elizabeth lived -sixty-nine, and reigned forty-five years, these words import only the -relation of that duration to some other, and mean no more but this, -That the duration of her existence was equal to sixty-nine, and the -duration of her government to forty-five annual revolutions of the sun; -and so are all words, answering, HOW LONG? Again, William the Conqueror -invaded England about the year 1066; which means this, That, taking the -duration from our Saviour’s time till now for one entire great length -of time, it shows at what distance this invasion was from the two -extremes; and so do all words of time answering to the question, WHEN, -which show only the distance of any point of time from the period of a -longer duration, from which we measure, and to which we thereby -consider it as related. - -4. Some ideas of Time supposed positive and found to be relative. - -There are yet, besides those, other words of time, that ordinarily are -thought to stand for positive ideas, which yet will, when considered, -be found to be relative; such as are, young, old, &c., which include -and intimate the relation anything has to a certain length of duration, -whereof we have the idea in our minds. Thus, having settled in our -thoughts the idea of the ordinary duration of a man to be seventy -years, when we say a man is YOUNG, we mean that his age is yet but a -small part of that which usually men attain to; and when we denominate -him OLD, we mean that his duration is run out almost to the end of that -which men do not usually exceed. And so it is but comparing the -particular age or duration of this or that man, to the idea of that -duration which we have in our minds, as ordinarily belonging to that -sort of animals: which is plain in the application of these names to -other things; for a man is called young at twenty years, and very young -at seven years old: but yet a horse we call old at twenty, and a dog at -seven years, because in each of these we compare their age to different -ideas of duration, which are settled in our minds as belonging to these -several sorts of animals, in the ordinary course of nature. But the sun -and stars, though they have outlasted several generations of men, we -call not old, because we do not know what period God hath set to that -sort of beings. This term belonging properly to those things which we -can observe in the ordinary course of things, by a natural decay, to -come to an end in a certain period of time; and so have in our minds, -as it were, a standard to which we can compare the several parts of -their duration; and, by the relation they bear thereunto, call them -young or old; which we cannot, therefore, do to a ruby or a diamond, -things whose usual periods we know not. - -5. Relations of Place and Extension. - -The relation also that things have to one another in their PLACES and -distances is very obvious to observe; as above, below, a mile distant -from Charing-cross, in England, and in London. But as in duration, so -in extension and bulk, there are some ideas that are relative which we -signify by names that are thought positive; as GREAT and LITTLE are -truly relations. For here also, having, by observation, settled in our -minds the ideas of the bigness of several species of things from those -we have been most accustomed to, we make them as it were the standards, -whereby to denominate the bulk of others. Thus we call a great apple, -such a one as is bigger than the ordinary sort of those we have been -used to; and a little horse, such a one as comes not up to the size of -that idea which we have in our minds to belong ordinarily to horses; -and that will be a great horse to a Welchman, which is but a little one -to a Fleming; they two having, from the different breed of their -countries, taken several-sized ideas to which they compare, and in -relation to which they denominate their great and their little. - -6. Absolute Terms often stand for Relations. - -So likewise weak and strong are but relative denominations of power, -compared to some ideas we have at that time of greater or less power. -Thus, when we say a weak man, we mean one that has not so much strength -or power to move as usually men have, or usually those of his size -have; which is a comparing his strength to the idea we have of the -usual strength of men, or men of such a size. The like when we say the -creatures are all weak things; weak there is but a relative term, -signifying the disproportion there is in the power of God and the -creatures. And so abundance of words, in ordinary speech, stand only -for relations (and perhaps the greatest part) which at first sight seem -to have no such signification: v.g. the ship has necessary stores. -NECESSARY and STORES are both relative words; one having a relation to -the accomplishing the voyage intended, and the other to future use. All -which relations, how they are confined to, and terminate in ideas -derived from sensation or reflection, is too obvious to need any -explication. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVII. -OF IDENTITY AND DIVERSITY. - - -1. Wherein Identity consists. - -ANOTHER occasion the mind often takes of comparing, is the very being -of things, when, considering ANYTHING AS EXISTING AT ANY DETERMINED -TIME AND PLACE, we compare it with ITSELF EXISTING AT ANOTHER TIME, and -thereon form the ideas of IDENTITY and DIVERSITY. When we see anything -to be in any place in any instant of time, we are sure (be it what it -will) that it is that very thing, and not another which at that same -time exists in another place, how like and undistinguishable soever it -may be in all other respects: and in this consists IDENTITY, when the -ideas it is attributed to vary not at all from what they were that -moment wherein we consider their former existence, and to which we -compare the present. For we never finding, nor conceiving it possible, -that two things of the same kind should exist in the same place at the -same time, we rightly conclude, that, whatever exists anywhere at any -time, excludes all of the same kind, and is there itself alone. When -therefore we demand whether anything be the SAME or no, it refers -always to something that existed such a time in such a place, which it -was certain, at that instant, was the same with itself, and no other. -From whence it follows, that one thing cannot have two beginnings of -existence, nor two things one beginning; it being impossible for two -things of the same kind to be or exist in the same instant, in the very -same place; or one and the same thing in different places. That, -therefore, that had one beginning, is the same thing; and that which -had a different beginning in time and place from that, is not the same, -but diverse. That which has made the difficulty about this relation has -been the little care and attention used in having precise notions of -the things to which it is attributed. - -2. Identity of Substances. - -We have the ideas but of three sorts of substances: 1. GOD. 2. FINITE -INTELLIGENCES. 3. BODIES. - -First, GOD is without beginning, eternal, unalterable, and everywhere, -and therefore concerning his identity there can be no doubt. - -Secondly, FINITE SPIRITS having had each its determinated time and -place of beginning to exist, the relation to that time and place will -always determine to each of them its identity, as long as it exists. - -Thirdly, The same will hold of every PARTICLE OF MATTER, to which no -addition or subtraction of matter being made, it is the same. For, -though these three sorts of substances, as we term them, do not exclude -one another out of the same place, yet we cannot conceive but that they -must necessarily each of them exclude any of the same kind out of the -same place: or else the notions and names of identity and diversity -would be in vain, and there could be no such distinctions of -substances, or anything else one from another. For example: could two -bodies be in the same place at the same time; then those two parcels of -matter must be one and the same, take them great or little; nay, all -bodies must be one and the same. For, by the same reason that two -particles of matter may be in one place, all bodies may be in one -place: which, when it can be supposed, takes away the distinction of -identity and diversity of one and more, and renders it ridiculous. But -it being a contradiction that two or more should be one, identity and -diversity are relations and ways of comparing well founded, and of use -to the understanding. - -3. Identity of modes and relations. - -All other things being but modes or relations ultimately terminated in -substances, the identity and diversity of each particular existence of -them too will be by the same way determined: only as to things whose -existence is in succession, such as are the actions of finite beings, -v. g. MOTION and THOUGHT, both which consist in a continued train of -succession, concerning THEIR diversity there can be no question: -because each perishing the moment it begins, they cannot exist in -different times, or in different places, as permanent beings can at -different times exist in distant places; and therefore no motion or -thought, considered as at different times, can be the same, each part -thereof having a different beginning of existence. - -4. Principium Individuationis. - -From what has been said, it is easy to discover what is so much -inquired after, the PRINCIPIUM INDIVIDUATIONIS; and that, it is plain, -is existence itself; which determines a being of any sort to a -particular time and place, incommunicable to two beings of the same -kind. This, though it seems easier to conceive in simple substances or -modes; yet, when reflected on, is not more difficult in compound ones, -if care be taken to what it is applied: v.g. let us suppose an atom, -i.e. a continued body under one immutable superficies, existing in a -determined time and place; it is evident, that, considered in any -instant of its existence, it is in that instant the same with itself. -For, being at that instant what it is, and nothing else, it is the -same, and so must continue as long as its existence is continued; for -so long it will be the same, and no other. In like manner, if two or -more atoms be joined together into the same mass, every one of those -atoms will be the same, by the foregoing rule: and whilst they exist -united together, the mass, consisting of the same atoms, must be the -same mass, or the same body, let the parts be ever so differently -jumbled. But if one of these atoms be taken away, or one new one added, -it is no longer the same mass or the same body. In the state of living -creatures, their identity depends not on a mass of the same particles, -but on something else. For in them the variation of great parcels of -matter alters not the identity: an oak growing from a plant to a great -tree, and then lopped, is still the same oak; and a colt grown up to a -horse, sometimes fat, sometimes lean, is all the while the same horse: -though, in both these cases, there may be a manifest change of the -parts; so that truly they are not either of them the same masses of -matter, though they be truly one of them the same oak, and the other -the same horse. The reason whereof is, that, in these two cases—a MASS -OF MATTER and a LIVING BODY—identity is not applied to the same thing. - -5. Identity of Vegetables. - -We must therefore consider wherein an oak differs from a mass of -matter, and that seems to me to be in this, that the one is only the -cohesion of particles of matter any how united, the other such a -disposition of them as constitutes the parts of an oak; and such an -organization of those parts as is fit to receive and distribute -nourishment, so as to continue and frame the wood, bark, and leaves, -&c., of an oak, in which consists the vegetable life. That being then -one plant which has such an organization of parts in one coherent body, -partaking of one common life, it continues to be the same plant as long -as it partakes of the same life, though that life be communicated to -new particles of matter vitally united to the living plant, in a like -continued organization conformable to that sort of plants. For this -organization, being at any one instant in any one collection of matter, -is in that particular concrete distinguished from all other, and IS -that individual life, which existing constantly from that moment both -forwards and backwards, in the same continuity of insensibly succeeding -parts united to the living body of the plant, it has that identity -which makes the same plant, and all the parts of it, parts of the same -plant, during all the time that they exist united in that continued -organization, which is fit to convey that common life to all the parts -so united. - -6. Identity of Animals. - -The case is not so much different in BRUTES but that any one may hence -see what makes an animal and continues it the same. Something we have -like this in machines, and may serve to illustrate it. For example, -what is a watch? It is plain it is nothing but a fit organization or -construction of parts to a certain end, which, when a sufficient force -is added to it, it is capable to attain. If we would suppose this -machine one continued body, all whose organized parts were repaired, -increased, or diminished by a constant addition or separation of -insensible parts, with one common life, we should have something very -much like the body of an animal; with this difference, That, in an -animal the fitness of the organization, and the motion wherein life -consists, begin together, the motion coming from within; but in -machines the force coming sensibly from without, is often away when the -organ is in order, and well fitted to receive it. - -7. The Identity of Man. - -This also shows wherein the identity of the same MAN consists; viz. in -nothing but a participation of the same continued life, by constantly -fleeting particles of matter, in succession vitally united to the same -organized body. He that shall place the identity of man in anything -else, but, like that of other animals, in one fitly organized body, -taken in any one instant, and from thence continued, under one -organization of life, in several successively fleeting particles of -matter united to it, will find it hard to make an embryo, one of years, -mad and sober, the SAME man, by any supposition, that will not make it -possible for Seth, Ismael, Socrates, Pilate, St. Austin, and Caesar -Borgia, to be the same man. For if the identity of SOUL ALONE makes the -same MAN; and there be nothing in the nature of matter why the same -individual spirit may not be united to different bodies, it will be -possible that those men, living in distant ages, and of different -tempers, may have been the same man: which way of speaking must be from -a very strange use of the word man, applied to an idea out of which -body and shape are excluded. And that way of speaking would agree yet -worse with the notions of those philosophers who allow of -transmigration, and are of opinion that the souls of men may, for their -miscarriages, be detruded into the bodies of beasts, as fit -habitations, with organs suited to the satisfaction of their brutal -inclinations. But yet I think nobody, could he be sure that the SOUL of -Heliogabalus were in one of his hogs, would yet say that hog were a MAN -or Heliogabalus. - -8. Idea of Identity suited to the Idea it is applied to. - -It is not therefore unity of substance that comprehends all sorts of -identity, or will determine it in every case; but to conceive and judge -of it aright, we must consider what idea the word it is applied to -stands for: it being one thing to be the same SUBSTANCE, another the -same MAN, and a third the same PERSON, if PERSON, MAN, and SUBSTANCE, -are three names standing for three different ideas;—for such as is the -idea belonging to that name, such must be the identity; which, if it -had been a little more carefully attended to, would possibly have -prevented a great deal of that confusion which often occurs about this -matter, with no small seeming difficulties, especially concerning -PERSONAL identity, which therefore we shall in the next place a little -consider. - -9. Same man. - -An animal is a living organized body; and consequently the same animal, -as we have observed, is the same continued LIFE communicated to -different particles of matter, as they happen successively to be united -to that organized living body. And whatever is talked of other -definitions, ingenious observation puts it past doubt, that the idea in -our minds, of which the sound man in our mouths is the sign, is nothing -else but of an animal of such a certain form. Since I think I may be -confident, that, whoever should see a creature of his own shape or -make, though it had no more reason all its life than a cat or a parrot, -would call him still a MAN; or whoever should hear a cat or a parrot -discourse, reason, and philosophize, would call or think it nothing but -a CAT or a PARROT; and say, the one was a dull irrational man, and the -other a very intelligent rational parrot. - -10. Same man. - -For I presume it is not the idea of a thinking or rational being alone -that makes the IDEA OF A MAN in most people’s sense: but of a body, so -and so shaped, joined to it; and if that be the idea of a man, the same -successive body not shifted all at once, must, as well as the same -immaterial spirit, go to the making of the same man. - -11. Personal Identity. - -This being premised, to find wherein personal identity consists, we -must consider what PERSON stands for;—which, I think, is a thinking -intelligent being, that has reason and reflection, and can consider -itself as itself, the same thinking thing, in different times and -places; which it does only by that consciousness which is inseparable -from thinking, and, as it seems to me, essential to it: it being -impossible for any one to perceive without PERCEIVING that he does -perceive. When we see, hear, smell, taste, feel, meditate, or will -anything, we know that we do so. Thus it is always as to our present -sensations and perceptions: and by this every one is to himself that -which he calls SELF:—it not being considered, in this case, whether the -same self be continued in the same or divers substances. For, since -consciousness always accompanies thinking, and it is that which makes -every one to be what he calls self, and thereby distinguishes himself -from all other thinking things, in this alone consists personal -identity, i.e. the sameness of a rational being: and as far as this -consciousness can be extended backwards to any past action or thought, -so far reaches the identity of that person; it is the same self now it -was then; and it is by the same self with this present one that now -reflects on it, that that action was done. - -12. Consciousness makes personal Identity. - -But it is further inquired, whether it be the same identical substance. -This few would think they had reason to doubt of, if these perceptions, -with their consciousness, always remained present in the mind, whereby -the same thinking thing would be always consciously present, and, as -would be thought, evidently the same to itself. But that which seems to -make the difficulty is this, that this consciousness being interrupted -always by forgetfulness, there being no moment of our lives wherein we -have the whole train of all our past actions before our eyes in one -view, but even the best memories losing the sight of one part whilst -they are viewing another; and we sometimes, and that the greatest part -of our lives, not reflecting on our past selves, being intent on our -present thoughts, and in sound sleep having no thoughts at all, or at -least none with that consciousness which remarks our waking thoughts,—I -say, in all these cases, our consciousness being interrupted, and we -losing the sight of our past selves, doubts are raised whether we are -the same thinking thing, i.e. the same SUBSTANCE or no. Which, however -reasonable or unreasonable, concerns not PERSONAL identity at all. The -question being what makes the same person; and not whether it be the -same identical substance, which always thinks in the same person, -which, in this case, matters not at all: different substances, by the -same consciousness (where they do partake in it) being united into one -person, as well as different bodies by the same life are united into -one animal, whose identity is preserved in that change of substances by -the unity of one continued life. For, it being the same consciousness -that makes a man be himself to himself, personal identity depends on -that only, whether it be annexed solely to one individual substance, or -can be continued in a succession of several substances. For as far as -any intelligent being CAN repeat the idea of any past action with the -same consciousness it had of it at first, and with the same -consciousness it has of any present action; so far it is the same -personal self. For it is by the consciousness it has of its present -thoughts and actions, that it is SELF TO ITSELF now, and so will be the -same self, as far as the same consciousness can extend to actions past -or to come; and would be by distance of time, or change of substance, -no more two persons, than a man be two men by wearing other clothes -to-day than he did yesterday, with a long or a short sleep between: the -same consciousness uniting those distant actions into the same person, -whatever substances contributed to their production. - -13. Personal Identity in Change of Substance. - -That this is so, we have some kind of evidence in our very bodies, all -whose particles, whilst vitally united to this same thinking conscious -self, so that WE FEEL when they are touched, and are affected by, and -conscious of good or harm that happens to them, are a part of -ourselves; i.e. of our thinking conscious self. Thus, the limbs of his -body are to every one a part of himself; he sympathizes and is -concerned for them. Cut off a hand, and thereby separate it from that -consciousness he had of its heat, cold, and other affections, and it is -then no longer a part of that which is himself, any more than the -remotest part of matter. Thus, we see the SUBSTANCE whereof personal -self consisted at one time may be varied at another, without the change -of personal identity; there being no question about the same person, -though the limbs which but now were a part of it, be cut off. - -14. Personality in Change of Substance. - -But the question is, Whether if the same substance which thinks be -changed, it can be the same person; or, remaining the same, it can be -different persons? - -And to this I answer: First, This can be no question at all to those -who place thought in a purely material animal constitution, void of an -immaterial substance. For, whether their supposition be true or no, it -is plain they conceive personal identity preserved in something else -than identity of substance; as animal identity is preserved in identity -of life, and not of substance. And therefore those who place thinking -in an immaterial substance only, before they can come to deal with -these men, must show why personal identity cannot be preserved in the -change of immaterial substances, or variety of particular immaterial -substances, as well as animal identity is preserved in the change of -material substances, or variety of particular bodies: unless they will -say, it is one immaterial spirit that makes the same life in brutes, as -it is one immaterial spirit that makes the same person in men; which -the Cartesians at least will not admit, for fear of making brutes -thinking things too. - -15. Whether in Change of thinking Substances there can be one Person. - -But next, as to the first part of the question, Whether, if the same -thinking substance (supposing immaterial substances only to think) be -changed, it can be the same person? I answer, that cannot be resolved -but by those who know there can what kind of substances they are that -do think; and whether the consciousness of past actions can be -transferred from one thinking substance to another. I grant were the -same consciousness the same individual action it could not: but it -being a present representation of a past action, why it may not be -possible, that that may be represented to the mind to have been which -really never was, will remain to be shown. And therefore how far the -consciousness of past actions is annexed to any individual agent, so -that another cannot possibly have it, will be hard for us to determine, -till we know what kind of action it is that cannot be done without a -reflex act of perception accompanying it, and how performed by thinking -substances, who cannot think without being conscious of it. But that -which we call the same consciousness, not being the same individual -act, why one intellectual substance may not have represented to it, as -done by itself, what IT never did, and was perhaps done by some other -agent—why, I say, such a representation may not possibly be without -reality of matter of fact, as well as several representations in dreams -are, which yet whilst dreaming we take for true—will be difficult to -conclude from the nature of things. And that it never is so, will by -us, till we have clearer views of the nature of thinking substances, be -best resolved into the goodness of God; who, as far as the happiness or -misery of any of his sensible creatures is concerned in it, will not, -by a fatal error of theirs, transfer from one to another that -consciousness which draws reward or punishment with it. How far this -may be an argument against those who would place thinking in a system -of fleeting animal spirits, I leave to be considered. But yet, to -return to the question before us, it must be allowed, that, if the same -consciousness (which, as has been shown, is quite a different thing -from the same numerical figure or motion in body) can be transferred -from one thinking substance to another, it will be possible that two -thinking substances may make but one person. For the same consciousness -being preserved, whether in the same or different substances, the -personal identity is preserved. - -16. Whether, the same immaterial Substance remaining, there can be two -Persons. - -As to the second part of the question, Whether the same immaterial -substance remaining, there may be two distinct persons; which question -seems to me to be built on this,—Whether the same immaterial being, -being conscious of the action of its past duration, may be wholly -stripped of all the consciousness of its past existence, and lose it -beyond the power of ever retrieving it again: and so as it were -beginning a new account from a new period, have a consciousness that -CANNOT reach beyond this new state. All those who hold pre-existence -are evidently of this mind; since they allow the soul to have no -remaining consciousness of what it did in that pre-existent state, -either wholly separate from body, or informing any other body; and if -they should not, it is plain experience would be against them. So that -personal identity, reaching no further than consciousness reaches, a -pre-existent spirit not having continued so many ages in a state of -silence, must needs make different persons. Suppose a Christian -Platonist or a Pythagorean should, upon God’s having ended all his -works of creation the seventh day, think his soul hath existed ever -since; and should imagine it has revolved in several human bodies; as I -once met with one, who was persuaded his had been the SOUL of Socrates -(how reasonably I will not dispute; this I know, that in the post he -filled, which was no inconsiderable one, he passed for a very rational -man, and the press has shown that he wanted not parts or -learning;)—would any one say, that he, being not conscious of any of -Socrates’s actions or thoughts, could be the same PERSON with Socrates? -Let any one reflect upon himself, and conclude that he has in himself -an immaterial spirit, which is that which thinks in him, and, in the -constant change of his body keeps him the same: and is that which he -calls HIMSELF: let him also suppose it to be the same soul that was in -Nestor or Thersites, at the siege of Troy, (for souls being, as far as -we know anything of them, in their nature indifferent to any parcel of -matter, the supposition has no apparent absurdity in it,) which it may -have been, as well as it is now the soul of any other man: but he now -having no consciousness of any of the actions either of Nestor or -Thersites, does or can he conceive himself the same person with either -of them? Can he be concerned in either of their actions? attribute them -to himself, or think them his own more than the actions of any other -men that ever existed? So that this consciousness, not reaching to any -of the actions of either of those men, he is no more one SELF with -either of them than of the soul of immaterial spirit that now informs -him had been created, and began to exist, when it began to inform his -present body; though it were never so true, that the same SPIRIT that -informed Nestor’s or Thersites’ body were numerically the same that now -informs his. For this would no more make him the same person with -Nestor, than if some of the particles of smaller that were once a part -of Nestor were now a part of this man the same immaterial substance, -without the same consciousness, no more making the same person, by -being united to any body, than the same particle of matter, without -consciousness, united to any body, makes the same person. But let him -once find himself conscious of any of the actions of Nestor, he then -finds himself the same person with Nestor. - -17. The body, as well as the soul, goes to the making of a Man. - -And thus may we be able, without any difficulty, to conceive the same -person at the resurrection, though in a body not exactly in make or -parts the same which he had here,—the same consciousness going along -with the soul that inhabits it. But yet the soul alone, in the change -of bodies, would scarce to any one but to him that makes the soul the -man, be enough to make the same man. For should the soul of a prince, -carrying with it the consciousness of the prince’s past life, enter and -inform the body of a cobbler, as soon as deserted by his own soul, -every one sees he would be the same PERSON with the prince, accountable -only for the prince’s actions: but who would say it was the same MAN? -The body too goes to the making the man, and would, I guess, to -everybody determine the man in this case, wherein the soul, with all -its princely thoughts about it, would not make another man: but he -would be the same cobbler to every one besides himself. I know that, in -the ordinary way of speaking, the same person, and the same man, stand -for one and the same thing. And indeed every one will always have a -liberty to speak as he pleases, and to apply what articulate sounds to -what ideas he thinks fit, and change them as often as he pleases. But -yet, when we will inquire what makes the same SPIRIT, MAN, or PERSON, -we must fix the ideas of spirit, man, or person in our minds; and -having resolved with ourselves what we mean by them, it will not be -hard to determine, in either of them, or the like, when it is the same, -and when not. - -18. Consciousness alone unites actions into the same Person. - -But though the same immaterial substance or soul does not alone, -wherever it be, and in whatsoever state, make the same MAN; yet it is -plain, consciousness, as far as ever it can be extended—should it be to -ages past—unites existences and actions very remote in time into the -same PERSON, as well as it does the existences and actions of the -immediately preceding moment: so that whatever has the consciousness of -present and past actions, is the same person to whom they both belong. -Had I the same consciousness that I saw the ark and Noah’s flood, as -that I saw an overflowing of the Thames last winter, or as that I write -now, I could no more doubt that I who write this now, that saw the -Thames overflowed last winter, and that viewed the flood at the general -deluge, was the same SELF,—place that self in what SUBSTANCE you -please—than that I who write this am the same MYSELF now whilst I write -(whether I consist of all the same substance material or immaterial, or -no) that I was yesterday. For as to this point of being the same self, -it matters not whether this present self be made up of the same or -other substances—I being as much concerned, and as justly accountable -for any action that was done a thousand years since, appropriated to me -now by this self-consciousness, as I am for what I did the last moment. - -19. Self depends on Consciousness, not on Substance. - -SELF is that conscious thinking thing,—whatever substance made up of, -(whether spiritual or material, simple or compounded, it matters -not)—which is sensible or conscious of pleasure and pain, capable of -happiness or misery, and so is concerned for itself, as far as that -consciousness extends. Thus every one finds that, whilst comprehended -under that consciousness, the little finger is as much a part of -himself as what is most so. Upon separation of this little finger, -should this consciousness go along with the little finger, and leave -the rest of the body, it is evident the little finger would be the -person, the same person; and self then would have nothing to do with -the rest of the body. As in this case it is the consciousness that goes -along with the substance, when one part is separate from another, which -makes the same person, and constitutes this inseparable self: so it is -in reference to substances remote in time. That with which the -consciousness of this present thinking thing CAN join itself, makes the -same person, and is one self with it, and with nothing else; and so -attributes to itself, and owns all the actions of that thing, as its -own, as far as that consciousness reaches, and no further; as every one -who reflects will perceive. - -20. Persons, not Substances, the Objects of Reward and Punishment. - -In this personal identity is founded all the right and justice of -reward and punishment; happiness and misery being that for which every -one is concerned for HIMSELF, and not mattering what becomes of any -SUBSTANCE, not joined to, or affected with that consciousness. For, as -it is evident in the instance I gave but now, if the consciousness went -along with the little finger when it was cut off, that would be the -same self which was concerned for the whole body yesterday, as making -part of itself, whose actions then it cannot but admit as its own now. -Though, if the same body should still live, and immediately from the -separation of the little finger have its own peculiar consciousness, -whereof the little finger knew nothing, it would not at all be -concerned for it, as a part of itself, or could own any of its actions, -or have any of them imputed to him. - -21. Which shows wherein Personal identity consists. - -This may show us wherein personal identity consists: not in the -identity of substance, but, as I have said, in the identity of -consciousness, wherein if Socrates and the present mayor of -Queenborough agree, they are the same person: if the same Socrates -waking and sleeping do not partake of the same consciousness, Socrates -waking and sleeping is not the same person. And to punish Socrates -waking for what sleeping Socrates thought, and waking Socrates was -never conscious of, would be no more of right, than to punish one twin -for what his brother-twin did, whereof he knew nothing, because their -outsides were so like, that they could not be distinguished; for such -twins have been seen. - -22. Absolute oblivion separates what is thus forgotten from the person, -but not from the man. - -But yet possibly it will still be objected,—Suppose I wholly lose the -memory of some parts of my life, beyond a possibility of retrieving -them, so that perhaps I shall never be conscious of them again; yet am -I not the same person that did those actions, had those thoughts that I -once was conscious of, though I have now forgot them? To which I -answer, that we must here take notice what the word _I_ is applied to; -which, in this case, is the MAN only. And the same man being presumed -to be the same person, I is easily here supposed to stand also for the -same person. But if it be possible for the same man to have distinct -incommunicable consciousness at different times, it is past doubt the -same man would at different times make different persons; which, we -see, is the sense of mankind in the solemnest declaration of their -opinions, human laws not punishing the mad man for the sober man’s -actions, nor the sober man for what the mad man did,—thereby making -them two persons: which is somewhat explained by our way of speaking in -English when we say such an one is ‘not himself,’ or is ‘beside -himself’; in which phrases it is insinuated, as if those who now, or at -least first used them, thought that self was changed; the selfsame -person was no longer in that man. - -23. Difference between Identity of Man and of Person. - -But yet it is hard to conceive that Socrates, the same individual man, -should be two persons. To help us a little in this, we must consider -what is meant by Socrates, or the same individual MAN. - -First, it must be either the same individual, immaterial, thinking -substance; in short, the same numerical soul, and nothing else. - -Secondly, or the same animal, without any regard to an immaterial soul. - -Thirdly, or the same immaterial spirit united to the same animal. - -Now, take which of these suppositions you please, it is impossible to -make personal identity to consist in anything but consciousness; or -reach any further than that does. - -For, by the first of them, it must be allowed possible that a man born -of different women, and in distant times, may be the same man. A way of -speaking which, whoever admits, must allow it possible for the same man -to be two distinct persons, as any two that have lived in different -ages without the knowledge of one another’s thoughts. - -By the second and third, Socrates, in this life and after it, cannot be -the same man any way, but by the same consciousness; and so making -human identity to consist in the same thing wherein we place personal -identity, there will be difficulty to allow the same man to be the same -person. But then they who place human identity in consciousness only, -and not in something else, must consider how they will make the infant -Socrates the same man with Socrates after the resurrection. But -whatsoever to some men makes a man, and consequently the same -individual man, wherein perhaps few are agreed, personal identity can -by us be placed in nothing but consciousness, (which is that alone -which makes what we call SELF,) without involving us in great -absurdities. - -24. - -But is not a man drunk and sober the same person? why else is he -punished for the fact he commits when drunk, though he be never -afterwards conscious of it? Just as much the same person as a man that -walks, and does other things in his sleep, is the same person, and is -answerable for any mischief he shall do in it. Human laws punish both, -with a justice suitable to THEIR way of knowledge;—because, in these -cases, they cannot distinguish certainly what is real, what -counterfeit: and so the ignorance in drunkenness or sleep is not -admitted as a plea. But in the Great Day, wherein the secrets of all -hearts shall be laid open, it may be reasonable to think, no one shall -be made to answer for what he knows nothing of; but shall receive his -doom, his conscience accusing or excusing him. - -25. Consciousness alone unites remote existences into one Person. - -Nothing but consciousness can unite remote existences into the same -person: the identity of substance will not do it; for whatever -substance there is, however framed, without consciousness there is no -person: and a carcass may be a person, as well as any sort of substance -be so, without consciousness. - -Could we suppose two distinct incommunicable consciousnesses acting the -same body, the one constantly by day, the other by night; and, on the -other side, the same consciousness, acting by intervals, two distinct -bodies: I ask, in the first case, whether the day and the night—man -would not be two as distinct persons as Socrates and Plato? And -whether, in the second case, there would not be one person in two -distinct bodies, as much as one man is the same in two distinct -clothings? Nor is it at all material to say, that this same, and this -distinct consciousness, in the cases above mentioned, is owing to the -same and distinct immaterial substances, bringing it with them to those -bodies; which, whether true or no, alters not the case: since it is -evident the personal identity would equally be determined by the -consciousness, whether that consciousness were annexed to some -individual immaterial substance or no. For, granting that the thinking -substance in man must be necessarily supposed immaterial, it is evident -that immaterial thinking thing may sometimes part with its past -consciousness, and be restored to it again: as appears in the -forgetfulness men often have of their past actions; and the mind many -times recovers the memory of a past consciousness, which it had lost -for twenty years together. Make these intervals of memory and -forgetfulness to take their turns regularly by day and night, and you -have two persons with the same immaterial spirit, as much as in the -former instance two persons with the same body. So that self is not -determined by identity or diversity of substance, which it cannot be -sure of, but only by identity of consciousness. - -26. Not the substance with which the consciousness may be united. - -Indeed it may conceive the substance whereof it is now made up to have -existed formerly, united in the same conscious being: but, -consciousness removed, that substance is no more itself, or makes no -more a part of it, than any other substance; as is evident in the -instance we have already given of a limb cut off, of whose heat, or -cold, or other affections, having no longer any consciousness, it is no -more of a man’s self than any other matter of the universe. In like -manner it will be in reference to any immaterial substance, which is -void of that consciousness whereby I am myself to myself: so that I -cannot upon recollection join with that present consciousness whereby I -am now myself, it is, in that part of its existence, no more MYSELF -than any other immaterial being. For, whatsoever any substance has -thought or done, which I cannot recollect, and by my consciousness make -my own thought and action, it will no more belong to me, whether a part -of me thought or did it, than if it had been thought or done by any -other immaterial being anywhere existing. - -27. Consciousness unites substances, material or spiritual, with the -same personality. - -I agree, the more probable opinion is, that this consciousness is -annexed to, and the affection of, one individual immaterial substance. - -But let men, according to their diverse hypotheses, resolve of that as -they please. This every intelligent being, sensible of happiness or -misery, must grant—that there is something that is HIMSELF, that he is -concerned for, and would have happy; that this self has existed in a -continued duration more than one instant, and therefore it is possible -may exist, as it has done, months and years to come, without any -certain bounds to be set to its duration; and may be the same self, by -the same consciousness continued on for the future. And thus, by this -consciousness he finds himself to be the same self which did such and -such an action some years since, by which he comes to be happy or -miserable now. In all which account of self, the same numerical -SUBSTANCE is not considered a making the same self; but the same -continued CONSCIOUSNESS, in which several substances may have been -united, and again separated from it, which, whilst they continued in a -vital union with that wherein this consciousness then resided, made a -part of that same self. Thus any part of our bodies, vitally united to -that which is conscious in us, makes a part of ourselves: but upon -separation from the vital union by which that consciousness is -communicated, that which a moment since was part of ourselves, is now -no more so than a part of another man’s self is a part of me: and it is -not impossible but in a little time may become a real part of another -person. And so we have the same numerical substance become a part of -two different persons; and the same person preserved under the change -of various substances. Could we suppose any spirit wholly stripped of -all its memory of consciousness of past actions, as we find our minds -always are of a great part of ours, and sometimes of them all; the -union or separation of such a spiritual substance would make no -variation of personal identity, any more than that of any particle of -matter does. Any substance vitally united to the present thinking being -is a part of that very same self which now is; anything united to it by -a consciousness of former actions, makes also a part of the same self, -which is the same both then and now. - -28. Person a forensic Term. - -PERSON, as I take it, is the name for this self. Wherever a man finds -what he calls himself, there, I think, another may say is the same -person. It is a forensic term, appropriating actions and their merit; -and so belongs only to intelligent agents, capable of a law, and -happiness, and misery. This personality extends itself beyond present -existence to what is past, only by consciousness,—whereby it becomes -concerned and accountable; owns and imputes to itself past actions, -just upon the same ground and for the same reason as it does the -present. All which is founded in a concern for happiness, the -unavoidable concomitant of consciousness; that which is conscious of -pleasure and pain, desiring that that self that is conscious should be -happy. And therefore whatever past actions it cannot reconcile or -APPROPRIATE to that present self by consciousness, it can be no more -concerned in than if they had never been done: and to receive pleasure -or pain, i.e. reward or punishment, on the account of any such action, -is all one as to be made happy or miserable in its first being, without -any demerit at all. For, supposing a MAN punished now for what he had -done in another life, whereof he could be made to have no consciousness -at all, what difference is there between that punishment and being -CREATED miserable? And therefore, conformable to this, the apostle -tells us, that, at the great day, when every one shall ‘receive -according to his doings, the secrets of all hearts shall be laid open.’ -The sentence shall be justified by the consciousness all persons shall -have, that THEY THEMSELVES, in what bodies soever they appear, or what -substances soever that consciousness adheres to, are the SAME that -committed those actions, and deserve that punishment for them. - -29. Suppositions that look strange are pardonable in our ignorance. - -I am apt enough to think I have, in treating of this subject, made some -suppositions that will look strange to some readers, and possibly they -are so in themselves. But yet, I think they are such as are pardonable, -in this ignorance we are in of the nature of that thinking thing that -is in us, and which we look on as OURSELVES. Did we know what it was; -or how it was tied to a certain system of fleeting animal spirits; or -whether it could or could not perform its operations of thinking and -memory out of a body organized as ours is; and whether it has pleased -God that no one such spirit shall ever be united to any but one such -body, upon the right constitution of whose organs its memory should -depend; we might see the absurdity of some of those suppositions I have -made. But taking, as we ordinarily now do (in the dark concerning these -matters,) the soul of a man for an immaterial substance, independent -from matter, and indifferent alike to it all; there can, from the -nature of things, be no absurdity at all to suppose that the same SOUL -may at different times be united to different BODIES, and with them -make up for that time one MAN: as well as we suppose a part of a -sheep’s body yesterday should be a part of a man’s body to-morrow, and -in that union make a vital part of Meliboeus himself, as well as it did -of his ram. - -30. The Difficulty from ill Use of Names. - -To conclude: Whatever substance begins to exist, it must, during its -existence, necessarily be the same: whatever compositions of substances -begin to exist, during the union of those substances, the concrete must -be the same: whatsoever mode begins to exist, during its existence it -is the same: and so if the composition be of distinct substances and -different modes, the same rule holds. Whereby it will appear, that the -difficulty or obscurity that has been about this matter rather rises -from the names ill-used, than from any obscurity in things themselves. -For whatever makes the specific idea to which the name is applied, if -that idea be steadily kept to, the distinction of anything into the -same and divers will easily be conceived, and there can arise no doubt -about it. - -31. Continuance of that which we have made to be our complex idea of -man makes the same man. - -For, supposing a rational spirit be the idea of a MAN, it is easy to -know what is the same man, viz. the same spirit—whether separate or in -a body—will be the SAME MAN. Supposing a rational spirit vitally united -to a body of a certain conformation of parts to make a man; whilst that -rational spirit, with that vital conformation of parts, though -continued in a fleeting successive body, remains, it will be the SAME -MAN. But if to any one the idea of a man be but the vital union of -parts in a certain shape; as long as that vital union and shape remain -in a concrete, no otherwise the same but by a continued succession of -fleeting particles, it will be the SAME MAN. For, whatever be the -composition whereof the complex idea is made, whenever existence makes -it one particular thing under any denomination, THE SAME EXISTENCE -CONTINUED preserves it the SAME individual under the same denomination. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVIII. -OF OTHER RELATIONS. - - -1. Ideas of Proportional relations. - -BESIDES the before-mentioned occasions of time, place, and causality of -comparing or referring things one to another, there are, as I have -said, infinite others, some whereof I shall mention. - -First, The first I shall name is some one simple idea, which, being -capable of parts or degrees, affords an occasion of comparing the -subjects wherein it is to one another, in respect of that simple idea, -v.g. whiter, sweeter, equal, more, &c. These relations depending on the -equality and excess of the same simple idea, in several subjects, may -be called, if one will, PROPORTIONAL; and that these are only -conversant about those simple ideas received from sensation or -reflection is so evident that nothing need be said to evince it. - -2. Natural relation. - -Secondly, Another occasion of comparing things together, or considering -one thing, so as to include in that consideration some other thing, is -the circumstances of their origin or beginning; which being not -afterwards to be altered, make the relations depending thereon as -lasting as the subjects to which they belong, v.g. father and son, -brothers, cousin-germans, &c., which have their relations by one -community of blood, wherein they partake in several degrees: -countrymen, i.e. those who were born in the same country or tract of -ground; and these I call NATURAL RELATIONS: wherein we may observe, -that mankind have fitted their notions and words to the use of common -life, and not to the truth and extent of things. For it is certain, -that, in reality, the relation is the same betwixt the begetter and the -begotten, in the several races of other animals as well as men; but yet -it is seldom said, this bull is the grandfather of such a calf, or that -two pigeons are cousin-germans. It is very convenient that, by distinct -names, these relations should be observed and marked out in mankind, -there being occasion, both in laws and other communications one with -another, to mention and take notice of men under these relations: from -whence also arise the obligations of several duties amongst men: -whereas, in brutes, men having very little or no cause to mind these -relations, they have not thought fit to give them distinct and peculiar -names. This, by the way, may give us some light into the different -state and growth of languages; which being suited only to the -convenience of communication, are proportioned to the notions men have, -and the commerce of thoughts familiar amongst them; and not to the -reality or extent of things, nor to the various respects might be found -among them; nor the different abstract considerations might be framed -about them. Where they had no philosophical notions, there they had no -terms to express them: and it is no wonder men should have framed no -names for those things they found no occasion to discourse of. From -whence it is easy to imagine why, as in some countries, they may have -not so much as the name for a horse; and in others, where they are more -careful of the pedigrees of their horses, than of their own, that there -they may have not only names for particular horses, but also of their -several relations of kindred one to another. - -3. Ideas of Instituted or Voluntary relations. - -Thirdly, Sometimes the foundation of considering things with reference -to one another, is some act whereby any one comes by a moral right, -power, or obligation to do something. Thus, a general is one that hath -power to command an army, and an army under a general is a collection -of armed men obliged to obey one man. A citizen, or a burgher, is one -who has a right to certain privileges in this or that place. All this -sort depending upon men’s wills, or agreement in society, I call -INSTITUTED, or VOLUNTARY; and may be distinguished from the natural, in -that they are most, if not all of them, some way or other alterable, -and separable from the persons to whom they have sometimes belonged, -though neither of the substances, so related, be destroyed. Now, though -these are all reciprocal, as well as the rest, and contain in them a -reference of two things one to the other; yet, because one of the two -things often wants a relative name, importing that reference, men -usually take no notice of it, and the relation is commonly overlooked: -v. g. a patron and client are easily allowed to be relations, but a -constable or dictator are not so readily at first hearing considered as -such. Because there is no peculiar name for those who are under the -command of a dictator or constable, expressing a relation to either of -them; though it be certain that either of them hath a certain power -over some others, and so is so far related to them, as well as a patron -is to his client, or general to his army. - -4. Ideas of Moral relations. - -Fourthly, There is another sort of relation, which is the conformity or -disagreement men’s VOLUNTARY ACTIONS have to a RULE to which they are -referred, and by which they are judged of; which, I think, may be -called MORAL RELATION, as being that which denominates our moral -actions, and deserves well to be examined; there being no part of -knowledge wherein we should be more careful to get determined ideas, -and avoid, as much as may be, obscurity and confusion. Human actions, -when with their various ends, objects, manners, and circumstances, they -are framed into distinct complex ideas, are, as has been shown, so many -MIXED MODES, a great part whereof have names annexed to them. Thus, -supposing gratitude to be a readiness to acknowledge and return -kindness received; polygamy to be the having more wives than one at -once: when we frame these notions thus in our minds, we have there so -many determined ideas of mixed modes. But this is not all that concerns -our actions: it is not enough to have determined ideas of them, and to -know what names belong to such and such combinations of ideas. We have -a further and greater concernment, and that is, to know whether such -actions, so made up, are morally good or bad. - -5. Moral Good and Evil. - -Good and evil, as hath been shown, (B. II. chap. xx. Section 2, and -chap. xxi. Section 43,) are nothing but pleasure or pain, or that which -occasions or procures pleasure or pain to us. MORAL GOOD AND EVIL, -then, is only THE CONFORMITY OR DISAGREEMENT OF OUR VOLUNTARY ACTIONS -TO SOME LAW, WHEREBY GOOD OR EVIL IS DRAWN ON US, FROM THE WILL AND -POWER OF THE LAW-MAKER; which good and evil, pleasure or pain, -attending our observance or breach of the law by the decree of the -law-maker, is that we call REWARD and PUNISHMENT. - -6. Moral Rules. - -Of these moral rules or laws, to which men generally refer, and by -which they judge of the rectitude or gravity of their actions, there -seem to me to be THREE SORTS, with their three different enforcements, -or rewards and punishments. For, since it would be utterly in vain to -suppose a rule set to the free actions of men, without annexing to it -some enforcement of good and evil to determine his will, we must, -wherever we suppose a law, suppose also some reward or punishment -annexed to that law. It would be in vain for one intelligent being to -set a rule to the actions of another, if he had it not in his power to -reward the compliance with, and punish deviation from his rule, by some -good and evil, that is not the natural product and consequence of the -action itself. For that, being a natural convenience or inconvenience, -would operate of itself, without a law. This, if I mistake not, is the -true nature of all law, properly so called. - -7. Laws. - -The laws that men generally refer their actions to, to judge of their -rectitude or obliquity, seem to me to be these three:—1. The DIVINE -law. 2. The CIVIL law. 3. The law of OPINION or REPUTATION, if I may so -call it. By the relation they bear to the first of these, men judge -whether their actions are sins or duties; by the second, whether they -be criminal or innocent; and by the third, whether they be virtues or -vices. - -8. Divine Law the Measure of Sin and Duty. - -First, the DIVINE LAW, whereby that law which God has set to the -actions of men,—whether promulgated to them by the light of nature, or -the voice of revelation. That God has given a rule whereby men should -govern themselves, I think there is nobody so brutish as to deny. He -has a right to do it; we are his creatures: he has goodness and wisdom -to direct our actions to that which is best: and he has power to -enforce it by rewards and punishments of infinite weight and duration -in another life; for nobody can take us out of his hands. This is the -only true touchstone of moral rectitude; and, by comparing them to this -law, it is that men judge of the most considerable moral good or evil -of their actions; that is, whether, as duties or sins, they are like to -procure them happiness or misery from the hands of the ALMIGHTY. - -9. Civil Law the Measure of Crimes and Innocence. - -Secondly, the CIVIL LAW—the rule set by the commonwealth to the actions -of those who belong to it—is another rule to which men refer their -actions; to judge whether they be criminal or no. This law nobody -overlooks: the rewards and punishments that enforce it being ready at -hand, and suitable to the power that makes it: which is the force of -the Commonwealth, engaged to protect the lives, liberties, and -possessions of those who live according to its laws, and has power to -take away life, liberty, or goods, from him who disobeys; which is the -punishment of offences committed against his law. - -10. Philosophical Law the Measure of Virtue and Vice. - -Thirdly, the LAW OF OPINION OR REPUTATION. Virtue and vice are names -pretended and supposed everywhere to stand for actions in their own -nature right and wrong: and as far as they really are so applied, they -so far are coincident with the divine law above mentioned. But yet, -whatever is pretended, this is visible, that these names, virtue and -vice, in the particular instances of their application, through the -several nations and societies of men in the world, are constantly -attributed only to such actions as in each country and society are in -reputation or discredit. Nor is it to be thought strange, that men -everywhere should give the name of virtue to those actions, which -amongst them are judged praiseworthy; and call that vice, which they -account blamable: since otherwise they would condemn themselves, if -they should think anything right, to which they allowed not -commendation, anything wrong, which they let pass without blame. Thus -the measure of what is everywhere called and esteemed virtue and vice -is this approbation or dislike, praise or blame, which, by a secret and -tacit consent, establishes itself in the several societies, tribes, and -clubs of men in the world: whereby several actions come to find credit -or disgrace amongst them, according to the judgment, maxims, or fashion -of that place. For, though men uniting into politic societies, have -resigned up to the public the disposing of all their force, so that -they cannot employ it against any fellow-citizens any further than the -law of the country directs: yet they retain still the power of thinking -well or ill, approving or disapproving of the actions of those whom -they live amongst, and converse with: and by this approbation and -dislike they establish amongst themselves what they will call virtue -and vice. - -11. The Measure that Man commonly apply to determine what they call -Virtue and Vice. - -That this is the common MEASURE of virtue and vice, will appear to any -one who considers, that, though that passes for vice in one country -which is counted a virtue, or at least not vice, in another, yet -everywhere virtue and praise, vice and blame, go together. Virtue is -everywhere, that which is thought praiseworthy; and nothing else but -that which has the allowance of public esteem is called virtue. Virtue -and praise are so united, that they are called often by the same name. -Sunt sua praemia laudi, says Virgil; and so Cicero, Nihil habet natura -praestantius, quam honestatem, quam laudem, quam dignitatem, quam -decus, which he tells you are all names for the same thing. This is the -language of the heathen philosophers, who well understood wherein their -notions of virtue and vice consisted. And though perhaps, by the -different temper, education, fashion, maxims, or interest of different -sorts of men, it fell out, that what was thought praiseworthy in one -place, escaped not censure in another; and so in different societies, -virtues and vices were changed; yet, as to the main, they for the most -part kept the same everywhere. For, since nothing can be more natural -than to encourage with esteem and reputation that wherein every one -finds his advantage, and to blame and discountenance the contrary; it -is no wonder that esteem and discredit, virtue and vice, should, in a -great measure, everywhere correspond with the unchangeable rule of -right and wrong, which the law of God hath established; there being -nothing that so directly and visibly secures and advances the general -good of mankind in this world, as obedience to the laws he had set -them, and nothing that breeds such mischiefs and confusion, as the -neglect of them. And therefore men, without renouncing all sense and -reason, and their own interest, which they are so constantly true to, -could not generally mistake, in placing their commendation and blame on -that side that really deserved it not. Nay, even those men whose -practice was otherwise, failed not to give their approbation right, few -being depraved to that degree as not to condemn, at least in others, -the faults they themselves were guilty of; whereby, even in the -corruption of manners, the true boundaries of the law of nature, which -ought to be the rule of virtue and vice, were pretty well preferred. So -that even the exhortations of inspired teachers, have not feared to -appeal to common repute: ‘Whatsoever is lovely, whatsoever is of good -report, if there be any virtue, if there be any praise,’ &c. (Phil. iv. -8.) - -12. Its Inforcement is Commendation and Discredit. - -If any one shall imagine that I have forgot my own notion of a law, -when I make the law, whereby men judge of virtue and vice, to be -nothing else but the consent of private men, who have not authority -enough to make a law: especially wanting that which is so necessary and -essential to a law, a power to enforce it: I think I may say, that he -who imagines commendation and disgrace not to be strong motives to men -to accommodate themselves to the opinions and rules of those with whom -they converse, seems little skilled in the nature or history of -mankind: the greatest part whereof we shall find to govern themselves -chiefly, if not solely, by this LAW OF FASHION; and so they do that -which keeps them in reputation with their company, little regard the -laws of God, or the magistrate. The penalties that attend the breach of -God’s laws some, nay perhaps most men, seldom seriously reflect on: and -amongst those that do, many, whilst they break the law, entertain -thoughts of future reconciliation, and making their peace for such -breaches. And as to the punishments due from the laws of the -commonwealth, they frequently flatter themselves with the hopes of -impunity. But no man escapes the punishment of their censure and -dislike, who offends against the fashion and opinion of the company he -keeps, and would recommend himself to. Nor is there one of ten -thousand, who is stiff and insensible enough, to bear up under the -constant dislike and condemnation of his own club. He must be of a -strange and unusual constitution, who can content himself to live in -constant disgrace and disrepute with his own particular society. -Solitude many men have sought, and been reconciled to: but nobody that -has the least thought or sense of a man about him, can live in society -under the constant dislike and ill opinion of his familiars, and those -he converses with. This is a burden too heavy for human sufferance: and -he must be made up of irreconcileable contradictions, who can take -pleasure in company, and yet be insensible of contempt and disgrace -from his companions. - -13. These three Laws the Rules of moral Good and Evil. - -These three then, first, the law of God; secondly, the law of politic -societies; thirdly, the law of fashion, or private censure, are those -to which men variously compare their actions: and it is by their -conformity to one of these laws that they take their measures, when -they would judge of their moral rectitude, and denominate their actions -good or bad. - -14. Morality is the Relation of Voluntary Actions to these Rules. - -Whether the rule to which, as to a touchstone, we bring our voluntary -actions, to examine them by, and try their goodness, and accordingly to -name them, which is, as it were, the mark of the value we set upon -them: whether, I say, we take that rule from the fashion of the -country, or the will of a law-maker, the mind is easily able to observe -the relation any action hath to it, and to judge whether the action -agrees or disagrees with the rule; and so hath a notion of moral -goodness or evil, which is either conformity or not conformity of any -action to that rule: and therefore is often called moral rectitude. -This rule being nothing but a collection of several simple ideas, the -conformity thereto is but so ordering the action, that the simple ideas -belonging to it may correspond to those which the law requires. And -thus we see how moral beings and notions are founded on, and terminated -in, these simple ideas we have received from sensation or reflection. -For example: let us consider the complex idea we signify by the word -murder: and when we have taken it asunder, and examined all the -particulars, we shall find them to amount to a collection of simple -ideas derived from reflection or sensation, viz. First, from REFLECTION -on the operations of our own minds, we have the ideas of willing, -considering, purposing beforehand, malice, or wishing ill to another; -and also of life, or perception, and self-motion. Secondly, from -SENSATION we have the collection of those simple sensible ideas which -are to be found in a man, and of some action, whereby we put an end to -perception and motion in the man; all which simple ideas are -comprehended in the word murder. This collection of simple ideas, being -found by me to agree or disagree with the esteem of the country I have -been bred in, and to be held by most men there worthy praise or blame, -I call the action virtuous or vicious: if I have the will of a supreme -invisible Lawgiver for my rule, then, as I supposed the action -commanded or forbidden by God, I call it good or evil, sin or duty: and -if I compare it to the civil law, the rule made by the legislative -power of the country, I call it lawful or unlawful, a crime or no -crime. So that whencesoever we take the rule of moral actions; or by -what standard soever we frame in our minds the ideas of virtues or -vices, they consist only, and are made up of collections of simple -ideas, which we originally received from sense or reflection: and their -rectitude or obliquity consists in the agreement or disagreement with -those patterns prescribed by some law. - -15. Moral actions may be regarded either absolutely, or as ideas of -relation. - -To conceive rightly of moral actions, we must take notice of them under -this two-fold consideration. First, as they are in themselves, each -made up of such a collection of simple ideas. Thus drunkenness, or -lying, signify such or such a collection of simple ideas, which I call -mixed modes: and in this sense they are as much POSITIVE ABSOLUTE -ideas, as the drinking of a horse, or speaking of a parrot. Secondly, -our actions are considered as good, bad, or indifferent; and in this -respect they are RELATIVE, it being their conformity to, or -disagreement with some rule that makes them to be regular or irregular, -good or bad; and so, as far as they are compared with a rule, and -thereupon denominated, they come under relation. Thus the challenging -and fighting with a man, as it is a certain positive mode, or -particular sort of action, by particular ideas, distinguished from all -others, is called DUELLING: which, when considered in relation to the -law of God, will deserve the name of sin; to the law of fashion, in -some countries, valour and virtue; and to the municipal laws of some -governments, a capital crime. In this case, when the positive mode has -one name, and another name as it stands in relation to the law, the -distinction may as easily be observed as it is in substances, where one -name, v.g. MAN, is used to signify the thing; another, v.g. FATHER, to -signify the relation. - -16. The Denominations of Actions often mislead us. - -But because very frequently the positive idea of the action, and its -moral relation, are comprehended together under one name, and the same -word made use of to express both the mode or action, and its moral -rectitude or obliquity: therefore the relation itself is less taken -notice of; and there is often no distinction made between the positive -idea of the action, and the reference it has to a rule. By which -confusion of these two distinct considerations under one term, those -who yield too easily to the impressions of sounds, and are forward to -take names for things, are often misled in their judgment of actions. -Thus, the taking from another what is his, without his knowledge or -allowance, is properly called STEALING: but that name, being commonly -understood to signify also the moral gravity of the action, and to -denote its contrariety to the law, men are apt to condemn whatever they -hear called stealing, as an ill action, disagreeing with the rule of -right. And yet the private taking away his sword from a madman, to -prevent his doing mischief, though it be properly denominated stealing, -as the name of such a mixed mode; yet when compared to the law of God, -and considered in its relation to that supreme rule, it is no sin or -transgression, though the name stealing ordinarily carries such an -intimation with it. - -17. Relations innumerable, and only the most considerable here -mentioned. - -And thus much for the relation of human actions to a law, which, -therefore, I call MORAL RELATIONS. - -It would make a volume to go over all sorts of RELATIONS: it is not, -therefore, to be expected that I should here mention them all. It -suffices to our present purpose to show by these, what the ideas are we -have of this comprehensive consideration called RELATION. Which is so -various, and the occasions of it so many, (as many as there can be of -comparing things one to another,) that it is not very easy to reduce it -to rules, or under just heads. Those I have mentioned, I think, are -some of the most considerable; and such as may serve to let us see from -whence we get our ideas of relations, and wherein they are founded. But -before I quit this argument, from what has been said give me leave to -observe: - -18. All Relations terminate in simple Ideas. - -First, That it is evident, that all relation terminates in, and is -ultimately founded on, those simple ideas we have got from sensation or -reflection: so that all we have in our thoughts ourselves, (if we think -of anything, or have any meaning,) or would signify to others, when we -use words standing for relations, is nothing but some simple ideas, or -collections of simple ideas, compared one with another. This is so -manifest in that sort called proportional, that nothing can be more. -For when a man says ‘honey is sweeter than wax,’ it is plain that his -thoughts in this relation terminate in this simple idea, sweetness; -which is equally true of all the rest: though, where they are -compounded, or decompounded, the simple ideas they are made up of, are, -perhaps, seldom taken notice of: v.g. when the word father is -mentioned: first, there is meant that particular species, or collective -idea, signified by the word man; secondly, those sensible simple ideas, -signified by the word generation; and, thirdly, the effects of it, and -all the simple ideas signified by the word child. So the word friend, -being taken for a man who loves and is ready to do good to another, has -all these following ideas to the making of it up: first, all the simple -ideas, comprehended in the word man, or intelligent being; secondly, -the idea of love; thirdly, the idea of readiness or disposition; -fourthly, the idea of action, which is any kind of thought or motion; -fifthly, the idea of good, which signifies anything that may advance -his happiness, and terminates at last, if examined, in particular -simple ideas, of which the word good in general signifies any one; but, -if removed from all simple ideas quite, it signifies nothing at all. -And thus also all moral words terminate at last, though perhaps more -remotely, in a collection of simple ideas: the immediate signification -of relative words, being very often other supposed known relations; -which, if traced one to another, still end in simple ideas. - -19. We have ordinarily as clear a Notion of the Relation, as of the -simple ideas in things on which it is founded. - -Secondly, That in relations, we have for the most part, if not always, -as clear a notion of THE RELATION as we have of THOSE SIMPLE IDEAS -WHEREIN IT IS FOUNDED: agreement or disagreement, whereon relation -depends, being things whereof we have commonly as clear ideas as of any -other whatsoever; it being but the distinguishing simple ideas, or -their degrees one from another, without which we could have no distinct -knowledge at all. For, if I have a clear idea of sweetness, light, or -extension, I have, too, of equal, or more, or less, of each of these: -if I know what it is for one man to be born of a woman, viz. Sempronia, -I know what it is for another man to be born of the same woman -Sempronia; and so have as clear a notion of brothers as of births, and -perhaps clearer. For if I believed that Sempronia digged Titus out of -the parsley-bed, (as they used to tell children,) and thereby became -his mother; and that afterwards, in the same manner, she digged Caius -out of the parsley-bed, I had as clear a notion of the relation of -brothers between them, as if I had all the skill of a midwife: the -notion that the same woman contributed, as mother, equally to their -births, (though I were ignorant or mistaken in the manner of it,) being -that on which I grounded the relation; and that they agreed in the -circumstance of birth, let it be what it will. The comparing them then -in their descent from the same person, without knowing the particular -circumstances of that descent, is enough to found my notion of their -having, or not having, the relation of brothers. But though the ideas -of PARTICULAR RELATIONS are capable of being as clear and distinct in -the minds of those who will duly consider them as those of mixed modes, -and more determinate than those of substances: yet the names belonging -to relation are often of as doubtful and uncertain signification as -those of substances or mixed modes; and much more than those of simple -ideas. Because relative words, being the marks of this comparison, -which is made only by men’s thoughts, and is an idea only in men’s -minds, men frequently apply them to different comparisons of things, -according to their own imaginations; which do not always correspond -with those of others using the same name. - -20. The Notion of Relation is the same, whether the Rule any Action is -compared to be true or false. - -Thirdly, That in these I call MORAL RELATIONS, I have a true notion of -relation, by comparing the action with the rule, whether the rule be -true or false. For if I measure anything by a yard, I know whether the -thing I measure be longer or shorter than that supposed yard, though -perhaps the yard I measure by be not exactly the standard: which indeed -is another inquiry. For though the rule be erroneous, and I mistaken in -it; yet the agreement or disagreement observable in that which I -compare with, makes me perceive the relation. Though, measuring by a -wrong rule, I shall thereby be brought to judge amiss of its moral -rectitude; because I have tried it by that which is not the true rule: -yet I am not mistaken in the relation which that action bears to that -rule I compare it to, which is agreement or disagreement. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIX. -OF CLEAR AND OBSCURE, DISTINCT AND CONFUSED IDEAS. - - -1. Ideas, some clear and distinct, others obscure and confused. - -Having shown the original of our ideas, and taken a view of their -several sorts; considered the difference between the simple and the -complex; and observed how the complex ones are divided into those of -modes, substances, and relations—all which, I think, is necessary to be -done by any one who would acquaint himself thoroughly with the progress -of the mind, in its apprehension and knowledge of things—it will, -perhaps, be thought I have dwelt long enough upon the examination of -IDEAS. I must, nevertheless, crave leave to offer some few other -considerations concerning them. - -The first is, that some are CLEAR and others OBSCURE; some DISTINCT and -others CONFUSED. - -2. Clear and obscure explained by Sight. - -The perception of the mind being most aptly explained by words relating -to the sight, we shall best understand what is meant by CLEAR and -OBSCURE in our ideas, by reflecting on what we call clear and obscure -in the objects of sight. Light being that which discovers to us visible -objects, we give the name of OBSCURE to that which is not placed in a -light sufficient to discover minutely to us the figure and colours -which are observable in it, and which, in a better light, would be -discernible. In like manner, our simple ideas are CLEAR, when they are -such as the objects themselves from whence they were taken did or -might, in a well-ordered sensation or perception, present them. Whilst -the memory retains them thus, and can produce them to the mind whenever -it has occasion to consider them, they are clear ideas. So far as they -either want anything of the original exactness, or have lost any of -their first freshness, and are, as it were, faded or tarnished by time, -so far are they obscure. Complex ideas, as they are made up of simple -ones, so they are clear, when the ideas that go to their composition -are clear, and the number and order of those simple ideas that are the -ingredients of any complex one is determinate and certain. - -3. Causes of Obscurity. - -The causes of obscurity, in simple ideas, seem to be either dull -organs; or very slight and transient impressions made by the objects; -or else a weakness in the memory, not able to retain them as received. -For to return again to visible objects, to help us to apprehend this -matter. If the organs, or faculties of perception, like wax -over-hardened with cold, will not receive the impression of the seal, -from the usual impulse wont to imprint it; or, like wax of a temper too -soft, will not hold it well, when well imprinted; or else supposing the -wax of a temper fit, but the seal not applied with a sufficient force -to make a clear impression: in any of these cases, the print left by -the seal will be obscure. This, I suppose, needs no application to make -it plainer. - -4. Distinct and confused, what. - -As a clear idea is that whereof the mind has such a full and evident -perception, as it does receive from an outward object operating duly on -a well-disposed organ, so a DISTINCT idea is that wherein the mind -perceives a difference from all other; and a CONFUSED idea is such an -one as is not sufficiently distinguishable from another, from which it -ought to be different. - -5. Objection. - -If no idea be confused, but such as is not sufficiently distinguishable -from another from which it should be different, it will be hard, may -any one say, to find anywhere a CONFUSED idea. For, let any idea be as -it will, it can be no other but such as the mind perceives it to be; -and that very perception sufficiently distinguishes it from all other -ideas, which cannot be other, i.e. different, without being perceived -to be so. No idea, therefore, can be undistinguishable from another -from which it ought to be different, unless you would have it different -from itself: for from all other it is evidently different. - -6. Confusion of Ideas is in Reference to their Names. - -To remove this difficulty, and to help us to conceive aright what it is -that makes the confusion ideas are at any time chargeable with, we must -consider, that things ranked under distinct names are supposed -different enough to be distinguished, that so each sort by its peculiar -name may be marked, and discoursed of apart upon any occasion: and -there is nothing more evident, than that the greatest part of different -names are supposed to stand for different things. Now every idea a man -has, being visibly what it is, and distinct from all other ideas but -itself; that which makes it confused, is, when it is such that it may -as well be called by another name as that which it is expressed by; the -difference which keeps the things (to be ranked under those two -different names) distinct, and makes some of them belong rather to the -one and some of them to the other of those names, being left out; and -so the distinction, which was intended to be kept up by those different -names, is quite lost. - -7. Defaults which make this Confusion. - -The defaults which usually occasion this confusion, I think, are -chiefly these following: - -First, complex ideas made up of too few simple ones. - -First, when any complex idea (for it is complex ideas that are most -liable to confusion) is made up of too small a number of simple ideas, -and such only as are common to other things, whereby the differences -that make it deserve a different name, are left out. Thus, he that has -an idea made up of barely the simple ones of a beast with spots, has -but a confused idea of a leopard; it not being thereby sufficiently -distinguished from a lynx, and several other sorts of beasts that are -spotted. So that such an idea, though it hath the peculiar name -leopard, is not distinguishable from those designed by the names lynx -or panther, and may as well come under the name lynx as leopard. How -much the custom of defining of words by general terms contributes to -make the ideas we would express by them confused and undetermined, I -leave others to consider. This is evident, that confused ideas are such -as render the use of words uncertain, and take away the benefit of -distinct names. When the ideas, for which we use different terms, have -not a difference answerable to their distinct names, and so cannot be -distinguished by them, there it is that they are truly confused. - -8. Secondly, or their simple ones jumbled disorderly together. - -Secondly, Another fault which makes our ideas confused is, when, though -the particulars that make up any idea are in number enough, yet they -are so jumbled together, that it is not easily discernible whether it -more belongs to the name that is given it than to any other. There is -nothing properer to make us conceive this confusion than a sort of -pictures, usually shown as surprising pieces of art, wherein the -colours, as they are laid by the pencil on the table itself, mark out -very odd and unusual figures, and have no discernible order in their -position. This draught, thus made up of parts wherein no symmetry nor -order appears, is in itself no more a confused thing, than the picture -of a cloudy sky; wherein, though there be as little order of colours or -figures to be found, yet nobody thinks it a confused picture. What is -it, then, that makes it be thought confused, since the want of symmetry -does not? As it is plain it does not: for another draught made barely -in imitation of this could not be called confused. I answer, That which -makes it be thought confused is, the applying it to some name to which -it does no more discernibly belong than to some other: v.g. when it is -said to be the picture of a man, or Caesar, then any one with reason -counts it confused; because it is not discernible in that state to -belong more to the name man, or Caesar, than to the name baboon, or -Pompey: which are supposed to stand for different ideas from those -signified by man, or Caesar. But when a cylindrical mirror, placed -right, had reduced those irregular lines on the table into their due -order and proportion, then the confusion ceases, and the eye presently -sees that it is a man, or Caesar; i.e. that it belongs to those names; -and that it is sufficiently distinguishable from a baboon, or Pompey; -i.e. from the ideas signified by those names. Just thus it is with our -ideas, which are as it were the pictures of things. No one of these -mental draughts, however the parts are put together, can be called -confused (for they are plainly discernible as they are) till it be -ranked under some ordinary name to which it cannot be discerned to -belong, any more than it does to some other name of an allowed -different signification. - -9. Thirdly, or their simple ones mutable and undetermined. - -Thirdly, A third defect that frequently gives the name of confused to -our ideas, is, when any one of them is uncertain and undetermined. Thus -we may observe men who, not forbearing to use the ordinary words of -their language till they have learned their precise signification, -change the idea they make this or that term stand for, almost as often -as they use it. He that does this out of uncertainty of what he should -leave out, or put into his idea of CHURCH, or IDOLATRY, every time he -thinks of either, and holds not steady to any one precise combination -of ideas that makes it up, is said to have a confused idea of idolatry -or the church: though this be still for the same reason as the former, -viz. because a mutable idea (if we will allow it to be one idea) cannot -belong to one name rather than another, and so loses the distinction -that distinct names are designed for. - -10. Confusion without Reference to Names, hardly conceivable. - -By what has been said, we may observe how much NAMES, as supposed -steady signs of things, and by their difference to stand for, and keep -things distinct that in themselves are different, are the occasion of -denominating ideas distinct or confused, by a secret and unobserved -reference the mind makes of its ideas to such names. This perhaps will -be fuller understood, after what I say of Words in the third Book has -been read and considered. But without taking notice of such a reference -of ideas to distinct names, as the signs of distinct things, it will be -hard to say what a confused idea is. And therefore when a man designs, -by any name, a sort of things, or any one particular thing, distinct -from all others, the complex idea he annexes to that name is the more -distinct, the more particular the ideas are, and the greater and more -determinate the number and order of them is, whereof it is made up. -For, the more it has of these, the more it has still of the perceivable -differences, whereby it is kept separate and distinct from all ideas -belonging to other names, even those that approach nearest to it, and -thereby all confusion with them is avoided. - -11. Confusion concerns always two Ideas. - -Confusion making it a difficulty to separate two things that should be -separated, concerns always two ideas; and those most which most -approach one another. Whenever, therefore, we suspect any idea to be -confused, we must examine what other it is in danger to be confounded -with, or which it cannot easily be separated from; and that will always -be found an idea belonging to another name, and so should be a -different thing, from which yet it is not sufficiently distinct: being -either the same with it, or making a part of it, or at least as -properly called by that name as the other it is ranked under; and so -keeps not that difference from that other idea which the different -names import. - -12. Causes of confused Ideas. - -This, I think, is the confusion proper to ideas; which still carries -with it a secret reference to names. At least, if there be any other -confusion of ideas, this is that which most of all disorders men’s -thoughts and discourses: ideas, as ranked under names, being those that -for the most part men reason of within themselves, and always those -which they commune about with others. And therefore where there are -supposed two different ideas, marked by two different names, which are -not as distinguishable as the sounds that stand for them, there never -fails to be confusion; and where any ideas are distinct as the ideas of -those two sounds they are marked by, there can be between them no -confusion. The way to prevent it is to collect and unite into one -complex idea, as precisely as is possible, all those ingredients -whereby it is differenced from others; and to them, so united in a -determinate number and order, apply steadily the same name. But this -neither accommodating men’s ease or vanity, nor serving any design but -that of naked truth, which is not always the thing aimed at, such -exactness is rather to be wished than hoped for. And since the loose -application of names, to undetermined, variable, and almost no ideas, -serves both to cover our own ignorance, as well as to perplex and -confound others, which goes for learning and superiority in knowledge, -it is no wonder that most men should use it themselves, whilst they -complain of it in others. Though I think no small part of the confusion -to be found in the notions of men might, by care and ingenuity, be -avoided, yet I am far from concluding it everywhere wilful. Some ideas -are so complex, and made up of so many parts, that the memory does not -easily retain the very same precise combination of simple ideas under -one name: much less are we able constantly to divine for what precise -complex idea such a name stands in another man’s use of it. From the -first of these, follows confusion in a man’s own reasonings and -opinions within himself; from the latter, frequent confusion in -discoursing and arguing with others. But having more at large treated -of Words, their defects, and abuses, in the following Book, I shall -here say no more of it. - -13. Complex Ideas may be distinct in one Part, and confused in another. - -Our complex ideas, being made up of collections, and so variety of -simple ones, may accordingly be very clear and distinct in one part, -and very obscure and confused in another. In a man who speaks of a -chiliaedron, or a body of a thousand sides, the ideas of the figure may -be very confused, though that of the number be very distinct; so that -he being able to discourse and demonstrate concerning that part of his -complex idea which depends upon the number of thousand, he is apt to -think he has a distinct idea of a chiliaedron; though it be plain he -has no precise idea of its figure, so as to distinguish it, by that, -from one that has but 999 sides: the not observing whereof causes no -small error in men’s thoughts, and confusion in their discourses. - -14. This, if not heeded, causes Confusion in our Arguings. - -He that thinks he has a distinct idea of the figure of a chiliaedron, -let him for trial sake take another parcel of the same uniform matter, -viz. gold or wax of an equal bulk, and make it into a figure of 999 -sides. He will, I doubt not, be able to distinguish these two ideas one -from another, by the number of sides; and reason and argue distinctly -about them, whilst he keeps his thoughts and reasoning to that part -only of these ideas which is contained in their numbers; as that the -sides of the one could be divided into two equal numbers, and of the -others not, &c. But when he goes about to distinguish them by their -figure, he will there be presently at a loss, and not be able, I think, -to frame in his mind two ideas, one of them distinct from the other, by -the bare figure of these two pieces of gold; as he could, if the same -parcels of gold were made one into a cube, the other a figure of five -sides. In which incomplete ideas, we are very apt to impose on -ourselves, and wrangle with others, especially where they have -particular and familiar names. For, being satisfied in that part of the -idea which we have clear; and the name which is familiar to us, being -applied to the whole, containing that part also which is imperfect and -obscure, we are apt to use it for that confused part, and draw -deductions from it in the obscure part of its signification, as -confidently as we do from the other. - -15. Instance in Eternity. - -Having frequently in our mouths the name Eternity, we are apt to think -we have a positive comprehensive idea of it, which is as much as to -say, that there is no part of that duration which is not clearly -contained in our idea. It is true that he that thinks so may have a -clear idea of duration; he may also have a clear idea of a very great -length of duration; he may also have a clear idea of the comparison of -that great one with still a greater: but it not being possible for him -to include in his idea of any duration, let it be as great as it will, -the WHOLE EXTENT TOGETHER OF A DURATION, WHERE HE SUPPOSES NO END, that -part of his idea, which is still beyond the bounds of that large -duration he represents to his own thoughts, is very obscure and -undetermined. And hence it is that in disputes and reasonings -concerning eternity, or any other infinite, we are very apt to blunder, -and involve ourselves in manifest absurdities. - -16. Infinite Divisibility of Matter. - -In matter, we have no clear ideas of the smallness of parts much beyond -the smallest that occur to any of our senses: and therefore, when we -talk of the divisibility of matter IN INFINITUM, though we have clear -ideas of division and divisibility, and have also clear ideas of parts -made out of a whole by division; yet we have but very obscure and -confused ideas of corpuscles, or minute bodies, so to be divided, when, -by former divisions, they are reduced to a smallness much exceeding the -perception of any of our senses; and so all that we have clear and -distinct ideas of is of what division in general or abstractedly is, -and the relation of TOTUM and PARS: but of the bulk of the body, to be -thus infinitely divided after certain progressions, I think, we have no -clear nor distinct idea at all. For I ask any one, whether, taking the -smallest atom of dust he ever saw, he has any distinct idea (bating -still the number, which concerns not extension) betwixt the 100,000th -and the 1,000,000th part of it. Or if he think he can refine his ideas -to that degree, without losing sight of them, let him add ten cyphers -to each of those numbers. Such a degree of smallness is not -unreasonable to be supposed; since a division carried on so far brings -it no nearer the end of infinite division, than the first division into -two halves does. I must confess, for my part, I have no clear distinct -ideas of the different bulk or extension of those bodies, having but a -very obscure one of either of them. So that, I think, when we talk of -division of bodies in infinitum, our idea of their distinct bulks, -which is the subject and foundation of division, comes, after a little -progression, to be confounded, and almost lost in obscurity. For that -idea which is to represent only bigness must be very obscure and -confused, which we cannot distinguish from one ten times as big, but -only by number: so that we have clear distinct ideas, we may say, of -ten and one, but no distinct ideas of two such extensions. It is plain -from hence, that, when we talk of infinite divisibility of body or -extension, our distinct and clear ideas are only of numbers: but the -clear distinct ideas of extension, after some progress of division, are -quite lost; and of such minute parts we have no distinct ideas at all; -but it returns, as all our ideas of infinite do, at last to that of -NUMBER ALWAYS TO BE ADDED; but thereby never amounts to any distinct -idea of ACTUAL INFINITE PARTS. We have, it is true, a clear idea of -division, as often as we think of it; but thereby we have no more a -clear idea of infinite parts in matter, than we have a clear idea of an -infinite number, by being able still to add new numbers to any assigned -numbers we have: endless divisibility giving us no more a clear and -distinct idea of actually infinite parts, than endless addibility (if I -may so speak) gives us a clear and distinct idea of an actually -infinite number: they both being only in a power still of increasing -the number, be it already as great as it will. So that of what remains -to be added (WHEREIN CONSISTS THE INFINITY) we have but an obscure, -imperfect, and confused idea; from or about which we can argue or -reason with no certainty or clearness, no more than we can in -arithmetic, about a number of which we have no such distinct idea as we -have of 4 or 100; but only this relative obscure one, that, compared to -any other, it is still bigger: and we have no more a clear positive -idea of it, when we [dropped line*] than if we should say it is bigger -than 40 or 4: 400,000,000 having no nearer a proportion to the end of -addition or number than 4. For he that adds only 4 to 4, and so -proceeds, shall as soon come to the end of all addition, as he that -adds 400,000,000 to 400,000,000. And so likewise in eternity; he that -has an idea of but four years, has as much a positive complete idea of -eternity, as he that has one of 400,000,000 of years: for what remains -of eternity beyond either of these two numbers of years, is as clear to -the one as the other; i.e. neither of them has any clear positive idea -of it at all. For he that adds only 4 years to 4, and so on, shall as -soon reach eternity as he that adds 400,000,000 of years, and so on; -or, if he please, doubles the increase as often as he will: the -remaining abyss being still as far beyond the end of all these -progressions as it is from the length of a day or an hour. For nothing -finite bears any proportion to infinite; and therefore our ideas, which -are all finite, cannot bear any. Thus it is also in our idea of -extension, when we increase it by addition, as well as when we diminish -it by division, and would enlarge our thoughts to infinite space. After -a few doublings of those ideas of extension, which are the largest we -are accustomed to have, we lose the clear distinct idea of that space: -it becomes a confusedly great one, with a surplus of still greater; -about which, when we would argue or reason, we shall always find -ourselves at a loss; confused ideas, in our arguings and deductions -from that part of them which is confused, always leading us into -confusion. - - - - -CHAPTER XXX. -OF REAL AND FANTASTICAL IDEAS. - - -1. Ideas considered in reference to their Archetypes. - -Besides what we have already mentioned concerning ideas, other -considerations belong to them, in reference to THINGS FROM WHENCE THEY -ARE TAKEN, or WHICH THEY MAY BE SUPPOSED TO REPRESENT; and thus, I -think, they may come under a threefold distinction, and are:—First, -either real or fantastical; Secondly, adequate or inadequate; Thirdly, -true or false. - -First, by REAL IDEAS, I mean such as have a foundation in nature; such -as have a conformity with the real being and existence of things, or -with their archetypes. FANTASTICAL or CHIMERICAL, I call such as have -no foundation in nature, nor have any conformity with that reality of -being to which they are tacitly referred, as to their archetypes. If we -examine the several sorts of ideas before mentioned, we shall find -that, - -2. Simple Ideas are all real appearances of things. - -First, Our SIMPLE IDEAS are all real, all agree to the reality of -things: not that they are all of them the images or representations of -what does exist; the contrary whereof, in all but the primary qualities -of bodies, hath been already shown. But, though whiteness and coldness -are no more in snow than pain is; yet those ideas of whiteness and -coldness, pain, &c., being in us the effects of powers in things -without us, ordained by our Maker to produce in us such sensations; -they are real ideas in us, whereby we distinguish the qualities that -are really in things themselves. For, these several appearances being -designed to be the mark whereby we are to know and distinguish things -which we have to do with, our ideas do as well serve us to that -purpose, and are as real distinguishing characters, whether they be -only CONSTANT EFFECTS, or else EXACT RESEMBLANCES of something in the -things themselves: the reality lying in that steady correspondence they -have with the distinct constitutions of real beings. But whether they -answer to those constitutions, as to causes or patterns, it matters -not; it suffices that they are constantly produced by them. And thus -our simple ideas are all real and true, because they answer and agree -to those powers of things which produce them on our minds; that being -all that is requisite to make them real, and not fictions at pleasure. -For in simple ideas (as has been shown) the mind is wholly confined to -the operation of things upon it, and can make to itself no simple idea, -more than what it was received. - -3. Complex Ideas are voluntary Combinations. - -Though the mind be wholly passive in respect of its simple ideas; yet, -I think, we may say it is not so in respect of its complex ideas. For -those being combinations of simple ideas put together, and united under -one general name, it is plain that the mind of man uses some kind of -liberty in forming those complex ideas: how else comes it to pass that -one man’s idea of gold, or justice, is different from another’s, but -because he has put in, or left out of his, some simple idea which the -other has not? The question then is, Which of these are real, and which -barely imaginary combinations? What collections agree to the reality of -things, and what not? And to this I say that, - -4. Mixed Modes and Relations, made of consistent Ideas, are real. - -Secondly, MIXED MODES and RELATIONS, having no other reality but what -they have in the minds of men, there is nothing more required to this -kind of ideas to make them real, but that they be so framed, that there -be a possibility of existing conformable to them. These ideas -themselves, being archetypes, cannot differ from their archetypes, and -so cannot be chimerical, unless any one will jumble together in them -inconsistent ideas. Indeed, as any of them have the names of a known -language assigned to them, by which he that has them in his mind would -signify them to others, so bare possibility of existing is not enough; -they must have a conformity to the ordinary signification of the name -that is given them, that they may not be thought fantastical: as if a -man would give the name of justice to that idea which common use calls -liberality. But this fantasticalness relates more to propriety of -speech, than reality of ideas. For a man to be undisturbed in danger, -sedately to consider what is fittest to be done, and to execute it -steadily, is a mixed mode, or a complex idea of an action which may -exist. But to be undisturbed in danger, without using one’s reason or -industry, is what is also possible to be; and so is as real an idea as -the other. Though the first of these, having the name COURAGE given to -it, may, in respect of that name, be a right or wrong idea; but the -other, whilst it has not a common received name of any known language -assigned to it, is not capable of any deformity, being made with no -reference to anything but itself. - -5. Complex Ideas of Substances are real, when they agree with the -existence of Things. - -Thirdly, Our complex ideas of SUBSTANCES, being made all of them in -reference to things existing without us, and intended to be -representations of substances as they really are, are no further real -than as they are such combinations of simple ideas as are really -united, and co-exist in things without us. On the contrary, those are -fantastical which are made up of such collections of simple ideas as -were really never united, never were found together in any substance: -v. g. a rational creature, consisting of a horse’s head, joined to a -body of human shape, or such as the CENTAURS are described: or, a body -yellow, very malleable, fusible, and fixed, but lighter than common -water: or an uniform, unorganized body, consisting, as to sense, all of -similar parts, with perception and voluntary motion joined to it. -Whether such substances as these can possibly exist or no, it is -probable we do not know: but be that as it will, these ideas of -substances, being made conformable to no pattern existing that we know; -and consisting of such collections of ideas as no substance ever showed -us united together, they ought to pass with us for barely imaginary: -but much more are those complex ideas so, which contain in them any -inconsistency or contradiction of their parts. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXI. -OF ADEQUATE AND INADEQUATE IDEAS. - - -1. Adequate Ideas are such as perfectly represent their Archetypes. - -Of our real ideas, some are adequate, and some are inadequate. Those I -call ADEQUATE, which perfectly represent those archetypes which the -mind supposes them taken from: which it intends them to stand for, and -to which it refers them. INADEQUATE IDEAS are such, which are but a -partial or incomplete representation of those archetypes to which they -are referred. Upon which account it is plain, - -2. Adequate Ideas are such as perfectly represent their Archetypes. -Simple Ideas all adequate. - -First, that ALL OUR SIMPLE IDEAS ARE ADEQUATE. Because, being nothing -but the effects of certain powers in things, fitted and ordained by God -to produce such sensations in us, they cannot but be correspondent and -adequate to those powers: and we are sure they agree to the reality of -things. For, if sugar produce in us the ideas which we call whiteness -and sweetness, we are sure there is a power in sugar to produce those -ideas in our minds, or else they could not have been produced by it. -And so each sensation answering the power that operates on any of our -senses, the idea so produced is a real idea, (and not a fiction of the -mind, which has no power to produce any simple idea); and cannot but be -adequate, since it ought only to answer that power: and so all simple -ideas are adequate. It is true, the things producing in us these simple -ideas are but few of them denominated by us, as if they were only the -CAUSES of them; but as if those ideas were real beings IN them. For, -though fire be called painful to the touch, whereby is signified the -power of producing in us the idea of pain, yet it is denominated also -light and hot; as if light and heat were really something in the fire, -more than a power to excite these ideas in us; and therefore are called -qualities in or of the fire. But these being nothing, in truth, but -powers to excite such ideas in us, I must in that sense be understood, -when I speak of secondary qualities as being in things; or of their -ideas as being the objects that excite them in us. Such ways of -speaking, though accommodated to the vulgar notions, without which one -cannot be well understood, yet truly signify nothing but those powers -which are in things to excite certain sensations or ideas in us. Since -were there no fit organs to receive the impressions fire makes on the -sight and touch, nor a mind joined to those organs to receive the ideas -of light and heat by those impressions from the fire or sun, there -would yet be no more light or heat in the world than there would be -pain if there were no sensible creature to feel it, though the sun -should continue just as it is now, and Mount AEtna flame higher than -ever it did. Solidity and extension, and the termination of it, figure, -with motion and rest, whereof we have the ideas, would be really in the -world as they are, whether there were any sensible being to perceive -them or no: and therefore we have reason to look on those as the real -modifications of matter, and such as are the exciting causes of all our -various sensations from bodies. But this being an inquiry not belonging -to this place, I shall enter no further into it, but proceed to show -what complex ideas are adequate, and what not. - -3. Modes are all adequate. - -Secondly, OUR COMPLEX IDEAS OF MODES, being voluntary collections of -simple ideas, which the mind puts together, without reference to any -real archetypes, or standing patterns, existing anywhere, are and -cannot but be ADEQUATE IDEAS. Because they, not being intended for -copies of things really existing, but for archetypes made by the mind, -to rank and denominate things by, cannot want anything; they having -each of them that combination of ideas, and thereby that perfection, -which the mind intended they should: so that the mind acquiesces in -them, and can find nothing wanting. Thus, by having the idea of a -figure with three sides meeting at three angles, I have a complete -idea, wherein I require nothing else to make it perfect. That the mind -is satisfied with the perfection of this its idea is plain, in that it -does not conceive that any understanding hath, or can have, a more -complete or perfect idea of that thing it signifies by the word -triangle, supposing it to exist, than itself has, in that complex idea -of three sides and three angles, in which is contained all that is or -can be essential to it, or necessary to complete it, wherever or -however it exists. But in our IDEAS OF SUBSTANCES it is otherwise. For -there, desiring to copy things as they really do exist, and to -represent to ourselves that constitution on which all their properties -depend, we perceive our ideas attain not that perfection we intend: we -find they still want something we should be glad were in them; and so -are all inadequate. But MIXED MODES and RELATIONS, being archetypes -without patterns, and so having nothing to represent but themselves, -cannot but be adequate, everything being so to itself. He that at first -put together the idea of danger perceived, absence of disorder from -fear, sedate consideration of what was justly to be done, and executing -that without disturbance, or being deterred by the danger of it, had -certainly in his mind that complex idea made up of that combination: -and intending it to be nothing else but what is, nor to have in it any -other simple ideas but what it hath, it could not also but be an -adequate idea: and laying this up in his memory, with the name COURAGE -annexed to it, to signify to others, and denominate from thence any -action he should observe to agree with it, had thereby a standard to -measure and denominate actions by, as they agreed to it. This idea, -thus made and laid up for a pattern, must necessarily be adequate, -being referred to nothing else but itself, nor made by any other -original but the good liking and will of him that first made this -combination. - -4. Modes, in reference to settled Names, may be inadequate. - -Indeed another coming after, and in conversation learning from him the -word COURAGE, may make an idea, to which he gives the name courage, -different from what the first author applied it to, and has in his mind -when he uses it. And in this case, if he designs that his idea in -thinking should be conformable to the other’s idea, as the name he uses -in speaking is conformable in sound to his from whom he learned it, his -idea may be very wrong and inadequate: because in this case, making the -other man’s idea the pattern of his idea in thinking, as the other -man’s word or sound is the pattern of his in speaking, his idea is so -far defective and inadequate, as it is distant from the archetype and -pattern he refers it to, and intends to express and signify by the name -he uses for it; which name he would have to be a sign of the other -man’s idea, (to which, in its proper use, it is primarily annexed,) and -of his own, as agreeing to it: to which if his own does not exactly -correspond, it is faulty and inadequate. - -5. Because then means, in propriety of speech, to correspond to the -ideas in some other mind. - -Therefore these complex ideas of MODES, which they are referred by the -mind, and intended to correspond to the ideas in the mind of some other -intelligent being, expressed by the names we apply to them, they may be -very deficient, wrong, and inadequate; because they agree not to that -which the mind designs to be their archetype and pattern: in which -respect only any idea of modes can be wrong, imperfect, or inadequate. -And on this account our ideas of mixed modes are the most liable to be -faulty of any other; but this refers more to proper speaking than -knowing right. - -6. Ideas of Substances, as referred to real Essences, not adequate. - -Thirdly, what IDEAS WE HAVE OF SUBSTANCES, I have above shown. Now, -those ideas have in the mind a double reference: 1. Sometimes they are -referred to a supposed real essence of each species of things. 2. -Sometimes they are only designed to be pictures and representations in -the mind of things that do exist, by ideas of those qualities that are -discoverable in them. In both which ways these copies of those -originals and archetypes are imperfect and inadequate. - -First, it is usual for men to make the names of substances stand for -things as supposed to have certain real essences, whereby they are of -this or that species: and names standing for nothing but the ideas that -are in men’s minds, they must constantly refer their ideas to such real -essences, as to their archetypes. That men (especially such as have -been bred up in the learning taught in this part of the world) do -suppose certain specific essences of substances, which each individual -in its several kinds is made conformable to and partakes of, is so far -from needing proof that it will be thought strange if any one should do -otherwise. And thus they ordinarily apply the specific names they rank -particular substances under, to things as distinguished by such -specific real essences. Who is there almost, who would not take it -amiss if it should be doubted whether he called himself a man, with any -other meaning than as having the real essence of a man? And yet if you -demand what those real essences are, it is plain men are ignorant, and -know them not. From whence it follows, that the ideas they have in -their minds, being referred to real essences, as to archetypes which -are unknown, must be so far from being adequate that they cannot be -supposed to be any representation of them at all. The complex ideas we -have of substances are, as it has been shown, certain collections of -simple ideas that have been observed or supposed constantly to exist -together. But such a complex idea cannot be the real essence of any -substance; for then the properties we discover in that body would -depend on that complex idea, and be deducible from it, and their -necessary connexion with it be known; as all properties of a triangle -depend on, and, as far as they are discoverable, are deducible from the -complex idea of three lines including a space. But it is plain that in -our complex ideas of substances are not contained such ideas, on which -all the other qualities that are to be found in them do depend. The -common idea men have of iron is, a body of a certain colour, weight, -and hardness; and a property that they look on as belonging to it, is -malleableness. But yet this property has no necessary connexion with -that complex idea, or any part of it: and there is no more reason to -think that malleableness depends on that colour, weight, and hardness, -than that colour or that weight depends on its malleableness. And yet, -though we know nothing of these real essences, there is nothing more -ordinary than that men should attribute the sorts of things to such -essences. The particular parcel of matter which makes the ring I have -on my finger is forwardly by most men supposed to have a real essence, -whereby it is gold; and from whence those qualities flow which I find -in it, viz. its peculiar colour, weight, hardness, fusibility, -fixedness, and change of colour upon a slight touch of mercury, &c. -This essence, from which all these properties flow, when I inquire into -it and search after it, I plainly perceive I cannot discover: the -furthest I can go is, only to presume that, it being nothing but body, -its real essence or internal constitution, on which these qualities -depend, can be nothing but the figure, size, and connexion of its solid -parts; of neither of which having any distinct perception at all can I -have any idea of its essence: which is the cause that it has that -particular shining yellowness; a greater weight than anything I know of -the same bulk; and a fitness to have its colour changed by the touch of -quicksilver. If any one will say, that the real essence and internal -constitution, on which these properties depend, is not the figure, -size, and arrangement or connexion of its solid parts, but something -else, called its particular FORM, I am further from having any idea of -its real essence than I was before. For I have an idea of figure, size, -and situation of solid parts in general, though I have none of the -particular figure, size, or putting together of parts, whereby the -qualities above mentioned are produced; which qualities I find in that -particular parcel of matter that is on my finger, and not in another -parcel of matter, with which I cut the pen I write with. But, when I am -told that something besides the figure, size, and posture of the solid -parts of that body in its essence, something called SUBSTANTIAL FORM, -of that I confess I have no idea at all, but only of the sound form; -which is far enough from an idea of its real essence or constitution. -The like ignorance as I have of the real essence of this particular -substance, I have also of the real essence of all other natural ones: -of which essences I confess I have no distinct ideas at all; and, I am -apt to suppose, others, when they examine their own knowledge, will -find in themselves, in this one point, the same sort of ignorance. - -7. Because men know not the real essence of substances. - -Now, then, when men apply to this particular parcel of matter on my -finger a general name already in use, and denominate it GOLD, do they -not ordinarily, or are they not understood to give it that name, as -belonging to a particular species of bodies, having a real internal -essence; by having of which essence this particular substance comes to -be of that species, and to be called by that name? If it be so, as it -is plain it is, the name by which things are marked as having that -essence must be referred primarily to that essence; and consequently -the idea to which that name is given must be referred also to that -essence, and be intended to represent it. Which essence, since they who -so use the names know not, their ideas of substances must be all -inadequate in that respect, as not containing in them that real essence -which the mind intends they should. - -8. Ideas of Substances, when regarded as Collections of their -Qualities, are all inadequate. - -Secondly, those who, neglecting that useless supposition of unknown -real essences, whereby they are distinguished, endeavour to copy the -substances that exist in the world, by putting together the ideas of -those sensible qualities which are found co-existing in them, though -they come much nearer a likeness of them than those who imagine they -know not what real specific essences: yet they arrive not at perfectly -adequate ideas of those substances they would thus copy into their -minds: nor do those copies exactly and fully contain all that is to be -found in their archetypes. Because those qualities and powers of -substances, whereof we make their complex ideas, are so many and -various, that no man’s complex idea contains them all. That our complex -ideas of substances do not contain in them ALL the simple ideas that -are united in the things themselves is evident, in that men do rarely -put into their complex idea of any substance all the simple ideas they -do know to exist in it. Because, endeavouring to make the signification -of their names as clear and as little cumbersome as they can, they make -their specific ideas of the sorts of substance, for the most part, of a -few of those simple ideas which are to be found in them: but these -having no original precedency, or right to be put in, and make the -specific idea, more than others that are left out, it is plain that -both these ways our ideas of substances are deficient and inadequate. -The simple ideas whereof we make our complex ones of substances are all -of them (bating only the figure and bulk of some sorts) powers; which -being relations to other substances, we can never be sure that we know -ALL the powers that are in any one body, till we have tried what -changes it is fitted to give to or receive from other substances in -their several ways of application: which being impossible to be tried -upon any one body, much less upon all, it is impossible we should have -adequate ideas of any substance made up of a collection of all its -properties. - -9. Their powers usually make up our complex ideas of substances. - -Whosoever first lighted on a parcel of that sort of substance we denote -by the word GOLD, could not rationally take the bulk and figure he -observed in that lump to depend on its real essence, or internal -constitution. Therefore those never went into his idea of that species -of body; but its peculiar colour, perhaps, and weight, were the first -he abstracted from it, to make the complex idea of that species. Which -both are but powers; the one to affect our eyes after such a manner, -and to produce in us that idea we call yellow; and the other to force -upwards any other body of equal bulk, they being put into a pair of -equal scales, one against another. Another perhaps added to these the -ideas of fusibility and fixedness, two other passive powers, in -relation to the operation of fire upon it; another, its ductility and -solubility in aqua regia, two other powers, relating to the operation -of other bodies, in changing its outward figure, or separation of it -into insensible parts. These, or parts of these, put together, usually -make the complex idea in men’s minds of that sort of body we call GOLD. - -10. Substances have innumerable powers not contained in our complex -ideas of them. - -But no one who hath considered the properties of bodies in general, or -this sort in particular, can doubt that this, called GOLD, has infinite -other properties not contained in that complex idea. Some who have -examined this species more accurately could, I believe, enumerate ten -times as many properties in gold, all of them as inseparable from its -internal constitution, as its colour or weight: and it is probable, if -any one knew all the properties that are by divers men known of this -metal, there would be an hundred times as many ideas go to the complex -idea of gold as any one man yet has in his; and yet perhaps that not be -the thousandth part of what is to be discovered in it. The changes that -that one body is apt to receive, and make in other bodies, upon a due -application, exceeding far not only what we know, but what we are apt -to imagine. Which will not appear so much a paradox to any one who will -but consider how far men are yet from knowing all the properties of -that one, no very compound figure, a triangle; though it be no small -number that are already by mathematicians discovered of it. - -11. Ideas of Substances, being got only by collecting their qualities, -are all inadequate. - -So that all our complex ideas of substances are imperfect and -inadequate. Which would be so also in mathematical figures, if we were -to have our complex ideas of them, only by collecting their properties -in reference to other figures. How uncertain and imperfect would our -ideas be of an ellipsis, if we had no other idea of it, but some few of -its properties? Whereas, having in our plain idea the WHOLE essence of -that figure, we from thence discover those properties, and -demonstratively see how they flow, and are inseparable from it. - -12. Simple Ideas, [word in Greek], and adequate. - -Thus the mind has three sorts of abstract ideas or nominal essences: - -First, SIMPLE ideas, which are [word in Greek] or copies; but yet -certainly adequate. Because, being intended to express nothing but the -power in things to produce in the mind such a sensation, that -sensation, when it is produced, cannot but be the effect of that power. -So the paper I write on, having the power in the light (I speak -according to the common notion of light) to produce in men the -sensation which I call white, it cannot but be the effect of such a -power in something without the mind; since the mind has not the power -to produce any such idea in itself: and being meant for nothing else -but the effect of such a power that simple idea is [* words missing] -the sensation of white, in my mind, being the effect of that power -which is in the paper to produce it, is perfectly adequate to that -power; or else that power would produce a different idea. - -13. Ideas of Substances are Echthypa, and inadequate. - -Secondly, the COMPLEX ideas of SUBSTANCES are ectypes, copies too; but -not perfect ones, not adequate: which is very evident to the mind, in -that it plainly perceives, that whatever collection of simple ideas it -makes of any substance that exists, it cannot be sure that it exactly -answers all that are in that substance. Since, not having tried all the -operations of all other substances upon it, and found all the -alterations it would receive from, or cause in, other substances, it -cannot have an exact adequate collection of all its active and passive -capacities; and so not have an adequate complex idea of the powers of -any substance existing, and its relations; which is that sort of -complex idea of substances we have. And, after all, if we would have, -and actually had, in our complex idea, an exact collection of all the -secondary qualities or powers of any substance, we should not yet -thereby have an idea of the ESSENCE of that thing. For, since the -powers or qualities that are observable by us are not the real essence -of that substance, but depend on it, and flow from it, any collection -whatsoever of these qualities cannot be the real essence of that thing. -Whereby it is plain, that our ideas of substances are not adequate; are -not what the mind intends them to be. Besides, a man has no idea of -substance in general, nor knows what substance is in itself. - -14. Ideas of Modes and Relations are Archetypes, and cannot be -adequate. - -Thirdly, COMPLEX ideas of MODES AND RELATIONS are originals, and -archetypes; are not copies, nor made after the pattern of any real -existence, to which the mind intends them to be conformable, and -exactly to answer. These being such collections of simple ideas that -the mind itself puts together, and such collections that each of them -contains in it precisely all that the mind intends that it should, they -are archetypes and essences of modes that may exist; and so are -designed only for, and belong only to such modes as, when they do -exist, have an exact conformity with those complex ideas The ideas, -therefore, of modes and relations cannot but be adequate. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXII. -OF TRUE AND FALSE IDEAS. - - -1. Truth and Falsehood properly belong to Propositions, not to Ideas. - -Though truth and falsehood belong, in propriety of speech, only to -PROPOSITIONS: yet IDEAS are oftentimes termed true or false (as what -words are there that are not used with great latitude, and with some -deviation from their strict and proper significations?) Though I think -that when ideas themselves are termed true or false, there is still -some secret or tacit proposition, which is the foundation of that -denomination: as we shall see, if we examine the particular occasions -wherein they come to be called true or false. In all which we shall -find some kind of affirmation or negation, which is the reason of that -denomination. For our ideas, being nothing but bare APPEARANCES, or -perceptions in our minds, cannot properly and simply in themselves be -said to be true or false, no more than a single name of anything can be -said to be true or false. - -2. Ideas and words may be said to be true, inasmuch as they really are -ideas and words. - -Indeed both ideas and words may be said to be true, in a metaphysical -sense of the word truth; as all other things that any way exist are -said to be true, i.e. really to be such as they exist. Though in things -called true, even in that sense, there is perhaps a secret reference to -our ideas, looked upon as the standards of that truth; which amounts to -a mental proposition, though it be usually not taken notice of. - -3. No Idea, as an Appearance in the Mind, either true or false. - -But it is not in that metaphysical sense of truth which we inquire -here, when we examine, whether our ideas are capable of being true or -false, but in the more ordinary acceptation of those words: and so I -say that the ideas in our minds, being only so many perceptions or -appearances there, none of them are false; the idea of a centaur having -no more falsehood in it when it appears in our minds, than the name -centaur has falsehood in it, when it is pronounced by our mouths, or -written on paper. For truth or falsehood lying always in some -affirmation or negation, mental or verbal, our ideas are not capable, -any of them, of being false, till the mind passes some judgment on -them; that is, affirms or denies something of them. - -4. Ideas referred to anything extraneous to them may be true or false. - -Whenever the mind refers any of its ideas to anything extraneous to -them, they are then capable to be called true or false. Because the -mind, in such a reference, makes a tacit supposition of their -conformity to that thing; which supposition, as it happens to be true -or false, so the ideas themselves come to be denominated. The most -usual cases wherein this happens, are these following: - -5. Other Men’s Ideas; real Existence; and supposed real Essences, are -what Men usually refer their Ideas to. - -First, when the mind supposes any idea it has CONFORMABLE to that in -OTHER MEN’S MINDS, called by the same common name; v.g. when the mind -intends or judges its ideas of justice, temperance, religion, to be the -same with what other men give those names to. - -Secondly, when the mind supposes any idea it has in itself to be -CONFORMABLE to some REAL EXISTENCE. Thus the two ideas of a man and a -centaur, supposed to be the ideas of real substances, are the one true -and the other false; the one having a conformity to what has really -existed, the other not. Thirdly, when the mind REFERS any of its ideas -to that REAL constitution and ESSENCE of anything, whereon all its -properties depend: and thus the greatest part, if not all our ideas of -substances, are false. - -6. The cause of such Reference. - -These suppositions the mind is very apt tacitly to make concerning its -own ideas. But yet, if we will examine it, we shall find it is chiefly, -if not only, concerning its ABSTRACT complex ideas. For the natural -tendency of the mind being towards knowledge; and finding that, if it -should proceed by and dwell upon only particular things, its progress -would be very slow, and its work endless; therefore, to shorten its way -to knowledge, and make each perception more comprehensive, the first -thing it does, as the foundation of the easier enlarging its knowledge, -either by contemplation of the things themselves that it would know, or -conference with others about them, is to bind them into bundles, and -rank them so into sorts, that what knowledge it gets of any of them it -may thereby with assurance extend to all of that sort; and so advance -by larger steps in that which is its great business, knowledge. This, -as I have elsewhere shown, is the reason why we collect things under -comprehensive ideas, with names annexed to them, into genera and -species; i.e. into kinds and sorts. - -7. Names of things supposed to carry in them knowledge of their -essences. - -If therefore we will warily attend to the motions of the mind, and -observe what course it usually takes in its way to knowledge, we shall -I think find, that the mind having got an idea which it thinks it may -have use of either in contemplation or discourse, the first thing it -does is to abstract it, and then get a name to it; and so lay it up in -its storehouse, the memory, as containing the essence of a sort of -things, of which that name is always to be the mark. Hence it is, that -we may often observe that, when any one sees a new thing of a kind that -he knows not, he presently asks, what it is; meaning by that inquiry -nothing but the name. As if the name carried with it the knowledge of -the species, or the essence of it; whereof it is indeed used as the -mark, and is generally supposed annexed to it. - -8. How men suppose that their ideas must correspond to things, and to -the customary meanings of names. - -But this ABSTRACT IDEA, being something in the mind, between the thing -that exists, and the name that is given to it; it is in our ideas that -both the rightness of our knowledge, and the propriety and -intelligibleness of our speaking, consists. And hence it is that men -are so forward to suppose, that the abstract ideas they have in their -minds are such as agree to the things existing without them, to which -they are referred; and are the same also to which the names they give -them do by the use and propriety of that language belong. For without -this double conformity of their ideas, they find they should both think -amiss of things in themselves, and talk of them unintelligibly to -others. - -9. Simple Ideas may be false, in reference to others of the same Name, -but are least liable to be so. - -First, then, I say, that when the truth of our ideas is judged of by -the conformity they have to the ideas which other men have, and -commonly signify by the same name, they may be any of them false. But -yet SIMPLE IDEAS are least of all liable to be so mistaken. Because a -man, by his senses and every day’s observation, may easily satisfy -himself what the simple ideas are which their several names that are in -common use stand for; they being but few in number, and such as, if he -doubts or mistakes in, he may easily rectify by the objects they are to -be found in. Therefore it is seldom that any one mistakes in his names -of simple ideas, or applies the name red to the idea green, or the name -sweet to the idea bitter: much less are men apt to confound the names -of ideas belonging to different senses, and call a colour by the name -of a taste, &c. Whereby it is evident that the simple ideas they call -by any name are commonly the same that others have and mean when they -use the same names. - -10. Ideas of mixed Modes most liable to be false in this Sense. - -Complex ideas are much more liable to be false in this respect; and the -complex ideas of MIXED MODES, much more than those of substances; -because in substances (especially those which the common and unborrowed -names of any language are applied to) some remarkable sensible -qualities, serving ordinarily to distinguish one sort from another, -easily preserve those who take any care in the use of their words, from -applying them to sorts of substances to which they do not at all -belong. But in mixed modes we are much more uncertain; it being not so -easy to determine of several actions, whether they are to be called -JUSTICE or CRUELTY, LIBERALITY or PRODIGALITY. And so in referring our -ideas to those of other men, called by the same names, ours may be -false; and the idea in our minds, which we express by the word JUSTICE, -may perhaps be that which ought to have another name. - -11. Or at least to be thought false. - -But whether or no our ideas of mixed modes are more liable than any -sort to be different from those of other men, which are marked by the -same names, this at least is certain. That this sort of falsehood is -much more familiarly attributed to our ideas of mixed modes than to any -other. When a man is thought to have a false idea of JUSTICE, or -GRATITUDE, or GLORY, it is for no other reason, but that his agrees not -with the ideas which each of those names are the signs of in other men. - -12. And why. - -The reason whereof seems to me to be this: That the abstract ideas of -mixed modes, being men’s voluntary combinations of such a precise -collection of simple ideas, and so the essence of each species being -made by men alone, whereof we have no other sensible standard existing -anywhere but the name itself, or the definition of that name; we having -nothing else to refer these our ideas of mixed modes to, as a standard -to which we would conform them, but the ideas of those who are thought -to use those names in their most proper significations; and, so as our -ideas conform or differ from THEM, they pass for true or false. And -thus much concerning the truth and falsehood of our ideas, in reference -to their names. - -13. As referred to Real Existence, none of our Ideas can be false but -those of Substances. - -Secondly, as to the truth and falsehood of our ideas, in reference to -the real existence of things. When that is made the standard of their -truth, none of them can be termed false but only our complex ideas of -substances. - -14. First, Simple Ideas in this Sense not false and why. - -First, our simple ideas, being barely such perceptions as God has -fitted us to receive, and given power to external objects to produce in -us by established laws and ways, suitable to his wisdom and goodness, -though incomprehensible to us, their truth consists in nothing else but -in such appearances as are produced in us, and must be suitable to -those powers he has placed in external objects or else they could not -be produced in us: and thus answering those powers, they are what they -should be, true ideas. Nor do they become liable to any imputation of -falsehood, if the mind (as in most men I believe it does) judges these -ideas to be in the things themselves. For God in his wisdom having set -them as marks of distinction in things, whereby we may be able to -discern one thing from another, and so choose any of them for our uses -as we have occasion; it alters not the nature of our simple idea, -whether we think that the idea of blue be in the violet itself, or in -our mind only; and only the power of producing it by the texture of its -parts, reflecting the particles of light after a certain manner, to be -in the violet itself. For that texture in the object, by a regular and -constant operation producing the same idea of blue in us, it serves us -to distinguish, by our eyes, that from any other thing; whether that -distinguishing mark, as it is really in the violet, be only a peculiar -texture of parts, or else that very colour, the idea whereof (which is -in us) is the exact resemblance. And it is equally from that appearance -to be denominated blue, whether it be that real colour, or only a -peculiar texture in it, that causes in us that idea: since the name, -BLUE, notes properly nothing but that mark of distinction that is in a -violet, discernible only by our eyes, whatever it consists in; that -being beyond our capacities distinctly to know, and perhaps would be of -less use to us, if we had faculties to discern. - -15. Though one Man’s Idea of Blue should be different from another’s. - -Neither would it carry any imputation of falsehood to our simple ideas, -if by the different structure of our organs it were so ordered, that -THE SAME OBJECT SHOULD PRODUCE IN SEVERAL MEN’S MINDS DIFFERENT IDEAS -at the same time; v.g. if the idea that a violet produced in one man’s -mind by his eyes were the same that a marigold produced in another -man’s, and vice versa. For, since this could never be known, because -one man’s mind could not pass into another man’s body, to perceive what -appearances were produced by those organs; neither the ideas hereby, -nor the names, would be at all confounded, or any falsehood be in -either. For all things that had the texture of a violet, producing -constantly the idea that he called blue, and those which had the -texture of a marigold, producing constantly the idea which he as -constantly called yellow, whatever those appearances were in his mind; -he would be able as regularly to distinguish things for his use by -those appearances, and understand and signify those distinctions marked -by the name blue and yellow, as if the appearances or ideas in his mind -received from those two flowers were exactly the same with the ideas in -other men’s minds. I am nevertheless very apt to think that the -sensible ideas produced by any object in different men’s minds, are -most commonly very near and undiscernibly alike. For which opinion, I -think, there might be many reasons offered: but that being besides my -present business, I shall not trouble my reader with them; but only -mind him, that the contrary supposition, if it could be proved, is of -little use, either for the improvement of our knowledge, or conveniency -of life, and so we need not trouble ourselves to examine it. - -16. Simple Ideas can none of them be false in respect of real -existence. - -From what has been said concerning our simple ideas, I think it evident -that our simple ideas can none of them be false in respect of things -existing without us. For the truth of these appearances or perceptions -in our minds consisting, as has been said, only in their being -answerable to the powers in external objects to produce by our senses -such appearances in us, and each of them being in the mind such as it -is, suitable to the power that produced it, and which alone it -represents, it cannot upon that account, or as referred to such a -pattern, be false. Blue and yellow, bitter or sweet, can never be false -ideas: these perceptions in the mind are just such as they are there, -answering the powers appointed by God to produce them; and so are truly -what they are, and are intended to be. Indeed the names may be -misapplied, but that in this respect makes no falsehood in the ideas; -as if a man ignorant in the English tongue should call purple scarlet. - -17. Secondly, Modes not false cannot be false in reference to essences -of things. - -Secondly, neither can our complex ideas of modes, in reference to the -essence of anything really existing, be false; because whatever complex -ideas I have of any mode, it hath no reference to any pattern existing, -and made by nature; it is not supposed to contain in it any other ideas -than what it hath; nor to represent anything but such a complication of -ideas as it does. Thus, when I have the idea of such an action of a man -who forbears to afford himself such meat, drink, and clothing, and -other conveniences of life, as his riches and estate will be sufficient -to supply and his station requires, I have no false idea; but such an -one as represents an action, either as I find or imagine it, and so is -capable of neither truth nor falsehood. But when I give the name -FRUGALITY or VIRTUE to this action, then it may be called a false idea, -if thereby it be supposed to agree with that idea to which, in -propriety of speech, the name of frugality doth belong, or to be -conformable to that law which is the standard of virtue and vice. - -18. Thirdly, Ideas of Substances may be false in reference to existing -things. - -Thirdly, our complex ideas of substances, being all referred to -patterns in things themselves, may be false. That they are all false, -when looked upon as the representations of the unknown essences of -things, is so evident that there needs nothing to be said of it. I -shall therefore pass over that chimerical supposition, and consider -them as collections of simple ideas in the mind, taken from -combinations of simple ideas existing together constantly in things, of -which patterns they are the supposed copies; and in this reference of -them to the existence of things, they are false ideas:—(1) When they -put together simple ideas, which in the real existence of things have -no union; as when to the shape and size that exist together in a horse, -is joined in the same complex idea the power of barking like a dog: -which three ideas, however put together into one in the mind, were -never united in nature; and this, therefore, may be called a false idea -of a horse. (2) Ideas of substances are, in this respect, also false, -when, from any collection of simple ideas that do always exist -together, there is separated, by a direct negation, any other simple -idea which is constantly joined with them. Thus, if to extension, -solidity, fusibility, the peculiar weightiness, and yellow colour of -gold, any one join in his thoughts the negation of a greater degree of -fixedness than is in lead or copper, he may be said to have a false -complex idea, as well as when he joins to those other simple ones the -idea of perfect absolute fixedness. For either way, the complex idea of -gold being made up of such simple ones as have no union in nature, may -be termed false. But, if he leaves out of this his complex idea that of -fixedness quite, without either actually joining to or separating it -from the rest in his mind, it is, I think, to be looked on as an -inadequate and imperfect idea, rather than a false one; since, though -it contains not all the simple ideas that are united in nature, yet it -puts none together but what do really exist together. - -19. Truth or Falsehood always supposes Affirmation or Negation. - -Though, in compliance with the ordinary way of speaking, I have shown -in what sense and upon what ground our ideas may be sometimes called -true or false; yet if we will look a little nearer into the matter, in -all cases where any idea is called true or false, it is from some -JUDGMENT that the mind makes, or is supposed to make, that is true or -false. For truth or falsehood, being never without some affirmation or -negation, express or tacit, it is not to be found but where signs are -joined or separated, according to the agreement or disagreement of the -things they stand for. The signs we chiefly use are either ideas or -words; wherewith we make either mental or verbal propositions. Truth -lies in so joining or separating these representatives, as the things -they stand for do in themselves agree or disagree; and falsehood in the -contrary, as shall be more fully shown hereafter. - -20. Ideas in themselves neither true nor false. - -Any idea, then, which we have in our minds, whether conformable or not -to the existence of things, or to any idea in the minds of other men, -cannot properly for this alone be called false. For these -representations, if they have nothing in them but what is really -existing in things without, cannot be thought false, being exact -representations of something: nor yet if they have anything in them -differing from the reality of things, can they properly be said to be -false representations, or ideas of things they do not represent. But -the mistake and falsehood is: - -21. But are false—1. When judged agreeable to another Man’s Idea, -without being so. - -First, when the mind having any idea, it JUDGES and concludes it the -same that is in other men’s minds, signified by the same name; or that -it is conformable to the ordinary received signification or definition -of that word, when indeed it is not: which is the most usual mistake in -mixed modes, though other ideas also are liable to it. - -22. Secondly, When judged to agree to real Existence, when they do not. - -(2) When it having a complex idea made up of such a collection of -simple ones as nature never puts together, it JUDGES it to agree to a -species of creatures really existing; as when it joins the weight of -tin to the colour, fusibility, and fixedness of gold. - -23. Thirdly, When judged adequate, without being so. - -(3) When in its complex idea it has united a certain number of simple -ideas that do really exist together in some sort of creatures, but has -also left out others as much inseparable, it JUDGES this to be a -perfect complete idea of a sort of things which really it is not; v.g. -having joined the ideas of substance, yellow, malleable, most heavy, -and fusible, it takes that complex idea to be the complete idea of -gold, when yet its peculiar fixedness, and solubility in AQUA REGIA, -are as inseparable from those other ideas, or qualities, of that body -as they are one from another. - -24. Fourthly, When judged to represent the real Essence. - -(4) The mistake is yet greater, when I JUDGE that this complex idea -contains in it the real essence of any body existing; when at least it -contains but some few of those properties which flow from its real -essence and constitution. I say only some few of those properties; for -those properties consisting mostly in the active and passive powers it -has in reference to other things, all that are vulgarly known of any -one body, of which the complex idea of that kind of things is usually -made, are but a very few, in comparison of what a man that has several -ways tried and examined it knows of that one sort of things; and all -that the most expert man knows are but a few, in comparison of what are -really in that body, and depend on its internal or essential -constitution. The essence of a triangle lies in a very little compass, -consists in a very few ideas: three lines including a space make up -that essence: but the properties that flow from this essence are more -than can be easily known or enumerated. So I imagine it is in -substances; their real essences lie in a little compass, though the -properties flowing from that internal constitution are endless. - -25. Ideas, when called false. - -To conclude, a man having no notion of anything without him, but by the -idea he has of it in his mind, (which idea he has a power to call by -what name he pleases,) he may indeed make an idea neither answering the -reason of things, nor agreeing to the idea commonly signified by other -people’s words; but cannot make a wrong or false idea of a thing which -is no otherwise known to him but by the idea he has of it: v.g. when I -frame an idea of the legs, arms, and body of a man, and join to this a -horse’s head and neck, I do not make a false idea of anything; because -it represents nothing without me. But when I call it a MAN or TARTAR, -and imagine it to represent some real being without me, or to be the -same idea that others call by the same name; in either of these cases I -may err. And upon this account it is that it comes to be termed a false -idea; though indeed the falsehood lies not in the idea, but in that -tacit mental proposition, wherein a conformity and resemblance is -attributed to it which it has not. But yet, if, having framed such an -idea in my mind, without thinking either that existence, or the name -MAN or TARTAR, belongs to it, I will call it MAN or TARTAR, I may be -justly thought fantastical in the naming; but not erroneous in my -judgment; nor the idea any way false. - -26. More properly to be called right or wrong. - -Upon the whole matter, I think that our ideas, as they are considered -by the mind,—either in reference to the proper signification of their -names; or in reference to the reality of things,—may very fitly be -called RIGHT or WRONG ideas, according as they agree or disagree to -those patterns to which they are referred. But if any one had rather -call them true or false, it is fit he use a liberty, which every one -has, to call things by those names he thinks best; though, in propriety -of speech, TRUTH or FALSEHOOD will, I think, scarce agree to them, but -as they, some way or other, virtually contain in them some mental -proposition. The ideas that are in a man’s mind, simply considered, -cannot be wrong; unless complex ones, wherein inconsistent parts are -jumbled together. All other ideas are in themselves right, and the -knowledge about them right and true knowledge; but when we come to -refer them to anything, as to their patterns and archetypes then they -are capable of being wrong, as far as they disagree with such -archetypes. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXIII. -OF THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. - - -1. Something unreasonable in most Men. - -There is scarce any one that does not observe something that seems odd -to him, and is in itself really extravagant, in the opinions, -reasonings, and actions of other men. The least flaw of this kind, if -at all different from his own, every one is quick-sighted enough to -espy in another, and will by the authority of reason forwardly condemn; -though he be guilty of much greater unreasonableness in his own tenets -and conduct, which he never perceives, and will very hardly, if at all, -be convinced of. - -2. Not wholly from Self-love. - -This proceeds not wholly from self-love, though that has often a great -hand in it. Men of fair minds, and not given up to the overweening of -self-flattery, are frequently guilty of it; and in many cases one with -amazement hears the arguings, and is astonished at the obstinacy of a -worthy man, who yields not to the evidence of reason, though laid -before him as clear as daylight. - -3. Not from Education. - -This sort of unreasonableness is usually imputed to education and -prejudice, and for the most part truly enough, though that reaches not -the bottom of the disease, nor shows distinctly enough whence it rises, -or wherein it lies. Education is often rightly assigned for the cause, -and prejudice is a good general name for the thing itself: but yet, I -think, he ought to look a little further, who would trace this sort of -madness to the root it springs from, and so explain it, as to show -whence this flaw has its original in very sober and rational minds, and -wherein it consists. - -4. A Degree of Madness found in most Men. - -I shall be pardoned for calling it by so harsh a name as madness, when -it is considered that opposition to reason deserves that name, and is -really madness; and there is scarce a man so free from it, but that if -he should always, on all occasions, argue or do as in some cases he -constantly does, would not be thought fitter for Bedlam than civil -conversation. I do not here mean when he is under the power of an -unruly passion, but in the steady calm course of his life. That which -will yet more apologize for this harsh name, and ungrateful imputation -on the greatest part of mankind, is, that, inquiring a little by the -bye into the nature of madness, (b. ii. ch. xi., Section 13,) I found -it to spring from the very same root, and to depend on the very same -cause we are here speaking of. This consideration of the thing itself, -at a time when I thought not the least on the subject which I am now -treating of, suggested it to me. And if this be a weakness to which all -men are so liable, if this be a taint which so universally infects -mankind, the greater care should be taken to lay it open under its due -name, thereby to excite the greater care in its prevention and cure. - -5. From a wrong Connexion of Ideas. - -Some of our ideas have a NATURAL correspondence and connexion one with -another: it is the office and excellency of our reason to trace these, -and hold them together in that union and correspondence which is -founded in their peculiar beings. Besides this, there is another -connexion of ideas wholly owing to CHANCE or CUSTOM. Ideas that in -themselves are not all of kin, come to be so united in some men’s -minds, that it is very hard to separate them; they always keep in -company, and the one no sooner at any time comes into the -understanding, but its associate appears with it; and if they are more -than two which are thus united, the whole gang, always inseparable, -show themselves together. - -6. This Connexion made by custom. - -This strong combination of ideas, not allied by nature, the mind makes -in itself either voluntarily or by chance; and hence it comes in -different men to be very different, according to their different -inclinations, education, interests, &c. CUSTOM settles habits of -thinking in the understanding, as well as of determining in the will, -and of motions in the body: all which seems to be but trains of motions -in the animal spirits, which, once set a going, continue in the same -steps they have been used to; which, by often treading, are worn into a -smooth path, and the motion in it becomes easy, and as it were natural. -As far as we can comprehend thinking, thus ideas seem to be produced in -our minds; or, if they are not, this may serve to explain their -following one another in an habitual train, when once they are put into -their track, as well as it does to explain such motions of the body. A -musician used to any tune will find that, let it but once begin in his -head, the ideas of the several notes of it will follow one another -orderly in his understanding, without any care or attention, as -regularly as his fingers move orderly over the keys of the organ to -play out the tune he has begun, though his unattentive thoughts be -elsewhere a wandering. Whether the natural cause of these ideas, as -well as of that regular dancing of his fingers be the motion of his -animal spirits, I will not determine, how probable soever, by this -instance, it appears to be so: but this may help us a little to -conceive of intellectual habits, and of the tying together of ideas. - -7. Some Antipathies an Effect of it. - -That there are such associations of them made by custom, in the minds -of most men, I think nobody will question, who has well considered -himself or others; and to this, perhaps, might be justly attributed -most of the sympathies and antipathies observable in men, which work as -strongly, and produce as regular effects as if they were natural; and -are therefore called so, though they at first had no other original but -the accidental connexion of two ideas, which either the strength of the -first impression, or future indulgence so united, that they always -afterwards kept company together in that man’s mind, as if they were -but one idea. I say most of the antipathies, I do not say all; for some -of them are truly natural, depend upon our original constitution, and -are born with us; but a great part of those which are counted natural, -would have been known to be from unheeded, though perhaps early, -impressions, or wanton fancies at first, which would have been -acknowledged the original of them, if they had been warily observed. A -grown person surfeiting with honey no sooner hears the name of it, but -his fancy immediately carries sickness and qualms to his stomach, and -he cannot bear the very idea of it; other ideas of dislike, and -sickness, and vomiting, presently accompany it, and he is disturbed; -but he knows from whence to date this weakness, and can tell how he got -this indisposition. Had this happened to him by an over-dose of honey -when a child, all the same effects would have followed; but the cause -would have been mistaken, and the antipathy counted natural. - -8. Influence of association to be watched educating young children. - -I mention this, not out of any great necessity there is in this present -argument to distinguish nicely between natural and acquired -antipathies; but I take notice of it for another purpose, viz. that -those who have children, or the charge of their education, would think -it worth their while diligently to watch, and carefully to prevent the -undue connexion of ideas in the minds of young people. This is the time -most susceptible of lasting impressions; and though those relating to -the health of the body are by discreet people minded and fenced -against, yet I am apt to doubt, that those which relate more peculiarly -to the mind, and terminate in the understanding or passions, have been -much less heeded than the thing deserves: nay, those relating purely to -the understanding, have, as I suspect, been by most men wholly -overlooked. - -9. Wrong connexion of ideas a great Cause of Errors. - -This wrong connexion in our minds of ideas in themselves loose and -independent of one another, has such an influence, and is of so great -force to set us awry in our actions, as well moral as natural, -passions, reasonings, and notions themselves, that perhaps there is not -any one thing that deserves more to be looked after. - -10. As instance. - -The ideas of goblins and sprites have really no more to do with -darkness than light: yet let but a foolish maid inculcate these often -on the mind of a child, and raise them there together, possibly he -shall never be able to separate them again so long as he lives, but -darkness shall ever afterwards bring with it those frightful ideas, and -they shall be so joined, that he can no more bear the one than the -other. - -11. Another instance. - -A man receives a sensible injury from another, thinks on the man and -that action over and over, and by ruminating on them strongly, or much, -in his mind, so cements those two ideas together, that he makes them -almost one; never thinks on the man, but the pain and displeasure he -suffered comes into his mind with it, so that he scarce distinguishes -them, but has as much an aversion for the one as the other. Thus -hatreds are often begotten from slight and innocent occasions, and -quarrels propagated and continued in the world. - -12. A third instance. - -A man has suffered pain or sickness in any place; he saw his friend die -in such a room: though these have in nature nothing to do one with -another, yet when the idea of the place occurs to his mind, it brings -(the impression being once made) that of the pain and displeasure with -it: he confounds them in his mind, and can as little bear the one as -the other. - -13. Why Time cures some Disorders in the Mind, which Reason cannot -cure. - -When this combination is settled, and while it lasts, it is not in the -power of reason to help us, and relieve us from the effects of it. -Ideas in our minds, when they are there, will operate according to -their natures and circumstances. And here we see the cause why time -cures certain affections, which reason, though in the right, and -allowed to be so, has not power over, nor is able against them to -prevail with those who are apt to hearken to it in other cases. The -death of a child that was the daily delight of its mother’s eyes, and -joy of her soul, rends from her heart the whole comfort of her life, -and gives her all the torment imaginable: use the consolations of -reason in this case, and you were as good preach ease to one on the -rack, and hope to allay, by rational discourses, the pain of his joints -tearing asunder. Till time has by disuse separated the sense of that -enjoyment and its loss, from the idea of the child returning to her -memory, all representations, though ever so reasonable, are in vain; -and therefore some in whom the union between these ideas is never -dissolved, spend their lives in mourning, and carry an incurable sorrow -to their graves. - -14. Another instance of the Effect of the Association of Ideas. - -A friend of mine knew one perfectly cured of madness by a very harsh -and offensive operation. The gentleman who was thus recovered, with -great sense of gratitude and acknowledgment owned the cure all his life -after, as the greatest obligation he could have received; but, whatever -gratitude and reason suggested to him, he could never bear the sight of -the operator: that image brought back with it the idea of that agony -which he suffered from his hands, which was too mighty and intolerable -for him to endure. - -15. More instances. - -Many children, imputing the pain they endured at school to their books -they were corrected for, so join those ideas together, that a book -becomes their aversion, and they are never reconciled to the study and -use of them all their lives after; and thus reading becomes a torment -to them, which otherwise possibly they might have made the great -pleasure of their lives. There are rooms convenient enough, that some -men cannot study in, and fashions of vessels, which, though ever so -clean and commodious, they cannot drink out of, and that by reason of -some accidental ideas which are annexed to them, and make them -offensive; and who is there that hath not observed some man to flag at -the appearance, or in the company of some certain person not otherwise -superior to him, but because, having once on some occasion got the -ascendant, the idea of authority and distance goes along with that of -the person, and he that has been thus subjected, is not able to -separate them. - -16. A curious instance. - -Instances of this kind are so plentiful everywhere, that if I add one -more, it is only for the pleasant oddness of it. It is of a young -gentleman, who, having learnt to dance, and that to great perfection, -there happened to stand an old trunk in the room where he learnt. The -idea of this remarkable piece of household stuff had so mixed itself -with the turns and steps of all his dances, that though in that chamber -he could dance excellently well, yet it was only whilst that trunk was -there; nor could he perform well in any other place, unless that or -some such other trunk had its due position in the room. If this story -shall be suspected to be dressed up with some comical circumstances, a -little beyond precise nature, I answer for myself that I had it some -years since from a very sober and worthy man, upon his own knowledge, -as I report it; and I dare say there are very few inquisitive persons -who read this, who have not met with accounts, if not examples, of this -nature, that may parallel, or at least justify this. - -17. Influence of Association on intellectual Habits. - -Intellectual habits and defects this way contracted, are not less -frequent and powerful, though less observed. Let the ideas of being and -matter be strongly joined, either by education or much thought; whilst -these are still combined in the mind, what notions, what reasonings, -will there be about separate spirits? Let custom from the very -childhood have joined figure and shape to the idea of God, and what -absurdities will that mind be liable to about the Deity? Let the idea -of infallibility be inseparably joined to any person, and these two -constantly together possess the mind; and then one body in two places -at once, shall unexamined be swallowed for a certain truth, by an -implicit faith, whenever that imagined infallible person dictates and -demands assent without inquiry. - -18. Observable in the opposition between different Sects of philosophy -and of religion. - -Some such wrong and unnatural combinations of ideas will be found to -establish the irreconcilable opposition between different sects of -philosophy and religion; for we cannot imagine every one of their -followers to impose wilfully on himself, and knowingly refuse truth -offered by plain reason. Interest, though it does a great deal in the -case, yet cannot be thought to work whole societies of men to so -universal a perverseness, as that every one of them to a man should -knowingly maintain falsehood: some at least must be allowed to do what -all pretend to, i.e. to pursue truth sincerely; and therefore there -must be something that blinds their understandings, and makes them not -see the falsehood of what they embrace for real truth. That which thus -captivates their reasons, and leads men of sincerity blindfold from -common sense, will, when examined, be found to be what we are speaking -of: some independent ideas, of no alliance to one another, are, by -education, custom, and the constant din of their party, so coupled in -their minds, that they always appear there together; and they can no -more separate them in their thoughts than if they were but one idea, -and they operate as if they were so. This gives sense to jargon, -demonstration to absurdities, and consistency to nonsense, and is the -foundation of the greatest, I had almost said of all the errors in the -world; or, if it does not reach so far, it is at least the most -dangerous one, since, so far as it obtains, it hinders men from seeing -and examining. When two things, in themselves disjoined, appear to the -sight constantly united; if the eye sees these things riveted which are -loose, where will you begin to rectify the mistakes that follow in two -ideas that they have been accustomed so to join in their minds as to -substitute one for the other, and, as I am apt to think, often without -perceiving it themselves? This, whilst they are under the deceit of it, -makes them incapable of conviction, and they applaud themselves as -zealous champions for truth, when indeed they are contending for error; -and the confusion of two different ideas, which a customary connexion -of them in their minds hath to them made in effect but one, fills their -heads with false views, and their reasonings with false consequences. - -19. Conclusion. - -Having thus given an account of the original, sorts, and extent of our -IDEAS, with several other considerations about these (I know not -whether I may say) instruments, or materials of our knowledge, the -method I at first proposed to myself would now require that I should -immediately proceed to show, what use the understanding makes of them, -and what KNOWLEDGE we have by them. This was that which, in the first -general view I had of this subject, was all that I thought I should -have to do: but, upon a nearer approach, I find that there is so close -a connexion between ideas and WORDS, and our abstract ideas and general -words have so constant a relation one to another, that it is impossible -to speak clearly and distinctly of our knowledge, which all consists in -propositions, without considering, first, the nature, use, and -signification of Language; which, therefore, must be the business of -the next Book. - -END OF VOLUME I - - - - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AN ESSAY CONCERNING HUMANE UNDERSTANDING *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the -United States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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