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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d17b35a --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #62856 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/62856) diff --git a/old/62856-0.txt b/old/62856-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 485b8a0..0000000 --- a/old/62856-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,17524 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Treatise of Human Nature, by -David Hume and Thomas Hill Green - -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'll -have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using -this ebook. - - - -Title: A Treatise of Human Nature - Being an Attempt to Introduce the Experimental Method into - Moral Subjects - -Author: David Hume - Thomas Hill Green - -Editor: Thomas Hodge Grose - -Release Date: August 5, 2020 [EBook #62856] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A TREATISE OF HUMAN NATURE *** - - - - -Produced by Gdurb - - - - -Introductions to Books I and II of -David Hume’s Treatise of Human Nature - -Thomas Hill Green - -A Treatise of Human Nature, being an attempt to introduce the -Experimental Method of Reasoning into Moral Subjects and Dialogues -Concerning Natural Religion - -by David Hume, - -Edited, with preliminary dissertation and Notes, by T.H. Green -and T.H. Grose - -London, Longmans Green & Co, 1874 - - -Transcriber's Note: - -The Introduction to Book I is taken from an 1898 reprint; that to -Book II from an 1882 reprint, both by Longmans. - -The tables of contents have been changed to refer to paragraphs -instead of pages, as was done by R.L. Nettleship in his edition of -Green's _Philosophical Works_. The paragraph numbers are the same as -in the originals, and as in Nettleship's edition. - -The Notes which were printed in the margins of the originals have -been placed as captions above the relevant paragraphs. - -Green’s footnotes have been placed below the paragraphs to which they -relate. Because this book does not contain Hume’s text, where Green -cites Hume by page number, a reference to the relevant section has -been added in square brackets. Greek phrases are translated in -footnotes marked "Tr." - - - - -PREFACE. - -In this edition we have sought to avoid the inconveniences which are -apt to attend commentaries on philosophical writers, by the plan -of putting together, in the form of continuous introductions, such -explanation and criticism as we had to offer, and confining the -footnotes almost entirely to references, which have been carefully -distinguished from Hume’s own notes. For the introductions to -the first and second volumes Mr. Green alone is responsible. The -introduction to the third is the work of Mr. Grose, who also has -undertaken the revision of Hume’s text. - -Throughout the introductions to Volumes I. and II., except where -the contrary is stated, ‘Hume’ must be understood to mean Hume as -represented by the ‘Treatise on Human Nature.’ In taking this as -intrinsically the best representation of his philosophy, we may -be thought to have overlooked the well-known advertisement which -(in an edition posthumously published) he prefixed to the volume -containing his ‘Inquiries concerning the Human Understanding and -the Principles of Morals.’ In it, after stating that the volume, -is mainly a reproduction of what he had previously published in -the ‘Treatise,’ he expresses a hope that ‘some negligences in his -former reasoning, and more in the expression,’ have been corrected, -and desires ‘that the following Pieces may alone be regarded as -containing his philosophical sentiments and principles.’ Was not Hume -himself then, it may be asked, the best judge of what was an adequate -expression of his thoughts, and is there not an unbecoming assurance -in disregarding such a voice from his tomb? - -Our answer is that if we had been treating of Hume as a great -literary character, or exhibiting the history of his individual -mind, due account must have been taken of it. Such, however, has not -been the object which, in the Introductions to Volumes I. and II., -we have presented to ourselves, (See Introd. to Vol. I. § 4.) Our -concern has been with him as the exponent of a philosophical system, -and therefore specially with that statement of his system which -alone purports to be complete, and which was written when philosophy -was still his chief interest, without alloy from the disappointment -of literary ambition. Anyone who will be at the pains to read the -‘Inquiries’ alongside of the original ‘Treatise’ will find that their -only essential difference from it is in the way of omission. They -consist in the main of excerpts from the ‘Treatise,’ re-written in -a lighter style, and with the more difficult parts of it left out. -It is not that the difficulties which logically arise out of Hume’s -system are met, but that the passages which most obviously suggest -them have disappeared without anything to take their place. Thus in -the ‘Inquiry concerning the Human Understanding’ there is nothing -whatever corresponding to Parts II. and IV. of the first Book of the -‘Treatise.’ The effect of this omission on a hasty reader is, no -doubt, a feeling of great relief. Common-sense is no longer actively -repelled by a doctrine which seems to undermine the real world, and -can more easily put a construction on the account of the law of -causation, which remains, compatible with the ‘objective validity’ of -the law--such a construction as in fact forms the basis of Mr. Mill’s -Logic. How inconsistent this construction is with the principles -from which Hume started, and which he never gave up; how impossible -it would be to anyone who had assimilated his system as a whole; how -close is the organic connection between all the parts of this as he -originally conceived it--we must trust to the following introductions -to show. (See, in particular, Introd. to Vol. I. §§ 301 and 321.) - -The only discussion in the ‘Inquiry concerning Human Understanding,’ -to which nothing in his earlier publication corresponds, is that -on Miracles. On the relation in which this stands to his general -theory some remarks will be found in the Introduction to Vol. I. (§ -324, note). The chief variations, other than in the way of omission, -between the later redaction of his ethical doctrine and the earlier, -are noticed in the Introduction to Vol. II. (§§ 31, 43, and 46, and -notes). - - -SUMMARY OF THE CONTENTS - -of the - -GENERAL INTRODUCTION TO VOL. I - -1. How the history of philosophy should be studied. - -2. Hume the last great English philosopher. - -3. Kant his true successor. - -4. Distinction between literary history and the history of -philosophical systems. - -5. Object of the present enquiry. - -6. Locke’s problem and method. - -7. His notion of the ‘thinking thing’. - -8. This he will passively observe. - -9. Is such observation possible? - -10. Why it seems so. - -11. Locke’s account of origin of ideas. - -12. Its ambiguities _(a)_ In regard to sensation. - -13. _(b)_ In regard to ideas of reflection. - -14. What is the ‘tablet’ impressed? - -15. Does the mind make impressions on itself? - -16. Source of these difficulties. The ‘simple’ idea, as Locke -describes it, is a complex idea of substance and relation. - -17. How this contradiction is disguised. - -18. Locke’s way of interchanging ‘idea’ and ‘quality’ and its effects. - -19. Primary and secondary qualities of bodies. - -20. ‘Simple idea’ represented as involving a theory of its own cause. - -21. Phrases in which this is implied. - -22. Feeling and felt thing confused. - -23. The simple idea as ‘ectype’ other than mere sensation. - -24. It involves a judgment in which mind and thing are distinguished. - -25. And is equivalent to what he afterwards calls ‘knowledge of -identity’. Only as such can it be named. - -26. The same implied in calling it an idea of an object. - -27. made _for_, not _by_, us, and therefore according to Locke really -existent. - -28. What did he mean by this? - -30. Existence as the mere presence of a feeling. - -31. Existence as reality. - -32. By confusion of these two meanings, reality and its conditions -are represented as given in simple feeling. - -33. Yet reality involves complex ideas which are made by the mind. - -34. Such are substance and relation which must be found in every -object of knowledge. - -35. Abstract idea of substance and complex ideas of particular sorts -of substance. - -36. The abstract idea according to Locke at once precedes and follows -the complex. - -37. Reference of ideas to nature or God, the same as reference to -substance. - -38. But it is explicitly to substance that Locke makes them refer -themselves. - -39. In the process by which we are supposed to arrive at complex -ideas of substances the beginning is the same as the end. - -40. Doctrine of abstraction inconsistent with doctrine of complex -ideas. - -41. The confusion covered by use of ‘particulars’. - -42. Locke’s account of abstract general ideas. - -43. ‘Things not general.’ - -44. Generality an invention of the mind. - -45. The result is, that the feeling of each moment is alone real. - -46. How Locke avoids this result. - -47. The ‘particular’ was to him the individual qualified by general -relations. - -48. This is the real thing from which abstraction is supposed to -start. - -49. Yet, according to the doctrine of relation, a creation of thought. - -50. Summary of the above contradictions. - -51. They cannot be overcome without violence to Locke’s fundamental -principles. - -52. As real existence, the simple idea carries with it ‘invented’ -relation of cause. - -53. Correlativity of cause and substance. - -54. How do we know that ideas correspond to reality of things? -Locke’s answer. - -55. It assumes that simple ideas are consciously referred to things -that cause them. - -56. Lively ideas real, because they must be effects of things. - -57. Present sensation gives knowledge of existence. - -58. Reasons why its testimony must be trusted. - -59. How does this account fit Locke’s definition of knowledge? - -60. Locke’s account of the testimony of sense renders his question as -to its veracity superfluous. - -61. Confirmations of the testimony turn upon the distinction between -‘impression’ and ‘idea’. - -62. They depend on language which pre-supposes the ascription of -sensation to an outward cause. - -63. This ascription means the clothing of sensation with invented -relations. - -64. What is meant by restricting the testimony of sense to _present_ -existence? - -65. Such restriction, if maintained, would render the testimony -unmeaning. - -66. But it is not maintained: the testimony is to operation of -permanent identical things. - -67. Locke’s treatment of relations of cause and identity. - -68. That from which he derives idea of cause pre-supposes it. - -69. Rationale of this ‘petitio principii’. - -70. Relation of cause has to be put into sensitive experience in -order to be got from it. - -71. Origin of the idea of identity according to Locke. - -72. Relation of identity not to be distinguished from idea of it. - -73. This ‘invented’ relation forms the ‘very being of things’. - -74. Locke fails to distinguish between identity and mere unity. - -75. Feelings are the real, and do not admit of identity. How then can -identity be real? - -76. Yet it is from reality that the idea of it is derived. - -77. Transition to Locke’s doctrine of essence. - -78. This repeats the inconsistency found in his doctrine of substance. - -79. Plan to be followed. - -80. What Locke understood by essence. - -81. Only to nominal essences that general propositions relate, _i.e._ -only to abstract ideas having no real existence. - -82. An abstract idea may be a simple one. - -83. How then is science of nature possible? - -84. No ‘uniformities of phenomena’ can be known. - -85. Locke not aware of the full effect of his own doctrine ... - -86. ... which is to make the real an abstract residuum of -consciousness. - -87. Ground of distinction between actual sensation and ideas in the -mind is itself a thing of the mind. - -88. Two meanings of real essence. - -89. According to one, it is a collection of ideas as qualities of a -thing: - -90. ... about real essence in this sense there may be general -knowledge. - -91. But such real essence a creature of thought. - -92. Hence another view of real essence as unknown qualities of -unknown body. - -93. How Locke mixes up these two meanings in ambiguity about body. - -94. Body as ‘parcel of matter’ without essence. - -95. In this sense body is the mere individuum. - -96. Body as qualified by circumstances of time and place. - -97. Such body Locke held to be subject of ‘primary qualities’: but -are these compatible with particularity in time? - -98. How Locke avoids this question. - -99. Body and its qualities supposed to be outside consciousness. - -100. How can primary qualities be outside consciousness, and yet -knowable? - -101. Locke answers that they copy themselves in ideas--Berkeley’s -rejoinder. Locke gets out of the difficulty by his doctrine of -solidity. - -102. In which he equivocates between body as unknown opposite of mind -and body as a ‘nominal essence’. - -103. Rationale of these contradictions. - -104. What knowledge can feeling, even as referred to a ‘solid’ body, -convey? - -105. Only the knowledge that something is, not _what_ it is. - -106. How it is that the real essence of things, according to Locke, -perishes with them, yet is immutable. - -107. Only about qualities of matter, as distinct from matter itself, -that Locke feels any difficulty. - -108. These, as knowable, must be our ideas, and therefore not a ‘real -essence’. - -109. Are the ‘primary qualities’ then, a ‘nominal essence’? - -110. According to Locke’s account they are relations, and thus -inventions of the mind. - -111. Body is the complex in which they are found. Do we derive the -idea of body from primary qualities, or the primary qualities from -idea of body? - -112. Mathematical ideas, though ideas of ‘primary qualities of body,’ -have ‘barely an ideal existence’. - -113. Summary view of Locke’s difficulties in regard to the real. - -114. Why they do not trouble him more. - -115. They re-appear in his doctrine of propositions. - -116. The knowledge expressed by a proposition, though certain, may -not be real ... - -117. ... when the knowledge concerns substances. In this case general -truth must be merely verbal. Mathematical truths, since they concern -not substances, may be both general and real. - -118. Significance of this doctrine. - -119. Fatal to the notion that mathematical truths, though general, -are got from experience: - -120. ... and to received views of natural science: but Locke not so -clear about this. - -121. Ambiguity as to real essence causes like ambiguity as to science -of nature. Particular experiment cannot afford general knowledge. - -122. What knowledge it can afford, according to Locke. - -123. Not the knowledge which is now supposed to be got by induction. -Yet more than Locke was entitled to suppose it could give. - -124. With Locke mathematical truths, though ideal, true also of -nature. - -125. Two lines of thought in Locke, between which a follower would -have to choose. - -126. Transition to doctrine of God and the soul. - -127. Thinking substance--source of the same ideas as outer substance. - -128. Of which substance is perception the effect? - -129. That which is the source of substantiation cannot be itself a -substance. - -130. To get rid of the inner source of ideas in favour of the outer -would be false to Locke. - -131. The mind, which Locke opposes to matter, perpetually shifting. - -132. Two ways out of such difficulties. ‘Matter’ and ‘mind’ have the -same source in self-consciousness. - -133. Difficulties in the way of ascribing reality to substance as -matter, re-appear in regard to substance as mind. - -134. We think not always, yet thought constitutes the self. - -135. Locke neither disguises these contradictions, nor attempts to -overcome them. - -136. Is the idea of God possible to a consciousness given in time? - -137. Locke’s account of this idea. - -138. ‘Infinity,’ according to Locke’s account of it, only applicable -to God, if God has parts. - -139. Can it be applied to him ‘figuratively’ in virtue of the -indefinite number of His acts? - -140. An act, finite in its nature, remains so, however often repeated. - -141. God only infinite in a sense in which time is _not_ infinite, -and which Locke could not recognize - -142. --the same sense in which the self is infinite. - -143. How do I know my own real existence?--Locke’s answer. - -144. It cannot be known consistently with Locke’s doctrine of real -existence. - -145. But he ignores this in treating of the self. - -146. Sense in which the self is truly real. - -147. Locke’s proof of the real existence of God. There must have been -something from eternity to cause what now is. - -148. How ‘eternity’ must be understood if this argument is to be -valid: - -149. ... and how ‘cause’. - -150. The world which is to prove an eternal God must be itself -eternal. - -151. But will the God, whose existence is so proven, be a thinking -being? - -152. Yes, according to the true notion of the relation between -thought and matter. - -153. Locke’s antinomies--Hume takes one side of them as true. - -154. Hume’s scepticism fatal to his own premises. This derived from -Berkeley. - -155. Berkeley’s religious interest in making Locke consistent. - -156. What is meant by relation of mind and matter? - -157. Confusions involved in Locke’s materialism. - -158. Two ways of dealing with it. Berkeley chooses the most obvious. - -159. His account of the relation between visible and tangible -extension. We do not see bodies without the mind ... - -160. ... nor yet feel them. The ‘esse’ of body is the ‘percipi’. - -170. What then becomes of distinction between reality and fancy? - -171. The real = ideas that God causes. - -172. Is it then a succession of feelings? - -173. Berkeley goes wrong from confusion between thought and feeling. - -174. Which, if idea = feeling, does away with space and body. - -175. He does not even retain them as ‘abstract ideas’. - -176. On the same principle all permanent relations should disappear. - -177. By making colour = relations of coloured points, Berkeley -represents relation as seen. - -178. Still he admits that space is constituted by a succession of -feelings. - -179. If so, it is not space at all; but Berkeley thinks it is only -not ‘pure’ space. _Space_ and _pure_ space stand or fall together. - -180. Berkeley disposes of space for fear of limiting God. - -181. How he deals with possibility of general knowledge. - -182. His theory of universals ... - -183. ... of value, as implying that universality of ideas lies in -relation. - -184. But he fancies that each idea has a positive nature apart from -relation. - -185. Traces of progress in his idealism. - -186. His way of dealing with physical truths. - -187. If they imply permanent relations, his theory properly excludes -them. He supposes a divine decree that one feeling shall follow -another. - -188. Locke had explained reality by relation of ideas to outward -body. Liveliness in the idea evidence of this relation. - -189. Berkeley retains this notion, only substituting ‘God’ for ‘body’. - -190. Not regarding the world as a system of intelligible relations, -he could not regard God as the subject of it. - -191. His view of the soul as ‘naturally immortal’. - -192. Endless succession of feelings is not immortality in true sense. -Berkeley’s doctrine of matter fatal to a true spiritualism: - -193. ... as well as to a true Theism. His inference to God from -necessity of a power to produce ideas; - -194. ... a necessity which Hume does not see. A different turn should -have been given to his idealism, if it was to serve his purpose. - -195. Hume’s mission. His account of impressions and ideas. Ideas are -fainter impressions. - -196. ‘Ideas’ that cannot be so represented must be explained as mere -words. - -197. Hume, taken strictly, leaves no distinction between impressions -of reflection and of sensation. - -198. Locke’s theory of sensation disappears. Physiology won’t answer -the question that Locke asked. - -199. Those who think it will don’t understand the question. - -200. Hume’s psychology will not answer it either. - -201. It only seems to do so by assuming the ‘fiction’ it has to -account for; by assuming that impression represents a real world. - -202. So the ‘Positivist’ juggles with ‘phenomena’. - -203. Essential difference, however, between Hume and the ‘Positivist’. - -204. He adopts Berkeley’s doctrine of ideas, but without Berkeley’s -saving suppositions, - -205. ... in regard to ‘spirit’, - -206. ... in regard to relations. His account of these. - -207. It corresponds to Locke’s account of the sorts of agreement -between ideas. - -208. Could Hume consistently admit idea of relation at all? - -210. Only in regard to identity and causation that he sees any -difficulty. These he treats as fictions resulting from ‘natural -relations’ of ideas: _i.e._ from resemblance and contiguity. - -212. Is resemblance then an impression? - -213. Distinction between resembling feelings and idea of resemblance. - -214. Substances = collections of ideas. - -215. How can ideas ‘in flux’ be collected? - -216. Are there general ideas? Berkeley said, ‘yes and no’. - -217. Hume ‘no’ simply. How he accounts for the appearance of there -being such. - -219. His account implies that ‘ideas’ are conceptions, not feelings. - -220. He virtually yields the point in regard to the _predicate_ of -propositions. - -221. As to the subject, he equivocates between singleness of feeling -and individuality of conception. - -222. Result is a theory which admits predication, but only as -singular. - -223. All propositions restricted in same way as Locke’s propositions -about real existence. - -224. The question, how the _singular_ proposition is possible, the -vital one. - -225. Not relations of resemblance only, but those of quantity also, -treated by Hume as feelings. - -226. He draws the line between certainty and probability at the same -point as Locke; but is more definite as to probability, - -227. ... and does not admit opposition of mathematical to physical -certainty--here following Berkeley. - -228. His criticisms of the doctrine of primary qualities. - -229. It will not do to oppose bodies to our feeling when only feeling -can give idea of body. - -230. Locke’s shuffle of ‘body,’ ‘solidity,’ and ‘touch,’ fairly -exposed. - -231. True rationale of Locke’s doctrine. - -232. With Hume ‘body’ logically disappears. What then? - -233. Can space survive body? Hume derives idea of it from sight and -feeling. Significance with him of such derivation. - -234. It means, in effect, that colour and space are the same, and -that feeling may be extended. - -235. The parts of space are parts of a perception. - -236. Yet the parts of space are co-existent not successive. - -237. Hume cannot make space a ‘perception’ without being false to his -own account of perception; - -238. ... as appears if we put ‘feeling’ for ‘perception’ in the -passages in question. - -239. To make sense of them, we must take perception to mean perceived -thing, - -240. ... which it can only mean as the result of certain ‘fictions’. - -241. If felt thing is no more than feeling, how can it have qualities? - -242. The thing will have ceased before the quality begins to be. - -243. Hume equivocates by putting ‘coloured points’ for colour. - -245. Can a ‘disposition of coloured points’ be an impression? - -246. The points must be themselves impressions, and therefore not -co-existent. - -247. A ‘compound impression’ excluded by Hume’s doctrine of time. - -248. The fact that colours mix, not to the purpose. - -249. How Hume avoids appearance of identifying space with colour, and -accounts for the abstraction of space. - -250. In so doing, he implies that space is a relation, and a relation -which is not a possible impression. - -251. No logical alternative between identifying space with colour, -and admitting an idea not copied from an impression. - -252. In his account of the idea as _abstract_, Hume really introduces -distinction between feeling and conception; - -253. ... yet avoids appearance of doing so, by treating -‘consideration’ of the relations of a felt thing as if it were itself -the feeling. - -254. Summary of contradictions in his account of extension. - -255. He gives no account of quantity as such. - -256. His account of the relation between Time and Number. - -257. What does it come to? - -258. Unites alone really exist: number a ‘fictitious denomination’. -Yet ‘unites’ and ‘number’ are correlative; and the supposed fiction -unaccountable. - -259. Idea of time even more unaccountable on Hume’s principles. - -260. His ostensible explanation of it. - -261. It turns upon equivocation between feeling and conception of -relations between felt things. - -262. He fails to assign any impression or compound of impressions -from which idea of time is copied. - -263. How can he adjust the exact sciences to his theory of space and -time? - -264. In order to seem to do so, he must get rid of ‘Infinite -Divisibility’. - -265. Quantity made up of impressions, and there must be a least -possible impression. - -266. Yet it is admitted that there is an idea of number not made up -of impressions. A finite division into impressions no more possible -than an infinite one. - -267. In Hume’s instances it is not really a feeling, but a conceived -thing, that appears as finitely divisible. - -268. Upon true notion of quantity infinite divisibility follows of -course. - -269. What are the ultimate elements of extension? If not extended, -what are they? - -270. Colours or coloured points? What is the difference? - -271. True way of dealing with the question. - -272. ‘If the point were divisible, it would be no termination of a -line.’ Answer to this. - -273. What becomes of the exactness of mathematics according to Hume? - -274. The universal propositions of geometry either untrue or -unmeaning. - -275. Distinction between Hume’s doctrine and that of the hypothetical -nature of mathematics. - -276. The admission that no relations of quantity are data of sense -removes difficulty as to general propositions about them. - -277. Hume does virtually admit this in regard to numbers. - -278. With Hume idea of vacuum impossible, but logically not more so -than that of space. - -279. How it is that we talk as if we had idea of vacuum according to -Hume. - -280. His explanation implies that we have an idea virtually the same. - -281. By a like device that he is able to explain the appearance of -our having such ideas as Causation and Identity. - -283. Knowledge of relation in way of Identity and Causation excluded -by Locke’s definition of knowledge. - -284. Inference a transition from an object perceived or remembered to -one that is not so. - -285. Relation of cause and effect the same as this transition. - -286. Yet seems other than this. How this appearance is to be -explained. - -287. Inference, resting on supposition of necessary connection, to be -explained before that connection. - -288. Account of the inference given by Locke and Clarke rejected. - -289. Three points to be explained in the inference according to Hume. - -290. _a_. The original impression from which the transition is made -_b_. The transition to inferred idea - -291. _c_. The qualities of this idea. - -292. It results that necessary connection is an impression of -reflection, _i.e._, a propensity to the transition described. - -293. The transition not to anything beyond sense. - -294. Nor determined by any objective relation. - -295. Definitions of cause: _a_. As a ‘philosophical’ relation. - -296. Is Hume entitled to retain ‘philosophical’ relations as distinct -from ‘natural’? - -297. Examination of Hume’s language about them. - -298. Philosophical relation consists in a comparison, but no -comparison between cause and effect. - -299. The comparison is between present and past experience of -succession of objects. - -300. Observation of succession already goes beyond sense. - -301. As also does the ‘observation concerning identity,’ which the -comparison involves. - -302. Identity of objects an unavoidable crux for Hume. His account of -it. - -303. Properly with him it is a fiction, in the sense that we have no -such idea. Yet he implies that we have such idea, in saying that we -mistake something else for it. - -304. Succession of like feelings mistaken for an identical object: -but the feelings, as described, are already such objects. - -305. Fiction of identity thus implied as source of the propensity -which is to account for it. - -306. With Hume continued existence of perceptions a fiction different -from their identity. Can perceptions exist when not perceived? - -307. Existence of objects, distinct from perceptions, a further -fiction still. - -308. Are these several ‘fictions’ really different from each other? - -309. Are they not all involved in the simplest perception? - -310. Yet they are not possible ideas, because copied from no -impressions. - -311. Comparison of present experience with past, which yields -relation of cause and effect, pre-supposes judgment of identity; - -312. ... without which there could be no recognition of an object as -one observed before. - -313. Hume makes conceptions of identity and cause each come before -the other. Their true correlativity. - -314. Hume quite right in saying that we do not go _more_ beyond sense -in reasoning than in perception. - -315. How his doctrine might have been developed. Its actual outcome. - -316. No philosophical relation admissible with Hume that is not -derived from a natural one. - -317. Examination of his account of cause and effect as ‘natural -relation’. - -318. Double meaning of natural relation. How Hume turns it to account. - -319. If an effect is merely a constantly observed sequence, how can -an event be an effect the first time it is observed? Hume evades this -question; - -320. Still, he is a long way off the Inductive Logic, which supposes -an objective sequence. - -321. Can the principle of uniformity of nature be derived from -sequence of feelings? - -322. With Hume the only uniformity is in expectation, as determined -by habit; but strength of such expectation must vary indefinitely. - -323. It could not serve the same purpose as the conception of -uniformity of nature. - -324. Hume changes the meaning of this expectation by his account -of the ‘remembrance’ which determines it. Bearing of his doctrine -of necessary connexion upon his argument against miracles. This -remembrance, as he describes it, supposes conception of a system of -nature. - -326. This explains his occasional inconsistent ascription of an -objective character to causation. - -327. Reality of remembered ‘system’ transferred to ‘system of -judgment’. - -328. Reality of the former ‘system’ other than vivacity of -impressions. - -329. It is constituted by relations, which are not impressions at -all; and in this lies explanation of the inference from it to ‘system -of judgment’. - -330. Not seeing this, Hume has to explain inference to latter system -as something forced upon us by habit. - -331. But if so, ‘system of judgment’ must consist of feelings -constantly experienced; - -332. ... which only differ from remembered feelings inasmuch as their -liveliness has faded. But how can it have faded, if they have been -constantly repeated? - -333. Inference then can give no new knowledge. - -334. Nor does this merely mean that it cannot constitute new -phenomena, while it can prove relations, previously unknown, between -phenomena. Such a distinction inadmissible with Hume. - -335. His distinction of probability of causes from that of chances -might seem to imply conception of nature, as determining inference. - -336. But this distinction he only professes to adopt in order to -explain it away. - -337. Laws of nature are unqualified habits of expectation. - -338. Experience, according to his account of it, cannot be a parent -of knowledge. - -339. His attitude towards doctrine of thinking substance. - -340. As to Immateriality of the Soul, he plays off Locke and Berkeley -against each other, and proves Berkeley a Spinozist. - -341. Causality of spirit treated in the same way. - -342. Disposes of ‘personal’ identity by showing contradictions in -Locke’s account of it. - -343. Yet can only account for it as a ‘fiction’ by supposing ideas -which with him are impossible. - -344. In origin this ‘fiction’ the same as that of ‘Body’. - -345. Possibility of such fictitious ideas implies refutation of -Hume’s doctrine. - - - - -SUMMARY OF THE CONTENTS - -of the - -GENERAL INTRODUCTION TO VOL. II. - -1. Hume’s doctrine of morals parallel to his doctrine of nature. - -2. Its relation to Locke: Locke’s account of freedom, will, and -desire. - -3. Two questions: Does man always act from the strongest motive? -and, What constitutes his motive? The latter the important question. -Distinction between desires that are, and those that are not, -determined by the conception of self. - -4. Effect of this conception on the objects of human desire. - -5. Objects so constituted Locke should consistently exclude: But he -finds room for them by treating every desire for an object, of which -the attainment gives pleasure, as a desire for pleasure. - -6. Confusion covered by calling ‘happiness’ the general object of -desire. - -7. ‘Greatest sum of pleasure’ and ‘Pleasure in general’ unmeaning -expressions. - -8. In what sense of happiness is it true that it ‘is really just as -it appears?’ In what sense that it is every one’s object? - -9. No real object of human desire can ever be just as it appears. - -10. Can Locke consistently allow the distinction between true -happiness and false? Or responsibility? - -11. Objections to the Utilitarian answer to these questions. - -12. According to Locke present pleasures may be compared with future, -and desire suspended till comparison has been made. - -13. What is meant by ‘present’ and ‘future’ pleasure? By the supposed -comparison Locke ought only to have meant the competition of -pleasures equally present in imagination: - -14.... and this could give no ground for responsibility. In order to -do so, it must be understood as implying determination by conception -of self. - -15. Locke finds moral freedom in necessity of pursuing happiness. - -16. If an action is moved by desire for an object, Locke asks no -questions about origin of the object. But what is to be said of -actions, which we only do because we ought? - -17. Their object is pleasure, but pleasure given not by nature but by -law. - -18. Conformity to law not the moral good, but a means to it. - -19. Hume has to derive from ‘impressions’ the objects which Locke -took for granted. - -20. Questions which he found at issue, _a_. Is virtue interested? -_b_. What is conscience? - -21. Hobbes’ answer to first question. - -22. Counter-doctrine of Shaftesbury. Vice is selfishness; but no -clear account of selfishness. - -23. Confusion in his notions of self-good and public good; Is all -living for pleasure, or only too much of it, selfish? - -24. What have Butler and Hutcheson to say about it? Chiefly that -affections terminate upon their objects; but this does not exclude -the view that all desire is for pleasure. - -25. Of moral goodness Butler’s account circular. Hutcheson’s -inconsistent with his doctrine that reason gives no end. - -26. Source of the moral judgment: received notion of reason -incompatible with true view. Shaftesbury’s doctrine of rational -affection; spoilt by doctrine of ‘moral sense’. - -27. Consequences of the latter. - -28. Is an act done for ‘virtue’s sake’ done for pleasure of moral -sense? - -29. Hume excludes every object of desire but pleasure. - -30. His account of ‘direct passions’: all desire is for pleasure. - -31. Yet he admits ‘passions’ which produce pleasure, but proceed not -from it. - -32. Desire for objects, as he understands it, excluded by his theory -of impressions and ideas. - -33. Pride determined by reference to self. - -34. This means that it takes its character from that which is not a -possible ‘impression’. - -35. Hume’s attempt to represent idea of self as derived from -impression. - -36. Another device is to suggest a physiological account of pride. - -37. Fallacy of this: it does not tell us what pride is to the subject -of it. - -38. Account of love involves the same difficulties; and a further one -as to nature of sympathy. - -39. Hume’s account of sympathy. - -40. It implies a self-consciousness not reducible to impressions. - -41. Ambiguity in his account of benevolence: it is a desire and -therefore has pleasure for its object. What pleasure? - -42. Pleasure of sympathy with the pleasure of another. - -43. All ‘passions’ equally interested or disinterested. Confusion -arises from use of ‘passion’ alike for desire and emotion. Of this -Hume avails himself in his account of active pity. - -44. Explanation of apparent conflict between reason and passion. - -45. A ‘reasonable’ desire means one that excites little emotion. -Enumeration of possible motives. - -46. If pleasure sole motive, what is the distinction of self-love? -Its opposition to disinterested desires, as commonly understood, -disappears. It is desire for pleasure in general. - -47. How Hume gives meaning to this otherwise unmeaning definition. -‘Interest,’ like other motives described, implies determination by -reason. - -48. Thus Hume, having degraded morality for the sake of consistency, -after all is not consistent. - -49. If all good is pleasure, what is moral good? Ambiguity in Locke’s -view. - -50. Development of it by Clarke, which breaks down for want of true -view of reason. - -51. With Hume, moral good is pleasure excited in a particular way, -viz.; in the spectator of the ‘good’ act and by the view of its -tendency to produce pleasure. - -53. Moral sense is thus sympathy with pleasure qualified by -consideration of general tendencies. - -54. In order to account for the facts it has to become sympathy with -unfelt feelings. - -55. Can the distinction between the ‘moral’ and ‘natural’ be -maintained by Hume? What is ‘artificial virtue’? - -56. No ground for such distinction in relation between motive and act. - -57. Motive to artificial virtues. - -58. How artificial virtues become moral. - -59. Interest and sympathy account for all obligations civil and moral. - -60. What is meant by an action which ought to be done. - -61. Sense of morality no motive: when it seems so the motive is -really pride. - -62. Distinction between virtuous and vicious motive does not exist -for person moved. - -63. ‘Consciousness of sin’ disappears. - -64. Only respectability remains: and even this not consistently -accounted for. - - - - -GENERAL INTRODUCTION TO VOL. I. - -How the history of philosophy should be studied. - -1. There is a view of the history of mankind, by this time -familiarised to Englishmen, which detaches from the chaos of events -a connected series of ruling actions and beliefs--the achievement of -great men and great epochs, and assigns to these in a special sense -the term ‘historical.’ According to this theory--which indeed, if -there is to be a theory of History at all, alone gives the needful -simplification--the mass of nations must be regarded as left in -swamps and shallows outside the main stream of human development. -They have either never come within the reach of the hopes and -institutions which make history a progress instead of a cycle, or -they have stiffened these into a dead body of ceremony and caste, or -at some great epoch they have failed to discern the sign of the times -and rejected the counsel of God against themselves. Thus permanently -or for generations, with no principle of motion but unsatisfied want, -without the assimilative ideas which from the strife of passions -elicit moral results, they have trodden the old round of war, trade, -and faction, adding nothing to the spiritual heritage of man. It -would seem that the historian need not trouble himself with them, -except so far as relation to them determines the activity of the -progressive nations. - -Hume the last great English philosopher. - -2. A corresponding theory may with some confidence be applied to -simplify the history of philosophical opinion. The common plan of -seeking this history in compendia of the systems of philosophical -writers, taken in the gross or with no discrimination except in -regard to time and popularity, is mainly to blame for the common -notion that metaphysical enquiry is an endless process of threshing -old straw. Such enquiry is really progressive, and has a real -history, but it is a history represented by a few great names. -At rare epochs there appear men, or sets of men, with the true -speculative impulse to begin at the beginning and go to the end, and -with the faculty of discerning the true point of departure which -previous speculation has fixed for them. The intervals are occupied -by commentators and exponents of the last true philosopher, if it has -been his mission to construct; if it has been sceptical, by writers -who cannot understand the fatal question that he has asked, and -thus still dig in the old vein which he had exhausted, and of which -his final dilemma had shown the bottom. Such an interval was that -which in the growth of continental philosophy followed on the epoch -of Leibnitz; an interval of academic exposition or formulation, in -which the system, that had been to the master an incomplete enquiry, -became in the hands of his disciples a one-sided dogmatism. In the -line of speculation more distinctively English, a like _régime_ -of ‘strenua inertia’ has prevailed since the time of Hume. In the -manner of its unprofitableness, indeed, it has differed from the -Wolfian period in Germany, just as the disinterested scepticism of -Hume differed from the system-making for purposes of edification to -which Leibnitz applied himself. It has been unprofitable, because -its representatives have persisted in philosophising upon principles -which Hume had pursued to their legitimate issue and had shown, -not as their enemy but as their advocate, to render all philosophy -futile. Adopting the premises and method of Locke, he cleared them of -all illogical adaptations to popular belief, and experimented with -them on the body of professed knowledge, as one only could do who -had neither any twist of vice nor any bias for doing good, but was a -philosopher because he could not help it. - -Kant his true successor. - -3. As the result of the experiment, the method, which began with -professing to explain knowledge, showed knowledge to be impossible. -Hume himself was perfectly cognisant of this result, but his -successors in England and Scotland would seem so far to have been -unable to look it in the face. They have either thrust their -heads again into the bush of uncriticised belief, or they have -gone on elaborating Hume’s doctrine of association, in apparent -forgetfulness of Hume’s own proof of its insufficiency to account -for an intelligent, as opposed to a merely instinctive or habitual, -experience. An enquiry, however, so thorough and passionless as the -‘Treatise of Human Nature,’ could not be in vain; and if no English -athlete had strength to carry on the torch, it was transferred to a -more vigorous line in Germany. It awoke Kant, as he used to say, from -his ‘dogmatic slumber,’ to put him into that state of mind by some -called wonder, by others doubt, in which all true philosophy begins. -This state, with less ambiguity of terms, may be described as that of -freedom from presuppositions. It was because Kant, reading Hume with -the eyes of Leibnitz and Leibnitz with the eyes of Hume, was able to -a great extent to rid himself of the presuppositions of both, that he -started that new method of philosophy which, as elaborated by Hegel, -claims to set man free from the artificial impotence of his own false -logic, and thus qualify him for a complete interpretation of his own -achievement in knowledge and morality. Thus the ‘Treatise of Human -Nature’ and the ‘Critic of Pure Reason,’ taken together, form the -real bridge between the old world of philosophy and the new. They are -the essential ‘Propaedeutik,’ without which no one is a qualified -student of modern philosophy. The close correspondence between the -two works becomes more apparent the more each is studied. It is -such as to give a strong presumption that Kant had studied Hume’s -doctrine in its original and complete expression, and not merely as -it was made easy in the ‘Essays.’ The one with full and reasoned -articulation asks the question, which the other with equal fulness -seeks to answer. It is probably because the question in its complete -statement has been so little studied among us, that the intellectual -necessity of the Kantian answer has been so little appreciated. -To trace the origin and bring out the points of the question, in -order to the exhibition of that necessity, will be the object of -the following treatise. To do this thoroughly, indeed, would carry -us back through Hobbes to Bacon. But as present limits do not allow -of so long a journey, we must be content with showing Hume’s direct -filiation to Locke, who, indeed, sufficiently gathered up the results -of the ‘empirical’ philosophy of his predecessors. - -Distinction between literary history and the history of philosophical -systems. - -4. Such a task is very different from an ordinary undertaking in -literary history, and requires different treatment. To the historian -of literature a philosopher is interesting, if at all, on account -of the personal qualities which make a great writer, and have a -permanent effect on letters and general culture. Locke and Hume -undoubtedly had these qualities and produced such an effect--an -effect in Locke’s case more intense upon the immediately following -generations, but in Hume’s more remarkable as having reappeared -after near a century of apparent forgetfulness. Each, indeed, like -every true philosopher, was the mouth-piece of a certain system -of thought determined for him by the stage at which he found the -dialectic movement that constitutes the progress of philosophy, but -each gave to this system the stamp of that personal power which -persuades men. Their mode of expression had none of that academic -or ‘ex cathedra’ character, which has made German philosophy almost -a foreign literature in the country of its birth. They wrote as -citizens and men of the world, anxious (in no bad sense) for effect; -and even when their conclusions were remote from popular belief, -still presented them in the flesh and blood of current terms used in -the current senses. It is not, however, in their human individuality -and its effects upon literature, but as the vehicles of a system of -thought, that it is proposed here to treat them; and this purpose -will best be fulfilled if we follow the line of their speculation -without divergence into literary criticism or history, without -remarks either on the peculiarities of their genius or on any of the -secondary influences which affected their writings or arose out of -them. For a method of this sort, it would seem, there is some need -among us. We have been learning of late to know much more about -philosophers, but it is possible for knowledge about philosophers -to flourish inversely as the knowledge of philosophy. The revived -interest which is noticeable in the history of philosophy may be -an indication either of philosophical vigour or of philosophical -decay. In those whom intellectual indolence, or a misunderstood and -disavowed metaphysic, has landed in scepticism there often survives a -curiosity about the literary history of philosophy, and the writings -which this curiosity produces tend further to spread the notion that -philosophy is a matter about which there has been much guessing by -great intellects, but no definite truth is to be attained. It is -otherwise with those who see in philosophy a progressive effort -towards a fully-articulated conception of the world as rational. To -them its past history is of interest as representing steps in this -progress which have already been taken for us, and which, if we will -make them our own, carry us so far on our way towards the freedom of -perfect understanding; while to ignore them is not to return to the -simplicity of a pre-philosopic age, but to condemn ourselves to grope -in the maze of ‘cultivated opinion,’ itself the confused result of -those past systems of thought which we will not trouble ourselves to -think out. - -Object of the present enquiry. - -5. The value of that system of thought, which found its clearest -expression in Hume, lies in its being an effort to think to -their logical issue certain notions which since then have become -commonplaces with educated Englishmen, but which, for that reason, we -must detach ourselves from popular controversy to appreciate rightly. -We are familiar enough with these in the form to which adaptation to -the needs of plausibility has gradually reduced them, but because -we do not think them out with the consistency of their original -exponents, we miss their true value. They do not carry us, as they -will do if we restore their original significance, by an intellectual -necessity to those truer notions which, in fact, have been their -sequel in the development of philosophy, but have not yet found their -way into the ‘culture’ of our time. An attempt to restore their -value, however, if this be the right view of its nature, cannot but -seem at first sight invidious. It will seem as if, while we talk of -their value, we were impertinently trying to ‘pull them to pieces.’ -But those who understand the difference between philosophical -failures, which are so because they are anachronisms, and those which -in their failure have brought out a new truth and compelled a step -forward in the progress of thought, will understand that a process, -which looks like pulling a great philosopher to pieces, may be the -true way of showing reverence for his greatness. It is a Pharisaical -way of building the sepulchres of philosophers to profess their -doctrine or extol their genius without making their spirit our own. -The genius of Locke and Hume was their readiness to follow the lead -of Ideas: their spirit was the spirit of Rationalism--the spirit -which, however baffled and forced into inconsistent admissions, -is still governed by the faith that all things may ultimately be -understood. We best do reverence to their genius, we most truly -appropriate their spirit, in so exploring the difficulties to which -their enquiry led, as to find in them the suggestion of a theory -which may help us to walk firmly where they stumbled and fell. - -Locke’s problem and method. - -6. About Locke, as about every other philosopher, the essential -questions are, What was his problem, and what was his method? -Locke, as a man of business, gives us the answers at starting. His -problem was the origin of ‘ideas’ in the individual man, and their -connection as constituting knowledge: his method that of simply -‘looking into his own understanding and seeing how it wrought.’ -These answers commend themselves to common sense, and still form -the text of popular psychology. If its confidence in their value, -as explained by Locke, is at all beginning to be shaken, this is -not because, according to a strict logical development, they issued -in Hume’s unanswered scepticism, which was too subtle for popular -effect, but because they are now open to a rougher battery from the -physiologists. Our concern at present is merely to show their precise -meaning, and the difficulties which according to this meaning they -involve. - -His notion of the ‘thinking thing’. - -7. There are two propositions on which Locke is constantly insisting: -one, that the object of his investigation is _his own_ mind; the -other, that his attitude towards this object is that of mere -observation. He speaks of his own mind, it is to be noticed, just -as he might of his own body. It meant something born with, and -dependent on, the particular animal organism that first saw the -light at Wrington on a particular day in 1632. It was as exclusive -of other minds as his body of other bodies, and he could only infer -a resemblance between them and it. With all his animosity to the -coarse spiritualism of the doctrine of innate ideas, he was the -victim of the same notion which gave that doctrine its falsehood and -grotesqueness. He, just as much as the untutored Cartesian, regarded -the ‘minds’ of different men as so many different things; and his -refutation of the objectionable hypothesis proceeds wholly from this -view. Whether the mind is put complete into the body, or is born and -grows with it; whether it has certain characters stamped upon it to -begin with, or receives all its ideas through the senses; whether it -is simple and therefore indiscerptible, or compound and therefore -perishable--all these questions to Locke, as to his opponents, -concern a multitude of ‘thinking things’ in him and them, merely -individual, but happening to be pretty much alike. - -This he will passively observe. - -8. This ‘thinking thing,’ then, as he finds it in himself, the -philosopher, according to Locke, has merely and passively to observe, -in order to understand the nature of knowledge. ‘I could look into -nobody’s understanding but my own to see how it wrought,’ he says, -but ‘I think the intellectual faculties are made and operate alike -in most men. But if it should happen not to be so, I can only make -it my humble request, in my own name and in the name of those that -are of my size, who find their minds work, reason, and know in the -same low way that mine does, that the men of a more happy genius will -show us the way of their nobler flights.’ (Second Letter to Bishop of -Worcester.) As will appear in the sequel, it is from this imaginary -method of ascertaining the origin and nature of knowledge by passive -observation of what goes on in one’s own mind that the embarrassments -of Locke’s system flow. It was the function of Hume to exhibit the -radical flaw in his master’s method by following it with more than -his master’s rigour. - -Is such observation possible? - -9. As an observation of the ‘thinking thing,’ the ‘philosophy of -mind’ seems to assume the character of a natural science, and -thus at once acquires definiteness, and if not certainty, at -least plausibility. To deny the possibility of such observation, -in any proper sense of the word, is for most men to tamper with -the unquestioned heritage of all educated intelligence. Hence the -unpalatability of a consistent Positivism; hence, too, on the -other side, the general conviction that the Hegelian reduction of -Psychology to Metaphysics is either an intellectual juggle, or a -wilful return of the philosophy, which psychologists had washed, to -the mire of scholasticism. It is the more important to ascertain what -the observation in question precisely means. What observes, and what -is observed? According to Locke (and empirical psychology has never -substantially varied the answer) the matter to be observed consists -for each man firstly in certain impressions of his own individual -mind, by which this mind from being a mere blank has become -furnished--by which, in other words, his mind has become actually -a mind; and, secondly, in certain operations, which the mind, thus -constituted, performs upon the materials which constitute it. The -observer, all the while, is the constituted mind itself. The question -at once arises, how the developed man can observe in himself (and -it is only to himself, according to Locke, that he can look) that -primitive state in which his mind was a ‘tabula rasa.’ In the first -place, that only can be observed which is present; and the state in -question to the supposed observer is past. If it be replied that it -is recalled by memory, there is the farther objection that memory -only recalls what has been previously known, and how is a man’s own -primitive consciousness, as yet void of the content which is supposed -to come to it through impressions, originally known to him? How can -the ‘tabula rasa’ be cognisant of itself? - -Why it seems so. - -10. The cover under which this difficulty was hidden from Locke, -as from popular psychologists ever since, consists in the implicit -assumption of certain ideas, either as possessed by or acting upon -the mind in the supposed primitive state, which are yet held to be -arrived at by a gradual process of comparison, abstraction, and -generalisation. This assumption, which renders the whole system -resting upon the interrogation of consciousness a paralogism, is yet -the condition of its apparent possibility. It is only as already -charged with a content which is yet (and for the individual, truly) -maintained to be the gradual acquisition of experience, that the -primitive consciousness has any answer to give to its interrogator. - -Locke’s account of origin of ideas. - -11. Let us consider the passage where Locke sums up his theory of -the ‘original of our ideas.’ (Book II. chap. i. sec. 23, 24.) ‘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, made in some part -of the body, as produces some perception in the understanding. It is -about these impressions made on our senses by outward objects, that -the mind seems first to employ itself in such operations as we call -perception, remembering, consideration, reasoning, &c. In time the -mind comes to reflect on its own operations about the ideas got by -sensation, and thereby stores itself with a new set of ideas, which -I call ideas of reflection. These impressions that are made on our -senses by outward objects, that are extrinsical to the mind; and -its own operations, proceeding from powers intrinsical and proper -to itself, which, when reflected on by itself, become also objects -of its contemplation, are, as I have said, the original of all -knowledge.’ - -Its ambiguities _(a)_ In regard to sensation. - -12. Can we from this passage elicit a distinct account of the -beginning of intelligence? In the first place it consists in an -‘idea,’ and an idea is elsewhere (Introduction, sec. 8) stated -to be ‘whatsoever is the object of the understanding, when a man -thinks.’ But the primary idea is an ‘idea of sensation.’ Does this -mean that the primary idea _is_ a sensation, or is a distinction -to be made between the sensation and the idea thereof? The passage -before us would seem to imply such a distinction. Looking merely -to it, we should probably say that by _sensation_ Locke meant ‘an -impression or motion in some part of the body;’ by the _idea of -sensation_ ‘a perception in the understanding,’ which this impression -produces. The account of perception itself gives a different result. -(Book II. chap. ix. sec. 3.) ‘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_.’ Here sensation is identified -at once with the idea and with perception, as opposed to the -impression on the bodily organs. [1] To confound the confusion still -farther, in a passage immediately preceding the above, ‘Perception,’ -here identified with the idea of sensation, has been distinguished -from it, as ‘exercised about it.’ ‘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.’ Taking Locke at his word, -then, we find the beginning of intelligence to consist in having an -idea of sensation. This idea, however, we perceive, and to perceive -is to have an idea; _i.e._ to have an idea of an idea of sensation. -But of perception again we have a simple or primitive idea. Therefore -the beginning of intelligence consists in having an idea of an idea -of an idea of sensation. - -[1] Cf. Book II. chap. xix. sec. 1. ‘The _perception_, 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.’ - -_(b)_ In regard to ideas of reflection. - -13. By insisting on Locke’s account of the relation between the -ideas of sensation and those of reflection we might be brought to a -different but not more luminous conclusion. In the passages quoted -above, where this relation is most fully spoken of, it appears that -the latter are essentially sequent to those of sensation. ‘_In -time_ the mind comes to reflect on its own operations, about the -ideas got by sensation, and thereby stores itself with a new set -of ideas, which I call ideas of reflection.’ Of these only two are -primary and original (Book II. c. xxi. sec. 73), viz. motivity or -power of moving, with which we are not at present concerned, and -perceptivity or power of perception. But according to Locke, as we -have seen, there cannot be any, the simplest, idea of sensation -without perception. If, then, the _idea_ of perception is only -given later and upon reflection, we must suppose perception to take -place without any idea of it. But with Locke to have an idea and -to perceive are equivalent terms. We must thus conclude that the -beginning of knowledge is an unperceived perception, which is against -his express statement elsewhere (Book II. c. xxvii. sec. 9), that it -is ‘impossible for any one to perceive without perceiving that he -does perceive.’ - -What is the ‘tablet’ impressed? - -14. Meanwhile a perpetual equivocation is kept up between a supposed -impression on the ‘outward parts,’ and a supposed impression on the -‘tablet of the mind.’ It is not the impression upon, or a motion -in, the outward parts, as Locke admits, that constitutes the idea -of sensation. It is not an agitation in the tympanum of the ear, -or a picture on the retina of the eye, that we are conscious of -when we see a sight or hear a sound. [1] The motion or impression, -however, has only, as he seems to suppose, to be ‘continued to the -brain,’ and it becomes an idea of sensation. Notwithstanding the -rough line of distinction between soul and body, which he draws -elsewhere, his theory was practically governed by the supposition -of a cerebral something, in which, as in a third equivocal tablet, -the imaginary mental and bodily tablets are blended. If, however, -the idea of sensation, as an object of the understanding when a man -thinks, differs absolutely from ‘a motion of the outward parts,’ -it does so no less absolutely, however language and metaphor may -disguise the difference, from such motion as ‘continued to the -brain.’ An instructed man, doubtless, may come to think about a -motion in his brain, as about a motion of the earth round the sun, -but to speak of such motion as an idea of sensation or an immediate -object of intelligent sense, is to confuse between the object of -consciousness and a possible physical theory of the conditions of -that consciousness. It is only, however, by such an equivocation that -any idea, according to Locke’s account of the idea, can be described -as an ‘impression’ at all, or that the representation of the mind as -a tablet, whether born blank or with characters stamped on it, has -even an apparent meaning. A metaphor, interpreted as a fact, becomes -the basis of his philosophical system. - -[1] Cf. Locke’s own statement (Book III. c. iv. sec. 10). ‘The cause -of any sensation, and the sensation itself, in all the simple ideas -of one sense, are two ideas; and two ideas so different and distant -one from another, that no two can be more so.’ - -Does the mind make impressions on itself? - -15. As applied to the ideas of reflection, indeed, the metaphor loses -even its plausibility. In its application to the ideas of sensation -it gains popular acceptance from the ready confusion of thought -and matter in the imaginary cerebral tablet, and the supposition -of actual impact upon this by ‘outward things.’ But in the case of -ideas of reflection, it is the mind that at once gives and takes -the impression. It must be supposed, that is, to make impressions -on itself. There is the further difficulty that as perception is -necessary in order to give an _idea_ of sensation, the impress of -perception must be taken by the mind in its earliest receptivity; or, -in other words, it must impress itself while still a blank, still -void of any ‘furniture’ wherewith to make the impression. There is no -escape from this result unless we suppose perception to precede the -idea of it by some interval of time, which lands us, as we have seen, -in the counter difficulty of supposing an unperceived perception. -Locke disguises the difficulty from himself and his reader by -constantly shifting both the receptive subject and the impressive -matter. We find the ‘tablet’ perpetually receding. First it is the -‘outward part’ or bodily organ. Then it is the brain, to which the -impression received by the outward part must somehow be continued, -in order to produce sensation. Then it is the perceptive mind, which -takes an impression of the sensation or has an idea of it. Finally, -it is the reflective mind, upon which in turn the perceptive mind -makes impressions. But the hasty reader, when he is told that the -mind is passively impressed with ideas of reflection, is apt to -forget that the matter which thus impresses it is, according to -Locke’s showing, simply its perceptive, _i.e._ its passive, self. - -Source of these difficulties. The ‘simple’ idea, as Locke describes -it, is a complex idea of substance and relation. - -16. The real source of these embarrassments in Locke’s theory, -it must be noted, lies in the attempt to make the individual -consciousness give an answer to its interrogator as to the beginning -of knowledge. The individual looking back on an imaginary earliest -experience pronounces himself in that experience to have been simply -sensitive and passive. But by this he means consciously sensitive -_of something_ and consciously passive _in relation to something_. -That is, he supposes the primitive experience to have involved -consciousness of a self on the one hand and of a thing on the other, -as well as of a relation between the two. In the ‘idea of sensation’ -as Locke conceived it, such a consciousness is clearly implied, -notwithstanding his confusion of terms. The idea is a perception, -or consciousness _of a thing_, as opposed to a sensation proper or -affection of the bodily organs. Of the perception, again, there is -an idea, _i.e._ a consciousness by the man, in the perception, of -himself in negative relation to the thing that is his object, and -this consciousness (if we would make Locke consistent in excluding an -unperceived perception) must be taken to go along with the perceptive -act itself. No less than this indeed can be involved in any act that -is to be the beginning of knowledge at all. It is the minimum of -possible thought or intelligence, and the thinking man, looking for -this beginning in the earliest experience of the individual human -animal, must needs find it there. But this means no less than that he -is finding there already the conceptions of substance and relation. -Hence a double contradiction: firstly, a contradiction between the -primariness of self-conscious cognisance of a thing, as the beginning -of possible knowledge, on the one hand, and the primariness of -animal sensation in the history of the individual man on the other; -secondly, a contradiction between the primariness in knowledge of -the ideas of substance and relation, and the seemingly gradual -attainment of those ‘abstractions’ by the individual intellect. The -former of these contradictions is blurred by Locke in the two main -confusions which we have so far noticed: _(a)_ the confusion between -sensation proper and perception, which is covered under the phrase -‘idea of sensation;’ a phrase which, if sensation means the first act -of intelligence, is pleonastic, and if it means the ‘motion of the -outward parts continued to the brain,’ is unmeaning; and _(b)_ the -confusion between the physical affection of the brain and the act of -the self-conscious subject, covered under the equivocal metaphor of -impression. The latter contradiction, that concerning the ideas of -substance and relation, has to be further considered. - -How this contradiction is disguised. - -17. It is not difficult to show that to have a simple idea, according -to Locke’s account of it, means to have already the conception of -substance and relation, which are yet according to him ‘complex -and derived ideas,’ ‘the workmanship of the mind’ in opposition to -its original material, the result of its action in opposition to -what is given it as passive. The equivocation in terms under which -this contradiction is generally covered is that between ‘idea’ -and ‘quality.’ ‘Whatever the mind perceives in itself, or is the -immediate object of perception, thought, or understanding, that -I call _idea_; and the power to produce that idea I call quality -of the subject wherein that power is. Thus a snowball having -power to produce in us the ideas of white, cold, and round, the -powers to produce these 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 object which produce them in us.’ (Book II. -chap. viii. sec. 8.) - -Locke’s way of interchanging ‘idea’ and ‘quality’ and its effects. - -18. An equivocation is not the less so because it is announced. -It is just because Locke allows himself at his convenience to -interchange the terms ‘idea’ and ‘quality’ that his doctrine is at -once so plausible and so hollow. The essential question is whether -the ‘simple idea,’ as the original of knowledge, is on the one hand -a mere feeling, or on the other a thing or quality of a thing. -This question is the crux of empirical psychology. Adopting the -one alternative, we have to face the difficulty of the genesis of -knowledge, as an apprehension of the real, out of mere feeling; -adopting the other, we virtually endow the nascent intelligence with -the conception of substance. By playing fast and loose with ‘idea’ -and ‘quality,’ Locke disguised the dilemma from himself. Here again -the metaphor of Impression did him yeoman’s service. The idea, or -‘immediate object of thought,’ being confused with the affection -of the sensitive organs, and this again being accounted for as the -result of actual impact, it was easy to represent the idea itself as -caused by the action of an outward body on the ‘mental tablet.’ Thus -Locke speaks of the ‘objects of our senses obtruding their particular -ideas on our minds, whether we will or no.’ (Book II. chap. i. sec. -25.) This sentence holds in solution an assumption and two fallacies. -The assumption (with which we have no further concern here) is the -physical theory that matter affects the sensitive organs in the way -of actual impact. Of the fallacies, one is the confusion between this -affection and the idea of which it is the occasion to the individual; -the other is the implication that this idea, as such, in its prime -simplicity, recognises itself as the result of, and refers itself as -a quality to, the matter supposed to cause it. This recognition and -reference, it is clearly implied, are involved in the idea itself, -not merely made by the philosopher theorising it. Otherwise the -‘obtrusion’ would be described as of a property or effect, not of an -idea, which means, it must be remembered, the object of consciousness -just as the object of consciousness. Of the same purport is the -statement that ‘the mind is furnished with simple ideas as they are -found in exterior things.’ (Book II. chap, xxiii. sec. 1.) It only -requires a moment’s consideration, indeed, to see that the beginning -of consciousness cannot be a physical theory, which, however true it -may be and however natural it may have become to us, involves not -only the complex conception of material impact, but the application -of this to a case having no palpable likeness to it. But the -‘interrogator of consciousness’ finds in its primitive state just -what he puts there, and thus Locke, with all his pains ‘to set his -mind at a distance from itself,’ involuntarily supposes it, in the -first element of intelligence, to ‘report’ that action of matter upon -itself, which, as the result of a familiar theory--involving not -merely the conceptions of substance, power, and relation, but special -qualifications of these--it reports to the educated man. - -Primary and secondary qualities of bodies. - -19. This will appear more clearly upon an examination of his doctrine -of ‘the ideas of primary and secondary qualities of bodies.’ The -distinction between them he states as follows. The primary qualities -of bodies are ‘the bulk, figure, number, situation, motion, and rest -of their solid parts; these are in them, whether we perceive them -or no; 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.’ ... Thus -‘the ideas of primary qualities are resemblances of them, and their -patterns do really exist in the bodies themselves. But the ideas -produced in us by the secondary qualities have no resemblance of them -at all. There is nothing like them existing in the bodies themselves. -They are in the bodies, we denominate from them, only a power to -produce these 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.’ This power is then -explained to be of two sorts: _(a)_ ‘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, _(b)_ 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 differently on our -senses from what it did before. Thus the sun has a power to make wax -white, and fire to make lead fluid. These are usually called powers.’ -(Book II. chap. viii. sec. 15, 23.) - -‘Simple idea’ represented as involving a theory of its own cause. - -20. What we have here is a theory of the causes of simple ideas; but -we shall find Locke constantly representing this theory as a simple -idea itself, or the simple idea as involving this theory. By this -unconscious device he is enabled readily to exhibit the genesis of -knowledge out of ‘simple ideas,’ but it is at the cost of converting -these into ‘creations of the mind,’ which with him are the antitheses -of ‘facts’ or ‘reality.’ The process of conversion takes a different -form as applied respectively to the ideas of primary and to those -of secondary qualities. We propose to follow it in the latter -application first. - -Phrases in which this is implied. - -21. The simple idea caused by a quality he calls the idea _of_ that -quality. Under cover of this phrase, he not only identifies the idea -of a primary quality with the quality itself of which he supposes it -to be a copy, but he also habitually regards the idea of a secondary -quality as the consciousness of a quality _of a thing_, though under -warning that the quality as it is to consciousness is not as it is in -the thing. This reservation rather adds to the confusion. There are -in fact, according to Locke, as appears from his distinction between -the ‘nominal’ and ‘real essence,’ two different things denoted by -every common noun; the thing as it is in itself or in nature, and -the thing as it is for consciousness. The former is the thing as -constituted by a certain configuration of particles, which is only -an object for the physical philosopher, and never fully cognisable -even by him; [1] the latter is the thing as we see and hear and -smell it. Now to a thing in this latter sense, according to Locke, -such a simple idea as to the philosopher is one of a secondary -quality (_i.e._ not a copy, but an effect, of something in a body), -is already in the origin of knowledge referred as a quality, though -without distinction of primary and secondary. He does not indeed -state this in so many words. To have done so might have forced him to -reconsider his doctrine of the mere passivity of the mind in respect -of simple ideas. But it is implied in his constant use of such -phrases as ‘reports of the senses,’ ‘inlet through the senses’--which -have no meaning unless something is reported, something let in--and -in the familiar comparison of the understanding to a ‘closet, wholly -shut from light, with only some little opening left, to let in -external visible resemblances, or ideas, of things without.’ (Book -II. chap. xi. sec. 17.) - -[1] This distinction is more fully treated below, paragraphs 88, &c. - -Feeling and felt thing confused. - -22. Phraseology of this kind, the standing heritage of the philosophy -which seeks the origin of knowledge in sensation, assumes that the -individual sensation is from the first consciously representative; -that it is more than what it is simply in itself--fleeting, -momentary, unnameable (because, while we name it, it has become -another), and for the same reason unknowable, the very negation of -knowability; that it shows the presence of something, whether this -be a ‘body’ to which it is referred as a quality, or a mind of which -it is a modification, or be ultimately reduced to the permanent -conditions of its own possibility. This assumption for the present -has merely to be pointed out; its legitimacy need not be discussed. -Nor need we now discuss the attempts that have been made since Locke -to show that mere sensations, dumb to begin with, may yet become -articulate upon repetition and combination; which in fact endow them -with a faculty of inference, and suppose that though primarily they -report nothing beyond themselves, they yet somehow come to do so -as an explanation of their own recurrence. The sensational theory -in Locke is still, so to speak, unsophisticated. It is true that, -in concert with that ‘thinking gentleman,’ Mr. Molyneux, he had -satisfied himself that what we reckon simple ideas are often really -inferences from such ideas which by habit have become instinctive; -but his account of this habitual process presupposes the reference of -sensation to a thing. ‘When we set before our eyes a round globe of -any uniform colour, it is certain that the idea thereby imprinted in -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 truly is variety of colour or shadow, -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.’ (Book II. chap. ix. sec. 8.) The theory here stated involves -two assumptions, each inconsistent with the simplicity of the simple -idea. _(a)_ The actual impression of the ‘plane variously coloured’ -is supposed to pronounce itself to be of something outward. Once -call the sensation an ‘impression,’ indeed, or call it anything, and -this or an analogous substantiation of it is implied. It is only -as thus reporting something ‘objective’ that the simple idea of -the plane variously coloured gives anything to be corrected by the -‘perception of the kind of appearance convex bodies are wont to make -in us,’ _i.e._ ‘of the alterations made in the reflections of light -by the difference of the sensible figure of bodies.’ This perception, -indeed, as described, is already itself just the instinctive judgment -which has to be accounted for, and though this objection might be -met by a better statement, yet no statement could serve Locke’s -purpose which did not make assumption _(b)_ that sensations of light -and colour--‘simple ideas of secondary qualities’--are in the very -beginning of knowledge _appearances_, if not of _convex_ bodies, yet -of bodies; if not of bodies, yet of something which they reveal, -which remains there while they pass away. - -The simple idea as ‘ectype’ other than mere sensation. - -23. The same assumption is patent in Locke’s account of the -distinction between ‘real and fantastic,’ ‘adequate and inadequate,’ -ideas. This distinction rests upon that between the thing as -archetype, and the idea as the corresponding ectype. Simple ideas he -holds to be necessarily ‘real’ and ‘adequate,’ because necessarily -answering to their archetypes. ‘Not that they are all of them images -or representations of what does exist: ... whiteness and coldness -are no more in snow than pain is: ... yet are they real ideas in -us, whereby we distinguish the qualities that are really in things -themselves. For these several appearances being designed to be the -marks 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.’ (Book II. chap. xxx. sec. 2.) The simple idea, then, is -a ‘mark’ or ‘distinguishing character,’ either as a copy or as an -effect, of something other than itself. Only as thus regarded, does -the distinction between real and fantastic possibly apply to it. -So too with the distinction between true and false ideas. As Locke -himself points out, the simple idea in itself is neither true nor -false. It can become so only as ‘referred to something extraneous -to it.’ (Book II. chap, xxxii. sec. 4.) For all that, he speaks of -simple ideas as true and necessarily true, because ‘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 ... -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.’ (Book -II. chap, xxxii. sec. 14.) Here again we are brought to the same -point. The idea is an ‘appearance’ of something, necessarily true -when it cannot seem to be the appearance of anything else than that -of which it is the appearance. We thus come to the following dilemma. -Either the simple idea is referred to a thing, as its pattern or its -cause, or it cannot be regarded as either real or true. If it is -still objected that it need not be so referred in the beginning of -knowledge, though it comes to be so in the developed intelligence, -the answer is the further question, how can that be knowledge even in -its most elementary phase--the phase of the reception of simple ideas ---which is not a capacity of distinction between real and apparent, -between true and false? If its beginning is a mode of consciousness, -such as mere sensation would be--which, because excluding all -reference, excludes that reference of itself to something else -without which there could be no consciousness of a distinction -between an ‘is’ and an ‘is not,’ and therefore no true judgment at -all--how can any repetition of such modes give such a judgment? [1] - -[1] Cf. the ground of distinction between clearness and obscurity of -ideas; (Book II. chap. xxix. sec. 2) ‘Our simple ideas are clear when -they are such as the objects themselves, whence they are taken, did -or might in a well-ordered sensation or perception, present them.’ As -Locke always assumes that immediate consciousness can tell whether an -idea is clear or not, it follows that immediate consciousness must -tell of ‘the object itself, whence the idea is taken.’ - -It involves a judgment in which mind and thing are distinguished. - -24. The fact is that the ‘simple idea’ with Locke, as the beginning -of knowledge, is already, at its minimum, the judgment, ‘I have -an idea different from other ideas, which I did not make for -myself.’ His confusion of this judgment with sensation is merely -the fundamental confusion, on which all empirical psychology rests, -between two essentially distinct questions--one metaphysical, What is -the simplest element of knowledge? the other physiological, What are -the conditions in the individual human organism in virtue of which -it becomes a vehicle of knowledge? Though he failed, however, to -distinguish these questions, their difference made itself appear in a -certain divergence between the second and fourth books of his Essay. -So far we have limited our consideration to passages in the second -book, in which he treats _eo nomine_ of ideas; of simple ideas as -the original of knowledge, of complex ones as formed in its process. -Here the physical theory is predominant. The beginning of knowledge -is that without which the animal is incapable of it, viz. sensation -regarded as an impression through ‘animal spirits’ on the brain. But -it can only be so represented because sensation is identified with -that which later psychology distinguished from it as Perception, and -for which no physical theory can account. As we have seen, the whole -theory of this (the second) book turns upon the supposition that -the simple idea of sensation is in every case an idea of a sensible -quality, and that it is so, not merely for us, considering it _ex -parte post_, but consciously for the individual subject, which can -mean nothing else than that it distinguishes itself from, and refers -itself to, a thing. Locke himself, indeed, according to his plan of -bringing in a ‘faculty of the mind’ whenever it is convenient, would -perhaps rather have said that it is so distinguished and referred ‘by -the mind.’ He considers the simple idea not, as it truly is, the mind -itself in a certain relation, but a datum or material of the mind, -upon which it performs certain operations as upon something other -than itself, though all the while it is constituted, at least in its -actuality, by this material. Between the reference of the simple -idea to the thing, however, by itself and ‘by the mind,’ there is no -essential difference. In either case the reference is inconsistent -with the simplicity of the simple idea; and if the latter expression -avoids the seeming awkwardness of ascribing activity to the idea, -it yet ascribes it to the mind in that elementary stage in which, -according to Locke, it is merely receptive. - -And is equivalent to what he afterwards calls ‘knowledge of -identity’. Only as such can it be named. - -25. So much for the theory ‘of ideas.’ As if, however, in treating -of ideas he had been treating of anything else than knowledge, he -afterwards considers ‘knowledge’ in a book by itself (the fourth) -under that title, and here the question as to the relation between -idea and thing comes before him in a somewhat different shape. -According to his well-known definition, knowledge is the perception -of the agreement or disagreement of any of our ideas. The agreement -or disagreement may be of four sorts. It may be in the way (1) -of identity, (2) of relation, (3) of co-existence, (4) of real -existence. In his account of the last sort of agreement, it may -be remarked by the way, he departs at once and openly from his -definition, making it an agreement, not of idea with idea, but of an -idea with ‘actual real existence.’ The fatal but connatural wound in -his system, which this inconsistency marks, will appear more fully -below. For the present, our concern is for the adjustment of the -definition of knowledge to the doctrine of the simple idea as the -beginning of knowledge. According to the definition, it cannot be -the simple idea, as such, that constitutes this beginning, but only -the perception of agreement or disagreement between simple ideas. -‘There could be no room,’ says Locke distinctly, ‘for any positive -knowledge at all, if we could not distinguish any relation between -our ideas.’ (Book IV. chap. i. sec. 5.) Yet in the very context -where he makes this statement, the perception of relation is put -as a distinct kind of knowledge apart from others. In his account -of the other kinds, however, he is faithful to his definition, and -treats each as a perception (_i.e._ a judgment) of a relation in the -way of agreement or disagreement. The primary knowledge is that of -identity--the knowledge of an idea as identical with itself. ‘A man -infallibly knows, as soon as ever he has them in his mind, that the -ideas he calls _white_ and _round_, are the very ideas they are, -and not other ideas which he calls _red_ and _square_.’ (Book IV. -chap. i. sec. 4.) Now, as Hume afterwards pointed out, identity is -not simple unity. It cannot be predicated of the ‘idea’ as merely -single, but only as a manifold in singleness. To speak of an idea -as the ‘same with itself’ is unmeaning unless it mean ‘same with -itself _in its manifold appearances_’ _i.e._ unless the idea is -distinguished, as an object existing continuously, from its present -appearance. Thus ‘the infallible knowledge,’ which Locke describes -in the above passage, consists in this, that on the occurrence of a -certain ‘idea’ the man _recognises_ it as one, which at other times -of its occurrence he has called ‘_white_.’ Such a ‘synthesis of -recognition,’ however, expressed by the application of a common term, -implies the reference of a present sensation to a permanent object of -thought, in this case the object thought under the term ‘white,’ so -that the sensation becomes an idea of that object. Were there no such -objects, there would be no significant names, but only noises; and -were the present sensation not so referred, it would not be named. It -may be said indeed that the ‘permanent object of thought’ is merely -the instinctive result of a series of past resembling sensations, -and that the common name is merely the register of this result. But -the question is thus merely thrown further back. Unless the single -fleeting sensation was, to begin with, fixed and defined by relation -to and distinction from something permanent--in other words, unless -it ceased to be a mere sensation--how did it happen that other -sensations were referred to it, as different cases of an identical -phenomenon, to which the noise suggested by it might be applied as a -sign? - -The same implied in calling it an idea of an object. - -26. This primary distinction and relation of the simple idea Locke -implicitly acknowledges when he substitutes for the simple idea, -as in the passage last quoted, the man’s knowledge that he has the -idea; for such knowledge implies the distinction of the idea from its -permanent conscious subject, and its determination by that negative -relation. [1] Thus determined, it becomes itself a permanent object, -or (which comes to the same) an idea _of an object_; a phrase which -Locke at his convenience substitutes for the mere idea, whenever it -is wanted for making his theory of knowledge square with knowledge -itself. Once become such an object, it is a basis to which other -sensations, like and unlike, may be referred as differentiating -attributes. Its identity becomes a definite identity. - -[1] Cf. the passage in Book II. chap. vii. sec. 7. ‘When ideas are -in our minds, we consider them as being actually there.’ The mere -‘idea’ is in fact essentially different from the ‘consideration -of it as actually there,’ as sensation is different from thought. -The ‘consideration, &c.,’ really means the thought of the ‘idea’ -(sensation) as determined by relation to the conscious subject. - -Made _for_, not _by_, us, and therefore according to Locke really -existent. - -27. Upon analysis, then, of Locke’s account of the most elementary -knowledge, the perception of identity or agreement of an idea with -itself, we find that like the ‘simple idea,’ which he elsewhere -makes the beginning of knowledge, it really means the reference -of a sensation to a conception of a permanent object or subject, -[1] either in such a judgment as ‘this is white’ (_sc._ a white -thing), or in the more elementary one, ‘this is an object to me.’ -In the latter form the judgment represents what Locke puts as the -consciousness, ‘I have an idea,’ or as the ‘consideration that the -idea is actually there;’ in the former it represents what he calls -‘the knowledge that the idea which I have in my mind and which I call -white is the very idea it is, and not the idea which I call red.’ -It is only because _referred_, as above, that the sensation is in -Locke’s phraseology ‘a testimony’ or ‘report’ of something. As we -said above, his notion of the beginning of knowledge is expressed -not merely in the formula ‘I have an idea different from other -ideas,’ but with the addition, ‘which I did not make for myself.’ -[2] The simple idea is supposed to testify to something without that -caused it, and it is this interpretation of it which makes it with -him the ultimate criterion of reality. But unless it were at once -distinguished from and referred to both a thing of which it is an -effect and a subject of which it is an experience, it could not in -the first place testify to anything, nor secondly to a thing as made -for, not by, the subject. This brings us, however, upon Locke’s whole -theory of ‘real existence,’ which requires fuller consideration. - -[1] For a recognition by Locke of the correlativity of these (of -which more will have to be said below) cf. Book II. chap. xxiii. sec. -15. ‘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.’ - -[2] Cf. Book II. chap. xii. sec. 1. - -What did he mean by this? - -28. It is a theory, we must premise, which is nowhere explicitly -stated. It has to be gathered chiefly from those passages of the -second book in which he treats of ‘complex’ or ‘artificial’ ideas in -distinction from simple ones, which are necessarily real, and from -the discussion in the fourth book of the ‘extent’ and ‘reality’ of -knowledge. We have, however, to begin with, in the enumeration of -simple ideas, a mention of ‘existence,’ as one of those ‘received -alike through all the ways of sensation and reflection.’ It is an -idea ‘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.’ (Book II. -chap. vii. sec. 7.) - -29. The two considerations here mentioned, of ‘ideas as actually -in our minds,’ of ‘things as actually without us,’ are meant -severally to represent the two ways of reflection and sensation, -by which the idea of existence is supposed to be suggested. But -sensation, according to Locke, is an organ of ‘ideas,’ just as much -as reflection. Taking his doctrine strictly, there are no ‘objects’ -but ‘ideas’ to suggest the idea of existence, whether by the way of -sensation or by that of reflection, and no ideas that are not ‘in the -mind.’ (Book II. chap. ix. sec. 3, &c.) - -Existence as the mere presence of a feeling. - -30. The designation of the idea of existence, then, as ‘suggested -by every idea within,’ covers every possible suggestion. It can -mean nothing else than that it is given in every act and mode of -consciousness; that it is inseparable from feeling as such, being -itself at the same time a distinct simple idea. This, we may remark -by the way, involves the conclusion that every idea is composite, -made up of whatever distinguishes it from other ideas together with -the idea of existence. Of this idea of existence itself, however, -it will be impossible to say anything distinctive; for, as it -accompanies all possible objects of consciousness, there will be no -cases where it is absent to be distinguished from those where it is -present. Not merely will it be undefinable, as every simple idea is; -it will be impossible ‘to send a man to his senses’ (according to -Locke’s favourite subterfuge) in order to know what it is, since it -is neither given in one sense as distinct from another, nor in all -senses as distinct from any other modification of consciousness. Thus -regarded, to treat it as a simple idea alongside of other simple -ideas is a palpable contradiction. It is the mere ‘It is felt,’ the -abstraction of consciousness, no more to be reckoned as one among -other ideas than colour in general is to be co-ordinated with red, -white, and blue. Whether I smell a rose in the summer or recall the -smell in winter; whether I see a horse or a ghost, or imagine a -centaur or think of gravitation or the philosopher’s stone--in every -case alike the idea or ‘immediate object of the mind’ _exists_. Yet -we find Locke distinguishing between real ideas, as those that ‘have -a conformity with the existence of things,’ and fantastic ideas, as -those which have no such conformity (Book II. chap. xxx. sec. 1); and -again in the fourth book (chap. i. sec. 7, chap. iii. sec. 21, &c.) -he makes the perception of the agreement of an idea with existence a -special kind of knowledge, different from that of agreement of idea -with idea; and having done so, raises the question whether we have -such a knowledge of existence at all, and decides that our knowledge -of it is very narrow. - -Existence as reality. - -31. How are such a distinction and such a question to be reconciled -with the attribution of existence to every idea? The answer of -course will be, that when he speaks of ideas as not conforming to -existence, and makes knowledge or the agreement of ideas with each -other something different from their agreement with existence, he -means and generally says ‘real actual existence,’ or the ‘existence -of _things_,’ _i.e._ an existence, whatever it be, which is opposed -to mere existence in consciousness. Doubtless he so means, but this -implies that upon mere consciousness, or the simple presence of -ideas, there has supervened a distinction, which has to be accounted -for, of ideas from things which they represent on the one hand, and -from a mind of which they are affections on the other. Even in the -passage first quoted (Book II. chap. vii. sec. 7), where existence is -ascribed to every idea, on looking closely we find this distinction -obtruding itself, though without explicit acknowledgment. In the -very same breath, so to speak, in which the idea of existence is -said to be suggested by every idea, it is further described as being -either of two considerations--either the consideration of an idea -as actually in our mind, or of a thing as actually without us. Such -considerations at once imply the supervention of that distinction -between ‘mind’ and ‘thing,’ which gives a wholly new meaning to -‘existence.’ They are not, in truth, as Locke supposed, two separate -considerations, one or other of which, as the case may be, is -interchangeable with the ‘idea of existence.’ One is correlative with -the other, and neither is the same as simple feeling. Considered as -actually in the mind, the feeling is distinguished from the mind as -an affection from the subject thereof, and just in virtue of this -distinction is referred to a thing as the cause of the affection, or -becomes representative of a thing. But for such consideration there -would for us, if the doctrine of ideas means anything, be no ‘thing -without us’ at all. To ‘consider things as actually without us’ is to -consider them as causes of the ideas in our mind, and this is to have -an idea of existence quite different from mere consciousness. It is -to have an idea of it which at once suggests the question whether the -existence is real or apparent; in other words, whether the thing, to -which an affection of the mind is referred as its cause, is really -its cause or no. - -By confusion of these two meanings, reality and its conditions are -represented as given in simple feeling. - -32. Between these two meanings of existence--its meaning as -interchangeable with simple consciousness, and its meaning as -reality--Locke failed to distinguish. Just as, having announced -‘ideas’ to be the sole ‘materials of knowledge,’ he allows himself -at his convenience to put ‘things’ in the place of ideas; so having -identified existence with momentary consciousness or the simple -idea, he substitutes for existence in this sense _reality_, and in -consequence finds reality given solely in the simple idea. Thus when -the conceptions of cause or substance, or relations of any kind, come -under view, since these cannot be represented as given in momentary -consciousness, they have to be pronounced not to exist, and since -existence is reality, to be unreal or ‘fictions of the mind.’ But -without these unreal relations there could be no knowledge, and if -they are not given in the elements of knowledge, it is difficult -to see how they are introduced, or to avoid the appearance of -constructing knowledge out of the unknown. Given in the elements of -knowledge, however, they cannot be, if these are simple ideas or -momentary recurrences of the ‘it is felt.’ But by help of Locke’s -equivocation between the two meanings of existence, they can be -covertly introduced as the real. Existence is given in the simple -idea, existence equals the real, therefore the real is given in the -simple idea. But think or speak of the real as we will, we find that -it exhibits itself as substance, as cause, and as related; _i.e._ -according to Locke as a ‘complex’ or ‘invented’ or ‘superinduced’ -idea. - -Yet reality involves complex ideas which are made by the mind. - -33. In the second book of his Essay, which treats of ideas, he -makes the grand distinction between ‘the simple ideas which are all -from things themselves, and of which the mind can have no more or -other than what are suggested to it,’ and the ‘complex ideas which -are the workmanship of the mind.’ (Book II. chap. xii.) In his -account of the latter there are some curious cross-divisions, but he -finally enumerates them as ideas either of _modes_, _substances_, -or _relations_. The character of these ideas he then proceeds to -explain in the order given, one after the other, and as if each were -independent of the rest; though according to his own statement the -idea of mode presupposes that of substance, and the idea of substance -involves that of relation. ‘Modes I call such complex ideas, which, -however compounded, contain not in them the supposition of subsisting -by themselves, but are considered as dependencies on, or affections -of, substances; such are the ideas signified by the words ‘triangle,’ -‘gratitude,’ ‘murder,’ &c. Of these there are two sorts. 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; e. g. beauty, ... and these I call _mixed modes_.’ -(Book II. chap. xii. secs. 4, 5.) So soon as he comes to speak more -in detail of simple modes, he falls into apparent contradiction with -his doctrine that, as complex ideas, they are the mere workmanship -of the mind. All particular sounds and colours are simple modes of -the simple ideas of sound and colour. (Book II. chap, xviii. sees. 3, -4.) Again, the ideas of figure, place, distance, as of all particular -figures, places, and distances, are simple modes of the simple idea -of space. (Book II. chap, xiii.) To maintain, however, that the ideas -of space, sound, or colour _in general_ (as simple ideas) were taken -from things themselves, while those of _particular_ spaces, sounds, -and colours (as complex ideas) were ‘made by the mind,’ was for Locke -impossible. Thus in the very next chapter after that in which he -has opposed all complex ideas, those of simple modes included, as -made by the mind to all simple ones as taken from things themselves, -he speaks of simple modes ‘either _as found in things existing_, -or as made by the mind within itself.’ (Book II. chap. xiii. sec. -1.) It was not for Locke to get over this confusion by denying the -antithesis between that which the mind ‘makes’ and that which it -‘takes from existing things’ and for the present we must leave it as -it stands. We must further note that a mode being considered ‘as an -affection of a substance,’ space must be to the particular spaces -which are its simple modes, as a substance to its modifications. -So too colour to particular colours, &c., &c. But the idea of a -substance is a complex idea ‘framed by the mind.’ Therefore the idea -of space--at any rate such an idea as we have of it when we think of -distances, places, or figures, and when else do we think of it at -all?--must be a complex and artificial idea. But according to Locke -the idea of space is emphatically a simple idea, given immediately -_both_ by sight and touch, concerning which if a man enquire, he -‘sends him to his senses.’ (Book II. chap, v.) - -Such are substance and relation which must be found in every object -of knowledge. - -34. These contradictions are not avoidable blunders, due to -carelessness or want of a clear head in the individual writer, ‘The -complex idea of substance’ will not be exorcised; the mind will show -its workmanship in the very elements of knowledge towards which its -relation seems most passive--in the ‘existing things’ which are -the conditions of its experience no less than in the individual’s -conscious reaction upon them. The interrogator of the individual -consciousness seeks to know that consciousness, and just for that -reason must find in it at every stage those formal conceptions, -such as substance and cause, without which there can be no object -of knowledge at all. He thus substantiates sensation, while he -thinks that he merely observes it, and calls it a sensible thing. -Sensations, thus unconsciously transformed, are for him the real, the -actually existent. Whatever is not given by immediate sense, outer or -inner, he reckons a mere ‘thing of the mind.’ The ideas of substance -and relation, then, not being given by sense, must in his eyes be -things of the mind, in distinction from, really existent things. But -speech bewrayeth him. He cannot state anything that he knows save -in terms which imply that substance and relation are in the things -known; and hence an inevitable obtrusion of ‘things of the mind’ in -the place of real existence, just where the opposition between them -is being insisted on. Again, as a man seems to observe consciousness -in himself and others, it has nothing that it has not received. It -is a blank to begin with, but passive of that which is without, and -through its passivity it becomes informed. If the ‘mind,’ then, means -this or that individual consciousness, the things of the mind must be -gradually developed from an original passivity. On the other hand, -let anyone try to know this original passive consciousness, and in -it, as in every other known object-matter, he must find these things -of the mind, substance and relations. If nature is the object, he -must find them in nature; if his own self-consciousness, he must -find them in that consciousness. But while nature knows not what is -in herself, self-consciousness, it would seem, _ex vi termini_, does -know. Therefore not merely substance and relation must be found in -the original consciousness, but the knowledge, the ideas, of them. - -Abstract idea of substance and complex ideas of particular sorts of -substance. - -35. As we follow Locke’s treatment of these ideas more in detail, we -shall find the logical see-saw, here accounted for, appearing with -scarcely a disguise. His account of the origin of the ‘complex ideas -of substances’ is as follows. ‘The mind being 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 despatch, are called, so united in one subject, by one name; -which by inadvertency we are apt afterwards 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_.’ (Book II. chap, xxiii. -sec. 1.) In the controversy with Stillingfleet, which arose out of -this chapter, Locke was constrained further to distinguish (as he -certainly did not do in the original text) between the ‘ideas of -distinct substances, such as man, horse,’ and the ‘general idea of -substance.’ It is to ideas of the former sort that he must be taken -to refer in the above passage, when he speaks of them as formed by -‘complication of many ideas together,’ and these alone are _complex_ -in the strict sense. The _general_ idea of substance on the other -hand, which like all general ideas (according to Locke) is made -by abstraction, means the idea of a ‘substratum which we accustom -ourselves to suppose’ as that wherein the complicated ideas ‘do -subsist, and from which they do result.’ This, however, he regards as -itself one, ‘the first and chief,’ among the ideas which make up any -of the ‘distinct substances.’ (Book II. chap. xii. sec. 6.) Nor is -he faithful to the distinction between the general and the complex. -In one passage of the first letter to Stillingfleet, he distinctly -speaks of the _general_ idea of substance as a ‘_complex_ idea made -up of the idea of something plus that of relation to qualities.’ [1] -Notwithstanding this confusion of terms, however, he no doubt had -before him what seemed a clear distinction between the ‘abstract -general idea’ of substance, as such, _i.e._ of ‘something related -as a support to accidents,’ but which does not include ideas of any -particular accidents, and the composite idea of a substance, made up -of a multitude of simple ideas plus that of the something related to -them as a support. We shall find each of these ideas, according to -Locke’s statement, presupposing the other. - -[1] Upon a reference to the chapter on ‘complex ideas’ (Book II. -chap, xii.), it will appear that the term is used in a stricter and -a looser sense. In the looser sense it is not confined to _compound_ -ideas, but in opposition to simple ones includes those of relation -and even ‘abstract general ideas.’ When Locke thinks of the _general_ -idea of substance apart from the complication of accidents referred -to it, he opposes it to the complex idea, according to the stricter -sense of that term. On the other hand, when he thinks of it as ‘made -up’ of the idea of _something_ plus that of relation to qualities (as -if there could be an idea of something apart from such relation), it -seems to him to have two elements, and therefore to be complex. - -The abstract idea according to Locke at once precedes and follows the -complex. - -36. In the passage above quoted, our aptness to consider a -complication of simple ideas, which we notice to go constantly -together, as one simple idea, is accounted for as the result of a -presumption that they belong to one thing. This presumption is again -described in the words that ‘we accustom ourselves to suppose some -substratum, wherein they do subsist, and from which they do result; -which therefore we call substance.’ Here it is implied that the idea -of substance, _i.e._ ‘the general idea of something related as a -support to accidents,’ is one gradually formed upon observation of -the regular coincidence of certain simple ideas. In the sequel (sec. -3 of the same chapter I. xxiii.) we are told that such an idea--‘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.’ -Thus a _general_ idea of substance having been formed by one -gradual process, ideas of particular sorts of substances are formed -by another and later one. But then the very same ‘collection of -such combinations of simple ideas as are taken notice of to exist -together,’ which (according to sec. 3) constitutes the later process -and follows upon the formation of the _general_ idea of substance, -has been previously described as preceding and conditioning that -formation. It is the complication of simple ideas, noticed to go -constantly together, that (according to sec. 1) leads to the ‘idea -of substance in general.’ To this see-saw between the process -preceding and that following the formation of the idea in question -must be added the difficulty, that Locke’s account makes the general -idea precede the particular, which is against the whole tenor of -his doctrine of abstraction as an operation whereby ‘the mind makes -the particular ideas, received from particular objects, to become -general.’ (Book II. chap. xi. sec. 9.) - -Reference of ideas to nature or God, the same as reference to -substance. - -37. It may be said perhaps that Locke’s self-contradiction in -this regard is more apparent than real; that the two processes of -combining simple ideas are essentially different, just because -in the later process they are combined by a conscious act of the -mind as accidents of a ‘something,’ of which the _general_ idea -has been previously formed, whereas in the earlier one they are -merely presented together ‘by nature,’ and, _ex hypothesi_, though -they gradually suggest, do not carry with them any reference to a -‘substratum.’ But upon this we must remark that the presentation of -ideas ‘by nature’ or ‘by God,’ though a mode of speech of which Locke -in his account of the origin of knowledge freely avails himself, -means nothing else than their relation to a ‘substratum,’ if not -‘wherein they do subsist,’ yet ‘from which they do result.’ If then -it is for consciousness that ideas are presented together by nature, -they already carry with them that reference to a substratum which is -supposed gradually to result from their concurrence. If it is not for -consciousness that they are so presented, if they do not _severally_ -carry with them a reference to ‘something,’ how is it they come to do -so in the gross? If a single sensation of heat is not referred to a -hot thing, why should it be so referred on the thousandth recurrence? -Because perhaps, recurring constantly in the same relations, it -compels the inference of permanent antecedents? But the ‘same -relations’ mean relations to the same things, and the observation of -these relations presupposes just that conception of _the thing_ which -it is sought to account for, - -But it is explicitly to substance that Locke makes them refer -themselves. - -38. We are estopped, however, from any such explanation of Locke as -would suggest these ulterior questions by his explicit statement -that ‘all simple ideas, all sensible qualities, carry with them a -supposition of a substratum to exist in, and of a substance wherein -they inhere.’ The vindication of himself against the pathetic -complaint of Stillingfleet, that he had ‘almost discarded substance -out of the reasonable part of the world,’ in which this statement -occurs, was certainly not needed. Already in the original text -the simple ideas, of which the association suggests the idea of -substance, are such as ‘the mind finds in exterior things or by -reflection on its own operations.’ But to find them in an exterior -thing is to find them in a substance, a ‘something it knows not -what,’ regarded as outward, just as to find them by reflection on -its own operations, as its own, is to find them in such a substance -regarded as inward. The process then by which, according to Locke, -the general idea of substance is arrived at, presupposes this idea -just as much as the process, by which ideas of particular sorts of -substances are got, presupposes it, and the distinction between the -two processes, as he puts it, disappears. - -In the process by which we are supposed to arrive at complex ideas of -substances the beginning is the same as the end. - -39. The same paralogism appears under a slightly altered form when -it is stated (in the first letter to Stillingfleet) that the idea -of substance as the ‘general indetermined idea of _something_ is -by the abstraction of the mind derived from the simple ideas of -sensation and reflection.’ Now ‘abstraction’ with Locke means the -‘separation of an idea from all other ideas that accompany it in its -real existence.’ (Book II. chap. xii. sec. 1.) It is clear then that -it is impossible to abstract an idea which is not _there_, in real -existence, to be abstracted. Accordingly, if the ‘general idea of -something’ is derived by abstraction from simple ideas of sensation -and reflection, it must be originally given with these ideas, or it -would not afterwards be separated from them. Conversely they must -carry this idea with them, and cannot be simple ideas at all, but -compound ones, each made up of ‘the general idea of something or -being,’ and of an accident which this something supports. How then -does the general idea of substance or ‘something,’ _as derived_, -differ from the idea of ‘something,’ as given in the original ideas -of sensation and reflection from which the supposed process of -abstraction starts? What can be said of the one that cannot be said -of the other? If the derived general idea is of something related -to qualities, what, according to Locke, are the original ideas -but those of qualities related to something? It is true that the -general idea is of something, of which nothing further is known, -related to qualities in general, not to any particular qualities. -But the ‘simple idea’ in like manner can only be of an indeterminate -quality, for in order to any determination of it, the idea must be -put together with another idea, and so cease to be simple; and the -‘something,’ to which it is referred, must for the same reason be -a purely indeterminate something. If, in order to avoid concluding -that Locke thus unwittingly identified the abstract general idea of -substance with any simple idea, we say that the simple idea, because -not abstract, is not indeterminate but of a real quality, defined -by manifold relations, we fall upon the new difficulty that, if so, -not only does the simple idea become manifoldly complex, but just -such an ‘idea of a particular sort of substance’ as, according to -Locke, is derived from the derived idea of substance in general. As -an idea of a quality, it is also necessarily an idea of a correlative -‘something;’ and if it is an idea of a quality in its reality, _i.e._ -as determined by various relations, it must be an idea of a variously -qualified something, _i.e._ of a particular substance. Then not -merely the middle of the twofold process by which we are supposed -to get at ‘complex ideas of substances’--_i.e._ the _abstract_ -something; but its end--_i.e._ the _particular_ something--turns out -to be the same as its beginning. - -Doctrine of abstraction inconsistent with doctrine of complex ideas. - -40. The fact is, that in making the general idea of substance precede -particular ideas of sorts of substances (as he certainly however -confusedly does, in the 23rd chapter of the Second Book, [1] as well -as by implication in his doctrine of modes. Book II. chap. xii. -sec. 4), Locke stumbled upon a truth which he was not aware of, and -which will not fit into his ordinary doctrine of general ideas: the -truth that knowledge is a process from the more abstract to the more -concrete, not the reverse, as is commonly supposed, and as Locke’s -definition of abstraction implies. Throughout his prolix discussion -of ‘substance’ and ‘essence’ we find two opposite notions perpetually -cross each other: one that knowledge begins with the simple idea, -the other that it begins with the real thing as particularized by -manifold relations. According to the former notion, simple ideas -being given, void of relation, as the real, the mind of its own act -proceeds to bring them into relation and compound them: according -to the latter, a thing of various properties (_i.e._ relations [2]) -being given as the real, the mind proceeds to separate these from -each other. According to the one notion the intellectual process, as -one of complication, ends just where, according to the other notion, -as one of abstraction, it began. - -[1] See above, paragraph 35. - -[2] Cf. Book II. chap, xxiii. sec. 37. Most of the simple ideas that -make up our complex ideas of substances are only powers ... _e.g._ -the greater part of the ideas which make up our complex idea of gold -... are nothing else _but so many relations to other substances_.’ - -The confusion covered by use of ‘particulars’. - -41. The chief verbal equivocation, under which Locke disguises the -confusion of these two notions, is to be found in the use of the -word ‘particular,’ which is sometimes used for the mere individual -having no community with anything else, sometimes for the thing -qualified by relation to a multitude of other things. The simple idea -or sensation; the ‘something’ which the simple idea is supposed to -‘report,’ and which Locke at his pleasure identifies with it; the -complex idea; and the thing as the collection of the properties which -the simple idea ‘reports,’ all are merged by Locke under the one term -‘particulars.’ As the only consistency in his use of the term seems -to lie in its opposition to ‘generals,’ we naturally turn to the -passage where this opposition is spoken of most at large. - -Locke’s account of abstract general ideas. - -42. ‘General and universal belong not to the real existence of -things, but are the inventions and creatures of the understanding, -made by it for its own use, and concern only signs, whether words or -ideas. Words are general when used for signs of general ideas, and -so are applicable indifferently to many particular things; and ideas -are general, when they are set up as the representatives of many -particular things; but universality belongs not to things themselves, -which are all of them particular in their existence, even those words -and ideas which in their signification are general. When therefore -we quit particulars, the generals that rest are only creatures of -our own making, their general nature being nothing but the capacity -they are put into by the understanding, of signifying or representing -many particulars. For the signification they have is nothing but a -relation that by the mind of man is added to them. ... The sorting of -things under names is the workmanship of the understanding, taking -occasion from the similitude it observes among them to make abstract -general ideas, and set them up in the mind, with names annexed to -them, as patterns or forms (for in that sense the word form has a -very proper signification), to which as particular things are found -to agree, so they come to be of that species, have that denomination, -or are put into that classis. For when we say this is a man, that a -horse; this justice, that cruelty, what do we else but rank things -under different specific names, as agreeing to those abstract ideas, -of which we have made those names the signs? And what are the -essences of those species, set out and marked by names, but those -abstract ideas in the mind; which are, as it were, the bonds between -particular things that exist, and the names they are to be ranked -under?’ (Book III. chap. iii. secs. 11 and 13.) - -‘Things not general.’ - -43. In the first of these remarkable passages we begin with the -familiar opposition between ideas as ‘the creatures of the mind’ -and real things. Ideas, and the words which express them, may be -general, but things cannot. ‘They are all of them particular in their -existence.’ Then the ideas and words themselves appear as things, -and as such ‘in their existence’ can only be particular. It is only -in its signification, _i.e._ in its relation to other ideas which -it represents, that an idea, particular itself, becomes general, -and this relation does not belong to the ‘existence’ of the idea or -to the idea in itself, but ‘by the mind of man is added to it.’ The -relation being thus a fictitious addition to reality, ‘general and -universal are mere inventions and creatures of the understanding.’ -The next passage, in spite of the warning that all ideas are -particular in their existence, still speaks of general ideas, but -only as ‘set up in the mind.’ To these ‘particular things existing -are found to agree,’ and the agreement is expressed in such judgments -as ‘this is a man, that a horse; this is justice, that cruelty;’ the -‘this’ and ‘that’ representing ‘particular existing things,’ ‘horse’ -and ‘cruelty’ abstract general ideas to which these are found to -agree. - -Generality an invention of the mind. - -44. One antithesis is certainly maintained throughout these -passages--that between ‘real existence which is always particular, -and the workmanship of the mind,’ which ‘invents’ generality. Real -existence, however, is ascribed _(a)_ to things themselves, _(b)_ to -words and ideas, even those which become of general signification, -_(c)_ to mixed modes, for in the proposition ‘this is justice,’ -the ‘this’ must represent a mixed mode. (Cf. II. xii. 5.) The -characteristic of the ‘really existent,’ which distinguishes it from -the workmanship of the mind, would seem to be mere individuality, -exclusive of all relation. The simple ‘this’ and ‘that,’ apart from -the relation expressed in the judgment, being mere individuals, -are really existent; and conversely, ideas, which in themselves -have real existence, when a relation, in virtue of which they -become significant, has been ‘added to them by the mind,’ become -‘inventions of the understanding.’ This consists with the express -statement in the chapter on ‘relation’ (II. xxv. 8), that it is ‘not -contained in the existence of things, but is something extraneous -and superinduced.’ Thus generality, as a relation between any one -of a multitude of _single_ (not necessarily _simple_) ideas, _e.g._ -single ideas of horses, and all the rest--a relation which belongs -not to any one of them singly--is superinduced by the understanding -upon their _real_, _i.e._ their _single_ existence. Apart from this -relation, it would seem, or in their mere singleness, even ideas of -mixed modes, _e.g._ _this act_ of justice, may have real existence. - -The result is, that the feeling of each moment is alone real. - -45. The result of Locke’s statement, thus examined, clearly is that -real existence belongs to the present momentary act of consciousness, -and to that alone. Ascribed as it is to the ‘thing itself,’ to the -idea which, _as general_, has it not, and to the mixed mode, it is in -each case the momentary presence to consciousness that constitutes -it. To a thing itself, as distinct from the presentation to -consciousness, it cannot belong, for such a ‘thing’ means that which -remains identical with itself under manifold appearances, and both -identity and appearance imply relation, _i.e._ ‘an invention of the -mind.’ As little can it belong to the _content_ of any idea, since -this is in all cases constituted by relation to other ideas. Thus -if I judge ‘this is sweet,’ the real existence lies in the simple -‘this,’ in the mere form of presentation at an individual _now_, -not in the relation of this to other flavours which constitutes the -determinate sweetness, or to a sweetness at other times tasted. -If I judge ‘this is a horse,’ a present vision really exists, but -not so its relation to other sensations of sight or touch, closely -precedent or sequent, which make up the ‘total impression;’ much less -its relation to other like impressions thought of, in consideration -of which a common name is applied to it. If, again, I judge ‘this -is an act of justice,’ the present thought of the act, as present, -really exists; not so those relations of the act which either make -it just, or make me apply the name to it. It is true that according -to this doctrine the ‘really existent’ is the unmeaning, and that -any statement about it is impossible. We cannot judge of it without -bringing it into relation, in which it ceases to be what in its -mere singleness it is, and thus loses its reality, overlaid by the -‘invention of the understanding.’ Nay, if we say that it is the mere -‘this’ or ‘that,’ as such--the simple ‘here’ and ‘now’--the very -‘this,’ in being mentioned or judged of, becomes related to other -things which we have called ‘this,’ and the ‘now’ to other ‘nows.’ -Thus each acquires a generality, and with it becomes fictitious. -As Plato long ago taught--though the lesson seems to require to -be taught anew to each generation of philosophers--a consistent -sensationalism must be speechless. Locke, himself, in one of the -passages quoted, implicitly admits this by indicating that only -through relations or in their generality are ideas ‘significant.’ - -How Locke avoids this result. - -46. He was not the man, however, to become speechless out of sheer -consistency. He has a redundancy of terms and tropes for disguising -from himself and his reader the real import of his doctrine. In -the latter part of the passage quoted we find that the relation -or community between ideas, which the understanding invents, is -occasioned by a ‘similitude which it observes among things.’ The -general idea having been thus invented, ‘things are found to agree -with it’--as is natural since they suggested it. Hereupon we are -forced to ask how, if all relation is superinduced upon real -existence by the understanding, an _observed_ relation of similitude -among things can occasion the superinduction; and again how it -happens, if all generality of ideas is a fiction of the mind, that -‘things are found to agree with general ideas.’ How can the real -existence called ‘this’ or ‘that,’ which only really exists so far as -nothing can be said of it but that it is ‘this’ or ‘that,’ agree with -anything whatever? Agreement implies some content, some determination -by properties, _i.e._ by relations, in the things agreeing, whereas -the really existent excludes relation. How then can it agree with the -abstract general idea, the import of which, according to Locke’s own -showing, depends solely on relation? - -The ‘particular’ was to him the individual qualified by general -relations. - -47. Such questions did not occur to Locke, because while asserting -the mere individuality of things existent, and the simplicity of -all ideas as _given_, _i.e._ as real, he never fully recognised the -meaning of his own assertion. Under the shelter of the ambiguous -‘particular’ he could at any time substitute for the _mere_ -individual the _determinate_ individual, or individual qualified -by community with other things; just as, again, under covering -of the ‘simple idea’ he could substitute for the mere momentary -consciousness the perception of a definite thing. Thus when he speaks -of the judgment ‘this is gold’ as expressing the agreement of a real -(_i.e._ individual) thing with a general idea, he thinks of ‘this’ -a& already having, apart from the judgment, the determination which -it first receives in the judgment. He thinks of it, in other words, -not as the mere ‘perishing’ sensation [1] or individual void of -relation, but as a sensation symbolical of other possibilities of -sensation which, as so many relations of a _thing_ to us or to other -things, are connoted by the common noun ‘gold.’ It thus ‘agrees’ -with the abstract idea or conception of qualities, _i.e._ because -it is already the ‘creature of the understanding,’ determined by -relations which constitute a generality and community between it and -other things. Such a notion of the really existent thing--wholly -inconsistent with his doctrine of relation and of the general--Locke -has before him when he speaks of general ideas as formed by -abstraction of certain qualities from real things, or of certain -ideas from other ideas that accompany them in real existence. ‘When -some one first lit on a parcel of that sort of substance we denote by -the word _gold_, ... its peculiar colour, perhaps, and weight were -the first he abstracted from it, to make the complex idea of that -species ... another perhaps added to these the ideas of fusibility -and fixedness ... another its ductility and solubility in aqua regia. -These, or part of these, put together, usually make the complex idea -in men’s minds of that sort of body we call _gold_.’ (Book II. chap. -xxxi. sec. 9.) Here the supposition is that a thing, multitudinously -qualified, is given apart from any action of the understanding, -which then proceeds to act in the way of successively detaching -(‘abstracting’) these qualities and recombining them as the idea of a -species. Such a recombination, indeed, would seem but wasted labour. -The qualities are assumed to be already found by the understanding -and found as in a thing; otherwise the understanding could not -abstract them from it. Why should it then painfully put together in -imperfect combination what has been previously given to it complete? -Of the complex idea which results from the work of abstraction, -nothing can be said but a small part of what is predicable of the -known thing which the possibility of such abstraction presupposes. - -[1] ‘All impressions are perishing existences.’--Hume. See below, -paragraph 208. - -This is the real thing from which abstraction is supposed to start. - -48. ‘The complex idea of a species,’ spoken of in the passage last -quoted, corresponds to what, in Locke’s theory of substance, is -called the ‘idea of a particular sort of substance.’ In considering -that theory we saw that, according to his account, the beginning of -the process by which the ‘abstract idea of substance’ was formed, -was either that abstract idea itself, the mere ‘something,’ or by -a double contradiction the ‘complex idea of a particular sort of -substance’ which yet we only come to have _after_ the abstract idea -has been formed. In the passage now before us there is no direct -mention of the abstraction of the ‘substratum,’ as such, but only of -the quality, and hence there is no ambiguity about the paralogism. It -is not a mere ‘something’ that the man ‘lights upon,’ and thus it is -not this that holds the place at once of the given and the derived -but a something having manifold qualities to be abstracted. In other -words, it is the ‘idea of a particular sort of substance’ that he -starts from, and it is just this again to which as a ‘complex idea -of a species,’ his understanding is supposed gradually to lead him. -The understanding, indeed, according to Locke, is never adequate -to nature, and accordingly the qualities abstracted and recombined -in the complex idea always fall vastly short of the fulness of -those given in the real thing; or as he states it in terms of the -multiplication table (Book II. chap. xxxi. sec. 10), ‘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 an hundred times as many ideas go to the -complex idea of gold, as any one man has yet in his; and yet perhaps -that would not be the thousandth part of what is to be discovered -in it.’ These two million properties, and upwards, which await -abstraction in gold, are all, it must be noted, according to Locke’s -statement elsewhere (Book II. chap xxiii. sec. 37), ‘nothing but so -many relations to other substances.’ It is just on account of these -multitudinous relations of the real thing that the understanding is -inadequate to its comprehension. Yet according to Locke’s doctrine of -relation these must all be themselves ‘superinductions of the mind,’ -and the greater the fulness which they constitute, the further is the -distance from the _mere_ individuality which elsewhere, in contrast -with the fictitiousness of ‘generals,’ appears as the equivalent of -real existence. - -Yet, according to the doctrine of relation, a creation of thought. - -49. The real thing and the creation of the understanding thus change -places. That which is given to the understanding as the real, which -it finds and does not make, is not now the bare atom upon which -relations have to be artificially superinduced. Nor is it the -mere present feeling, which has ‘by the mind of man’ to be made -‘significant,’ or representative of past experience. It is itself an -inexhaustible complex of relations, whether they are considered as -subsisting between it and other things, or between the sensations -which it is ‘fitted to produce in us.’ These are the real, which is -thus a system, a community; and if the ‘general,’ as Locke says, -is that which ‘has the capacity of representing many particulars,’ -the real thing itself is general, for it represents--nay, is -constituted by--the manifold particular feelings which, mediately or -immediately, it excites in us. On the other hand, the invention of -the understanding, instead of giving ‘significance’ or content to -the mere individuality of the real, as it does according to Locke’s -theory of ‘generals,’ now appears as detaching fragments from the -fulness of the real to recombine them in an ‘abstract essence’ of its -own. Instead of adding complexity to the simple, it subtracts from -the complex. - -Summary of the above contradictions. - -50. To gather up, then, the lines of contradiction which traverse -Locke’s doctrine of real existence as it appears in his account of -general and complex ideas:--The idea of substance is an abstract -general idea, not given directly in sensation or reflection, but -‘invented by the understanding,’ as by consequence must be ideas of -particular sorts of substances which presuppose the abstract idea. -On the other hand, the ideas of sensation and reflection, from which -the idea of substance is abstracted, and to which as _real_ it as an -_invention_ is opposed, are ideas of ‘something,’ and are only real -as representative of something. But this idea of something = the idea -of substance. Therefore the idea of substance is the presupposition, -and the condition of the reality, of the very ideas from which it -is said to be derived. Again, if the general idea of substance is -got by abstraction, it must be originally given in conjunction with -the ideas of sensation or reflection from which it is afterwards -abstracted, _i.e._ separated. But in such conjunction it constitutes -the ideas of particular sorts of substances. Therefore these latter -ideas, which yet we ‘come to have’ after the general idea of -substance, form the prior experience from which this general idea is -abstracted. Further, this original experience, from which abstraction -starts, being of ‘sorts of substances,’ and these sorts being -constituted by relations, it follows that relation is given in the -original experience. But that which is so given is ‘real existence’ -in opposition to the invention of the understanding. Therefore these -relations, and the community which they constitute, really exist. On -the other hand, mere individuals alone really exist, while relations -between them are superinduced by the mind. Once more, the simple idea -given in sensation or reflection, as it is made _for_ not _by_ us, -has or results from real existence, whereas general and complex ideas -are the workmanship of the mind. But this workmanship consists in the -abstraction of ideas from each other, and from that to which they are -related as qualities. It thus presupposes at once the general idea -of ‘something’ or substance, and the complex idea of qualities of -the something. Therefore it must be general and complex ideas that -are real, as made for and not by us, and that afford the inventive -understanding its material. Yet if so--if they are _given_--why make -them over again by abstraction and recomplication? - -They cannot be overcome without violence to Locke’s fundamental -principles. - -51. We may get over the last difficulty, indeed, by distinguishing -between the complex and confused, between abstraction and analysis. -We may say that what is originally given in experience is the -confused, which to us is simple, or in other words has no definite -content, because, till it has been analysed, nothing can be said of -it, though in itself it is infinitely complex; that thus the process, -which Locke roughly calls abstraction, and which, as he describes -it, consists merely in taking grains from the big heap that is -given in order to make a little heap of one’s own, is yet, rightly -understood, the true process of knowledge--a process which may be -said at once to begin with the complex and to end with it, to take -from the concrete and to constitute it, because it begins with that -which is in itself the fulness of reality, but which only becomes so -for us as it is gradually spelt out by our analysis. To put the case -thus, however, is not to correct Locke’s statement, but wholly to -change his doctrine. It renders futile his easy method of ‘sending -a man to his senses’ for the discovery of reality, and destroys the -supposition that the elements of knowledge can be ascertained by the -interrogation of the individual consciousness. Such consciousness can -tell nothing of its own beginning, if of this beginning, as of the -purely indefinite, nothing can be said; if it only becomes defined -through relations, which in its state of primitive potentiality are -not actually in it. The senses again, so far from being, in that -mere passivity which Locke ascribes to them, organs of ready-made -reality, can have nothing to tell, if it is only through the active -processes of ‘discerning, comparing, and compounding,’ that they -acquire a definite content. But to admit this is nothing else than, -in order to avoid a contradiction of which Locke was not aware, to -efface just that characteristic of his doctrine which commends it to -‘common sense’--the supposition, namely, that the simple datum of -sense, as it is for sense or in its mere individuality, is the real, -in opposition to the ‘invention of the mind.’ That this supposition -is to make the real the unmeaning, the empty, of which nothing can be -said, he did not see because, under an unconscious delusion of words, -even while asserting that the names of simple ideas are undefinable -(Book III. chap. iv. sec. 4), which means that nothing can be said -of such ideas, and while admitting that the processes of discerning, -comparing, and compounding ideas, which mean nothing else than the -bringing them into relation [1] or the superinduction upon them of -fictions of the mind, are necessary to constitute even the beginnings -of knowledge, he yet allows himself to invest the simple idea, as -the real, with those definite qualities which can only accrue to -it, according to his showing, from the ‘inventive’ action of the -understanding. - -[1] Locke only states this explicitly of comparison, ‘an operation -of the mind about its ideas, upon which depends all that large tribe -of ideas, comprehended under relation.’ (Book II. chap. xi. sec. -4.) It is clear, however, that the same remark must apply to the -‘discernment of ideas,’ which is strictly correlative to comparison, -and to their composition, which means that they are brought into -relation as constituents of a whole. - -That these three processes are necessary to constitute the beginnings -of knowledge, according to Locke, appears from Book II. chap. xi. -sec. 15, taken in connection with what precedes in that chapter. - -As real existence, the simple idea carries with it ‘invented’ -relation of cause. - -52. Thus invested, it is already substance or symbolical of -substance, not a mere feeling but a felt thing, recognised either -under that minimum of qualification which enables us merely to say -that it is ‘something,’ or (in Locke’s language) abstract substance, -or under the greater complication of qualities which constitutes -a ‘particular sort of substance’--gold, horse, water, &c. Real -existence thus means substance. It is not the simple idea or -sensation by itself that is real, but this idea as caused by a thing. -It is the thing that is primarily the real; the idea only secondarily -so, because it results from a power in the thing. As we have seen, -Locke’s doctrine of the necessary adequacy, reality, and truth of -the simple idea turns upon the supposition that it is, and announces -itself as, an ‘ectype’ of an ‘archetype.’ But there is not a -different archetype to each sensation; if there were, in ‘reporting’ -it the sensation would do no more than report itself. It is the -supposed single cause of manifold different sensations or simple -ideas, to which a single name is applied. ‘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. ... 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 single idea), and cannot but be adequate -... and so all simple ideas are adequate.’ (Book II. chap. xxxi. -sec. 2.) The sugar, which is here the ‘archetype’ and the source of -reality in the idea, is just what Locke elsewhere calls ‘a particular -sort of substance,’ as the ‘something’ from which a certain set of -sensations result, and in which, as sensible qualities, they inhere. -Strictly speaking, however, according to Locke, that which inheres in -the thing is not the quality, as it is to us, but a power to produce -it. (Book II. chap. viii. sec. 28, and c. xxiii. 37.) - -Correlativity of cause and substance. - -53. In calling a sensation or idea the product of a power, substance -is presupposed just as much as in calling it a sensible quality; -only that with Locke ‘quality’ conveyed the notion of inherence in -the substance, power that of relation to an effect not _in_ the -substance itself. ‘Secondary qualities are nothing but the powers -which _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.’ (Book II. chap, xxiii. sec. 9.) ‘Most of -the simple ideas, that make up our complex ideas of substances, are -only powers ... or relations to other substances (or, as he explains -elsewhere, ‘relations to our perceptions,’ [1]), and are not really -in the substance considered barely in itself.’ (Book II. chap, -xxiii. sec. 37, and xxxi. 8.) That this implies the inclusion of the -idea of cause in that of substance, appears from Locke’s statement -that ‘whatever is considered by us to operate to the producing any -particular simple idea which did not before exist, hath thereby in -our minds the relation of a cause.’ (Book II. chap. xxvi. sec. 1.) -Thus to be conscious of the reality of a simple idea, as that which -is not made by the subject of the idea, but results from a power -in a thing, is to have the idea of substance as cause. This latter -idea must be the condition of the consciousness of reality. If the -consciousness of reality is implied in the beginning of knowledge, so -must the correlative ideas be of cause and substance. - -[1] Book II. chap. xxi. sec. 3. - -How do we know that ideas correspond to reality of things? Locke’s -answer. - -54. On examining Locke’s second rehearsal of his theory in the fourth -book of the Essay--that ‘On Knowledge’--we are led to this result -quite as inevitably as in the book ‘On Ideas.’ He has a special -chapter on the ‘reality of human knowledge,’ where he puts the -problem thus:--‘It is evident the mind knows not things immediately, -but only by the intervention of the ideas it has of them. Our -knowledge therefore is real only so far as there is a conformity -between our ideas and the reality of things. But what shall be here -the criterion? How shall the mind, when it perceives nothing but its -own ideas, know that they agree with things themselves?’ (Book IV. -chap. iv. sec. 3.) It knows this, he proceeds to show, in the case -of simple ideas, because ‘since the mind can by no means make them -to itself, they must be the product of things operating on the mind -in a natural way. ... Simple ideas are not fictions of our fancies, -but the natural and regular productions of things without us, really -operating upon us; and so carry with them all the conformity which -is intended, or which our state requires, for they represent to us -things under those appearances which they are fitted to produce in -us; whereby we are enabled to distinguish the sorts of particular -substances,’ &c. &c. (Book IV. chap. iv. sec. 4.) The whole force -of this passage depends on the notion that simple ideas are already -to the subject of them not his own making, but the product of a -thing, which in its relation to these ideas is a ‘particular sort of -substance.’ It is the reception of such ideas, so related, that Locke -calls ‘sensitive knowledge of particular existence,’ or a ‘perception -of the mind, employed about the particular existence of finite -beings without us.’ (Book IV. chap. ii. sec. 14.) This, however, he -distinguishes from two other ‘degrees of knowledge or certainty,’ -‘intuition’ and ‘demonstration,’ of which the former is attained when -the agreement or disagreement of two ideas is perceived immediately, -the latter when it is perceived mediately through the intervention -of certain other agreements or disagreements (less or more), each of -which must in turn be perceived immediately. Demonstration, being -thus really but a series of intuitions, carries the same certainty -as intuition, only it is a certainty which it requires more or less -pains and attention to apprehend. (Book IV. chap. ii. sec. 4.) Of -the ‘other perception of the mind, employed about the particular -existence of finite beings without us,’ which ‘passes under the -name of knowledge,’ he explains that although ‘going beyond bare -probability, it reaches not perfectly to either of the foregoing -degrees of certainty.’ ‘There can be nothing more certain,’ he -proceeds, ‘than that the idea we receive from an external object -is in our minds; this is intuitive knowledge. But whether there be -anything more than barely that idea in our minds, whether we can -thence certainly infer the existence of anything without us which -corresponds to that idea, is that whereof some men think there may be -a question made; because men may have such ideas in their minds, when -no such thing exists, no such object affects their senses.’ (Book IV. -chap. ii. sec. 14.) - -It assumes that simple ideas are consciously referred to things that -cause them. - -55. It is clear that here in his very statement of the question -Locke begs the answer. If the intuitive certainty is that ‘the idea -we _receive from an external object_ is in our minds,’ [1] how is -it possible to doubt whether such an object exists and affects -our senses? This impossibility of speaking of the simple idea, -except as received from an object, may account for Locke’s apparent -inconsistency in finding the assurance of the reality of knowledge -(under the phrase ‘evidence of the senses’) just in that ‘perception’ -which reaches not to intuitive or demonstrative certainty, and only -‘passes under the name of knowledge.’ In the passage just quoted he -shows that he is cognizant of the distinction between the simple -idea and the perception of an existence corresponding to it, and in -consequence distinguishes this perception from proper intuition, but -in the very statement of the distinction it eludes him. The simple -idea, as he speaks of it, becomes itself, as consciously ‘received -from an external object,’ the perception of existence; just as we -have previously seen it become the judgment of identity or perception -of the ‘agreement of an idea with itself,’ which is his first kind of -knowledge. - -[1] I do not now raise the question, What are here the ideas, which -must be immediately perceived to agree or disagree in order to make -it a case of ‘intuitive certainty’ or knowledge according to Locke’s -definition. See below, paragraphs 59, 101, and 147. - -Lively ideas real, because they must be effects of things. - -56. In short, with Locke the simple idea, the perception of existence -corresponding to the idea, and the judgment of identity, are -absolutely merged, and in mutual involution, sometimes under one -designation, sometimes under another, are alike presented as the -beginning of knowledge. As occasion requires, each does duty for the -other. Thus, if the ‘reality of knowledge’ be in question, the simple -idea, which is given, is treated as involving the perception of -existence, and the reality is established. If in turn this perception -is distinguished from the simple idea, and it is asked whether the -correspondence between idea and existence is properly matter of -knowledge, the simple idea has only to be treated as involving the -judgment of identity, which again involves that of existence, and -the question is answered. So in the context under consideration -(Book IV. chap. ii. sec. 14), after raising the question as to the -existence of a thing corresponding to the idea, he answers it by -the counter question, ‘whether anyone is not invincibly conscious -to himself of a different perception, when he looks on the sun by -day, and thinks on it by night; when he actually tastes wormwood, or -smells a rose, or only thinks on that savour or odour? We as plainly -find the difference there is between any idea revived in our minds -by our own memory, and actually coming into our minds by our senses, -as we do between any two distinct ideas.’ The force of the above -lies in its appeal to the perception of identity, or--to apply the -language in which Locke describes this perception--the knowledge that -the idea which a man calls the smell of a rose is the very idea it -is. [1] The mere difference in liveliness between the present and -the recalled idea, which, as Berkeley and Hume rightly maintained, -is the only difference between them as mere ideas, cannot by itself -constitute the difference between the knowledge of the presence of a -thing answering to the idea and the knowledge of its absence. It can -only do this if the more lively idea is _identified_ with past lively -ideas as a representation of one and the same thing which ‘agrees -with itself’ in contrast to the multiplicity of the sensations, -its signs. Only in virtue of this identification can either the -liveliness of the idea show that the thing--the sun or the rose--is -there, or the want of liveliness that it is not, for without it there -would be no thing to be there or not to be there. It is because -this identification is what Locke understands by the first sort of -perception of agreement between ideas, and because he virtually finds -this perception again in the simple idea, that the simple idea is -to him the index of reality. But if so, the idea in its primitive -simplicity is the sign of a thing that is ever the same in the same -relations, and we find the ‘workmanship of the mind,’ its inventions -of substance, cause, and relation, in the very rudiments of knowledge. - -[1] See above, paragraph 25. - -Present sensation gives knowledge of existence. - -57. With that curious tendency to reduplication, which is one of his -characteristics, Locke, after devoting a chapter to the ‘reality of -human knowledge,’ of which the salient passage as to simple ideas has -been already quoted, has another upon our ‘knowledge of existence.’ -Here again it is the sensitive knowledge of things actually present -to our senses, which with him is merely a synonym for the simple -idea, that is the prime criterion. (Book IV. chap. iii. secs. 5 and -2, and chap. ii. sec. 2.) After speaking of the knowledge of our own -being and of the existence of a God (about which more will be said -below), he proceeds, ‘No particular man can know the existence of any -other being, but only when, by actually operating upon him, it makes -itself perceived by him. For the having the idea of anything in our -mind no more proves the existence of that thing, than the picture of -a man evidences his being in the world, or the visions of a dream -make thereby a true history. It is therefore the actual receiving of -ideas from without, that gives us notice of the existence of other -things, and makes us know that something doth exist at that time -without us, which causes that idea in us, though perhaps we neither -know nor consider how it does it; for it takes not from the certainty -of our senses and the ideas we receive by them, that we know not the -manner wherein they are produced; _e.g._ whilst I write this, I have, -by the paper affecting my eyes, that idea produced in my mind, which, -whatever object causes, I call _white_; by which I know that the -quality or accident (_i.e._ whose appearance before my eyes always -causes that idea) doth really exist, and hath a being without me. And -of this the greatest assurance. I can possibly have, and to which -my faculties can attain, is the testimony of my eyes, which are the -proper and sole judges of this thing, whose testimony I have reason -to rely on, as so certain, that I can no more doubt whilst I write -this, that I see white and black, and that something really exists -that causes that sensation in me, than that I write and move my -hand.’ (Book IV. chap. xi. secs. 1, 2.) - -Reasons why its testimony must be trusted. - -58. Reasons are afterwards given for the assurance that the -‘perceptions’ in question are produced in us by ‘exterior causes -affecting our senses.’ The first _(a)_ is, that ‘those that want -the organs of any sense never can have the ideas belonging to that -sense produced in their mind.’ The next _(b)_, that whereas ‘if -I turn my eyes at noon toward the sun, I cannot avoid the ideas -which the light or the sun then produces in me;’ on the other hand, -‘when my eyes are shut or windows fast, as I can at pleasure recall -to my mind the ideas of light or the sun, which former sensations -had lodged in my memory, so I can at pleasure lay them by.’ Again -_(c)_, ‘many of those ideas are produced in us with pain which -afterwards we remember without the least offence. Thus the pain of -heat or cold, when the idea of it is revived in our minds, gives -us no disturbance; which, when felt, was very troublesome, and is -again, when actually repeated; which is occasioned by the disorder -the external object causes in our body, when applied to it.’ Finally -(d), ‘our senses in many cases bear witness to the truth of each -other’s report, concerning the existence of sensible things without -us. He that sees a fire may, if he doubt whether it be anything -more than a bare fancy, feel it too.’ Then comes the conclusion, -dangerously qualified: ‘When our senses do actually convey into our -understandings any idea, we cannot but be satisfied that there doth -something at that time really exist without us, which doth affect -our senses, and by them give notice of itself to our apprehensive -faculties, and actually produce that idea which we then perceive; -and we cannot so far distrust their testimony as to doubt that such -collections of simple ideas, as we have observed by our senses to -be united together, actually exist together. But this knowledge -extends as far as the present testimony of our senses, employed about -particular objects, that do then affect them, and no farther. For -if I saw such a collection of simple ideas as is wont to be called -man, existing together one minute since, and am now alone; I cannot -be certain that the same man exists now, since there is no necessary -connexion of his existence a minute since with his existence now. By -a thousand ways he may cease to be, since I had the testimony of my -senses for his existence.’ (Book IV. chap. xi. sec. 9.) - -How does this account fit Locke’s definition of knowledge? - -59. Upon the ‘knowledge of the existence of things,’ thus -established, it has to be remarked in the first place that, after -all, according to Locke’s explicit statement, it is not properly -knowledge. It is ‘an assurance that deserves the name of knowledge’ -(Book IV. chap. ii. sec. 14, and xi. sec. 3), yet being neither -itself an intuition of agreement between ideas, nor resoluble into a -series of such intuitions, the definition of knowledge excludes it. -Only if existence were itself an ‘idea,’ would the consciousness of -the agreement of the idea with it be a case of knowledge; but to make -existence an idea is to make the whole question about the agreement -of ideas, as such, with existence, as such, unmeaning. To seek escape -from this dilemma by calling the consciousness of the agreement -in question an ‘assurance’ instead of knowledge is a mere verbal -subterfuge. There can be no assurance of agreement between an idea -and that which is no object of consciousness at all. If, however, -existence is an object of consciousness, it can, according to Locke, -be nothing but an idea, and the question as to the _assurance_ -of agreement is no less unmeaning than the question as to the -_knowledge_ of it. The raising of the question in fact, as Locke puts -it, implies the impossibility of answering it. It cannot be raised -with any significance, unless existence is external to and other than -an idea. It cannot be answered unless existence is, or is given in, -an object of consciousness, _i.e._ an idea. - -Locke’s account of the testimony of sense renders his question as to -its veracity superfluous. - -60. As usual, Locke disguises this difficulty from himself, because -in answering the question he alters it. The question, _as he asks -it_, is whether, given the idea, we can have posterior assurance of -something else corresponding to it. The question, _as he answers -it_, is whether the idea includes the consciousness of a real thing -as a constituent; and the answer consists in the simple assertion, -variously repeated, that it does. It is clear, however, that this -answer to the latter question does not answer, but renders unmeaning, -the question as it is originally asked. If, according to Locke’s own -showing, there is nowhere for anything to be found by us but in our -‘ideas’ or our consciousness--if the _thing_ is given in and with the -idea, so that the idea is merely the thing _ex parte nostrâ_--then to -ask if the idea agrees with the thing is as futile as to ask whether -hearing agrees with sound, or the voice with the words it utters. -That the thing is so given is implied throughout Locke’s statement -of the ‘assurance we have of the existence of material beings,’ as -well as of the confirmations of this assurance. If the ‘idea which -I call white’ means the knowledge that ‘the property or accident -(_i.e._ whose appearance before my eyes always causes that idea) -doth really exist and hath a being without me,’ then consciousness -of existence--outward, permanent, substantive, and causative -existence--is involved in the idea, and no ulterior question of -agreement between idea and existence can properly arise. But unless -the simple idea is so interpreted, the senses have no testimony to -give. If it is so interpreted, no extraneous ‘reason to rely upon -the testimony’ can be discovered, for such reason can only be a -repetition of the testimony itself. - -Confirmations of the testimony turn upon the distinction between -‘impression’ and ‘idea’. - -61. This becomes clearer upon a view of the confirmations of the -testimony, as Locke gives them. They all, we may remark by the way, -presuppose a distinction between the simple idea as originally -represented and the same as recalled or revived. This distinction, -fixed by the verbal one between ‘impression’ and ‘idea,’ we shall -find constantly maintained and all-important in Hume’s system; but in -Locke, though upon it (as we shall see) rests his distinction between -real and nominal essence and his confinement of general knowledge -to the latter, it seems only to turn up as an afterthought. In the -account of the reality and adequacy of ideas it does not appear at -all. There the distinction is merely between the simple idea, as -such, and the complex, as such, without any further discrimination of -the simple idea as originally produced from the same as recalled. So, -too, in the opening account of the reception of simple ideas (Book -II. chap. xii. sec. 1), ‘Perception,’ ‘Retention,’ and ‘Discerning’ -are all reckoned together as alike forms of the _passivity_ of the -mind, in contrast with its activity in combination and abstraction, -though retention and discerning have been previously described -in terms which imply activity. In the ‘confirmations’ before us, -however, the distinction between the originally produced and the -revived is essential. - -They depend on language which presupposes the ascription of sensation -to an outward cause. - -62. The first turns upon the impossibility of producing an idea _de -novo_ without the action of sensitive organs; the two next upon -the difference between the idea as produced through these organs -and the like idea as revived at the will of the individual. It is -hence inferred that the idea as originally produced is the work of -a thing, which must exist _in rerum naturâ_, and by way of a fourth -‘confirmation’ the man who doubts this in the case of one sensation -is invited to try it in another. If, on seeing a fire, he thinks it -‘bare fancy,’ _i.e._ doubts whether his idea is caused by a thing, -let him put his hand into it. This last ‘confirmation’ need not be -further noticed here, since the operation of a producing thing is -as certain or as doubtful for one sensation as for another. [1] Two -certainties are not more sure than one, nor can two doubts make a -certainty. The other ‘confirmations’ alike lie in the words ‘product’ -and ‘organ.’ A man has a certain ‘idea:’ afterwards he has another -like it, but differing in liveliness and in the accompanying pleasure -or pain. If he already has, or if the ideas severally bring with -them, the idea of a producing outward thing to which parts of his -body are organs, on the one hand, and of a self ‘having power’ on the -other, then the liveliness, and the accompanying pleasure or pain, -may become indications of the action of the thing, as their absence -may be so of the action of the man’s self; but not otherwise. Locke -throughout, in speaking of the simple ideas as produced or recalled, -implies that they carry with them the consciousness of a cause, -either an outward thing or the self, and only by so doing can he find -in them the needful ‘confirmations’ of the ‘testimony of the senses.’ -This testimony is confirmed just because it distinguishes of itself -between the work of ‘nature,’ which is real, and the work of the -man, which is a fiction. In other words, the confirmation is nothing -else than the testimony itself--a testimony which, as we have seen, -since it supposes consciousness, as such, to be consciousness _of a -thing_, eliminates by anticipation the question as to the agreement -of consciousness with things, as with the extraneous. - -[1] To feel the object, in the sense of touching it, had a special -significance for Locke, since touch with him was the primary -‘revelation’ of body, as the solid. More will be said of this when we -come to consider his doctrine of ‘real essence,’ as constituted by -primary qualities of body. See below, paragraph 101. - -This ascription means the clothing of sensation with invented -relations. - -63. The distinction between the real and the fantastic, according -to the passages under consideration, thus depends upon that between -the work of nature and the work of man. It is the confusion between -the two works that renders the fantastic possible, while it is the -consciousness of the distinction that sets us upon correcting it. -Where all is the work of man and professes to be no more, as in the -case of ‘mixed modes,’ there is no room for the fantastic (Book II. -chap. xxx. sec. 4, and Book IV. chap. iv. sec. 7); and where there -is ever so much of the fantastic, it would not be so for us, unless -we were conscious of a ‘work of nature,’ to which to oppose it. But -on looking a little closer we find that to be conscious of an idea -as the work of nature, in opposition to the work of man, is to be -conscious of it under relations which, according to Locke, are the -inventions of man. It is nothing else than to be conscious of it as -the result of ‘something having power to produce it’ (Book II. chap. -xxxi. sec. 2), _i.e._ of a substance, to which it is related as a -quality. ‘Nature’ is just the ‘something we know not what,’ which -is substance according to the ‘_abstract_ idea’ thereof. Producing -ideas, it exercises powers, as it essentially belongs to substance -to do, according to our _complex_ idea of it. (Book II. chap, xxiii. -secs. 9, 10.) But substance, according to Locke, whether as abstract -or complex idea, is the ‘workmanship of the mind,’ and power, as a -relation (Book II. chap. xxi. sec. 3, and chap. xxv. sec. 8), ‘is -not contained in the real existence of things.’ Again, the idea of -substance, as a source of power, is the same as the idea of cause. -‘Whatever is considered by us to operate to the producing any -particular simple idea, which did not before exist, hath thereby in -our minds the relation of a cause.’ (Book II. chap. xxvi. sec. 1.) -But the idea of cause is not one ‘that the mind has of things as they -are in themselves,’ but one that it gets by its own act in ‘bringing -things to, and setting them by, one another.’ (Book II. chap. xxv. -sec. 1.) Thus it is with the very ideas, which are the workmanship -of man, that the simple idea has to be clothed upon, in order to -‘testify’ to its being real, _i.e._ (in Locke’s sense) not the work -of man. - -What is meant by restricting the testimony of sense to _present_ -existence? - -64. Thus invested, the simple idea has clearly lost its simplicity. -It is not the momentary, isolated consciousness, but the -representation of a thing determined by relations to other things -in an order of nature, and causing an infinite series of resembling -sensations to which a common name is applied. Thus in all the -instances of sensuous testimony mentioned in the chapter before -us, it is not really a simple sensation that is spoken of, but a -sensation referred to a thing--not a mere smell, or taste, or sight, -or feeling, but the smell of a rose, the taste of a pine-apple, the -sight of the sun, the feeling of fire. (Book IV. chap. xi. secs. -4-7.) Immediately afterwards, however, reverting or attempting to -revert to his strict doctrine of the mere individuality of the -simple idea, he says that the testimony of the senses is a ‘present -testimony employed about particular objects, that do then affect -them,’ and that sensitive knowledge extends no farther than such -testimony. This statement, taken by itself, is ambiguous. Does it -mean that sensation testifies to the momentary presence to the -individual of a continuous existence, or is the existence itself as -momentary as its presence to sense? The instance that follows does -not remove the doubt. ‘If I saw such a collection of simple ideas -as is wont to be called _man_, existing together one minute since, -and am now alone; I cannot be certain that the same man exists now, -since there is no necessary connection of his existence a minute -since with his existence now.’ (Book IV. chap. xi. sec. 9.) At first -sight, these words might seem to decide that the existence is merely -coincident with the presence of the sensation--a decision fatal to -the distinction between the real and fantastic, since, if the thing -is only present with the sensation, there can be no combination -of qualities in reality other than the momentary coincidence of -sensations in us. Memory or imagination, indeed, might recall these -in a different order from that in which they originally occurred; -but, if this original order had no being after the occurrence, there -could be no ground for contrasting it with the order of reproduction -as the real with the merely apparent. - -Such restriction, if maintained, would render the testimony unmeaning. - -65. In the very sentence, however, where Locke restricts the -testimony of sensation to existence present along with it, he uses -language inconsistent with this restriction. The particular existence -which he instances as ‘testified to’ is that of ‘such a collection -of simple ideas as is wont to be called man.’ But these ideas can -only be present in succession. (See Book II. chap. vii. sec. 9, and -chap. xiv. sec. 3.) Even the surface of the man’s body can only be -taken in by successive acts of vision; and, more obviously, the -states of consciousness in which his qualities of motion and action -are presented occupy separate times. If then sensation only testifies -to an existence present along with it, how can it testify to the -co-existence (say) of an erect attitude, of which I have a present -sight, with the risibility which I saw a minute ago? How can the -‘collection of ideas wont to be called man,’ _as co-existing_, be -formed at all? and, if it cannot, how can the present existence of -an object so-called be testified to by sense any more than the past? -The same doctrine, which is fatal to the supposition of ‘a necessary -connexion between the man’s existence a minute since and his -existence now,’ is in fact fatal to the supposition of his existence -as a complex of qualities at all. It does not merely mean that, for -anything we know, the man may have died. Of course he may, and yet -there may be continuity of existence according to natural laws, -though not one for which we have the testimony of present sense, -between the living body and the dead. What Locke had in his mind -was the notion that, as existence is testified to only by present -sensation, and each sensation is merely individual and momentary, -there could be no testimony to the continued existence of anything. -He could not, however, do such violence to the actual fabric of -knowledge as would have been implied in the logical development of -this doctrine, and thus he allowed himself to speak of sense as -testifying to the co-existence of sensible qualities in a thing, -though the individual sensation could only testify to the presence of -one at a time, and could never testify to their _nexus_ in a common -cause at all. This testimony to co-existence in a present thing once -admitted, he naturally allowed himself in the further assumption -that the testimony, on its recurrence, is a testimony to the same -co-existence and the same thing. The existence of the same man (he -evidently supposes), to which sensation testified an hour ago, may be -testified to by a like sensation now. This means that resemblance of -sensation becomes identity of a thing--that like sensations occurring -at different times are interpreted as representing the same thing, -which continuously exists, though not testified to by sense, between -the times. - -But it is not maintained: the testimony is to operation of permanent -identical things. - -66. In short, as we have seen the simple idea of sensation emerge -from Locke’s inquiry as to the beginning of knowledge transformed -into the judgment, ‘I have an idea different from other ideas -which I did not make for myself,’ so now from the inquiry as to -the correspondence between knowledge and reality it emerges as the -consciousness of a thing now acting upon me, which has continued -to exist since it acted on me before, and in which, as in a common -cause, have existed together powers to affect me which have never -affected me together. If in the one form the operation of thought in -sense, the ‘creation of the understanding’ within the simple idea, -is only latent or potential, in the other it is actual and explicit. -The relations of substance and quality, of cause and effect, and of -identity--all ‘inventions of the mind’--are necessarily involved in -the immediate, spontaneous testimony of passive sense. - -Locke’s treatment of relations of cause and identity. - -67. It will be noticed that it is upon the first of these, the -relation of substance and quality, that our examination of Locke’s -Essay has so far chiefly gathered. In this it follows the course -taken by Locke himself. Of the idea of substance, _eo nomine_, he -treats at large: of cause and identity (apart from the special -question of personal identity) he says little. So, too, the ‘report -of the senses’ is commonly exhibited as announcing the sensible -qualities of a thing rather than the agency of a cause or continuity -of existence. The difference, of course, is mainly verbal. Sensible -qualities being, as Locke constantly insists, nothing but ‘powers -to operate on our senses’ directly or indirectly, the substance -or thing, as the source of these, takes the character of a cause. -Again, as the sensible quality is supposed to be one and the same in -manifold separate cases of being felt, it has identity in contrast -with the variety of these cases, even as the thing has, on its part, -in contrast with the variety of its qualities. Something, however, -remains to be said of Locke’s treatment of the ideas of cause and -identity in the short passages where he treats of them expressly. -Here, too, we shall find the same contrast between the given and the -invented, tacitly contradicted by an account of the given in terms of -the invented. - -That from which he derives idea of cause pre-supposes it. - -68. The relation of cause and effect, according to Locke’s general -statement as to relation, must be something ‘not contained in the -real existence of things, but extraneous and superinduced.’ (Book II. -chap. xxv. sec. 8.) It is a ‘complex idea,’ not belonging to things -as they are in themselves, which the mind makes by its own act. -(Book II. chap xii. secs. 1, 7, and chap. xxv. sec. 1.) Its origin, -however, is thus described:--‘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.’ Here we find that the ‘given,’ upon which -the relation of cause and effect is ‘superinduced’ or from which the -‘idea of it is got’ (to give Locke the benefit of both expressions), -professedly, according to the first sentence of the passage quoted, -involves the complex or derived idea of substance. The sentence, -indeed, is a remarkable instance of the double refraction which -arises from redundant phraseology. Our senses are supposed to ‘take -notice of a constant vicissitude of things,’ or substances. Thereupon -we observe, what is necessarily implied in this vicissitude, a -beginning of existence in substances or their qualities, ‘received -from the due application or operation of some other being.’ Thereupon -we infer, what is simply another name for existence thus given -and received, a relation of cause and effect. Thus not only does -the _datum_ of the process of ‘invention’ in question, _i.e._ the -observation of change in a thing, involve a _derived_ idea, but a -derived idea which presupposes just this process of invention. - -Rationale of this ‘petitio principii’. - -69. Here again it is necessary to guard against the notion that -Locke’s obvious _petitio principii_ might be avoided by a better -statement without essential change in his doctrine of ideas. It is -true that ‘a notice of the vicissitude of things’ includes that -‘invention of the understanding’ which it is supposed to suggest, -but state the primary knowledge otherwise--reduce the vicissitude of -things, as it ought to be reduced, in order to make Locke consistent, -to the mere multiplicity of sensations--and the appearance of -suggestion ceases. Change or ‘vicissitude’ is quite other than mere -diversity. It is diversity relative to something which maintains an -identity. This identity, which ulterior analysis may find in a ‘law -of nature,’ Locke found in ‘things’ or ‘substances.’ By the same -unconscious subreption, by which with him a sensible thing takes -the place of sensation, ‘vicissitude of things’ takes the place of -multiplicity of sensations, carrying with it the observation that -the changed state of the thing is due to something else. The mere -multiplicity of sensations could convey no such ‘observation,’ any -more than the sight of counters in a row would convey the notion -that one ‘received its existence’ from the other. Only so far as the -manifold appearances are referred, as its vicissitudes, to something -which remains one, does any need of accounting for their diverse -existence, or in consequence any observation of its derivation ‘from -some other being,’ arise. Locke, it is true, after stating that it -is upon a notice of the vicissitude of things that the observation -in question rests, goes on to speak as if an _origination_ of -substances, which is just the opposite of their vicissitude, might be -observed; and the second instance of production which he gives--that -of ashes upon the burning of wood--seems intended for an instance -of the production of a substance, as distinct from the production -of a quality. He is here, however, as he often does, using the term -‘substance’ loosely, for ‘a certain collection of simple ideas,’ -without reference to the ‘substratum wherein they do subsist,’ which -he would have admitted to be ultimately the same for the wood and -for the ashes. The conception, indeed, of such a substratum, whether -vaguely as ‘nature,’ or more precisely as a ‘real constitution of -insensible parts’ (Book III. chap. iii. secs. 18, &c.), governed all -his speculation, and rendered to him what he here calls _substance_ -virtually a _mode_, and its production properly a ‘vicissitude.’ - -Relation of cause has to be put into sensitive experience in order to -be got from it. - -70. We thus find that it is only so far as simple ideas are referred -to things--only so far as each in turn, to use Locke’s instance, -is regarded as an appearance ‘in a substance which was not in it -before’--that our sensitive experience, the supposed _datum_ of -knowledge, is an experience of the vicissitudes of things; and again, -that only as an experience of such vicissitude does it furnish the -‘observation from which we get our ideas of cause and effect.’ But -the reference of a sensation to a sensible thing means its reference -to a cause. In other words, the invented relation of cause and effect -must be found in the primary experience in order that it may be got -from it. [1] - -[1] Locke’s contradiction of himself in regard to this relation might -be exhibited in a still more striking light by putting side by side -with his account of it his account of the idea of power. The two are -precisely similar, the idea of power being represented as got by a -notice of the alteration of simple ideas in things without (Book II. -chap. xxi. sec. 1), just as the idea of cause and effect is. Power, -too, he expressly says, is a relation. Yet, although the idea of it, -both as derived and as of a relation, ought to be complex, he reckons -it a simple and original one, and by using it interchangeably with -‘sensible quality’ makes it a primary _datum_ of sense. - -Origin of the idea of identity according to Locke. - -71. The same holds of that other ‘product of the mind,’ the -relation of identity. This ‘idea’ according to Locke, is formed -when, ‘considering anything as existing at any determined time and -place, we compare it with itself existing at another time.’ ‘In this -consists identity,’ he adds, ‘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.’ -He goes on to inquire about the _principium individuationis_, which -he decides is ‘existence itself, which determines a being of any sort -to a particular time and place, incommunicable to two beings of the -same kind ... 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.’ (Book II. -chap, xxvii. secs. 1-3). - -Relation of identity not to be distinguished from idea of it. - -72. It is essential to bear in mind with regard to identity, as -with regard to cause and effect, that no distinction according to -Locke can legitimately be made between the relation and the idea -of the relation. As to substance, it is true, he was driven in his -controversy with Stillingfleet to distinguish between ‘the being -and the idea thereof,’ but in dealing with relation he does not -attempt any such violence to his proper system. Between the ‘idea’ as -such and ‘being’ as such, his ‘new way of ideas,’ as Stillingfleet -plaintively called it, left no fair room for distinction. In -this indeed lay its permanent value for speculative thought. The -distinction by which alone it could consistently seek to replace the -old one, so as to meet the exigencies of language and knowledge, -was that between simple ideas, as given and necessarily real, and -the reproductions or combinations in which the mind may alter them. -But since every relation implies a putting together of ideas, and -is thus always, as Locke avows, a complex idea or the work of the -mind, a distinction between its being and the idea thereof, in that -sense of the distinction in which alone it can ever be consistently -admitted by Locke, was clearly inadmissible. Thus in the passages -before us the relation of identity is not explicitly treated as an -original ‘being’ or ‘existence,’ It is an idea formed by the mind -upon a certain ‘consideration of things’ being or existent. But on -looking closely at Locke’s account, we find that it is only so far as -it already belongs to, nay constitutes, the things, that it is formed -upon consideration of them. - -This ‘invented’ relation forms the ‘very being of things’. - -73. When it is said that the idea of identity, or of any other -relation, is formed upon consideration of things as existing in a -certain way, this is naturally understood to mean--indeed, otherwise -it is unmeaning--that the things are first _known_ as existing, and -that afterwards the idea of the relation in question is formed. But -according to Locke, as we have seen, [1] the first and simplest act -of knowledge possible is the perception of identity between ideas. -Either then the ‘things,’ upon consideration of which the idea of -identity is formed, are not known at all, or the knowledge of them -involves the very idea afterwards formed on consideration of them. -Locke, having at whatever cost of self-contradiction to make his -theory fit the exigencies of language, virtually adopts the latter -alternative, though with an ambiguity of expression which makes a -definite meaning difficult to elicit. We have, however, the positive -statement to begin with, that the comparison in which the relation -originates, is of a thing with itself as existing at another time. -Again, the ‘ideas’ (used interchangeably with ‘things’), to which -identity is attributed, ‘vary not at all from what they were at -that moment wherein we consider their former existence.’ It is here -clearly implied that ‘things’ or ‘ideas’ _exist_, _i.e._ are given -to us in the spontaneous consciousness which we do not make, as each -one and the same throughout a multiplicity of times. This, again, -means that the relation of identity or sameness, _i.e._ unity of -thing under multiplicity of appearance, belongs to or consists in -the ‘very being’ of those given objects of consciousness, which -are in Locke’s sense the real, and upon which according to him all -relation is superinduced by an after-act of thought. So long as each -such object ‘continues to exist,’ so long its ‘sameness with itself -must continue,’ and this sameness is the complex idea, the relation, -of identity. Just as before, following Locke’s lead, we found the -simple idea, as the element of knowledge, become complex--a perceived -identity of ideas; so now mere existence, the ‘very being of things’ -(which with Locke is only another name for the simple idea), resolves -itself into a relation, which it requires ‘consideration by the mind’ -to constitute. - -[1] See above, paragraph 25. - -Locke fails to distinguish between identity and mere unity. - -74. The process of self-contradiction, by which a ‘creation of the -mind’ finds its way into the real or given, must also appear in a -contradictory conception of the real itself. Kept pure of all that -Locke reckons intellectual fiction, it can be nothing but a simple -chaos of individual units: only by the superinduction of relation -can there be sameness, or continuity of existence, in the minutest -of these for successive moments. Locke presents it arbitrarily under -the conception of mere individuality or of continuity, according -as its distinction from the work of the mind, or its intelligible -content, happens to be before him. A like see-saw in his account of -the individuality and generality of ideas has already been noticed. -[1] In his discussion of identity the contradiction is partly -disguised by a confusion between mere unity on the one hand, and -sameness or unity in difference, on the other. Thus, after starting -with an account of identity as belonging to ideas which are the same -_at different times_, he goes on to speak of a thing as the same -with itself, _at a single instant_. So, too, by the _principium -individuationis_, he understands ‘existence itself, which determines -a being of any sort to a particular time and place.’ As it is clear -from the context that by the _principium individuationis_ he meant -the source of identity or sameness, it will follow that by ‘sameness’ -he understood singleness of a thing in a single time and place. -Whence then the plurality, without which ‘sameness’ is unmeaning? In -fact, Locke, having excluded it in his definition, covertly brings -it back again in his instance, which is that of ‘an atom, _i.e._ -a continued body under one immutable superficies, existing in a -determined time and place.’ This, ‘considered in any instant of its -existence, is in that instant the same with itself.’ But it is so -because--and, if we suppose the consideration of plurality of _times_ -excluded, only because--it is a ‘_continued_’ body, which implies, -though its place be determined, that it exists _in a plurality of -parts of space_. Either this plurality, or that of instants of its -existence, must be recognised in contrast with the unity of body, -if this unity is to become ‘sameness with itself.’ In adding that -not only at the supposed instant is the atom the same, but ‘so must -continue as long as its existence continues,’ Locke shows that he -really thought of the identical body under a plurality of times _ex -parte post_, if not _ex parte ante_. - -[1] See above, paragraphs 43, and the following. - -Feelings are the real, and do not admit of identity. How then can -identity be real? - -75. But how is this continuity, or sameness of existence in plurality -of times or spaces, compatible with the constitution of ‘real -existence’ by mere _individua_? The difficulty is the same, according -to Locke’s premisses, whether the simple ideas by themselves are -taken for the real _individua_, or whether each is taken to represent -a single separate thing. In his chapter on identity he expressly -says that ‘things whose existence is in succession’ do not admit -of identity. Such, he adds, are motion and thought; ‘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.’ (Book I. chap, xxvii. sec. 2.) What he -here calls ‘thought’ clearly includes the passive consciousness in -which alone, according to his strict doctrine, reality is given. So -elsewhere (Book II. chap. vii. sec. 9), in accounting for the ‘simple -idea of succession,’ he says generally that ‘if we look immediately -into ourselves we shall find our ideas always, whilst we have any -thought, passing in train, one going and another coming, without -intermission.’ [1] No statement of the ‘perpetual flux’ of ideas, -as each having a separate beginning and end, and ending in the very -moment when it begins, can be stronger than the above. If ‘ideas’ of -any sort, according to this account of them, are to constitute real -existence, no sameness can be found in reality. It must indeed be a -relation ‘invented by the mind.’ - -[1] It is true that in this place Locke distinguishes between the -‘suggestion by our senses’ of the idea of succession, and that which -passes in our ‘minds,’ by which it is ‘more constantly offered us.’ -But since, according to him, the idea of sensation must be ‘produced -in the mind’ if there is to be any either sensation or idea at all -(Book II. chap, ix. secs. 3 and 4), the distinction between the -‘suggestion by our senses’ and what passes in our minds’ cannot be -maintained. - -Yet it is from reality that the idea of it is derived. - -76. This, it may be said, is just the conclusion that was wanted in -order to make Locke’s doctrine of the particular relation of identity -correspond with his general doctrine of the fictitiousness of -relations. To complete the consistency, however, his whole account of -the origin of the relation (or of the idea in which it consists) must -be changed, since it supposes it to be derived from an observation -of things or existence, which again is to suppose sameness to be -in the things or to be real. This change made, philosophy would -have to start anew with the problem of accounting for the origin of -the fictitious idea. It would have to explain how it comes to pass -that the mind, if its function consists solely in reproducing and -combining given ideas, or again in ‘abstracting’ combined ideas from -each other, should be able to invent a relation which is neither a -given idea, nor a reproduction, combination, or abstract residuum -of given ideas. This is the great problem which we shall find Hume -attempting. Locke really never saw its necessity, because the -dominion of language--a dominion which, as he did not recognise it, -he had no need to account for--always, in spite of his assertion that -simple ideas are the sole _data_ of consciousness, held him to the -belief in another _datum_ of which ideas are the appearances, viz., a -thing having identity, because the same with itself in the manifold -times of its appearance. This _datum_, under various guises, but -in each demonstrably, according to Locke’s showing, a ‘creation of -thought,’ has met us in all the modes of his theory, as the condition -of knowledge. As the ‘abstract idea’ of substance it renders -‘perishing’ ideas into qualities by which objects may be discerned. -(Book II. chap. xi. sec. 1.) As the relative idea of cause, it makes -them ‘affections’ to be accounted for. As the fiction of a universal, -it is the condition of their mutual qualification as constituents of -a whole. Finally, as the ‘superinduced’ relation of sameness, the -direct negative of the perpetual beginning and ending of ‘ideas,’ it -constitutes the ‘very being of things.’ - -Transition to Locke’s doctrine of essence. - -77. ‘The very being of things,’ let it be noticed, according to -what Locke reckoned their ‘real,’ as distinct from their ‘nominal,’ -essence. The consideration of this distinction has been hitherto -postponed; but the discussion of the relation of identity, as -subsisting between the parts of a ‘continued body,’ brings us upon -the doctrine of matter and its ‘primary qualities,’ which cannot be -properly treated except in connection with the other doctrine (which -Locke unhappily kept apart) of the two sorts of ‘essence.’ So far, -it will be remembered, the ‘facts’ or _given_ ideas, which we have -found him unawares converting into theories or ‘invented’ ideas, have -been those of the ‘secondary qualities of body.’ [1] It is these -which are united into things or substances, having been already -‘found in them:’ it is from these that we ‘infer’ the relation of -cause and effect, because as ‘vicissitudes of things’ or ‘affections -of sense’ they presuppose it: it is these again which, as ‘received -from without,’ testify the present existence of something, because -in being so received they are already interpreted as ‘appearances -of something.’ That the ‘thing,’ by reference to which these ideas -are judged to be ‘real,’ ‘adequate,’ and ‘true’--or, in other words, -become elements of a knowledge--is yet itself according to Locke’s -doctrine of substance and relation a ‘fiction of thought,’ has been -sufficiently shown. That it is so no less according to his doctrine -of essence will also appear. The question will then be, whether -by the same showing the ideas of body, of the self, and of God, -can be other than fictions, and the way will be cleared for Hume’s -philosophic adventure of accounting for them as such. - -[1] See above, paragraph 20. - -This repeats the inconsistency found in his doctrine of substance. - -78. In Locke’s doctrine of ‘ideas of substances,’ the ‘thing’ -appeared in two inconsistent positions: on the one hand, as that in -which they ‘are found;’ on the other, as that which results from -their concretion, or which, such concretion having been made, we -accustom ourselves to suppose as its basis. This inconsistency, -latent to Locke himself in the theory of substance, comes to the -surface in the theory of essence, where it is (as he thought) -overcome, but in truth only made more definite, by a distinction of -terms. - -Plan to be followed. - -79. This latter theory has so far become part and parcel of the -‘common sense’ of educated men, that it might seem scarcely to need -restatement. It is generally regarded as completing the work, which -Bacon had begun, of transferring philosophy from the scholastic -bondage of words to the fruitful discipline of facts. In the -process of transmission and popular adaptation, however, its true -significance has been lost sight of, and it has been forgotten that -to its original exponent implicitly--explicitly to his more logical -disciple--though it did indeed distinguish effectively between things -and the meaning of words, it was the analysis of the latter only, -and not the understanding of things, that it left as the possible -function of knowledge. It will be well, then, in what follows, first -briefly to restate the theory in its general form; then to show -how it conflicts with the actual knowledge which mankind supposes -itself to have attained; and finally to exhibit at once the necessity -of this conflict as a result of Locke’s governing ideas, and the -ambiguities by which he disguised it from himself. - -What Locke understood by essence. - -80. The essence of a thing with Locke, in the only sense in which -we can know or intelligibly speak of it, is the meaning of its -name. This, again, is an ‘abstract or general idea,’ which means -that it is an idea ‘separated from the circumstances of time and -place, and any other ideas that may determine it to this or that -particular existence. By this way of abstraction it is made capable -of representing more individuals than one; each of which, having -in it a conformity to that abstract idea, is (as we call it) of -that sort.’ (Book III. chap. iii. sec. 6.) That which is given in -immediate experience, as he proceeds to explain, is this or that -‘particular existence,’ Peter or James, Mary or Jane, such particular -existence being already a complex idea. [1] That it should be so is -indeed in direct contradiction to his doctrine of the primariness of -the simple idea, but is necessary to his doctrine of abstraction. -Some part of the complex idea (it is supposed)--less or more--we -proceed to leave out. The minimum of subtraction would seem to -be that of the ‘circumstances of time and place,’ in which the -particular existence is given. This is the ‘separation of ideas,’ -first made, and alone suffices to constitute an ‘abstract idea,’ even -though, as is the case with the idea of the sun, there is only one -‘particular substance’ to agree with it. (Book III. chap. vi. sec. -1.) In proportion as the particular substances compared are more -various, the subtraction of ideas is larger, but, be it less or more, -the remainder is the abstract idea, to which a name--_e.g._ man--is -annexed, and to which as a ‘species’ or ‘standard’ other particular -existences, on being ‘found to agree with it,’ may be referred, so -as to be called by the same name. These ideas then, ‘tied together -by a name,’ form the essence of each particular existence, to which -the same name is applied (Book III. chap. iii. secs. 12 and the -following.) Such essence, however, according to Locke, is ‘nominal,’ -not ‘real.’ It is a complex--fuller or emptier--of ideas in us, -which, though it is a ‘uniting medium between a general name and -particular beings,’ [2] in no way represents the qualities of the -latter. These, consisting in an ‘internal constitution of insensible -parts,’ form the ‘real essence’ of the particular beings; an essence, -however, of which we can know nothing. (Book III. chap. vi. sec. 21, -and ix. sec. 12.) - -[1] Book III. chap, iii, sec. 7, at the end. - -[2] Book III chap. iii. sec. 13. - -Only to nominal essences that general propositions relate, _i.e._ -only to abstract ideas having no real existence. - -81. It is the formation of ‘nominal essences’ that renders general -propositions possible. ‘General certainty,’ says Locke, ‘is never to -be found but in our ideas. Whenever we go to seek it elsewhere in -experiment or observation without us, our knowledge goes not beyond -particulars. It is the contemplation of our own abstract ideas, that -alone is able to afford us general knowledge.’ (Book IV. chap. vi. -sec. 16.) ‘General knowledge,’ he says again, ‘lies only in our own -thoughts.’ [1] This use of ‘our ideas’ and ‘our own thoughts’ as -equivalent phrases, each antithetical to ‘real existence,’ tells -the old tale of a deviation from ‘the new way of ideas’ into easier -paths. According to this new way in its strictness, as we have -sufficiently seen, there is nowhere for anything to be found but ‘in -our ideas.’ It therefore in no way distinguishes general knowledge -or certainty that it cannot be found elsewhere. Locke, however, -having allowed himself in the supposition that simple ideas report a -real existence, other than themselves, but to which they are related -as ectype to archetype, tacitly proceeds to convert them into real -existences, to which ideas in general, as mere thoughts of our own, -may be opposed. Along with this conversion, there supervenes upon -the original distinction between simple and complex ideas, which -alone does duty in the Second Book of the Essay, another distinction, -essential to Locke’s doctrine of the ‘reality’ of knowledge--that -between the idea, whether simple or complex, as originally given in -sensation, and the same as retained or reproduced in the mind. It is -only in the former form that the idea, however simple, reports, and -thus (with Locke) itself is, a real existence. Such real existence -is a ‘particular’ existence, and our knowledge of it a ‘particular’ -knowledge. In other words, according to the only consistent doctrine -that we have been able to elicit from Locke, [2] ‘it is a knowledge -which consists in a consciousness, upon occasion of a present -sensation--say, a sensation of redness--that some object is present -here and now causing the sensation; an object which, accordingly, -must be ‘particular’ or transitory as the sensation. The ‘here and -now,’ as in such a case they constitute the particularity of the -object of consciousness, so also render it a real existence. Separate -these (‘the circumstances of time and place’ [3]) from it, and it -at once loses its real existence and becomes an ‘abstract idea,’ -one of ‘our own thoughts,’ of which as ‘in the mind’ agreement or -disagreement with some other abstract idea can be asserted in a -general proposition; _e.g._ ‘red is not blue.’ (Book IV. chap. vii. -sec. 4.) [4] - -[1] Book IV. chap. vi. sec. 13, cf. Book IV. chap. iii. sec. 31. - -[2] See above, paragraph 56. - -[3] Book III. chap. iii. sec. 6. - -[4] In case there should be any doubt as to Locke’s meaning in this -passage, it may be well to compare Book IV. chap. ix. sec. 1. There -he distinctly opposes the consideration of ideas in the understanding -to the knowledge of real existence. Here (Book IV. chap. vii. sec. -4) he distinctly speaks of the proposition ‘red is not blue’ as -expressing a consideration of ideas in the understanding. It follows -that it is not a proposition as to real existence. - -An abstract idea may be a simple one. - -82. It is between simple ideas, it will be noticed, that a relation -is here asserted, and in this respect the proposition differs from -such an one as may be formed when simple ideas have been compounded -into the nominal essence of a thing, and in which some one of these -may be asserted of the thing, being already included within the -meaning of its name; _e.g._ ‘a rose has leaves.’ But as expressing a -relation between ideas ‘abstract’ or ‘in the mind,’ in distinction -from present sensations received from without, the two sorts of -proposition, according to the doctrine of Locke’s Fourth Book, stand -on the same footing.’ [1] It is a nominal essence with which both -alike are concerned, and on this depends the general certainty or -self-evidence, by which they are distinguished from ‘experiment -or observation without us.’ These can never ‘reach with certainty -farther than the bare instance’ (Book IV. chap. vi. sec. 7): _i.e._, -though the only channels by which we can reach real existence, they -can never tell more than the presence of this or that sensation as -caused by an unknown thing without, or the present disagreement of -such present sensations with each other. As to the recurrence of such -sensations, or any permanently real relation between them, they can -tell us nothing. Nothing as to their recurrence, because, though in -each case they show the presence of something causing the sensations, -they show nothing of the real essence upon which their recurrence -depends. [2] Nothing as to any permanently real relation between -them, because, although the disagreement between ideas of blue and -red, and the agreement between one idea of red and another, _as in -the mind_, is self-evident, yet as thus in the mind they are not -‘actual sensations’ at all (Book IV. chap. xi. sec. 6), nor do they -convey that ‘sensitive knowledge of particular existence,’ which is -the only possible knowledge of it. (Book IV. chap. iii. sec. 21.) -As actual sensations and indices of reality, they do indeed differ -in this or that ‘bare instance,’ but can convey no certainty that -the real thing or ‘parcel of matter’ (Book III. chap. iii. sec. 18), -which now causes the sensation of (and thus _is_) red, may not at -another time cause the sensation of (and thus _be_) blue.’ [3] - -[1] Already in Book II. (chap. xxxi. sec. 12), the simple idea, as -abstract, is spoken of as a nominal essence. - -[2] Cf. Book IV. chap. vi. sec. 5. ‘If we could certainly know (which -is impossible) where a real essence, which we know not, is--_e.g._ in -what parcels of matter the real essence of gold is; yet could we not -be sure, that this or that quality could with truth be affirmed of -gold; since it is impossible for us to know that this or that quality -or idea has a necessary connexion with a real essence, of which we -have no idea at all.’ - -Several passages, of course, can be adduced from Locke which are -inconsistent with the statement in the text: _e.g._ Book IV. chap. -iv. sec. 12. ‘To make knowledge real concerning substances, the ideas -must be taken from the real existence of things. Whatever simple -ideas have been found to coexist in any substance, these we may -with confidence join together again, and so make abstract ideas of -substances. For whatever have once had an union in nature, may be -united again.’ In all such passages, however, as will appear below, -the strict opposition between the real and the mental is lost sight -of, the ‘nature’ or ‘substance,’ in which ideas ‘have a union,’ or -are ‘found to coexist,’ being a system of relations which, according -to Locke, it requires a mind to constitute, and thus itself a -‘nominal essence.’ - -[3] Cf. Book IV. chap. iii. sec. 29; Book IV. chap. vi. sec. 14; Book -IV. chap. xi. sec. 11. - -How then is science of nature possible? - -83. We thus come upon the crucial antithesis between relations of -ideas and matters of fact, with the exclusion of general certainty as -to the latter, which was to prove such a potent weapon of scepticism -in the hands of Hume. Of its incompatibility with recognized science -we can have no stronger sign than the fact that, after more than a -century has elapsed since Locke’s premisses were pushed to their -legitimate conclusion, the received system of logic among us is -one which, while professing to accept Locke’s doctrine of essence, -and with it the antithesis in question, throughout assumes the -possibility of general propositions as to matters of fact, and seeks -in their methodical discovery and proof that science of nature which -Locke already ‘suspected’ to be impossible. (Book IV. chap. xii. sec. -10.) - -No ‘uniformities of phenomena’ can be known. - -84. That, so far as any inference from past to future uniformities -is necessary to the science of nature, his doctrine does more than -justify such ‘suspicion,’ is plain enough. Does it, however, leave -room for so much as a knowledge of past uniformities of fact, in -which the natural philosopher, accepting the doctrine, might probably -seek refuge? At first sight, it might seem to do so. ‘As, when our -senses are actually employed about any object, we do know that it -does exist; so by our memory we may be assured that heretofore things -that affected our senses have existed--and thus we have knowledge -of the past existence of several things, whereof our senses having -informed us, our memories still retain the ideas.’ (Book IV. chap. -xi. sec. 11.) Let us see, however, how this knowledge is restricted. -‘Seeing water at this instant, it is an unquestionable truth to me -that water doth exist; and remembering that I saw it yesterday, it -will also be always true, and as long as my memory retains it, always -an undoubted proposition to me, that water did exist the 18th of -July, 1688; as it will also be equally true that a certain number of -very fine colours did exist, which at the same time I saw on a bubble -of that water; but being now quite out of sight both of the water and -bubbles too, it is no more certainly known to me that the water doth -now exist, than that the bubbles and colours therein do so; it being -no more necessary that water should exist to-day because it existed -yesterday, than that the colours or bubbles exist to-day because they -existed yesterday.’ (_Ibid_.) - -Locke not aware of the full effect of his own doctrine ... - -85. The result is that though I may enumerate a multitude of past -matters-of-fact about water, I cannot gather them up in any general -statement about it as a real existence. So soon as I do so, I pass -from water as a real existence to its ‘nominal essence,’ _i.e._, -to the ideas retained in my mind and put together in a fictitious -substance, to which I have annexed the name ‘water.’ If we proceed to -apply this doctrine to the supposed past matters-of-fact themselves, -we shall find these too attenuating themselves to nonentity. -Subtract in every case from the ‘particular existence’ of which we -have ‘sensitive knowledge’ the qualification by ideas which, as -retained in the mind, do not testify to a present real existence, -and what remains? There is a certainty, according to Locke (Book IV. -chap. xi. sec. 11), not, indeed, that water exists to-day because -it existed yesterday--this is only ‘probable’--but that it has, -as a past matter-of-fact, at this time and that ‘continued long -in existence,’ because this has been ‘observed;’ which must mean -(Book IV. chap. ii. secs. 1, 5, and 9), because there has been a -continued ‘actual sensation’ of it. ‘Water,’ however, is a complex -idea of a substance, and of the elements of this complex idea -those only which at any moment are given in ‘actual sensation’ may -be accounted to ‘really exist.’ First, then, must disappear from -reality the ‘something,’ that unknown substratum of ideas, of which -the idea is emphatically ‘abstract.’ This gone, we naturally fall -back upon a fact of co-existence between ideas, as being a reality, -though the ‘thing’ be a fiction. But if this co-existence is to be -real or to represent a reality, the ideas between which it obtains -must be ‘actual sensations.’ These, whatever they may be, are at -least opposed by Locke to ideas retained in the mind, which only -form a nominal essence. But it is the association of such nominal -essence, in the supposed observation of water, with the actual -sensation that alone gives the latter a meaning. Set this aside as -unreal, and the reality, which the sensation reveals, is at any -rate one of which nothing can be said. It cannot be a relation -between sensations, for such relation implies a consideration of -them by the mind, whereby, according to Locke, they must cease to -be ‘real existences.’ (Book II. chap. xxv. sec. 1.) It cannot even -be a single sensation _as continuously observed_, for every present -moment of such observation has at the next become a past, and thus -the sensation observed in it has lost its ‘actuality,’ and cannot, -_as a ‘real existence_,’ qualify the sensation observed in the next. -Restrict the ‘real existence,’ in short, as Locke does, to an ‘actual -present sensation,’ which can only be defined by opposition to an -idea retained in the mind, and at every instant of its existence it -has passed into the mind and thus ceased really to exist. Reality is -in perpetual process of disappearing into the unreality of thought. -No point can be fixed either in the flux of time or in the imaginary -process from ‘without’ to ‘within’ the mind, on the one side of which -can be placed ‘real existence,’ on the other the ‘mere idea.’ It is -only because Locke unawares defines to himself the ‘actual sensation’ -as representative of a real essence, of which, however, according -to him, as itself unknown, the presence is merely inferred from the -sensation, that the ‘actual sensation’ itself is saved from the limbo -of nominal essence, to which ideas, as abstract or in the mind, are -consigned. Only, again, so far as it is thus illogically saved, are -we entitled to that distinction between ‘facts’ and ‘things of the -mind,’ which Locke once for all fixed for English philosophy. - -... which is to make the real an abstract residuum of consciousness. - -86. By this time we are familiar with the difficulties which this -antithesis has in store for a philosophy which yet admits that it -is only in the mind or in relation to consciousness--in one word, -as ‘ideas’--that facts are to be found at all, while by the ‘mind’ -it understands an abstract generalization from the many minds which -severally are born and grow, sleep and wake, with each of us. The -antithesis itself, like every other form in which the impulse after -true knowledge finds expression, implies a distinction between -the seeming and the real; or between that which exists for the -consciousness of the individual and that which really exists. But -outside itself consciousness cannot get. It is there that the real -must, at any rate, manifest itself, if it is to be found at all. Yet -the original antithesis between the mind and its unknown opposite -still prevails, and in consequence that alone which, though indeed -in the mind, is yet given to it by no act of its own, is held to -represent the real. This is the notion which dominates Locke. He -strips from the formed content of consciousness all that the mind -seems to have done for itself, and the abstract residuum, that of -which the individual cannot help being conscious at each moment of -his existence, is or ‘reports’ the real, in opposition to the mind’s -creation. This is Feeling; or more strictly--since it exists, and -whatever does so must exist as one in a number (Book II. chap. vii. -sec. 7)--it is the multitude of single feelings, ‘each perishing the -moment it begins’ (Book II. chap, xxvii. sec. 2), from which all the -definiteness that comes of composition and relation must be supposed -absent. Thus, in trying to get at what shall be the mere fact in -detachment from mental accretions, Locke comes to what is still -consciousness, but the merely indefinite in consciousness. He seeks -the real and finds the void. Of the real as outside consciousness -nothing can be said; and of that again within consciousness, which is -supposed to represent it, nothing can be said. - -Ground of distinction between actual sensation and ideas in the mind -is itself a thing of the mind. - -87. We have already seen how Locke, in his doctrine of secondary -qualities of substances, practically gets over this difficulty; how -he first projects out of the simple ideas, under relations which it -requires a mind to constitute, a cognisable system of things, and -then gives content and definiteness to the simple ideas in us by -treating them as manifestations of this system of things. In the -doctrine of propositions, the proper correlative to the reduction -of the real to the present simple idea, as that of which we cannot -get rid, would be the reduction of the ‘real proposition’ to the -mere ‘it is now felt.’ If the matter-of-fact is to be that in -consciousness which is independent of the ‘work of the mind’ in -comparing and compounding, this is the only possible expression -for it. It states the only possible ‘real essence,’ which yet is -an essence of nothing, for any reference of it to a thing, if the -thing is outside consciousness, is an impossibility; and if it is -within consciousness, implies an ‘invention of the mind’ both in -the creation of a thing, ‘always the same with itself,’ out of -perishing feelings, and in the reference of the feelings to such a -thing. Thus carried out, the antithesis between ‘fact’ and ‘creation -of the mind’ becomes self-destructive, for, one feeling being as -real as another, it leaves no room for that distinction between the -real and fantastic, to the uncritical sense of which it owes its -birth. To avoid this fusion of dream-land and the waking world, -Locke avails himself of the distinction between the idea (_i.e._ -feeling) as in the mind, which is not convertible with reality, -and the idea as somewhere else, no one can say where--‘the actual -sensation’--which is so convertible. The distinction, however, must -either consist in degrees of liveliness, in which case there must be -a corresponding infinity of degrees of reality or unreality, or else -must presuppose a real existence from which the feeling, if ‘actual -sensation,’ _is_--if merely ‘in the mind’ _is not_--derived. Such a -real existence either is an object of consciousness, or is not. If it -is not, no distinction between one kind of feeling and another can -for consciousness be derived from it. If it is, then, granted the -distinction between given feelings and creations of the mind, it must -fall to the latter, and a ‘thing of the mind’ turns out to be the -ground upon which ‘fact’ is opposed to ‘things of the mind.’ - -Two meanings of real essence. - -88. It remains to exhibit briefly the disguises under which these -inherent difficulties of his theory of essence appear in Locke. -Throughout, instead of treating ‘essence’ altogether as a fiction -of the mind--as it must be if feelings in simplicity and singleness -are alone the real--he treats indeed as a merely ‘nominal essence’ -every possible combination of ideas of which we can speak, but still -supposes another essence which is ‘real.’ But a real essence of -what? Clearly, according to his statements, of the same ‘thing’ of -which the combination of ideas in the mind is the nominal essence. -Indeed, there is no meaning in the antithesis unless the ‘something,’ -of which the latter essence is so nominally, is that of which it is -not so really. So says Locke, ‘the nominal essence of gold is that -complex idea the word gold stands for; let it be, for instance, a -body yellow, of a certain weight, malleable, fusible, and fixed. But -the real essence is the constitution of the insensible parts _of -that body_, on which those qualities and all the other properties of -gold depend.’ (Book III. chap. vi. sec. 2.) Here the notion clearly -is that of one and the same thing, of which we can only say that it -is a ‘body,’ a certain complex of ideas--yellowness, fusibility, -&c.--is the nominal, a certain constitution of insensible parts the -real, essence. It is on the real essence, moreover, that the ideas -which constitute the nominal depend. Yet while they are known, the -real essence (as appears from the context) is wholly unknown. In this -case, it would seem, the cause is not known from its effects. - -According to one, it is a collection of ideas as qualities of a thing: - -89. There are lurking here two opposite views of the relation between -the nominal essence and the real thing. According to one view, which -prevails in the later chapters of the Second Book and in certain -passages of the third, the relation between them is that with which -we have already become familiar in the doctrine of substance--that, -namely, between ideas as in us and the same as in the thing. (Book -II, chap. xxiii. secs. 9 and 10.) No distinction is made between the -‘idea in the mind’ and the ‘actual sensation.’ The ideas in the mind -are also in the thing, and thus are called its qualities, though for -the most part they are so only secondarily, _i.e._ as effects of -other qualities, which, as copied directly in our ideas, are called -primary, and relatively to these effects are called powers. These -powers have yet innumerable effects to produce in us which they have -not yet produced. (Book II. chap. xxxi. sec. 10.) Those which have -been so far produced, being gathered up in a complex idea to which -a name is annexed, form the ‘nominal essence’ of the thing. Some of -them are of primary qualities, more are of secondary. The originals -of the former, the powers to produce the latter, together with powers -to produce an indefinite multitude more, will constitute the ‘real -essence,’ which is thus ‘a standard made by nature,’ to which the -nominal essence is opposed merely as the inadequate to the adequate. -The ideas, that is to say, which are indicated by the name of a -thing, have been really ‘found in it’ or ‘produced by it,’ but are -only a part of those that remain to be found in it or produced by it. -It is in this sense that Locke opposes the adequacy between nominal -and real essence in the case of mixed modes to their perpetual -inadequacy in the case of ideas of substances. The combination in -the one case is artificially made, in the other is found and being -perpetually enlarged. This he illustrates by imagining the processes -which led Adam severally to the idea of the mixed mode ‘jealousy’ and -that of the substance ‘gold.’ In the former process Adam ‘put ideas -together only by his own imagination, not taken from the existence -of anything ... the standard there was of his own making.’ In the -latter, ‘he has a standard made by nature; and therefore being to -represent that to himself by the idea he has of it, even when it is -absent, he puts no simple idea into his complex one, but what he has -the perception of from the thing itself. He takes care that his idea -be conformable to this archetype.’ (Book III. chap. vi. secs. 46, -47.) ‘It is plain,’ however, ‘that the idea made after this fashion -by this archetype will be always inadequate.’ - -... about real essence in this sense there may be general knowledge. - -90. The nominal essence of a thing, then, according to this view, -being no other than the ‘complex idea of a substance,’ is a -copy of reality, just as the simple idea is. It is a picture or -representation in the mind of a thing that does exist by ideas of -those qualities that are discoverable in it.’ (Book II. chap. xxxi. -secs. 6, 8.) It only differs from the simple idea (which is itself, -as abstract, a nominal essence) [1] in respect of reality, because -the latter is a copy or effect produced singly and involuntarily, -whereas we may put ideas together, as if in a thing, which have -never been so presented together, and, on the other hand, never can -put together all that exist together. (Book II. chap. xxx. sec. 5, -and xxxi. 10.) So far as Locke maintains this view, the difficulty -about general propositions concerning real existence need not arise. -A statement which affirmed of gold one of the qualities included -in the complex idea of that substance, would not express merely an -analysis of an idea in the mind, but would represent a relation -of qualities in the existing thing from which the idea ‘has been -taken.’ These qualities, as in the thing, doubtless would not be, -as in us, feelings (or, as Locke should rather have said in more -recent phraseology, possibilities of feeling), but powers to produce -feeling, nor could any relation between these, as in the thing, -be affirmed but such as had produced its copy or effect in actual -experience. No coexistence of qualities could be truly affirmed, -which had not been found; but, once found--being a coexistence of -qualities and not simply a momentary coincidence of feelings--it -could be affirmed as permanent in a general proposition. That a -relation can be stated universally between ideas collected in -the mind, no one denies, and if such collection ‘is taken from a -combination of simple ideas _existing together constantly in things_’ -(Book II. chap, xxxii. sec. 18), the statement will hold equally of -such existence. Thus Locke contrasts mixed modes, which, for the -most part, ‘being actions which perish in the birth, are not capable -of a lasting duration,’ with ‘substances, which are the actors; and -wherein the simple ideas that make up the complex ideas designed by -the name have a lasting union.’ (Book III. chap. vi. sec. 42.) - -[1] Book II. chap. xxxi. sec. 12. - -But such real essence a creature of thought. - -91. In such a doctrine Locke, starting whence he did, could not -remain at rest. We need not here repeat what has been said of it -above in the consideration of his doctrine of substance. Taken -strictly, it implies that ‘real existence’ consists in a permanent -relation of ideas, said to be of secondary qualities, to each other -in dependence on other ideas, said to be of primary qualities. In -other words, in order to constitute reality, it takes ideas out of -that particularity in time and place, which is yet pronounced the -condition of reality, to give them an ‘abstract generality’ which is -fictitious, and then treats them as constituents of a system of which -the ‘invented’ relations of cause and effect and of identity are -the framework. In short, it brings reality wholly within the region -of thought, distinguishing it from the system of complex ideas or -nominal essences which constitute our knowledge, not as the unknown -opposite of all possible thought, but only as the complete from the -incomplete. To one who logically carried out this view, the ground -of distinction between fact and fancy would have to be found in the -relation between thought as ‘objective,’ or in the world, and thought -as so far communicated to us. Here, however, it could scarcely be -found by Locke, with whom ‘thought’ meant simply a faculty of the -‘thinking thing,’ called a ‘soul,’ which might ride in a coach with -him from Oxford to London. (Book II. chap, xxiii. sec. 20.) Was the -distinction then to disappear altogether? - -Hence another view of real essence as unknown qualities of unknown -body. - -92. It is saved, though at the cost of abandoning the ‘new way of -ideas,’ as it had been followed in the Second Book, by the transfer -of real existence from the thing in which ideas are found, and whose -qualities the complex of ideas in us, though inadequate, represents, -to something called ‘body,’ necessarily unknown, because no ideas -in us are in any way representative of it. To such an unknown body -unknown qualities are supposed to belong under the designation ‘real -essence.’ The subject of the nominal essence, just because its -qualities, being matter of knowledge, are ideas in our minds, is a -wholly different and a fictitious thing. - -How Locke mixes up these two meanings in ambiguity about body. - -93. This change of ground is of course not recognized by Locke -himself. It is the perpetual crossing of the inconsistent doctrines -that renders his ‘immortal Third Book’ a web of contradictions. -As was said above, he constantly speaks as if the subject of the -real essence were the same with that of the nominal, and never -explicitly allows it to be different. The equivocation under which -the difference is disguised lies in the use of the term ‘body.’ -A ‘particular body’ is the subject both of the nominal and real -essence ‘gold’ But ‘body,’ as that in which ‘ideas are found,’ and -in which they permanently coexist according to a natural law, is one -thing; ‘body,’ as the abstraction of the unknown, is quite another. -It is body in the former sense that is the real thing when nominal -essence (the complex of ideas in us) is treated as representative, -though inadequately so, of the real thing; it is body in the latter -sense that is the real thing when this is treated as wholly outside -possible consciousness, and its essence as wholly unrepresented by -possible ideas. By a jumble of the two meanings Locke obtains an -amphibious entity which is at once independent of relation to ideas, -as is body in the latter sense, and a source of ideas representative -of it, as is body in the former sense--which thus carries with it -that opposition to the mental which is supposed necessary to the -real, while yet it seems to manifest itself in ideas. Meanwhile a -third conception of the real keeps thrusting itself upon the other -two--the view, namely, that body in both senses is a fiction of -thought, and that the mere present feeling is alone the real. - -Body as ‘parcel of matter’ without essence. - -94. Where Locke is insisting on the opposition between the real -essence and any essence that can be known, the former is generally -ascribed either to a ‘particular being’ or to a ‘parcel of matter.’ -The passage which brings the opposition into the strongest relief is -perhaps the following:--‘I would ask any one, what is sufficient to -make an essential difference in nature between any two particular -beings, without any regard had to some abstract idea, which is looked -upon as the essence and standard of a species? All such patterns -and standards being quite laid aside, particular beings, considered -barely in themselves, will be found to have all their qualities -equally essential; and everything, in each individual, will be -essential to it, or, which is more, nothing at all. For though it -may be reasonable to ask whether obeying the magnet be essential -to iron; yet I think it is very improper and insignificant to ask -whether it be essential to the particular parcel of matter I cut my -pen with, without considering it under the name _iron_, or as being -of a certain species.’ (Book III. chap. vi. sec. 5.) [1] Here, it -will be seen, the exclusion of the abstract idea from reality carries -with it the exclusion of that ‘standard made by nature,’ which -according to the passages already quoted, is the ‘thing itself from -which the abstract idea is taken, and from which, if correctly taken, -it derives reality. This exclusion, again, means nothing else than -the disappearance from ‘nature’ (which with Locke is interchangeable -with ‘reality’) of all essential difference. There remain, however, -as the ‘real,’ ‘particular beings,’ or ‘individuals,’ or ‘parcels of -matter.’ In each of these, ‘considered barely in itself, everything -will be essential to it, or, which is more, nothing at all.’ - -[1] To the same purpose is a passage in Book III. chap. x. sec. 19, -towards the end. - -In this sense body is the mere individuum. - -95. We have already seen, [1] that if by a ‘particular being’ is -meant the mere _individuum_, as it would be upon abstraction of all -relations which according to Locke are fictitious, and constitute -a community or generality, it certainly can have no essential -qualities, since it has no qualities at all. It is a something which -equals nothing. The notion of this bare _individuum_ being the -real is the ‘protoplasm’ of Locke’s philosophy to which, though he -never quite recognized it himself, after the removal of a certain -number of accretions we may always penetrate. It is so because his -unacknowledged method of finding the real consisted in abstracting -from the formed content of consciousness till he came to that which -could not be got rid of. This is the momentarily present relation -of subject and object, which, considered on the side of the object, -gives the mere atom, and on the side of the subject, the mere ‘it is -felt.’ Even in this ultimate abstraction the ‘fiction of thought’ -still survives, for the atom is determined to its mere individuality -by relation to other individuals, and the feeling is determined to -the present moment or ‘the now’ by relation to other ‘nows.’ - -[1] See above, paragraph 45. - -Body as qualified by circumstances of time and place. - -96. To this ultimate abstraction, however, Locke, though constantly -on the road to it, never quite penetrates. He is farthest from -it--indeed, as far from it as possible--where he is most acceptable -to common sense, as in his ordinary doctrine of abstraction, where -the real, from which the process of abstraction is supposed to begin, -is already the individual in the fullness of its qualities, James -and John, this man or this gold. He is nearest to it when the only -qualification of the ‘particular being,’ which has to be removed by -thought in order to its losing its reality and becoming an abstract -idea, is supposed to consist in ‘circumstances of time and place.’ - -Such body Locke held to be subject of ‘primary qualities’: but are -these compatible with particularity in time? - -97. It is of these circumstances, as the constituents of the real, -that he is thinking in the passage last quoted. As qualified by -‘circumstances of place’ the real is a parcel of matter, and under -this designation Locke thought of it as a subject of ‘primary -qualities of body.’ [1] These, indeed, as he enumerates them, may be -shown to imply relations going far beyond that of simple distinctness -between atoms, and thus to involve much more of the creative action -of thought; but we need be the less concerned for this usurpation on -the part of the particular being, since that which he illegitimately -conveys to it as derived from ‘circumstances of place,’ he virtually -takes away from it again by limitation in time. The ‘particular -being’ has indeed on the one hand a real essence, consisting of -certain primary qualities, but on the other it has no continued -identity. It is only real as present to feeling at this or that -time. The particular being of one moment is not the particular being -of the next. Thus the primary qualities which are a real essence, -_i.e._ an essence of a particular being, at one moment, are not its -real essence at the next, because, while they as represented in the -mind remain the same, the ‘it,’ the particular being is different. -An _immutable_ essence for that very reason cannot be real. The -immutability can only lie in a relation between a certain abstract -(_i.e._ unreal) idea and a certain sound. (Book III. chap. iii. sec. -19.) ‘The real constitution of things,’ on the other hand, ‘begin -and perish with them. All things that exist are liable to change.’ -(_Ibid_.) Locke, it is true (as is implied in the term _change_ [2]) -never quite drops the notion of there being a real identity in some -unknown background, but this makes no difference in the bearing of -his doctrine upon the possibility of ‘real’ knowledge. It only means -that for an indefinite particularity of ‘beings’ there is substituted -one ‘being’ under an indefinite peculiarity of forms. Though the -reality of the thing _in itself_ be immutable, yet its reality _for -us_ is in perpetual flux. ‘In itself’ it is a substance without -an essence, a ‘something we know not what’ without any ideas to -‘support;’ a ‘parcel of matter,’ indeed, but one in which no quality -is really essential, because its real essence, consisting in its -momentary presentation to sense, changes with the moments. [3] - -[1] According to Locke’s ordinary usage of the terms, no distinction -appears between ‘matter’ and ‘body.’ In Book III. chap. X. sec. 15, -however, he distinguishes matter from body as the less determinate -conception from the more. The one implies solidity merely, the -other extension and figure also, so that we may talk of the ‘matter -of bodies,’ but not of the ‘body of matters.’ But since solidity, -according to Locke’s definition, involves the other ‘primary -qualities,’ this distinction does not avail him much. - -[2] See above, paragraph 69. - -[3] Cf. Book III. chap. vi. sec. 4: ‘Take but away the abstract -ideas by which we sort individuals and rank them under common names, -and then the thought of anything essential to any of them instantly -vanishes,’ &c. - -How Locke avoids this question. - -98. We have previously noticed [1] Locke’s pregnant remark, that -‘things whose existence is in succession’ do not admit of identity. -(Book II. chap, xxvii. sec. 2.) So far, then, as the ‘real,’ in -distinction from the ‘abstract,’ is constituted by particularity in -time, or has its existence in succession, it excludes the relation -of identity. ‘It perishes in every moment that it begins.’ Had Locke -been master of this notion, instead of being irregularly mastered -by it, he might have anticipated all that Hume had to say. As it -is, even in passages such as those to which reference has just been -made, where he follows its lead the farthest, he is still pulled up -by inconsistent conceptions with which common sense, acting through -common language, restrains the most adventurous philosophy. Thus, -even from his illustration of the liability of all existence to -change--‘that which was grass to-day is to-morrow the flesh of a -sheep, and within a few days after will become part of a man’ [2]--we -find that, just as he does not pursue the individualization of the -real in space so far but that it still remains ‘a constitution -of parts,’ so he does not pursue it in time so far but that a -coexistence of real elements over a certain duration is possible. To -a more thorough analysis, indeed, there is no alternative between -finding reality in relations of thought, which, because relations of -thought, are not in time and therefore are immutable, and submitting -it to such subdivision of time as excludes all real coexistence -because what is real, as present, at one moment is unreal, as past, -at the next. This alternative could not present itself in its -clearness to Locke, because, according to his method of interrogating -consciousness, he inevitably found in its supposed beginning, which -he identified with the real, those products of thought which he -opposed to the real, and thus read into the simple feeling of the -moment that which, if it were the simple feeling of the moment, it -could not contain. Thus throughout the Second Book of the Essay the -simple idea is supposed to represent either as copy or as effect a -permanent reality, whether body or mind: and in the later books, even -where the _representation_ of such reality in knowledge comes in -question, its existence as constituted by ‘primary qualities of body’ -is throughout assumed, though general propositions with regard to it -are declared impossible. It is a feeling referred to body, or, in the -language of subsequent psychology, a feeling of the _outward_ sense, -[3] that Locke means by an ‘actual present sensation,’ and it is -properly in virtue of this reference that such sensation is supposed -to be, or to report, the real. - -[1] See above, paragraph 75. - -[2] Book III. chap. iii. sec. 10. - -[3] For the germs of the distinction between outer and inner sense, -see Locke’s Essay, Book II. chap. i. sec. 14: ‘This source of ideas -(the perception of the operations of the mind) 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.’ For the notion of outer sense cf. Book -II. chap. ix. sec. 6, where he is distinguishing the ideas of hunger -and warmth, which he supposes children to receive in the womb from -the ‘innate principles which some contend for.’ ‘These (the ideas -of hunger and warmth) 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, not otherwise differing in their -manner of production from other ideas derived from sense, but only in -the precedency of time.’ - -Body and its qualities supposed to be outside consciousness. - -99. According to the doctrine of primary qualities, as originally -stated, the antithesis lies between body as it is in itself and -body as it is for us, not between body as it is for us in ‘actual -sensation,’ and body as it is for us according to ‘ideas in the -mind.’ The primary qualities ‘are in bodies whether we perceive them -or no.’ (Book II. chap. viii. sec. 23.) As he puts it elsewhere (Book -II. chap. xxxi. sec. 2), it is just because ‘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,’ that they are -to be looked on as the _real_ modifications of matter. A change in -them, unlike one in the secondary qualities, or such as is relative -to sense, is a _real_ alteration _in body_. ‘Pound an almond, and the -clear white colour will be altered into a dirty one, and the sweet -taste into an oily one. What alteration can the beating of the pestle -make in any body, but an alteration of the texture of it?’ (Book II. -chap. viii. sec. 20.) It is implied then in the notion of the real as -body that it should be outside consciousness. It is that which seems -to remain when everything belonging to consciousness has been thought -away. Yet it is brought within consciousness again by the supposition -that it has qualities which copy themselves in our ideas and are ‘the -exciting causes of all our various sensations from bodies.’ (Book -II. chap. xxxi. sec. 3.) Again, however, the antithesis between the -real and consciousness prevails, and the qualities of matter or body -having been brought within the latter, are opposed to a ‘substance -of body’--otherwise spoken of as ‘the nature, cause, or manner of -producing the ideas of primary qualities’--which remains outside it, -unknown and unknowable. (Book II. chap, xxiii. sec. 30, &c.) - -How can primary qualities be outside consciousness, and yet knowable? - -100. The doctrine of primary qualities was naturally the one upon -which the criticism of Berkeley and Hume first fastened, as the -most obvious aberration from the ‘new way of ideas.’ That the very -notion of the senses as ‘reporting’ anything, under secondary no -less than under primary qualities, implies the presence of ‘fictions -of thought’ in the primitive consciousness, may become clear upon -analysis; but it lies on the surface and is avowed by Locke himself -(Book II. chap. viii. secs. 2, 7), that the conception of primary -qualities is only possible upon distinction being made between ideas -as in our minds, and the ‘nature of things existing without us,’ -which cannot be given in the simple feeling itself. This admitted, -the distinction might either be traced to the presence within -intelligent consciousness of another factor than simple ideas, or -be accounted for as a gradual ‘invention of the mind.’ In neither -way, however, could Locke regard it and yet retain his distinction -between fact and fancy, as resting upon that between the nature of -things and the mind of man. The way of escape lay in a figure of -speech, the figure of the wax or the mirror. ‘The ideas of primary -qualities are resemblances of them.’ (Book II. chap, viii. sec. 15.) -These qualities then may be treated, according to occasion, either -as primitive data of consciousness, or as the essence of that which -is the unknown opposite of consciousness--in the latter way when the -antithesis between nature and mind is in view, in the former when -nature has yet to be represented as knowable. - -Locke answers that they copy themselves in ideas--Berkeley’s -rejoinder. Locke gets out of the difficulty by his doctrine of -solidity. - -101. How, asked Berkeley, can an idea be like anything that is not -an idea? Put the question in its proper strength--How can an idea be -like that of which the sole and simple determination is just that it -is not an idea (and such with Locke is body ‘in itself’ or as the -real)--and it is clearly unanswerable. The process by which Locke -was prevented from putting it to himself is not difficult to trace. -‘Body’ and ‘the solid’ are with him virtually convertible terms. -Each indifferently holds the place of the substance, of which the -primary qualities are so many determinations. [1] It is true that -where solidity has to be defined, it is defined as an attribute of -body, but conversely body itself is treated as a ‘texture of solid -parts,’ _i.e._ as a mode of the solid. Body, in short, so soon as -thought of, resolves itself into a relation of bodies, and the -solid into a relation of solids, but Locke, by a shuffle of the two -terms--representing body as a relation between solids and the solid -as a relation between bodies--gains the appearance of explaining -each in turn by relation to a simpler idea. Body, as the unknown, -is revealed to us by the idea of solidity, which sense conveys to -us; while solidity is explained by reference to the idea of body. -The idea of solidity, we are told, is a simple idea which comes -into the mind solely by the sense of touch. (Book II. chap. iii. -sec. 1.) But no sooner has he thus identified it with an immediate -feeling than, in disregard of his own doctrine, that ‘an idea which -has no composition’ is undefinable (see Book III. chap. iv. sec. -7.), he converts it into a theory of the cause of that feeling. ‘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;’ -and he at once proceeds to treat it as the consciousness of such -resistance. ‘Whether we move or rest, in what posture soever we are, -we always feel something under us that supports us, and hinders our -farther 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 then hinders the approach of two bodies, -when they are moving one towards another, I call solidity.’ [2] - -[1] See Book II. chap. viii. sec. 23: The primary ‘qualities that -are in bodies, are the bulk, figure, number, situation, and motion -or rest, _of their solid parts_.’ Cf. Book II. chap. xiii. sec. 11: -‘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.’ - -[2] Book II. chap. iv. sec 7. - -In which he equivocates between body as unknown opposite of mind and -body as a ‘nominal essence’. - -102. Now ‘body’ in this theory is by no means outside consciousness. -It is emphatically ‘in the mind,’ a ‘nominal essence,’ determined -by the relation which the theory assigns to it, and which, like -every relation according to Locke, is a ‘thing of the mind.’ This -relation is that of outwardness to other bodies, and among these to -the sensitive body through which we receive ‘ideas of sensation’--a -body which, on its side, as determined by the relation, has its -essence from the mind. It is, then, not as the unknown opposite -of the mind, but as determined by an intelligible relation which -the mind constitutes, and of which the members are each ‘nominal -essences,’ that body is outward to the sensitive subject. But to -Locke, substituting for body as a nominal essence body as the unknown -thing in itself, and identifying the sensitive subject with the -mind, outwardness in the above sense--an outwardness constituted by -the mind--becomes outwardness to the mind of an unknown opposite of -the mind. Solidity, then, and the properties which its definition -involves (and it involves all the ‘primary qualities’), become -something wholly alien to the mind, which ‘would exist without any -sensible being to perceive them.’ As such, they do duty as a real -essence, when the opposition of this to everything in the mind has -to be asserted. Yet must they be in some sort ideas, for of these -alone (as Locke fully admits) can we think and speak; and if ideas, -in the mind. How is this contradiction to be overcome? By the notion -that though not in or of the mind, they yet copy themselves upon it -in virtue of an impulse in body, correlative to that resistance of -which touch conveys the idea. (Book II. chap. viii. sec. 11). [1] -This explanation, however, is derived from the equivocation between -the two meanings of mind and body respectively. The problem to be -explained is the relation between the mind and that which is only -qualified as the negation of mind; and the explanation is found in -a relation, only existing for the mind, between a sensitive and a -non-sensitive body. - -[1] Cf. also the passage from Book II. chap. xiii. sec. 11, quoted -above, paragraph 101, note [1]. - -Rationale of these contradictions. - -103. The case then stands as follows. All that Locke says of body -as the real thing-in-itself, and of its qualities as the essence of -such thing, comes according to his own showing of an action of the -mind which he reckons the source of fictions. ‘Body in itself’ is a -substratum of ideas which the mind ‘accustoms itself to suppose.’ -It perpetually recedes, as what was at first a substance becomes in -turn a complex of qualities for which a more remote substratum has -to be supposed--a ‘substance of body,’ a productive cause of matter. -But the substance, however remote, is determined by the qualities to -which it is correlative, as the cause by its effects; and every one -of these--whether the most primary, solidity, or those which ‘the -mind finds inseparable from every particle of matter,’ _i.e._ from -the ‘solid parts of a body,’ [1]--as defined by Locke, is a relation -such as the mind, ‘bringing one thing to and setting it by another’ -(Book II. chap. xxv. sec. 1), can alone constitute. To Locke, -however, overcome by the necessity of intelligence, as gradually -developing itself in each of us, to regard the intelligible world as -there before it is known, the real must be something which would be -what it is if thought were not. Strictly taken, this must mean that -it is that of which nothing can be said, and some expression must be -found by means of which it may do double duty as at once apart from -consciousness and in it. This is done by converting ‘the primary -qualities of body, though obviously complex ideas of relation, into -simple feelings of touch,’ [2] and supposing the subject of this -sensation to be related to its object as wax to the seal. If we -suppose this relation, again, which is really within the mind and -constituted by it, to be one between the mind itself, as passive, -and the real, we obtain a ‘real’ which exists apart from the mind, -yet copies itself upon it. The mind, then, so far as it takes such a -copy, becomes an ‘outer sense,’ as to which it may be conveniently -forgotten that it is a mode of mind at all. Thus every modification -of it, as an ‘actual present sensation,’ comes to be opposed to every -idea of memory or imagination, as that which is not of the mind to -that which is; though there is no assignable difference between one -and the other, except an indefinite one in degree of vivacity, that -is not derived from the action of the mind in referring the one to an -object, constituted by itself, to which it does not refer the other. - -[1] Cf Book II. chap. viii. sec. 9. The primary qualities of body are -‘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.’ - -[2] I write advisedly ‘touch’ only, not ‘sight and touch,’ because, -though Locke (Book II. chap, v.) speaks of the ideas of extension, -figure, motion, and rest of bodies, as received both by sight and -touch, these are all involved in the previous definition of solidity, -of which the idea is ascribed to touch only. - -What knowledge can feeling, even as referred to a ‘solid’ body, -convey? - -104. Let us now consider whether by this reference to body, feeling -becomes any the more a source of general knowledge concerning -matters of fact. As we have seen, if we identify the real with -feeling simply, its distinction from ‘bare vision’ disappears. This -difficulty it is sought to overcome by distinguishing feeling as -merely in the mind from actually present sensation. But on reflection -we find that sensation after all is feeling, and that one feeling -is as much present as another, though present only to become at -the next moment past, and thus, if it is the presence that is the -condition of reality, unreal. The distinction then must lie in the -_actuality_ of the sensation. But does not this actuality mean simply -derivation from the real, _i.e._ derivation from the idea which has -to be derived from it? If, in the spirit of Locke, we answer, ‘No, -it means that the feeling belongs to the outer sense’; the rejoinder -will be that this means either that it is a feeling of touch--and -what should give the feeling of touch this singular privilege over -other feelings of not being in the mind while they are in it?--or -that it is a feeling referred to body, which still implies the -presupposition of the real, only under the special relations of -resistance and impulse. The latter alternative is the one which -Locke virtually adopts, and in adopting it he makes the actuality, -by which sensation is distinguished from ‘feelings in the mind,’ -itself a creation of the mind. But though it is by an intellectual -interpretation of the feeling of touch, not by the feeling itself, -that there is given that idea of body, by reference to which actual -sensation is distinguished from the mere idea, still with Locke the -feeling of touch is necessary to the interpretation. Thus, supposing -his notion to be carried out consistently, the actual present -sensation, as reporting the real, must either be a feeling of touch, -or, if of another sort, _e.g._, sight or hearing, must be referable -to an object of touch. In other words, the real will exist for us -so long only as it is touched, and ideas in us will constitute a -real essence so long only as they may be referred to an object now -touched. Let the object cease to be touched, and the ideas become -a nominal essence in the mind, the knowledge which they constitute -ceases to be real, and the proposition which expresses it ceases to -concern matter of fact. Truth as to matters of fact or bodies, then, -must be confined to singular propositions such as ‘this is touched -now,’ ‘that was touched then;’ ‘what is touched now is bitter,’ ‘what -was then touched was red.’ [1] - -[1] Thus the conviction that an object seen is not ‘bare fancy,’ -which is gained by ‘putting the hand to it’ (Book IV. chap. xi. sec. -l7), as it conveys the idea of solidity, is properly, according to -Locke’s doctrine, not one among other ‘confirmations of the testimony -of the senses,’ but the source of all such testimony, as a testimony -to the real, _i.e._ to body. See above, paragraph 62. - -Only the knowledge that something is, not what it is. - -105. All that is gained, then, by the conversion of the feeling of -touch, pure and simple, into the idea of a body touched, is the -supposition that _there is_ a real existence which does not come and -go with the sensations. As to _what_ this existence is, as to its -real essence, we can have no knowledge but such as is given in a -present sensation. [1] Any essence of it, otherwise known, could only -be a nominal essence, a relation of ideas in our minds: it would lack -the condition in virtue of which alone a datum of consciousness can -claim to be representative of reality, that of being an impression -made by a body now operating upon us. (Book III. chap. v. sec. 2, and -Book IV. chap. xi. sec. 1.) The memory of such impression, however -faithful, will still only report a _past_ reality. It will itself -be merely ‘an idea in the mind.’ Neither it nor its relation to any -present sensation result from the immediate impact of body, and in -consequence neither ‘really exists.’ All that can be known, then, of -the real, in other words, the whole real essence of body, as it is -for us, reduces itself to that which can at any moment be ‘revealed’ -in a single sensation apart from all relation to past sensations; and -this, as we have seen, is nothing at all. - -[1] Cf. Book III. chap. vi. sec. 6: ‘As to the real essences of -substances, we only suppose their being, without precisely knowing -what they are.’ The appearance of the qualification ‘precisely,’ as -we shall see below, marks an oscillation from the view, according -to which ‘real essence’ is the negation of the knowable to the view -according to which our knowledge of it is merely inadequate. - -How it is that the real essence of things, according to Locke, -perishes with them, yet is immutable. - -106. Thus that reduction of reality to that of which nothing can be -said, which follows from its identification with particularity in -time, follows equally from its identification with the resistance -of body, or (which comes to the same) from the notion of an ‘outer -sense’ being its organ; since it is only that which _now_ resists, -not a general possibility of resistance nor a relation between the -resistances of different times, that can be regarded as outside the -mind. In Locke’s language, it is only a particular parcel of matter -that can be so regarded. Of such a parcel, as he rightly says, it is -absurd to ask what is its essence, for it can have none at all. (See -above, paragraph 94.) As real, it has no quality save that of being -a body or of being now touched--a quality, which as all things real -have it and have none other, cannot be a _differentia_ of it. When -we consider that this quality may be regarded equally as immutable -and as changing from moment to moment, we shall see the ground of -Locke’s contradiction of himself in speaking of the real thing -sometimes as indestructible, sometimes as in continual dissolution. -‘The real constitutions of things begin and perish with them.’ (Book -III. chap. iii. sec. 19.) That is, the thing at one moment makes an -impact on the sensitive tablet--in the fact that it does so lie at -once its existence and its essence--but the next moment the impact -is over, and with it thing and essence, _as real_, have disappeared. -Another impact, and thus another thing, has taken its place. But of -this the real essence is just the same as that of the previous thing, -namely, that it may be touched, or is solid, or a body, or a parcel -of matter; nor can this essence be really lost, since than it there -is no other reality, all difference of essence, as Locke expressly -says, [1] being constituted by abstract ideas and the work of the -mind. It follows that _real_ change is impossible. A parcel of matter -at one time is a parcel of matter at all times. Thus we have only to -forget that the relation of continuity between the parcels, not being -an idea caused by impact, should properly fall to the unreal--though -only on the same principle as should that of distinctness between the -times--and we find the real in a continuity of matter, unchangeable -because it has no qualities to change. It may seem strange that when -this notion of the formless continuity of the real being gets the -better of Locke, a man should be the real being which he takes as his -instance. ‘Nothing I have is essential to me. An accident or disease -may very much alter my colour or shape; a fever or fall may take away -my reason or memory, or both; and an apoplexy leave neither sense nor -understanding, no, nor life.’ (Book III. chap. vi. sec. 4.) But as -the sequel shows, the man or the ‘I’ is here considered simply as ‘a -particular corporeal being,’ _i.e._ as the ‘parcel of matter’ which -alone (according to the doctrine of reality now in view) can be the -real in man, and upon which all qualities are ‘superinductions of the -mind.’ [2] - -[1] Book III. chap. vi. sec. 4: ‘Take but away the abstract ideas by -which we sort individuals, and then the thought of anything essential -to any of them instantly vanishes.’ - -[2] See a few lines below the passage quoted: ‘So that if it be -asked, whether it be essential to me, or any other particular -corporeal being, to have reason? I say, no; no more than it is -essential to this white thing I write on to have words in it.’ - -Only about qualities of matter, as distinct from matter itself, that -Locke feels any difficulty. - -107. We may now discern the precise point where the qualm as to -clothing reality with such superinductions commonly returns upon -Locke. The conversion of feeling into body felt and of the particular -time of the feeling into an individuality of the body, and, further, -the fusion of the individual bodies, manifold as the times of -sensation, into one continued body, he passes without scruple. So -long as these are all the traces of mental fiction which ‘matter,’ -or ‘body,’ or ‘nature’ bears upon it, he regards it undoubtingly as -the pure ‘privation’ of whatever belongs to the mind. But so soon -as cognisable qualities, forming an essence, come to be ascribed to -body, the reflection arises that these qualities are on our side -ideas, and that so far as they are permanent or continuous they are -not ideas of the sort which can alone represent body as the ‘real’ -opposite of mind; they are not the result of momentary impact; they -are not ‘actually present sensations.’ Suppose them, however, to have -no permanence--suppose their reality to be confined to the fleeting -‘now’--and they are no qualities, no essence, at all. There is then -for us no _real_ essence of body or nature; what we call so is a -creation of the mind. - -These, as knowable, must be our ideas, and therefore not a ‘real -essence’. - -108. This implies the degradation of the ‘primary qualities of -body’ from the position which they hold in the Second Book of the -Essay, as the real, _par excellence_, to that of a nominal essence. -In the Second Book, just as the complex of ideas, received and to -be received from a substance, is taken for the real thing without -disturbance from the antithesis between reality and ‘ideas in the -mind,’ so the primary qualities of body are taken not only as real, -but as the sources of all other reality. Body, the real thing, -copying itself upon the mind in an idea of sensation (that of -solidity), carries with it from reality into the mind those qualities -which ‘the mind finds inseparable from it,’ with all their modes. ‘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 the 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 figure are really in the manna, whether -we take notice of them or no.’ (Book II. chap. viii. sec. 18.) To -the unsophisticated man, taking for granted that the ‘sensible -bulk’ of the manna is a ‘real essence,’ this statement will raise -no difficulties. But when he has learnt from Locke himself that the -‘sensible bulk,’ so far as we can think and speak of it, must consist -in the ideas which it is said to produce, the question as to the real -existence of these must arise. It turns out that they ‘really exist,’ -so far as they represent the impact of a body copying itself in -actually present sensation, and that from their reality, accordingly, -must be excluded all qualities that accrue to the present sensation -from its relation to the past. Can the ‘primary qualities’ escape -this exclusion? - -Are the ‘primary qualities’ then, a ‘nominal essence’? - -109. To obtain a direct and compendious answer to this question -from Locke’s own mouth is not easy, owing to the want of adjustment -between the several passages where he treats of the primary -qualities. They are originally enumerated as the ‘bulk, figure, -number, situation, and motion or rest of the solid parts of bodies’ -(Book II. chap. viii. sec. 23), and, as we have seen, are treated -as all involved in that idea of solidity which is given in the -sensation of touch. We have no further account of them till we come -to the chapters on ‘simple modes of space and duration’ (Book II. -chaps. xiii. &c.), which are introduced by the remark, that in the -previous part of the book simple ideas have been treated ‘rather -in the way that they come into the mind than as distinguished from -others more compounded.’ As the simple idea, according to Locke, -is that which comes first into the mind, the two ways of treatment -ought to coincide; but there follows an explanation of the simple -modes in question, of which to a critical reader the plain result is -that the idea of body, which, according to the imaginary theory of -‘the way that it came into the mind’ is simple and equivalent to the -sensation of touch, turns out to be a complex of relations of which -the simplest is called space. - -According to Locke’s account they are relations, and thus inventions -of the mind. - -110. To know what space itself is, ‘we are sent to our senses’ of -sight and touch. It is ‘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.’ (Book II. chap. xiii. sec. 2.) Space being thus -explained by reference to distance, and distance _between bodies_, -it might be supposed that distance and body were simpler ideas. In -the next paragraph, however, distance is itself explained to be a -mode of space. It is ‘space considered barely in length between any -two beings,’ and is distinguished _(a)_ from ‘capacity’ or ‘space -considered in length, breadth, and thickness;’ _(b)_ from ‘figure, -which is nothing but the relation which the parts of the termination -of extension, or circumscribed space, have among themselves;’ _(c)_ -from ‘place, which is the relation of distance between anything and -any two or more points which are considered as keeping the same -distance one with another, and so as at rest.’ It is then shown at -large (Book II. chap. xiii. sec. 11), as against the Cartesians, -that extension, which is ‘space in whatsoever manner considered,’ is -a ‘distinct idea from body.’ The ground of the distinction plainly -lies in the greater complexity of the idea of body. Throughout the -definition just given ‘space’ is presupposed as the simpler idea of -which capacity, figure, and place are severally modifications; and -these again, as ‘primary qualities,’ though with a slight difference -of designation, [1] are not only all declared inseparable from body, -but are involved in it under a further modification as ‘_qualities -of its solid parts_’ _i.e._, of parts so related to each other -that each will change its place sooner than admit another into it. -(Book II. chap. iv. sec. 2, and chap. viii. sec. 23.) Yet, though -body is thus a complex of relations--all, according to Locke’s -doctrine of relation, inventions of the mind--and though it must -be proportionately remote from the simple idea which ‘comes first -into the mind,’ yet, on the other hand, it is in body, as an object -previously given, that these relations are said to be found, and -found by the senses. (Book II. chap. xiii. secs. 2, 27.) [2] - -[1] In the enumeration of primary qualities, ‘capacity’ is -represented by ‘bulk,’ ‘place’ by ‘situation.’ - -[2] In the second of the passages referred to, it will be seen that -‘matter’ is used interchangeably with ‘body.’ - -Body is the complex in which they are found. Do we derive the idea of -body from primary qualities, or the primary qualities from idea of -body? - -111. It will readily be seen that ‘body’ here is a mode of the -idea of substance, and, like it, [1] appears in two inconsistent -positions as at once the beginning and the end of the process of -knowledge--as on the one hand that in which ideas are found and from -which they are abstracted, and on the other hand that which results -from their complication. As the attempt either to treat particular -qualities as given and substance as an abstraction gradually made, -or conversely to treat the ‘thing’ as given, and relations as -gradually superinduced, necessarily fails for the simple reason -that substance and relations each presuppose the other, so body -presupposes the primary qualities as so many relations which form -its essence or make it what it is, while these again presuppose body -as the matter which they determine, It is because Locke substitutes -for this intellectual order of mutual presupposition a succession of -sensations in time, that he finds himself in the confusion we have -noticed--now giving the priority to sensations in which the idea -of body is supposed to be conveyed, and from it deriving the ideas -of the primary qualities, now giving it to these ideas themselves, -and deriving the idea of body from their complication. This is just -such a contradiction as it would be to put to-day before yesterday. -_We_ may escape it by the consideration that in the case before us -it is not a succession of sensations in time that we have to do with -at all; that ‘the real’ is an intellectual order, or mind, in which -every element, being correlative to every other, at once presupposes -and is presupposed by every other; but that this order communicates -itself to us piecemeal, in a process of which the first condition on -our part is the conception that there _is_ an order, or something -related to something else; and that thus the conception of qualified -substance, which in its definite articulation is the end of all our -knowledge, is yet in another form, that may be called indifferently -either abstract or confused, [2] its beginning. This way of escape, -however, was not open to Locke, because with him it was the condition -of reality in the idea of the body and its qualities that they -should be ‘actually present sensations.’ The priority then of body -to the relations of extension, distance, &c., as of that in which -these relations are found, must, if body and extension are to be -more than nominal essences, be a priority of sensations in time. -But, on the other hand, the priority of the idea of space to the -ideas of its several modes, and of these again to the idea of body, -as of the simpler to the more complex, must no less than the other, -if the ideas in question are to be real, be one in time. Locke’s -contradiction, then, is that of supposing that of two sensations each -is actually present, of two impacts on the sensitive tablet each is -actually made, before the other. - -[1] See above, paragraph 39. - -[2] ‘Indifferently either abstract or confused,’ because of the -conception that is most confused the least can be said; and it is -thus most abstract. - -Mathematical ideas, though ideas of ‘primary qualities of body,’ have -‘barely an ideal existence’. - -112. From such a contradiction, even though he was not distinctly -aware of it, he could not but seek a way of escape, From his point -of view two ways might at first sight seem to be open--the priority -in sensitive experience, and with it reality, might be assigned -exclusively either to the idea of body or to that of space. To -whichever of the two it is assigned, the other must become a nominal -essence. If it is the idea of body that is conveyed to the mind -directly from without through sensation, then it must be by a process -in the mind that the spatial relations are abstracted from it; and -conversely, if it is the latter that are given in sensation, it must -be by a mental operation of compounding that the idea of body is -obtained from them. Now, according to Locke’s fundamental notion, -that the reality of an idea depends upon its being in consciousness -a copy _through impact_ of that which is not in consciousness, any -attempt to retain it in the idea of space while sacrificing it in -that of body would be obviously self-destructive. Nor, however we -might re-write his account of the relations of space as ‘found in -bodies,’ could we avoid speaking of them as relations of some sort; -and if relations, then derived from the ‘mind’s carrying its view -from one thing to another,’ and not ‘actually present sensations.’ -We shall not, then, be surprised to find Locke tending to the other -alternative, and gradually forgetting his assertion that ‘a circle -or a square are the same whether in idea or in existence,’ and his -elaborate maintenance of the ‘real existence’ of a vacuum, _i.e._, -extension without body. (Book II. chap. xiii. secs. 21 and the -following, and xvii. 4.) In the Fourth Book it is body alone that has -real existence, an existence revealed by actually present sensation, -while all mathematical ideas, the ideas of the circle and the square, -have ‘barely an ideal existence’ (Book IV. chap. iv. sec. 6); and -this means nothing else than the reduction of the primary qualities -of body to a nominal essence. Our ideas of them are general (Book IV. -chap. iii. sec. 24), or merely in the mind. ‘There is no individual -parcel of matter, to which any of these qualities are so annexed as -to be essential to it or inseparable from it.’ (Book III. chap. vi. -sec. 6.) How should there be, when the ‘individual parcel’ means that -which copies itself by impact in the present sensation, while the -qualities in question are relations which cannot be so copied? Yet, -except as attaching to such a parcel, they have no ‘real existence;’ -and, conversely, the ‘body,’ from which they _are_ inseparable, not -being an individual parcel of matter in the above sense, must itself -be unreal and belong merely to the mind. The ‘body’ which is real -has for us no qualities, and that reference to it of the ‘actually -present sensation’ by which such sensation is distinguished from -other feeling, is a reference to something of which nothing can be -said. It is a reference which cannot be stated in any proposition -_really_ true; and the difference which it constitutes between ‘bare -vision’ and the feeling to which reality corresponds, must be either -itself unreal or unintelligible. - -Summary view of Locke’s difficulties in regard to the real. - -113. We have now pursued the antithesis between reality and the work -of the mind along all the lines which Locke indicates, and find -that it everywhere eludes us. The distinction, which only appeared -incidentally in the doctrine of substance, between ‘the being and -the idea thereof--between substance as ‘found’ and substance as -that which ‘we accustom ourselves to suppose’--becomes definite and -explicit as that between real and nominal essence, but it does so -only that the essence, which is merely real, may disappear. Whether -we suppose it the quality of a mere sensation, as such, or of mere -body, as such, we find that we are unawares defining it by relations -which are themselves the work of the mind, and that after abstraction -of these nothing remains to give the antithesis to the work of the -mind any meaning. Meanwhile the attitude of thought, when it has -cleared the antithesis of disguise, but has not yet found that each -of the opposites derives itself from thought as much as the other, -is so awkward and painful that an instinctive reluctance to make -the clearance is not to be wondered at. Over against the world of -knowledge, which is the work of the mind, stands a real world of -which we can say nothing but that it is there, that it makes us aware -of its presence in every sensation, while our interpretation of what -it is, the system of relations which we read into it, is our own -invention. The interpretation is not even to be called a shadow, for -a shadow, however dim, still reflects the reality; it is an arbitrary -fiction, and a fiction of which the possibility is as unaccountable -as the inducement to make it. It is commonly presented as consisting -in abstraction from the concrete. But the concrete, just so far as -concrete, _i.e._, a complex world of relations, cannot be the real -if the separation of the real from the work of the mind is to be -maintained. It must itself be the work of the compounding mind, which -must be supposed again in ‘abstraction’ to decompose what it has -previously compounded. Now, it is of the essence of the doctrine in -question that it denies all power of origination to the mind except -in the way of compounding and abstracting given impressions. Its -supposition is, that whatever precedes the work of composition and -abstraction must be real [1] because the mind passively receives it: -a supposition which, if the mind could originate, would not hold. -How, then, does it come to pass that a ‘nominal essence,’ consisting -of definite qualities, is constructed by a mind, which originates -nothing, out of a ‘real’ matter, which, apart from such construction, -has no qualities at all? And why, granted the construction, should -the mind in ‘abstraction’ go through the Penelopean exercise of -perpetually unweaving the web which it has just woven? - -[1] ‘Simple ideas, since the mind can by no means make them to -itself, must necessarily be the product of things operating on the -mind.’ (Book IV. chap. v. sec. 4.) - -Why they do not trouble him more. - -114. It is Hume’s more logical version of Locke’s doctrine that -first forces these questions to the front. In Locke himself they -are kept back by inconsistencies, which we have already dwelt upon. -For the real, absolutely void of intelligible qualities, because -these are relative to the mind, he is perpetually substituting a -real constituted by such qualities, only with a complexity which we -cannot exhaust. By so doing, though at the cost of sacrificing the -opposition between the real and the mental, he avoids the necessity -of admitting that the system of the sciences is a mere language, -well-or ill-constructed, but unaccountably and without reference -to things. Finally, he so far forgets the opposition altogether as -to find the reality of ‘moral and mathematical’ knowledge in their -‘bare ideality’ itself. (Book IV. chap. iv. sec. 6, &c.) Thus with -him the divorce between knowledge and reality is never complete, -and sometimes they appear in perfect fusion. A consideration of his -doctrine of propositions will show finally how the case between them -stands, as he left it. - -They re-appear in his doctrine of propositions. - -115. In the Fourth Book of the Essay the same ground has to be -thrice traversed under the several titles of ‘knowledge,’ ‘truth,’ -and ‘propositions.’ Knowledge being the perception of agreement or -disagreement between ideas, the proposition is the putting together -or separation of words, as the signs of ideas, in affirmative or -negative sentences (Book IV. chap. v. sec. 5), and truth--the -expression of certainty [1]--consists in the correspondence between -the conjunction or separation of the signs and the agreement or -disagreement of the ideas. (Book IV. chap. v. sec. 2.) Thus, the -question between the real and the mental affects all these. Does this -or that perception of agreement between ideas represent an agreement -in real existence? Is its certainty a real certainty? Does such -or such a proposition, being a correct expression of an agreement -between ideas, also through this express an agreement between things? -Is its truth real, or merely verbal? - -[1] All knowledge is certain according to Locke (Cf. IV. chap. vi. -sec. 13, ‘certainty is requisite to knowledge’), though the knowledge -must be expressed before the term ‘certainty’ is naturally applied to -it. (Book IV. chap. vi. sec. 3.) ‘Certainty of knowledge’ is thus a -pleonastic phrase, which only seems not to be so because we conceive -knowledge to have a relation to things which Locke’s definition -denies it, and by ‘certainty,’ in distinction from this, understand -its relation to the subject. - -‘Certainty of truth’ is, in like manner, a pleonastic phrase, there -being no difference between the definition of it (Book IV. chap. vi. -sec. 3) and that of ‘truth’ simply, given in Book IV. chap. V. sec. 2. - -The knowledge expressed by a proposition, though certain, may not be -real ... - -116. To answer these questions, according to Locke, we must consider -whether the knowledge, or the proposition which expresses it, -concerns substances, _i.e._, ‘the co-existence of ideas in nature,’ -on the one hand; or, on the other, either the properties of a -mathematical figure or ‘moral ideas.’ If it is of the latter sort, -the agreement of the ideas in the mind is itself their agreement -in reality, since the ideas themselves are archetypes. (Book IV. -chap. iv. secs. 6, 7.) It is only when the ideas are ectypes, as is -the case when the proposition concerns substances, that the doubt -arises whether the agreement between them represents an agreement -in reality. The distinction made here virtually corresponds to that -which appears in the chapters on the reality and adequacy of ideas in -the Second Book, and again in those on ‘names’ in the Third. There -the ‘complex ideas of modes and relation’ are pronounced necessarily -real adequate and true, because, ‘being themselves archetypes, they -cannot differ from their archetypes.’ (Book II. chap. XXX. sec. -4.) [1] With them are contrasted simple ideas and complex ideas of -substances, which are alike ectypes, but with this difference from -each other, that the simple ideas cannot but be faithful copies -of their archetypes, while the ideas of substances cannot but be -otherwise. (Book II. chap. xxxi. secs. 2, 11, &c.) Thus, ‘the names -of simple ideas and substances, with the abstract ideas in the mind -which they immediately signify, intimate also some real existence, -from which was derived their original pattern. But the names of -mixed modes terminate in the idea that is in the mind.’ (Book III. -chap. iv. sec. 2.) ‘The names of simple ideas and modes,’ it is -added, ‘signify always the real as well as nominal essence of their -species’--a statement which, if it is to express Locke’s doctrine -strictly, must be confined to names of simple ideas, while in respect -of modes it should run, that ‘the nominal essence which the names of -these signify is itself the real.’ - -[1] cf. Book II. chap. xxxi. sec. 3, and xxxii. sec. 17. - -... when the knowledge concerns substances. In this case general -truth must be merely verbal. Mathematical truths, since they concern -not substances, may be both general and real. - -117. But though the distinction between different kinds of knowledge -in regard to reality cannot but rest on the same principle as that -drawn between different kinds of ideas in the same regard, it is -to be noticed that in the doctrine of the Fourth Book ‘knowledge -concerning substances,’ in contrast with that in which ‘our thoughts -terminate in the abstract ideas,’ has by itself to cover the ground -which, in the Second and Third Book, simple ideas and complex -ideas of substances cover together. This is to be explained by the -observation, already set forth at large, [1] that the simple idea -has in Locke’s Fourth Book become explicitly what in the previous -books it was implicitly, not a feeling proper, but the conscious -reference of a feeling to a thing or substance. Only because it is -thus converted, as we have seen, can it constitute the beginning -of a knowledge which is not a simple idea but a conscious relation -between ideas, or have (what yet it must have if it can be expressed -in a proposition) that capacity of being true or false, which implies -‘the reference by the mind of an idea to something extraneous to it.’ -(Book II. chap, xxxii. sec. 4.) Thus, what is said of the ‘simple -idea’ in the Second and Third Books, is in the Fourth transferred to -one form of knowledge concerning substances, to that, namely, which -consists in ‘particular experiment and observation,’ and is expressed -in singular propositions, such as ‘this is yellow,’ ‘this gold is -now solved in aqua regia.’ Such knowledge cannot but be real, the -proposition which expresses it cannot but have _real_ certainty, -because it is the effect of a ‘body actually operating upon us’ -(Book IV. chap. xi. sec. 1), just as the simple idea is an ectype -directly made by an archetype. It is otherwise with complex ideas of -substances and with general knowledge or propositions about them. -A group of ideas, each of which, when first produced by a ‘body,’ -has been real, when retained in the mind as representing the body, -becomes unreal. The complex idea of gold is only a nominal essence -or the signification of a name; the qualities which compose it are -merely ideas in the mind, and that general truth which consists in a -correct statement of the relation between one of them and another or -the whole--_e.g._, ‘gold is soluble in aqua regia’--holds merely for -the mind; [2] but it is not therefore to be classed with those other -mental truths, which constitute mathematical and moral knowledge, -and which, just because ‘merely ideal,’ are therefore real. Its -merely mental character renders it in Locke’s language a ‘trifling -proposition,’ but does not therefore save it from being _really_ -untrue. It is a ‘trifling proposition,’ for, unless solubility in -aqua regia is included in the complex idea which the sound ‘gold’ -stands for, the proposition which asserts it of gold is not certain, -not a truth at all. If it is so included, then the proposition is -but ‘playing with sounds.’ It may serve to remind an opponent of -a definition which he has made but is forgetting, but ‘carries no -knowledge with it but of the signification of a word, however certain -it be.’ (Book IV. chap. viii. secs. 5 & 9.) Yet there is a real gold, -outside the mind, of which the complex idea of gold in the mind must -needs try to be a copy, though the conditions of real existence are -such that no ‘complex idea in the mind’ can possibly be a copy of -it. Thus the verbal truth, which general propositions concerning -substances express, is under a perpetual doom of being really untrue. -The exemption of mathematical and moral knowledge from this doom -remains an unexplained mercy. Because merely mental, such knowledge -is real--there being no reality for it to _mis_represent--and yet -not trifling. The proposition that ‘the external angle of all -triangles is bigger than either of the opposite internal angles,’ -has that general certainty which is never to be found but in our -ideas, yet ‘conveys instructive real knowledge,’ the predicate -being ‘a necessary consequence of precise complex idea’ which forms -the subject, yet ‘not contained in it.’ (Book IV. chap. viii. sec. -8.) [3] The same might be said apparently, according to Locke’s -judgment (though he is not so explicit about this), of a proposition -in morals, such as ‘God is to be feared and obeyed by man.’ (Book -IV. chap. xi. sec. 13.) [4] But how are such propositions, at once -abstract and real, general and instructive, to be accounted for? -There is no ‘workmanship of the mind’ recognised by Locke but that -which consists in compounding and abstracting (_i.e._, separating) -ideas of which ‘it cannot originate one.’ The ‘abstract ideas’ -of mathematics, the ‘mixed modes’ of morals, just as much as the -ideas of substances, must be derived by such mental artifice from -a material given in simple feeling, and ‘real’ because so given. -Yet, while this derivation renders ideas of substances unreal in -contrast with their real ‘originals,’ and general propositions about -them ‘trifling,’ because, while ‘intimating an existence,’ they -tell nothing about it, on the other hand it actually constitutes -the reality of moral and mathematical ideas. Their relation to an -original disappears; they are themselves archetypes, from which the -mind, by its own act, can elicit other ideas not already involved -in the meaning of their names. But this can only mean that the mind -has some other function than that of uniting what it has ‘found’ in -separation, and separating again what it has thus united--that it can -itself originate. - -[1] See above, paragraph 25. - -[2] Book IV. chap. xi. sec. 13, xii. 9, &c. - -[3] Just as according to Kant such a proposition expresses a judgment -‘synthetical,’ yet ‘á-priori.’ - -[4] Cf. Book IV. chap. iii. sec. 18, and Book III. chap, xi. sec. 16. - -Significance of this doctrine. - -118. A genius of such native force as Locke’s could not be applied -to philosophy without determining the lines of future speculation, -even though to itself they remained obscure. He stumbles upon truths -when he is not looking for them, and the inconsistencies or accidents -of his system are its most valuable part. Thus, in a certain sense, -he may claim the authorship at once of the popular empiricism of -the modern world, and of its refutation. He fixed the prime article -of its creed, that thought has nothing to do with the constitution -of facts, but only with the representation of them by signs and the -rehearsal to itself of what its signs have signified--in brief, that -its function is merely the analytical judgment; yet his admissions -about mathematical knowledge rendered inevitable the Kantian -question, ‘How are synthetic judgments á-priori possible?’--which was -to lead to the recognition of thought as constituting the objective -world, and thus to get rid of the antithesis between thought and -reality. In his separation of the datum of experience from the work -of thought he was merely following the Syllogistic Logic, which -really assigns no work to the thought, whose office it professes to -magnify, but the analysis of given ideas. Taking the work as that -Logic conceived it (and as it must be conceived if the separation is -to be maintained) he showed--conclusively as against Scholasticism-- -the ‘trifling’ character of the necessary and universal truths with -which it dealt. Experience, the manifestation of the real, regarded -as a series of events which to us are sensations, can only yield -propositions singular as the events, and having a truth like them -contingent. By consequence, necessity and universality of connection -can only be found in what the mind does for itself, without reference -to reality, when it analyses the complex idea which it retains as -the memorandum of its past single experiences; _i.e._, in a relation -between ideas or propositions of which one explicitly includes the -other. Upon this relation syllogistic reasoning rests, and, except -so far as it may be of use for convicting an opponent (or oneself) -of inconsistency, it has nothing to say against such nominalism -as the above. Hence, with those followers of Locke who have been -most faithful to their master, it has remained the standing rule -to make the generality of a truth consist in its being analytical -of the meaning of a name, and its necessity in its being included -in one previously conceded. Yet if such were the true account of -the generality and necessity of mathematical propositions, their -truth according to Locke’s explicit statement would be ‘verbal and -trifling,’ not, as it is, ‘real and instructive.’ - -Fatal to the notion that mathematical truths, though general, are got -from experience: - -119. The point of this, the most obvious, contradiction inherent -in Locke’s empiricism, is more or less striking according to the -fidelity with which the notion of matter-of-fact, or of the reality -that is not of the mind, proper to that system, is adhered to. -When the popular Logic derived from Locke has so far forgotten -the pit whence it was digged as to hold that propositions of a -certainty at once real and general can be derived from experience, -and to speak without question of ‘general matters-of-fact’ in a -sense which to Locke almost, to Hume altogether, would have been -a contradiction in terms, it naturally finds no disturbance in -regarding mathematical certainty as different not in kind, but only -in degree, from that of any other ‘generalisation from experience.’ -Not aware that the distinction of mathematical from empirical -generality is the condition upon which, according to Locke, the -former escapes condemnation as ‘trifling,’ it does not see any need -for distinguishing the sources from which the two are derived, and -hence goes on asserting against imaginary or insignificant opponents -that mathematical truth is derived from ‘experience;’ which, if -‘experience’ be so changed from what Locke understood by it as to -yield general propositions concerning matters-of-fact of other than -analytical purport, no one need care to deny. That it can yield such -propositions is, doubtless, the supposition of the physical sciences; -nor, we must repeat, is it the _correctness_ of this supposition -that is in question, but the validity, upon its admission, of that -antithesis between experience and the work of thought, which is the -‘be-all and end-all’ of the popular Logic. - -... and to received views of natural science: but Locke not so clear -about this. - -120. Locke, as we have seen, after all the encroachments made -unawares by thought within the limits of that experience which he -opposes to it--or, to put it conversely, after all that he allows -‘nature’ to take without acknowledgment from ‘mind’--is still so far -faithful to the opposition as to ‘suspect a science of nature to be -impossible.’ This suspicion, which is but a hesitating expression -of the doctrine that general propositions concerning substances are -merely verbal, is the exact counterpart of the doctrine pronounced -without hesitation that mathematical truths, being at once real and -general, do not concern nature at all. Real knowledge concerning -nature being given by single impressions of bodies at single times -operating upon us, and by consequence being expressible only in -singular propositions, any reality which general propositions state -must belong merely to the mind, and a mind which can originate a -reality other than nature’s cannot be a passive receptacle of natural -impressions. Locke admits the real generality of mathematical truths, -but does not face its consequences. Hume, seeing the difficulty, will -not admit the real generality. The modern Logic, founded on Locke, -believing in the possibility of propositions at once real and general -concerning nature. does not see the difficulty at all. It reckons -mathematical to be the same in kind with natural knowledge, each -alike being real notwithstanding its generality; not aware that by -so doing, instead of getting rid, as it fancies, of the originative -function of thought in respect of mathematical knowledge, it only -necessitates the supposition of its being originative in respect of -the knowledge of nature as well. - -Ambiguity as to real essence causes like ambiguity as to science of -nature. Particular experiment cannot afford general knowledge. - -121. It may find some excuse for itself in the hesitation with -which Locke pronounces the impossibility of real generality in -the knowledge of nature--an hesitation which necessarily results -from the ambiguities, already noticed, in his doctrine of real and -nominal essence. So far as the opposition between the nominal and -real essences of substances is maintained in its absoluteness, as -that between every possible collection of ideas on the one side, and -something wholly apart from thought on the other, this impossibility -follows of necessity. But so far as the notion is admitted of -the nominal essence being in some way, however inadequately, -representative of the real, there is an opening, however indefinite, -for general propositions concerning the latter. On the one hand we -have the express statement that ‘universal propositions, of whose -truth and falsehood we can have certain knowledge, concern not -existence’ (Book IV. chap. ix. sec. 1). They are founded only on the -‘relations and habitudes of abstract ideas’ (Book IV. chap xii. sec. -7); and since it is the proper operation of the mind in abstraction -to consider an idea under no other existence but what it has in the -understanding, they represent no knowledge of _real_ existence at all -(Book IV. chap. ix. sec. 1). Here Locke is consistently following -his doctrine that the ‘particularity in time,’ of which abstraction -is made when we consider ideas as in the understanding, is what -specially distinguishes the real; which thus can only be represented -by ‘actually present sensation.’ It properly results from this -doctrine that the proposition representing particular experiment and -observation is only true of real existence so long as the sensation, -in which the experiment consists, continues present. Not only is the -possibility excluded of such experiment yielding a certainty which -shall be general as well as real, but the particular proposition -itself can only be _really_ true so far as the qualities, whose -co-existence it asserts, are present sensations. The former of these -limitations to real truth we find Locke generally recognising, and -consequently suspecting a science of nature to be impossible; but -the latter, which would be fatal to the supposition of there being a -real nature at all, even when he carries furthest the reduction of -reality to present feeling, he virtually ignores. On the other hand, -there keeps appearing the notion that, inasmuch as the combination -of ideas which make up the nominal essence of a substance is taken -from a combination in nature or reality, whenever the connexion -between any of these is necessary, it warrants a proposition -_universally_ true in virtue of the necessary connexion between the -ideas, and _really_ true in virtue of the ideas being taken from -reality. According to this notion, though ‘the certainty of universal -propositions concerning substances is very narrow and scanty,’ it is -yet possible (Book IV. chap. vi. sec. 13). It is not recognised as -involving that contradiction which it must involve if the antithesis -between reality and ideas in the mind is absolutely adhered to. Nay, -inasmuch as certain ideas of primary qualities, _e.g._ those of -solidity and of the receiving or communicating motion upon impulse, -are necessarily connected, it is supposed actually to exist (Book -IV. chap iii. sec. 14). It is only because, as a matter of fact, our -knowledge of the relation between secondary qualities and primary is -so limited that it cannot be carried further. That they are related -as effects and causes, it would seem, we know; and that the ‘causes -work steadily, and effects constantly flow from them,’ we know also; -but ‘their connexions and dependencies are not discoverable in our -ideas’ (Book IV. chap. iii. sec. 29). That, if discoverable in our -ideas, just because there discovered, the connexion would not be a -real co-existence, Locke never expressly says. He does not so clearly -articulate the antithesis between relations of ideas and matters -of fact. If he had done so, he must also have excluded from real -existence those abstract ideas of body which constitute the scanty -knowledge of it that according to him we do possess (Book IV. chap. -iii. sec. 24). He is more disposed to sigh for discoveries that would -make physics capable of the same general certainty as mathematics, -than to purge the former of those mathematical propositions--really -true only because having no reference to reality--which to him formed -the only scientific element in them. - -What knowledge it can afford, according to Locke. - -122. The ambiguity of his position will become clearer if we resort -to his favourite ‘instances in gold.’ The proposition, ‘all gold is -soluble in aqua regia,’ is certainly true, if such solubility is -included in the complex idea which the word ‘gold’ stands for, and -if such inclusion is all that the proposition purports to state. It -is equally certain and equally trifling with the proposition, ‘a -centaur is four-footed.’ But, in fact, as a proposition concerning -substance, it purports to state more than this, viz. that a ‘body -whose complex idea is made up of yellow, very weighty, ductile, -fusible, and fixed,’ is always soluble in aqua regia. In other words, -it states the invariable co-existence in a body of the complex idea, -‘solubility in aqua regia,’ with the group of ideas indicated by -‘gold.’ Thus understood--as instructive or synthetical--it has not -the certainty which would belong to it if it were ‘trifling,’ or -analytical, ‘since we can never, from the consideration of the ideas -themselves, with certainty affirm’ their co-existence (Book IV. chap. -vi. sec 9). If we see the solution actually going on, or can recall -the sight of it by memory, we can affirm its co-existence with the -ideas in question in that ‘bare instance;’ and thus, on the principle -that ‘whatever ideas have once been united in nature may be so united -again’ (Book IV. chap. iv. sec. 12), infer a capacity of co-existence -between the ideas, but that is all. ‘Constant observation may assist -our judgments in guessing’ an invariable actual co-existence (Book -IV. chap. viii. sec. 9); but beyond guessing we cannot get. If our -instructive proposition concerning co-existence is to be general -it must remain problematical. It is otherwise with mathematical -propositions. ‘If the three angles of a triangle were once equal to -two right angles, it is certain that they always will be so;’ but -only because such a proposition concerns merely ‘the habitudes and -relations of ideas.’ ‘If the perception that the same ideas will -eternally have the same habitudes and relations be not a sufficient -ground of knowledge, there could be no knowledge of general -propositions in mathematics; for no mathematical demonstration -could be other than particular: and when a man had demonstrated any -proposition concerning one triangle and circle, his knowledge would -not reach beyond that particular diagram’ (Book IV. chap. i. sec. 9). - -Not the knowledge which is now supposed to be got by induction. Yet -more than Locke was entitled to suppose it could give. - -123. To a reader, fresh from our popular treatises on Logic, such -language would probably at first present no difficulty. He would -merely lament that Locke, as a successor of Bacon, was not better -acquainted with the ‘Inductive methods,’ and thus did not understand -how an observation of co-existence in the bare instance, if the -instance be of the right sort, may warrant a universal affirmation. -Or he may take the other side, and regard Locke’s restriction upon -general certainty as conveying, not any doubt as to the validity -of the inference from an observed case to all cases where the -conditions are ascertainably the same, but a true sense of the -difficulty of ascertaining in any other case that the conditions -are the same. On looking closer, however, he will see that, so far -from Locke’s doctrine legitimately allowing of such an adaptation -to the exigencies of science, it is inconsistent with itself in -admitting the reality of most of the conditions in the case supposed -to be observed, and thus in allowing the real truth even of the -singular proposition. This purports to state, according to Locke’s -terminology, that certain ‘ideas’ do now or did once co-exist in a -body. But the ideas, thus stated to co-exist, according to Locke’s -doctrine that real existence is only testified to by actual present -sensation, differ from each other as that which _really_ exists -from that which does not. In the particular experiment of gold -being solved in aqua regia, from the complex idea of solubility an -indefinite deduction would have to be made for qualification by ideas -retained in the understanding before we could reach the present -sensation; and not only so, but the group of ideas indicated by -‘gold,’ to whose co-existence with solubility the experiment is said -to testify, as Locke himself says, form merely a nominal essence, -while the body to which we ascribe this essence is something which we -‘accustom ourselves to suppose,’ not any ‘parcel of matter’ having -a real existence in nature. [1] In asserting the co-existence of -the ideas forming such a nominal essence with the actual sensation -supposed to be given in the experiment, we change the meaning of -‘existence,’ between the beginning and end of the assertion, from -that according to which all ideas exist to that according to which -existence has no ‘connexion with any other of our ideas but those of -ourselves and God,’ but is testified to by present sensation. [2] -This paralogism escapes Locke just as his equivocal use of the term -‘idea’ escapes him. The distinction, fixed in Hume’s terminology as -that between impression and idea, forces itself upon him, as we have -seen, in the Fourth book of the Essay, where the whole doctrine of -real existence turns upon it, but alongside of it survives the notion -that ideas, though ‘in the mind’ and forming a nominal essence, are -yet, if rightly taken from things, ectypes of reality. Thus he does -not see that the co-existence of ideas, to which the particular -experiment, as he describes it, testifies, is nothing else than the -co-existence of an event with a conception--of that which is in a -particular time, and (according to him) only for that reason real, -with that which is not in time at all but is an unreal abstraction -of the mind’s making. [3] The reality given in the actual sensation -cannot, as a matter of fact, be discovered to have a necessary -connexion with the ideas that form the nominal essence, and therefore -cannot be asserted universally to co-exist with them; but with better -faculties, he thinks, the discovery might be made (Book IV. chap. -iii. sec. 16). It does not to him imply such a contradiction as it -must have done if he had steadily kept in view his doctrine that of -particular (_i.e._ real) existence our ‘knowledge’ is not properly -knowledge at all, but simply sensation--such a contradiction as was -to Hume involved in the notion of deducing a matter of fact. - -[1] See above, paragraphs 35, 94, &c. - -[2] See above, paragraph 30 and the following. - -[3] See above, paragraphs 45, 80, 85, 97. - -With Locke mathematical truths, though ideal, true also of nature. - -124. It results that those followers of Locke, who hold the -distinction between propositions of mathematical certainty and those -concerning real existence to be one rather of degree than of kind, -though they have the express words of their master against them, can -find much in his way of thinking on their side. This, however, does -not mean that he in any case drops the antithesis between matters of -fact and relations of ideas in favour of matters of fact, so as to -admit that mathematical propositions concern matters of fact, but -that he sometimes drops it in favour of relations of ideas, so as -to represent real existence as consisting in such relations. If the -matter of fact, or real existence, is to be found only in the event -constituted or reported by present feeling, such a relation of ideas, -by no manner of means reducible to an event, as the mathematical -proposition states, can have no sort of connection with it. But if -real existence is such that the relations of ideas, called primary -qualities of matter, constitute it, and the qualities included in our -nominal essences are its copies or effects, then, as on the one side -our complex ideas of substances only fail of reality through want of -fulness, or through mistakes in the process by which they are ‘taken -from things,’ so, on the other side, the mental truth of mathematical -propositions need only fail to be real because the ideas, whose -relations they state, are considered in abstraction from conditions -which qualify them in real existence. ‘If it is true of the idea of -a triangle that its three angles equal two right ones, it is true -also of a triangle, wherever it really exists’ (Book IV. chap. iv. -sec. 6). There is, then, no incompatibility between the idea and -real existence. Mathematical ideas might fairly be reckoned, like -those of substances, to be taken from real existence; but though, -like these, inadequate to its complexity, to be saved from the -necessary infirmities which attach to ideas of substances because not -considered as so taken, but merely as in the mind. There is language -about mathematics in Locke that may be interpreted in this direction, -though his most explicit statements are on the other side. It is not -our business to adjust them, but merely to point out the opposite -tendencies between which a clear-sighted operator on the material -given by Locke would find that he had to choose. - -Two lines of thought in Locke, between which a follower would have to -choose. - -125. On the one hand there is the identification of real existence -with the momentary sensible event. This view, of which the proper -result is the exclusion of predication concerning real existence -altogether, appears in Locke’s restriction of such predication to the -singular proposition, and in his converse assertion that propositions -of mathematical certainty ‘concern not existence’ (Book IV. chap. -iv. sec. 8). The embarrassment resulting from such a doctrine is -that it leads round to the admission of the originativeness of -thought and of the reality of its originations, with the denial of -which it starts. [1] It leads Locke himself along a track, which his -later followers scarcely seem to have noticed, when he treats the -‘never enough to be admired discoveries of Mr. Newton’ as having to -do merely with the relations of ideas in distinction from things, -and looks for a true extension of knowledge--neither in syllogism -which can yield no instructive, nor in experiment which can yield no -general, certainty--but only in a further process of ‘singling out -and laying in order intermediate ideas,’ which are ‘real as well as -nominal essences of their species,’ because they have no reference -to archetypes elsewhere than in the mind (Book IV. chap. vii. sec. -11, and Book IV. chap. xii. sec. 7). On the other hand there is the -notion that ideas, without distinction between ‘actual sensation’ -and ‘idea in the mind,’ are taken from permanent things, and are -real if correctly so taken. From this it results that propositions, -universally true as representing a necessary relation between ideas -of primary qualities, are true also of real existence; and that an -extension of such real certainty through the discovery of a necessary -connexion between ideas of primary and those of secondary qualities, -though scarcely to be hoped for, has no inherent impossibility. It -is this notion, again, that unwittingly gives even that limited -significance to the particular experiment which Locke assigns to it, -as indicating a co-existence between ideas present as sensations -and those which can only be regarded as in the mind. Nor is it the -intrinsic import so much as the expression of this notion that is -altered when Locke substitutes an order of nature for substance -as that in which the ideas co-exist. In his Fourth Book he so far -departs from the doctrine implied in his chapters on the reality and -adequacy of ideas and on the names of substances, as to treat the -notion of several single subjects in which ideas co-exist (which he -still holds to be the proper notion of substances), as a fiction -of thought. There are no such single subjects. What we deem so are -really ‘retainers to other parts of nature.’ ‘Their observable -qualities, actions, and powers are owing to something without them; -and there is not so complete and perfect a part that we know of -nature, which does not owe the being it has, and the excellencies -of it, to its neighbours’ (Book IV. chap. vi. sec. 11). As thus -conceived of, the ‘objective order’ which our experience represents -is doubtless other than that collection of fixed separate ‘things,’ -implied in the language about substances which Locke found in vogue, -but it remains an objective order still--an order of ‘qualities, -actions, and powers’ which no multitude of sensible events could -constitute, but apart from which no sensible event could have such -significance as to render even a singular proposition of real truth -possible. - -[1] See above, paragraph 117, sub. fin. - -Transition to doctrine of God and the soul. - -126. It remains to inquire how, with Locke, the ideas of self and -God escape subjection to those solvents of reality which, with -more or less of consistency and consciousness, he applied to the -conceptions on which the science of nature rests. Such an enquiry -forms the natural transition to the next stage in the history of his -philosophy. It was Berkeley’s practical interest in these ideas that -held him back from a development of his master’s principles, in which -he would have anticipated Hume, and finally brought him to attach -that other meaning to the ‘new way of ideas’ faintly adumbrated -in the later sections of his ‘Siris,’ which gives to Reason the -functions that Locke had assigned to Sense. - -Thinking substance--source of the same ideas as outer substance. - -127. The dominant notion of the self in Locke is that of the inward -substance, or ‘substratum of ideas,’ co-ordinate with the outward, -‘wherein they do subsist, and from which they do result.’ ‘Sensation -convinces that there are solid extended substances, and reflection -that there are thinking ones’ (Book II. chap, xxiii. sec. 29). We -have already seen how, without disturbance from his doctrine of the -fictitiousness of universals, he treats the simple idea as carrying -with it the distinction of outward and inward, or relations severally -to a ‘thing’ and to a ‘mind.’ It reports itself ambiguously as a -quality of each of these separate substances. It is now, or was to -begin with, the result of an outward thing ‘actually operating upon -us;’ for ‘of simple ideas the mind cannot make one to itself:’ on the -other hand, it is a ‘perception,’ and perception is an ‘operation -of the mind.’ In other words it is at once a modification of the -mind by something of which it is consciously not conscious, and a -modification of the mind by itself--the two sources of one and the -same modification being each determined only as the contradictory -of the other. Thus, when we come to probe the familiar metaphors -under which Locke describes Reflection, as a ‘fountain of ideas’ -other than sensation, we find that the confusions which we have -already explored in dealing with the ideas of sensation recur under -added circumstances of embarrassment. Not only does the simple -idea of reflection, like that of sensation, turn out to be already -complicated in its simplicity with the superinduced ideas of cause -and relation, but the causal substance in question turns out to -be one which, from being actually nothing, becomes something by -acting upon itself; while all the time the result of this action is -indistinguishable from that ascribed to the opposite, the external, -cause. - -Of which substance is perception the effect? - -128. To a reader to whom Locke’s language has always seemed to be--as -indeed it is--simply that of common sense and life, in writing the -above we shall seem to be creating a difficulty where none is to be -found. Let us turn, then, to one of the less prolix passages, in -which the distinction between the two sources of ideas is expressed: -‘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’ (Book II. chap. i. sec. 5). We have seen already that -with Locke perception and idea are equivalent terms. It only needs -further to be pointed out that no distinction can be maintained -between his usage of ‘mind’ and of ‘understanding,’ [1] and that the -simple ideas of the mind’s own operations are those of perception -and power, which must be given in and with every idea of a sensible -quality.’ [2] Avoiding synonyms, then, and recalling the results of -our examination of the terms involved in the first clause of the -passage before us, we may re-write the whole thus: ‘Creations of the -mind, which yet are external to it, produce in it those perceptions -of their qualities which they do produce; and the mind produces in -itself the perception of these, its own, perceptions.’ - -[1] As becomes apparent on examination of such passages, as Book II. -chap. i. sec. 1, sub. fin.; and Book II. chap. i. sec. 23. - -[2] See above, paragraphs 11, 12, 16. - -That which is the source of substantiation cannot be itself a -substance. - -129. This attempt to present Locke’s doctrine of the relation between -the mind and the world, as it would be without phraseological -disguises, must not be ascribed to any polemical interest in making -a great writer seem to talk nonsense, The greatest writer must fall -into confusions when he brings under the conceptions of cause and -substance the self-conscious thought which is their source; and -nothing else than this is involved in Locke’s avowed enterprise -of knowing that which renders knowledge possible as he might know -any other object. The enterprise naturally falls into two parts, -corresponding to that distinction of subject and object which -self-consciousness involves. Hitherto we have been dealing with -it on the objective side--with the attempt to know knowledge as a -result of experience received through the senses--and have found the -supposed source of thought already charged with its creations; with -the relations of inner and outer, of substance and attribute, of -cause and effect, of appearance and reality. The supposed ‘outward’ -turns out to have its outwardness constituted by thought, and thus -to be inward. The ‘outer sense’ is only an outer sense at all so -far as feelings, by themselves neither outward nor inward, are by -the mind referred to a thing or cause which ‘the mind supposes;’ -and only thus have its reports a prerogative of reality over the -‘fantasies,’ supposed merely of the mind. Meanwhile, unable to -ignore the subjective side of self-consciousness, Locke has to put -an inward experience as a separate, but co-ordinate, source of -knowledge alongside of the outer. But this inward experience, simply -as a succession of feelings, does not differ from the outer: it only -so differs as referred to that very ‘thinking thing,’ called the -mind, which by its supposition of causal substance has converted -feeling into an experience of an outer thing. ‘Mind’ thus, by -the relations which it ‘invents,’ constitutes both the inner and -outer, and yet is treated as itself the inner ‘substratum which it -accustoms itself to suppose.’ It thus becomes the creature of its -own suppositions. Nor is this all. This, indeed, is no more than the -fate which it must suffer at the hands of every philosopher who, -in Kantian language, brings the source of the Categories under the -Categories. But with Locke the constitution of the outer world by -mental supposition, however uniformly implied, is always ignored; and -thus mind, as the inward substance, is not only the creature of its -own suppositions, but stands over against a real existence, of which -the reality is held to consist just in its being the opposite of all -such suppositions: while, after all, the effect of these mutually -exclusive causes is one and the same experience, one and the same -system of sequent and co-existent ideas. - -To get rid of the inner source of ideas in favour of the outer would -be false to Locke. - -130. Is it then a case of _joint_-effect? Do the outer and inner -substances combine, like mechanical forces, to produce the psychical -result? Against such a supposition a follower of Locke would find -not only the language of his master, with whom perception appears -_indifferently_ as the result of the outer or inner cause, but -the inherent impossibility of analysing the effect into separate -elements. The ‘Law of Parsimony,’ then, will dictate to him that -one or other of the causes must be dispensed with; nor, so long as -he takes Locke’s identification of the outward with the real for -granted, will he have much doubt as to which of the two must go. -To get rid of the causality of mind, however, though it might not -be untrue to the tendency of Locke, would be to lose sight of his -essential merit as a formulator of what everyone thinks, which is -that, at whatever cost of confusion or contradiction, he at least -formulates it fully. In him the ‘Dialectic,’ which popular belief -implicitly involves, goes on under our eyes. If the primacy of -self-conscious thought is never recognized, if it remains the victim -of its own misunderstood creations, there is at least no attempt -to disguise the unrest which attaches to it in this self-imposed -subjection. - -The mind, which Locke opposes to matter, perpetually shifting. - -131. We have already noticed how the inner ‘tablet,’ on which the -outer thing is supposed to act, is with Locke perpetually receding. -[1] It is first the brain, to which the ‘motion of the outward parts’ -must be continued in order to constitute sensation (Book II. chap. -ix. sec. 3). Then perception is distinguished from sensation, and -the brain itself, as the subject of sensation, becomes the outward -in contrast with the understanding as the subject of perception. [2] -Then perception, from being simply a reception, is converted into an -‘operation,’ and thus into an efficient of ideas. The ‘understanding’ -itself, as perceptive, is now the outward which makes on the ‘mind,’ -as the inner ‘tablet,’ that impression of its own operation in -perception which is called an idea of reflection. [3] Nor does -the regressive process--the process of finding a mind within the -mind--stop here, though the distinction of inner and outer is not any -further so explicitly employed in it. From mind, as receptive of, and -operative about, ideas, _i.e._ consciousness, is distinguished mind -as the ‘substance within us’ of which consciousness is an ‘operation’ -that it sometimes exercises, sometimes (_e.g._ when it sleeps) does -not (Book II. chap. i. secs. 10-12); and from this thinking substance -again is distinguished the man who ‘finds it in himself and carries -it about with him in a coach or on horseback (Book II. chap, xxiii. -sec. 20)--the person, ‘consisting of soul and body,’ who is prone to -sleep and in sound sleep is unconscious, but whose personal identity -strangely consists in sameness of consciousness, sameness of an -occasional operation of part of himself. [3] - -[1] See above, paragraph 14. - -[2] Book II., chap. i. sec. 23. ‘Sensation is such an impression -made in some part of the body, as produces some perception in the -understanding.’ - -[3] Locke speaks indifferently of the mind impressing the -understanding, and of the understanding impressing the mind, with -ideas of reflection, but as he specially defines ‘understanding’ as -the ‘perceptive power’ (Book II. chap. xxi. sec. 25.), I have written -as above. - -[4] Cf. II. chap. i. secs. 11 and 14, with II. chap, xxvii. sec. 9. -It is difficult to see what ingenuity could reconcile the doctrine -stated in Book II. chap. xxvii. sec. 9, that personal identity is -identity of consciousness, with the doctrine implied in Book II. -chap. i. sec. 11, that the waking Socrates is the same person with -Socrates asleep, _i.e._ (according to Locke) not conscious at all. - -Two ways out of such difficulties. ‘Matter’ and ‘mind’ have the same -source in self-consciousness. - -132. In the history of subsequent philosophy two typical methods -have appeared of dealing with this chaos of antinomies. One, which -we shall have to treat at large in writing of Hume, affects to -dispose of both the outward and the inward synthesis--both of -the unity of feelings in a subject matter and of their unity in -a subject mind--as ‘fictions of thought.’ This method at once -suggests the vital question whether a mind which thus invents has -been effectively suppressed--whether, indeed, the theory can be so -much as stated without a covert assumption of that which it claims -to have destroyed. The other method, of which Kant is the parent, -does not attempt to efface the apparent contradictions which beset -the ‘relation between mind and matter;’ but regarding them as in -a certain sense inevitable, traces them to their source in the -application to the thinking Ego itself of conceptions, which it -does indeed constitute in virtue of its presence to phenomena given -under conditions of time, but under which for that very reason it -cannot itself be known. It is in virtue of the presence of the -self-conscious unit to the manifold of feeling, according to this -doctrine, that the latter becomes an order of definite things, each -external to the other; and it is only by a false inclusion within -this order of that which constitutes it that the Ego itself becomes -a ‘thinking thing’ with other things outside it. The result of such -inclusion is that the real world, which it in the proper sense makes, -becomes a reality external to it, yet apart from which it would -not be actually anything. Thus with Locke, though the mind has a -potential existence of its own, it is experience of ‘things without -it’ that ‘furnishes’ it or makes it what it actually is. But the -relation of such outer things to the mind cannot be spoken of without -contradiction. If supposed outward as bodies, they have to be brought -within consciousness as objects of sensation; if supposed outward -as sensation, they have to be brought within consciousness--to find -a home in the understanding--as ideas of sensation. Meanwhile the -consideration returns that after all the ‘thinking thing’ contributes -something to that which it thinks about; and, this once admitted, it -is as impossible to limit its work on one side as that of the outer -thing on the other. Each usurps the place of its opposite. Thus with -Locke the understanding produces effects on itself, but the product -is one and the same ‘perception’ otherwise treated as an effect of -the outer world. One and the same self-consciousness, in short, [1] -involving the correlation of subject and object, becomes the result -of two separate ‘things,’ each exclusive of the other, into which the -opposite poles of this relation have been converted--the extended -thing or ‘body’ on the one side, and the thinking thing or ‘mind’ on -the other. - -[1] For the equivalence of perception with self-consciousness in -Locke, see above, paragraph 24, et infra. - -Difficulties in the way of ascribing reality to substance as matter, -re-appear in regard to substance as mind. - -133. To each of these supposed ‘things’ thought transfers its own -unity and self-containedness, and thereupon finds itself in new -difficulties. These, so far as they concern the outward thing, have -already been sufficiently noticed. We have seen how the single -self-contained thing on the one hand attenuates itself to the bare -atom, presented in a moment of time, which in its exclusiveness -is actually nothing: [1] how, on the other, it spreads itself, as -everything which for one moment we regard as independent turns out -in the next to be a ‘retainer’ to something else, into a series that -cannot be summed. [2] A like consequence follows when the individual -man, conceiving of the thought, which is not mine but me, and which -is no less the world without which I am not I, as a thinking thing -within him, limited by the limitations of his animal nature, seeks -in this thinking thing, exclusive of other things, that unity and -self-containedness, which only belong to the universal ‘I.’ He -finds that he ‘thinks not always;’ that during a fourth part of his -time he neither thinks nor perceives at all; and that even in his -waking hours his consciousness consists of a succession of separate -feelings, whose recurrence he cannot command. [3] Thought being -thus broken and dependent, substantiality is not to be found in it. -It is next sought in the ‘thing’ of which thought is an occasional -operation--a thing of which it may readily be admitted that its -nature cannot be known (Book II. chap, xxiii. sec. 29, etc.), since -it has no nature, being merely that which remains of the thinking -thing upon abstraction of its sole determination. It is in principle -nothing else than the supposed basis of sensible qualities remaining -after these have been abstracted--the ‘parcel of matter’ which has -no essence--with which accordingly Locke sometimes himself tends -to identify it. [4] But meanwhile, behind this unknown substance, -whether of spirit or of body, the self-consciousness, which has been -treated as its occasional unessential operation, re-asserts itself as -the self which claims both body and spirit, the immaterial no less -than the material substance, as its own, and throughout whatever -diversity in these maintains its own identity. - -[1] See above, paragraph 94 and the following. - -[2] See above, paragraph 125. - -[3] Locke, Essay ii. chap. i. sec. 10, etc. - -[4] See above, paragraph 106, near the end. - -We think not always, yet thought constitutes the self. - -134. Just, then, as Locke’s conception of outward reality grows -under his hands into a conception of nature as a system of relations -which breaks through the limitations of reality as constituted -by mere _individua_, so it is with the self, as he conceived it. -It is not a simple idea. It is not one of the train that is for -ever passing, ‘one going and another coming,’ for it looks on this -succession as that which it experiences, being itself the same -throughout the successive differences (Book II. chap. vii. sec. 9, -and chap. xxvii. sec. 9). As little can it be adjusted to any of -the conditions of real ‘things,’ thinking or unthinking, which he -ordinarily recognises. It has no ‘particularity in space and time.’ -That which is past in ‘reality’ is to it present. It is ‘in its -nature indifferent to any parcel of matter.’ It is the same with -itself yesterday and to-day, here and there. That ‘with which its -consciousness can join itself is one self with it,’ and it can so -join itself with substances apart in space and remote in time (Book -II. chap, xxvii. secs. 9, 13, 14, 17). For speaking of it as eternal, -indeed, we could find no warrant in Locke. He does not so clearly -distinguish it from the ‘thinking thing’ supposed to be within each -man, that has ‘had its determinate time and place of beginning to -exist, relation to which determines its identity so long as it -exists’ (Book II. chap. xxvii. sec. 2). Hence he supposed an actual -limit to the past which it could make present--a limit seemingly -fixed for each man at the farthest by the date of his birth--though -he talks vaguely of the possibility of its range being extended (Book -II. chap. xxvii. sec. 16). In the discussion of personal identity, -however, the distinction gradually forces itself upon him, and he at -last expressly says (sec. 16), that if the same Socrates, sleeping -and waking, do not partake of the same consciousness (as according to -Book II. chap. i. sec. 11 he certainly does not), ‘Socrates sleeping -and waking is not the same person;’ whereas the ‘thinking thing’--the -substance of which consciousness is a power sometimes exercised, -sometimes not--is the same in the sleeping as in the waking Socrates. -This is a pregnant admission, but it brings nothing to the birth in -Locke himself. The inference which it suggests to his reader, that -a self which does not slumber or sleep is not one which is born or -dies, does not seem to have occurred to him. Taking for his method -the imaginary process of ‘looking into his own breast,’ instead -of the analysis of knowledge and morality, he could not find the -eternal self which knowledge and morality pre-suppose, but only the -contradiction of a person whose consciousness is not the same for two -moments together, and often ceases altogether, but who yet, in virtue -of an identity of this very consciousness, is the same in childhood -and in old age. - -Locke neither disguises these contradictions, nor attempts to -overcome them. - -135. Here as elsewhere we have to be thankful that the contradiction -had not been brought home so strongly to Locke as to make him -seek the suppression of either of its alternatives. He was aware -neither of the burden which his philosophy tended to put upon the -self which ‘can consider itself as itself in different times and -places’--the burden of replacing the stable world, when ‘the new way -of ideas’ should have resolved the outward thing into a succession of -feelings--nor of the hopelessness of such a burden being borne by a -‘perishing’ consciousness, ‘of which no two parts exist together, but -follow each other in succession.’ [1] When he ‘looked into himself,’ -he found consciousness to consist in the succession of ideas, -‘one coming and another going:’ he also found that ‘consciousness -alone makes what we call self,’ and that he was the same self at -any different points in the succession. He noted the two ‘facts of -consciousness’ at different stages of his enquiry, and was apparently -not struck by their contradiction. He could describe them both, and -whatever he could describe seemed to him to be explained. Hence they -did not suggest to him any question either as to the nature of the -observed object or as to the possibility of observing it, such as -might have diverted philosophy from the method of self-observation. -He left them side by side, and, far from disguising either, put -alongside of them another fact--the presence among the perpetually -perishing ideas of that of a consciousness identical with itself, not -merely in different times and places, but in all times and places. -Such an idea, under the designation of an eternal wise Being, he was -‘sure he had’ (Book II. chap. xvii. sec. 14). - -[1] Cf. Book II. chap. xiv. sec. 32--‘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; and by observing -a distance in the parts of this succession, we get the idea of -duration’--with chap. xv. sec. 12. ‘Duration is the idea we have of -perishing distance, of which no two parts exist together, but follow -each other in succession.’ - -Is the idea of God possible to a consciousness given in time? - -136. The remark will at once occur that the question concerning the -relation between our consciousness, as in succession, and the idea -of God, is essentially different from that concerning the relation -between this consciousness and the self identical throughout it, -inasmuch as the relation in the one case is between a fact and an -idea, in the other between conflicting facts. The identity of the -self, which Locke asserts, is one of ‘real being,’ and this is -found to lie in consciousness, in apparent conflict with the fact -that consciousness is a succession, of which ‘no two parts exist -together.’ There is no such conflict, it will be said, between the -_idea_ of a conscious being, who is the same yesterday, to-day, and -for ever--the correspondence to which of any reality is a farther -question--and the _fact_ of our consciousness being in succession. -Allowing for the moment the validity of this distinction, we will -consider first the difficulties that attach to Locke’s account of the -idea of God, as an idea. - -Locke’s account of this idea. - -137. This idea, with him, is a ‘complex idea of substance.’ It is -the idea each man has of the ‘thinking thing within him, enlarged -to infinity.’ It is beset then in the first place with all the -difficulties which we have found to belong to his doctrine of -substance generally and of the thinking substance in particular. -[1] These need not be recalled in detail. When God is the thinking -substance they become more obvious. It is the antithesis to ‘material -substance,’ as the source of ideas of sensation, that alone with -Locke gives a meaning to ‘thinking substance,’ as the source of ideas -of reflection: and if, as we have seen, the antithesis is untenable -when it is merely the source of human ideas that is in question, -much more must it be so in regard to God, to whom any opposition -of material substance must be a limitation of his perfect nature. -Of the generic element in the above definition, then, no more need -here be said. It is the qualification of ‘enlargement to infinity,’ -by which the idea of man as a thinking substance is represented as -becoming the idea of God, that is the special difficulty now before -us. Of this Locke writes as follows:--‘The complex idea we have -of God is made up of the simple ones we receive from reflection. -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 ideas of knowledge by extending its comprehension to all -things existing or possible. The same I can do of knowing them more -perfectly, _i.e._ all their qualities, powers, causes, consequences, -and relations; and thus frame the idea of infinite or boundless -knowledge. The same also may 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. ... -All which is done by enlarging the simple ideas we have taken from -the operation of our own minds by reflection, or by our senses from -exterior things, to that vastness to which infinity can extend them. -For it is infinity which joined to our ideas of existence, power, -knowledge, &c., makes that complex idea whereby we represent to -ourselves the supreme being’ (Book II. chap. xxiii. sec. 33--35). -What is meant by this ‘joining of infinity’ to our ideas? - -[1] See above, paragraph 35 and the following, and 127 and the -following. - -‘Infinity,’ according to Locke’s account of it, only applicable to -God, if God has parts. - -138. ‘Finite and infinite,’ says Locke, ‘are looked upon by the mind -as the modes of quantity, and are to be attributed primarily only -to those things that have parts and are capable of increase by the -addition of any the least part’ (Book II. chap. xvii. sec. 1). Such -are ‘duration and expansion.’ The applicability then of the term -‘infinite’ in its proper sense to God implies that he has expansion -or duration; and it is characteristic of Locke that though he was -clear about the divisibility of expansion and duration, as the above -passage shows, he has no scruple about speaking of them as attributes -of God, of whom as being ‘in his own essence simple and uncompounded’ -he would never have spoken as ‘having parts.’ ‘Duration is the idea -we have of perishing distance, of which no parts exist together -but follow each other in succession; as expansion is the idea of -lasting distance, all whose parts exist together.’ Yet of duration -and expansion, thus defined, he says that ‘in their full extent’ -(_i.e._ as severally ‘eternity and immensity’) ‘they belong only to -the Deity’ (Book II. chap. xv. secs. 8 and 12). ‘A full extent’ of -them, however, is in the nature of the case impossible. With a last -moment duration would cease to be duration; without another space -beyond it space would not be space. Locke is quite aware of this. -When his conception of infinity is not embarrassed by reference to -God, it is simply that of unlimited ‘addibility’--a juxtaposition -of space to space, a succession of time upon time, to which we can -suppose no limit so long as we consider space and time ‘as having -parts, and thus capable of increase by the addition of parts,’ and -which therefore excludes the very possibility of a totality or -‘full extent’ (Book II. chap. xvi. sec. 8, and xvii. sec. 13). The -question, then, whether infinity of expansion and duration in this, -its only proper, sense can be predicated of the perfect God, has -only to be asked in order to be answered in the negative. Nor do we -mend the matter if, instead of ascribing such infinity to God, we -substitute another phrase of Locke’s, and say that He ‘fills eternity -and immensity’ (Book II. chap. xv. sec. 8). Put for eternity and -immensity their proper equivalents according to Locke, viz. unlimited -‘addibility’ of times and spaces, and the essential unmeaningness of -the phrase becomes apparent. - -Can it be applied to him ‘figuratively’ in virtue of the indefinite -number of His acts? - -139. In regard to any other attributes of God than those of his -duration and expansion, [1] Locke admits that the term ‘infinite’ is -applied ‘figuratively’ (Book II. chap. xvii. sec. 1). ‘When we call -them (_e.g._ His power, wisdom, and goodness) infinite, we have no -other idea of this infinity but what carries with it some reflection -on, or intimation of, that number or extent of the acts or objects of -God’s wisdom, &c., which can never be supposed so great or so many -which these attributes will not always surmount, let us multiply them -in our thoughts as far as we can with all the infinity of endless -number.’ What determination, then, according to this passage, of our -conception of God’s goodness is represented by calling it infinite? -Simply its relation to a number of acts and objects of which the sum -can always be increased, and which, just for that reason, cannot -represent the perfect God. Is it then, it may be asked, of mere -perversity that when thinking of God under attributes that are not -quantitative, and therefore do not carry with them the necessity of -incompleteness, we yet go out of our way by this epithet ‘infinite’ -to subject them to the conditions of quantity and its ‘progressus ad -infinitum?’ - -[1] In the passages referred to, Locke speaks of ‘duration and -_ubiquity_.’ The proper counterpart, however, of ‘duration’ according -to him is ‘expansion’--this being to space what duration is to -time. Under the embarrassment, however, which necessarily attends -the ascription of expansion to God, he tacitly substitutes for it -‘ubiquity,’ a term which does not match ‘duration,’ and can only mean -presence throughout the _whole_ of expansion, presence throughout the -whole of that which does not admit of a whole. - -An act, finite in its nature, remains so, however often repeated. - -140. Retaining Locke’s point of view, our answer of course must -be that our ideas of the Divine attributes, being primarily our -own ideas of reflection, are either ideas of the single successive -acts that constitute our inward experience or formed from these -by abstraction and combination. In parts our experience is given, -in parts only can we recall it. Our complex or abstract ideas are -symbols which only take a meaning so far as we resolve them into -the detached impressions which in the sum they represent, or recall -the objects, each with its own before and after, from which they -were originally taken. So it is with the ideas of wisdom, power, and -goodness, which from ourselves we transfer to God. They represent an -experience given in succession and piece-meal--a numerable series of -acts and events, which like every other number is already infinite -in the only sense of the word of which Locke can give a clear -account, as susceptible of indefinite repetition (Book II. chap. -vi. sec. 8.) When we ‘join infinity’ to these ideas, then, unless -some other meaning is given to infinity, we merely state explicitly -what was originally predicable of the experience they embody. Nor -will it avail us much to shift the meaning of infinite, as Locke -does when he applies it to the divine attributes, from that of -indefinite ‘addibility’ to that of exceeding any sum which indefinite -multiplication can yield us. Let us suppose an act of consciousness, -from which we have taken an abstract idea of an attribute--say of -wisdom--to be a million times repeated; our idea of the attribute -will not vary with the repetition. Nor if, having supposed a limit -to the repetition, we then suppose the act indefinitely repeated -beyond this limit and accordingly speak of the attribute as infinite, -will our idea of the attribute vary at all from what it was to -begin with. Its content will be the same. There will be nothing -to be said of it which could not have been said of the experience -from which it was originally abstracted, and of which the essential -characteristic--that it is one of a series of events of which no two -can be present together--is incompatible with divine perfection. - -God only infinite in a sense in which time is _not_ infinite, and -which Locke could not recognize ... - -141. It appears then that it is the subjection of our experience -to the form of time which unfits the ideas derived from it for -any combination into an idea of God; nor by being ‘joined with -an infinity,’ which itself merely means the absence of limit to -succession in time, is their unfitness in any way modified. On the -contrary, by such conjunction from being latent it becomes patent. -In one important passage Locke becomes so far aware of this that, -though continuing to ascribe infinite duration to God, he does it -under qualifications inconsistent with the very notion of duration. -‘Though we cannot conceive any duration without succession, nor 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 ... what -is once past he can never recall, and what is yet to come he cannot -make present. ... God’s infinite duration being accompanied with -infinite knowledge and power, he sees all things past and to come’ -(Book II. chap. xv. sec 12). It is clear that in this passage -‘infinite’ changes its meaning; that it is used in one sense--the -proper sense according to Locke--when applied to duration, and in -some wholly different sense, not a figurative one derived from the -former, when applied to knowledge and power; and that the infinite -duration of God, as ‘accompanied by infinite power and knowledge,’ is -no longer in any intelligible sense duration at all. It is no longer -‘the idea we have of perishing distance,’ derived from our fleeting -consciousness in which ‘what is once past can never be recalled,’ but -the attribute of a consciousness of which, if it is to be described -in terms of time at all, in virtue of its ‘seeing all things past -and to come’ at once, it can only be said that it ‘does now exist -to-morrow.’ If it be asked, What meaning can we have in speaking -of such a consciousness? into what simple ideas can it be resolved -when all our ideas are determined by a before and after?--the answer -must be, Just as much or as little meaning as we have when, in like -contradiction to the successive presentation of ideas, we speak -of a self, constituted by consciousness, as identical with itself -throughout the years of our life. - -... the same sense in which the self is infinite. - -142. A more positive answer it is not our present business to give. -Our concern is to show that ‘eternity and immensity,’ according to -any meaning that Locke recognises, or that the observation of our -ideas could justify, do not express any conception that can carry -us beyond the perpetual incompleteness of our experience; but that -in his doctrine of personal identity he does admit a conception -which no observation of our ideas of reflection--since these are -in succession and could not be observed if they were not--can -account for; and that it is just this conception, the conception of -a constant presence of consciousness to itself incompatible with -conditions of space and time, that can alone give such meaning to -‘eternal and infinite’ as can render them significant epithets of -God. Such a conception (we say it with respect) Locke admits when -it is wanted without knowing it. It must indeed always underlie -the idea of God, however alien to it may be attempted adaptations -of the other ‘infinite’--the _progressus ad indefinitum_ in space -and time--by which, as with Locke, the idea is explained. But it is -one for which the psychological method of observing what happens in -oneself cannot account, and which therefore this method, just so far -as it is thoroughly carried out, must tend to discard. That which -happens, whether we reckon it an inward or an outward, a physical or -a psychical event--and nothing but an event can, properly speaking, -be observed--is as such in time. But the presence of consciousness to -itself, though, as the true ‘punctum stans,’ [1] it is the condition -of the observation of events in time, is not such an event itself. -In the ordinary and proper sense of ‘fact,’ it is not a fact at all, -nor yet a possible abstraction from facts. To the method, then, which -deals with phrases about the mind by ascertaining the observable -‘mental phenomena’ which they represent, it must remain a mere -phrase, to be explained as the offspring of other phrases whose real -import has been misunderstood. It can only recover a significance -when this method, as with Hume, has done its worst, and is found to -leave the possibility of knowledge, without such ‘punctum stans,’ -still unaccounted for. - -[1] Locke, Essay II. chap. xvii. sec. 16. - -How do I know my own real existence?--Locke’s answer. - -143. We have finally to notice the way in which Locke maintains -our knowledge of the ‘real existence’ of thinking substance, both -as that which ‘we call our mind,’ and as God. Of the former first. -‘Experience convinces us that we have an intuitive knowledge of our -own existence.... If I know I feel pain, it is evident I have as -certain perception of my own existence as of the pain I feel. If I -know I doubt, I have as certain perception of the existence of the -thing doubting as of that thought which I call doubt’ (Book IV. chap. -ix. sec. 3). Upon this the remark must occur that the existence of a -painful feeling is one thing; the existence of a permanent subject, -remaining the same with itself, when the feeling is over, and -through the succession of other feelings, quite another. The latter -is what is meant by my own existence, of which undoubtedly there -is a ‘certain perception,’ if the feeling of pain has become the -‘knowledge that I feel pain,’ and if by the ‘I’ is understood such -a permanent subject. That the feeling, as ‘simple idea,’ is taken -to begin with by Locke for the knowledge that I feel something, we -have sufficiently seen. [1] Just as, in virtue of this conversion, -it gives us ‘assurance’ of the real existence of the outer thing or -material substance on the one side, so of the thinking substance -on the other. It carries with it the certainty at once that I have -a feeling, and that something makes me feel. But whereas, after -the conversion of feeling into a felt thing has been throughout -assumed--as indeed otherwise feeling could not be spoken of--a -further question is raised, which causes much embarrassment, as to -the real existence of such thing; on the contrary, the reference of -the feeling to the _thinking_ thing is taken as carrying with it the -real existence of such thing. The question whether it really exists -or no is only once raised, and then summarily settled by the sentence -we have quoted, while the reality whether of existence or of essence -on the part of the outward thing, as we have found to our cost, is -the main burden of the Third and Fourth Books. - -[1] See above, paragraphs 26 and following, and 59 and following. - -It cannot be known consistently with Locke’s doctrine of real -existence. - -144. In principle, indeed, the answer to both questions, as given -by Locke, is the same: for the reasons which he alleges for being -assured of the ‘existence of a thing without us corresponding to -the idea of sensation’ reduce themselves, as we have seen, to the -reiteration of that reference of the idea to a thing, which according -to him is originally involved in it, and which is but the correlative -of its reference to a subject. This, however, is what he was not -himself aware of. To him the outer and the inner substance were -separate and independent things, for each of which the question of -real existence had to be separately settled. To us, according to the -view already indicated, it is the presence of self-consciousness, or -thought as an object-to-itself, to feeling that converts it into a -relation between feeling thing and felt thing, between ‘cogitative -and incogitative substance.’ The source of substantiation upon -each side being the same, the question as to the real existence of -either substance must be the same, and equally so the answer to it. -It is an answer that must be preceded by a counter question.--Does -real existence mean existence independent of thought? To suppose -such existence is to suppose an impossibility--one which is not the -less so though the existence be supposed material, if ‘material’ -means in ‘space’ and space itself is a relation constituted by the -mind, ‘bringing things to and setting them by one another.’ Yet is -the supposition itself but a mode of the logical substantiation -we have explained, followed by an imaginary abstraction of the -work of the mind from this, its own creation. Does real existence -mean a possible feeling? If so, it is as clear that what converts -feeling into a relation between felt thing and feeling subject -cannot in this sense be real, as it is that without such conversion -no distinction between real and fantastic would be possible. Does -it, finally, mean individuality, in such a sense that unless I can -say this or that is substance, thinking or material, substance does -not really exist? If it does, the answer is that substance, being -constituted by a relation by which self-conscious thought is for ever -determining feelings, and which every predication represents, cannot -be identified with any ‘this or that,’ though without it there could -be no ‘this or that’ at all. - -But he ignores this in treating of the self. - -145. We have already found that Locke accepts each of the above as -determinations of real existence, and that, though in spite of them -he labours to maintain the real existence of outward things, he is -so far faithful to them as to declare real essence unknowable. In -answering the question as to ‘his own existence’ he wholly ignores -them. He does not ask how the real existence of the thinking Ego -sorts with his ordinary doctrine that the real is what would be in -the world whether there were a mind or no; or its real identity, -present throughout the particulars of experience, with his ordinary -doctrine of the fictitiousness of ‘generals.’ A real existence of the -mind, however, founded on the logical necessity of substantiation, -rests on a shifting basis, so long as by the mind is understood a -thinking thing, different in each man, to which his inner experience -is referred as accidents to a substance. The same law of thought -which compels such reference requires that the thinking thing in -its turn, as that which is born grows and dies, be referred as an -accident to some ulterior substance. ‘A fever or fall may take away -my reason or memory, or both; and an apoplexy leave neither sense -nor understanding, no, nor life.’ [1] Just as each outer thing turns -out to be a ‘retainer to something else,’ so is it with the inner -thing. Such a dependent being cannot be an ultimate substance; nor -can any natural agents to which we may trace its dependence really -be so either. The logical necessity of further substantiation would -affect them equally, appearing in the supposition of an unknown -something beyond, which makes them what they are. It is under such -logical necessity that Locke, in regard to all the substances which -he commonly speaks of as ultimate--God, spirit, body--from time -to time gives warning of something still ulterior and unknowable, -whether under the designation of substance or real essence (Book II. -chap. xxiii. secs. 30 and 36). If, then, it will be said, substance -is but the constantly-shifting result of a necessity of thought--so -shifting that there is nothing of which we can finally say, ‘This -is substance, not accident’--there can be no evidence of the ‘real -existence’ of a permanent Ego in the necessary substantiation therein -of my inner experience. - -[1] Locke, Book III. chap. vi. sec. 4. - -Sense in which the self is truly real. - -146. The first result of such a consideration in a reader of Locke -will naturally be an attempt to treat the inner synthesis as a -fiction of thought or figure of speech, and to confine real existence -to single feelings in the moments of their occurrence. This, it -will seem, is to be faithful to Locke’s own clearer mind, as it -frequently emerges from the still-returning cloud of scholasticism. -The final result will rather be the discovery that the single feeling -is nothing real, but that the synthesis of appearances, which alone -for us constitutes reality, is never final or complete: that thus -absolute reality, like ultimate substance, is never to be found by -us--in a thinking as little as in a material thing--belonging as it -does only to that divine self-consciousness, of which the presence -in us is the source and bond of the ever-growing synthesis called -knowledge, but which, because it is the source of that synthesis and -not one of its partial results, is neither real nor knowable in the -same sense as is any other object. It is this presence which alone -gives meaning to ‘proofs of the being of God;’ to Locke’s among -the rest. For it is in a sense true, as he held, that ‘my own real -existence’ is evidence of the existence of God, since the self, in -the only sense in which it is absolutely real or an ultimate subject, -is already God. [1] - -[1] See below, paragraph 152. - -Locke’s proof of the real existence of God. There must have been -something from eternity to cause what now is. - -147. Our knowledge of God’s existence, according to him, is -‘demonstrative,’ based on the ‘intuitive’ knowledge of our own. -Strictly taken, according to his definitions, this must mean that the -agreement of the idea of God with existence is perceived mediately -through the agreement of the idea of self with existence, which is -perceived immediately; that thus the idea of God and the idea of -self ‘agree’. [1] We need not, however, further dwell either on -the contradiction implied in the knowledge of real existence, if -knowledge is a perception of agreement between ideas and if real -existence is the antithesis of ideas; or on the embarrassments which -follow when a definition of reasoning, only really applicable to the -comparison of quantities, is extended to other regions of knowledge. -Locke virtually ignores his definitions in the passage before us. ‘If -we know there is some real being’ (as we do know in the knowledge -of our own existence) ‘and that non-entity cannot produce any real -being, it is an evident demonstration that from eternity there has -been something; since what was not from eternity had a beginning, -and what had a beginning must be produced by something else’ (Book -IV. chap. x. sec. 3). Next as to the qualities of this something -else. ‘What had its being and beginning from another must also have -all that which is in, and belongs to, its being from another too’ -(Ibid, sec. 4.). From this is deduced the supreme power and perfect -knowledge of the eternal being upon the principle that whatever is in -the effect must also be in the cause--a principle, however, which has -to be subjected to awkward limitations in order that, while proving -enough, it may not prove too much, it might seem that, according to -it, since the real being, from which as effect the eternal being as -cause is demonstrated, is ‘both material and cogitative’ or ‘made up -of body and spirit,’ matter as well as thought must belong to the -eternal being too. That thought must belong to him, Locke is quite -clear. It is as impossible, he holds, that thought should be derived -from matter, or from matter and motion together, as that something -should be derived from nothing. ‘If we will suppose nothing first -or eternal, matter can never begin to be: if we suppose bare matter -without motion eternal, motion can never begin to be: if we suppose -only matter and motion first or eternal, thought can never begin -to be’ (Book IV. chap. x. sec. 10). The objection which is sure to -occur, that it must be equally impossible for matter to be derived -from thought, he can scarcely be said to face. He takes refuge in the -supreme power of the eternal being, as that which is able to create -matter out of nothing. He does not anticipate the rejoinder to which -he thus lays himself open, that this power in the eternal being to -produce one effect not homogeneous with itself, viz. matter, may -extend to another effect, viz. thought, and that thus the argument -from thought in the effect to thought in the cause becomes invalid, -and nothing but blind power, we know not what, remains as the -attribute of the eternal being. Nor does he remember, when he meets -the objection drawn from the inconceivability of matter being made -out of nothing by saying that what is inconceivable is not therefore -impossible (_ibid_. sec. 19), that it is simply the inconceivability -of a sequence of something upon nothing that has given him his -‘evident demonstration’ of an eternal being. - -[1] See above, paragraphs 25 and 24. - -How ‘eternity’ must be understood if this argument is to be valid: - -148. The value of the first step in Locke’s argument--the inference, -namely, from there being something now to there having been something -from eternity--must be differently estimated according to the meaning -attached to ‘something’ and ‘from eternity.’ If the existence of -something means the occurrence of an event, of this undoubtedly -it can always be said that it follows another event, nor to this -sequence can any limit be supposed, for a first event would not be -an event at all. It would be a contingency contingent upon nothing. -Thus understood, the argument from a something now to a something -from eternity is merely a statement of the infinity of time according -to that notion of infinity, as a ‘progressus ad indefinitum,’ which -we have already seen to be Locke’s. [1] It is the exact reverse of -an argument to a creation or a first cause. If we try to change -its character by a supplementary consideration that infinity in -the series of events is inconceivable, the rejoinder will be that -a first event is not for that reason any less of a contradiction, -and that the infinity which Locke speaks of only professes to be a -negative idea, representing the impossibility of conceiving a first -event (Book II. chap. xvii. sec. 13, &c.). In truth, however, when -Locke speaks of ‘something from eternity’ he does not mean--what -would clearly be no God at all--a series of events to which, because -_of events_, and therefore in time, no limit can be supposed; but a -being which is neither event nor series of events, to which there is -no before or after. The inference to such a being is not of a kind -with the transition from one event to another habitually associated -with it; and if this be the true account of reasoning from effect to -cause, no such reasoning can yield the result which Locke requires. -As we have seen, however, this is not his account of it, [2] however -legitimately it may follow from his general doctrine. - -[1] See above, paragraph 138. - -[2] See above, paragraph 68. - -... and how ‘cause’. - -149. The inference of cause with him is the inference from a change -to something having power to produce it. [1] The value of this -definition lies not in the notion of efficient power, but in that -of an order of nature, which it involves. If instead of ‘something -having power to produce it’ we read ‘something that accounts for the -change,’ it expresses the inference on which all science rests, but -which is as far as possible from being merely a transition from one -event to another that usually precedes it. An event, interpreted as -a change of something that remains constant, is no longer a mere -event. It is no longer merely in time, a present which next moment -becomes a past. It takes its character from relation to the thing or -system of things of which it is an altered appearance, but which in -itself is always the same. Only in virtue of such a relation does it -require to be accounted for, to be referred to a ‘cause’ which is in -truth the conception that holds together or reconciles the endless -flux of events with eternal unity. The cause of a ‘phenomenon,’ even -according to the authoritative exponent of the Logic which believes -itself to follow Hume, is the ‘sum total of its conditions.’ In its -fulness, that is, it is simply that system of things, conceived -explicitly, of which there must already have been an implicit -conception in order that the event might be regarded as a change -and thus start the search for a cause. An event in time, apart from -reference to something not in time, could suggest no enquiry into -the sum of its conditions. Upon occurrence of a certain feeling -there might indeed be spontaneous recollection of a feeling usually -precedent, spontaneous expectation of another usually sequent. But -such association of feelings can never explain that conception of -cause in virtue of which, when accounting for a phenomenon, we set -aside the event which in our actual experience has usually preceded -it, for one which we only find to precede it in the single case of -a crucial experiment. That we do so shows that it is not because of -antecedence in time, however apparently uniform, that an educated man -reckons a certain event to be the cause of another, but that, because -of its sole sufficiency under the sum of known conditions to account -for the given event, he decides it to be its uniform antecedent, -however much ordinary appearances may tell to the contrary. Thus, -though he may still strangely define cause as a uniformly antecedent -event (in spite of its being a definition that would prevent him -from speaking of gravity as the cause of the fall of a stone), it -is clear that by such event he means one determined by a complex of -conditions in an unchanging universe. These conditions, again, he may -speak of as contingencies, _i.e._ as events contingent upon other -events in endless series, but he must add ‘contingent in accordance -with the uniformity of nature’--in other words, he must determine the -contingencies by relation to what is not contingent; he must suppose -nature unchanging, though our experience of it through sensation -be a ‘progressus ad indefinitum’--if he is to allow a possibility -of knowledge at all. In short, if events were merely events, -feelings that happen to me now and next moment are over, no ‘law -of causation’ and therefore no knowledge would be possible. If the -knowledge founded on this law actually exists, then the ‘argumentum -a contingentiâ mundi’ rightly understood--the ‘inference’ from -nature to a being neither in time nor contingent but self-dependent -and eternal, that constant reality of which events are the changing -appearances--is valid because the conception of nature, of a -world to be known, already implies such a being. To the rejoinder -that implication in the conception of nature does not prove real -existence, the answer must be the question. What meaning has real -existence, the antithesis of illusion, except such as is equivalent -to this conception? - -[1] cf. Book II. chap. xxvi. sec. 1, and chap. xxi. sec. 1. - -The world which is to prove an eternal God must be itself eternal. - -150. The value, then, of Locke’s demonstration of the existence of -God, as an argument from there being something now to an eternal -being from which the real existence that we know ‘has all which is in -and belongs to it,’ depends on our converting it into the ‘argumentum -a contingentiâ mundi,’ stated as above. In other words, it depends on -our interpreting it in a manner which may be warranted by his rough -account of causation, and by one of the incompatible views of the -real that we have found in him, [1] but which is inconsistent with -his opposition of reality to the work of the mind, and his reduction -of it to ‘particular existence,’ as well as with his ordinary view -that ‘infinite’ and ‘eternal’ can represent only a ‘progressus ad -indefinitum.’ If by ‘real existence corresponding to an idea’ is -meant its presentation in a particular ‘here and now,’ an attempt -to find a real existence of God can bring us to nothing but such a -contradiction in terms as a first event. To prove it from the real -existence of the self is to prove one impossibility from another. -If, on the other hand, real existence implies the determination -of our ideas by an order of nature--if it means ideas ‘in ordine -ad universum’ (to use a Baconian phrase), in distinction from ‘in -ordine ad nos’--then the argument from a present to an eternal real -existence is valid, but simply in the sense that the present is -already real, and ‘has all that is in and belongs to it,’ only in -virtue of the relation to the eternal. - -[1] See above, paragraphs 49 and 91. - -But will the God, whose existence is so proven, be a thinking being? - -151. This, it may be said, is to vindicate Locke’s ‘proof’ only -by making it Pantheistic. It gives us an eternity of nature, but -not God. Our present concern, however, is not with the distinction -between Pantheism and true Theism, but with the exposition of Locke’s -doctrine according to the only development by which it can be made -to show the real existence of an eternal being at all. It is only -by making the most of certain Cartesian elements that appear in his -doctrine, irreconcileable with its general purport, that we can find -fair room in it for such a being, even as the system of nature. -Any attempt to exhibit (in Hegelian phrase) ‘Spirit as the truth -of nature,’ would be to go wholly beyond our record; yet without -this the ‘ens realissimum’ cannot be the God whose existence Locke -believes himself to prove--a _thinking_ being from whom matter and -motion are derived, but in whom they are not. It is true that, -according to the context, it is the real existence of the self from -which that of the eternal being is proved. This is because, in the -Fourth Book, where the ‘proof’ occurs, following the new train of -enquiry started by the definition of knowledge, Locke has for the -time left in abeyance his fundamental doctrine that all simple ideas -are types of reality, and is writing as if ‘my own real existence’ -were the only one known with intuitive certainty. This, however, -makes no essential difference in the effect of his argument. The -given existence, from which the divine is proved, is treated -expressly as _both_ ‘material and cogitative:’ nor, since according -to Locke the world is both and man is both, and even the ‘thinking -thing’ takes its content from impressions made by matter, could it be -otherwise. To have taken thought by itself as the basis of the proof -would have been to leave the other part of the world, as he conceived -it, to be referred to another God. The difficulty then arises, either -that there is no inference possible from the nature of the effect -to the nature of the eternal being, its cause; in which case no -attribute whatever can be asserted of the latter: or that to it too, -like the effect, matter as well as thought must belong. - -Yes, according to the true notion of the relation between thought and -matter. - -152. As we have seen, neither of these alternative views is really -met by Locke. To the former we may reply that the relation between -two events, of which neither has anything in common with the other, -but which we improperly speak of as effect and cause (_e.g._ death -and a sunstroke), has no likeness to that which we have explained -between the world in its contingency and the world as an eternal -system--a relation according to which the cause is the effect in -unity. Whatever is part of the reality of the world must belong, it -would seem, to the ‘ens realissimum,’ its cause. We are thus thrown -back on the other horn of the dilemma. Is not matter part of the -reality of the world? This is a question to which the method of -observing the individual consciousness can give none but a delusive -answer. A true answer cannot be given till for this method has been -substituted the enquiry, How knowledge is possible, and it has been -found that it is only possible as the progressive actualisation in -us of a self-consciousness in itself complete, and which in its -completeness includes the world as its object. From the point of view -thus attained the question as to matter will be, How is it related to -this self-consciousness?--a question to which the answer must vary -according to what is understood by ‘matter.’ If it means the abstract -opposite of thought--that which is supposed void of all determination -that comes of thinking--we must pronounce it simply a delusion, the -creation of self-consciousness in one stage of its communication to -us. If it means the world as in space and time, this we may allow to -be real enough as a stage in the process by which self-consciousness -constitutes reality. Thus understood, we may speak of it roughly as -part of the ‘ens realissimum’ which the complete self-consciousness, -or God, includes as its object, without any limitation of the divine -perfectness. The limitation only seems to arise so far as we, being -ourselves (as our knowledge and morality testify), though formally -self-conscious, yet parts of this partial world, interpret it amiss -and ascribe to it a reality, in abstraction from the self-conscious -subject, which it only derives from relation to it. Thus while on -the one hand it is the presence in us of God, as the self-conscious -source of reality, that at once gives us the idea of God and of an -eternal self, and renders superfluous the further question as to -their real existence; on the other hand it is because, for all this -presence, we are but emerging from nature, of which as animals we are -parts, that to us there must seem an incompatibility of existence -between God and matter, between the self and the flux of events which -makes our life. This necessary illusion is our bondage, but when the -source of illusion is known, the bondage is already being broken. - -Locke’s antinomies--Hume takes one side of them as true. - -153. We have now sufficiently explored the system which it was Hume’s -mission to try to make consistent with itself. We have found that it -is governed throughout by the antithesis between what is given to -consciousness--that in regard to which the mind is passive--as the -supposed real on the one side, and what is ‘invented,’ ‘created,’ -‘superinduced’ by the mind on the other: while yet this ‘real’ in all -its forms, as described by Locke, has turned out to be constituted by -such ideas as, according to him, are not given but invented. Stripped -of these superinductions, nothing has been found to remain of it -but that of which nothing can be said--a chaos of unrelated, and -therefore unmeaning, _individua_. Turning to the theory of the mind -itself, the source of the superinduction, we have found this to be a -reduplication of the prolonged inconsistency which forms the theory -of the ‘real.’ It impresses itself with that which, according to the -other theory, is the impress of matter, and it really exists as that -which it itself invents. The value of Hume’s philosophy lies in its -being an attempt to carry out the antithesis more rigorously--to -clear the real, whether under the designation of mind or of its -object, of all that could not be reckoned as given in feelings which -occur to us ‘whether we will or no.’ The consequence is a splendid -failure, a failure which it might have been hoped would have been -taken as a sufficient proof that a theory, which starts from that -antithesis, cannot even be stated without implicitly contradicting -itself. - -Hume’s scepticism fatal to his own premises. This derived from -Berkeley. - -154. Such a doctrine--a doctrine founded on the testimony of -the senses, which ends by showing that the senses testify to -nothing--cannot be criticised step by step according to the order in -which its author puts it, for its characteristic is that, in order -to state itself, it has to take for granted popular notions which it -afterwards shows to be unmeaning. Its power over ordinary thinkers -lies just in this, that it arrives at its destructive result by -means of propositions which every one believes, but to the validity -of which its result is really fatal. An account of our primitive -consciousness, which derives its plausibility from availing itself of -the conceptions of cause and substance, is the basis of the argument -which reduces these conceptions to words misunderstood. It cannot, -therefore, be treated by itself, as it stands in the first part of -the Treatise on the Understanding, but must be taken in connection -with Part IV., especially with the section on ‘Scepticism with regard -to the Senses;’ not upon the plan of discrediting a principle by -reference to the ‘dangerous’ nature of its consequences, but because -the final doctrine brings out the inconsistencies lurking in that -assumed to begin with. On this side of his scepticism Hume mainly -followed the orthodox Berkeley, of whose criticism of Locke, made -with a very different purpose, some account must first be given. -The connection between the two authors is instructive in many ways; -not least as showing that when the most pious theological purpose -expresses itself in a doctrine resting on an inadequate philosophical -principle, it is the principle and not the purpose that will regulate -the permanent effect of the doctrine. - -Berkeley’s religious interest in making Locke consistent. - -155. Berkeley’s treatises, we must remember, though professedly -philosophical, really form a theological polemic. He wrote as the -champion of orthodox Christianity against ‘mathematical atheism,’ -and, like others of his order, content with the demolition of the -rival stronghold, did not stay to enquire whether his own untempered -mortar could really hold together the fabric of knowledge and -rational religion which he sought to maintain. He found practical -ungodliness and immorality excusing themselves by a theory of -‘materialism’--a theory which made the whole conscious experience of -man dependent upon ‘unperceiving matter.’ This, whatever it might -be, was not an object which man could love or reverence, or to -which he could think of himself as accountable. Berkeley, full of -devout zeal for God and man, and not without a tincture of clerical -party-spirit (as appears in his heat against Shaftesbury, whom he -ought to have regarded as a philosophical yoke-fellow), felt that -it must be got rid of. He saw, or thought he saw, that the ‘new -way of ideas’ had only to be made consistent with itself, and the -oppressive shadow must vanish. Ideas, according to that new way (or, -to speak less ambiguously, feelings) make up our experience, and -they are not matter. Let us get rid, then, of the self-contradictory -assumption that they are either copies of matter--copies of that, -of which it is the sole and simple differentia that it is not an -idea, or its effects--effects of that which can only be described -as the unknown opposite of the only efficient power with which we -are acquainted--and what becomes of the philosopher’s blind and -dead substitute for the living and knowing God? It was one thing, -however, to show the contradictions involved in Locke’s doctrine of -matter, another effectively to replace it. To the latter end Berkeley -cannot be said to have made any permanent contribution. That explicit -reduction of ideas to feelings ‘particular in time,’ which was his -great weapon of destruction, was incompatible with his doing so. -He adds nothing to the philosophy, which he makes consistent with -itself, while by making it consistent he empties it of three parts of -its suggestiveness. His doctrine, in short, is merely Locke purged, -and Locke purged is no Locke. - -What is meant by relation of mind and matter? - -156. The question which he mainly dealt with may be stated in general -terms as that of the relation between the mind and the external -world. Under this general statement, however, are covered several -distinct questions, the confusion between which has been a great -snare for philosophers--questions as to the relations _(a)_ between -a sensitive and non-sensitive body, _(b)_ between thought and its -object, _(c)_ between thought and something only qualified as the -negation of thought. The last question, it will be observed, is what -the second becomes upon a certain notion being formed of what the -object of thought must be. Upon this notion being discarded a further -question _(d)_, also covered by the above general statement, must -still remain as to the relation between thought, as in each man, and -the world which he does not make, but which, in some sort, makes -him what he is. In what follows, these questions, for the sake of -brevity, will be referred to symbolically. - -Confusions involved in Locke’s materialism. - -157. Locke’s doctrine of matter, as we have seen, involves a -confusion between _(a)_ and _(b)_. The feeling of touch in virtue of -an intellectual interpretation--_intellectual_ because implying the -action of the mind as (according to Locke) the source of ideas of -relation--becomes the idea of solidity, _i.e._ the idea of a relation -between bodies in the way of impulse and resistance. But the function -of the intellect in constituting the relation is ignored. Under cover -of the ambiguous ‘idea,’ which stands alike for a nervous irritation -and the intellectual interpretation thereof, the feeling of touch -and conception of solidity are treated as one and the same. Thus the -true _conceived_ outwardness of body to body--an outwardness which -thought, as the source of relations, can alone constitute--becomes -first an imaginary _felt_ outwardness of body to the organs of -touch, and then, by a further fallacy--these organs being confused -with the mind--an outwardness of body to mind, which we need only -kick a stone to be sure of. Meanwhile the consideration of question -_(d)_ necessitates the belief that the real world does not come and -go with each man’s fleeting consciousness, and no distinction being -recognised between consciousness as fleeting and consciousness as -permanent, or between feeling and thought, the real world comes to -be regarded as the absolute opposite of thought and its work. This -opposition combines with the supposed externality of body to mind to -give the notion that body is the real. The qualities which ‘the mind -finds inseparable from body’ thus become qualities which would exist -all the same ‘whether there were a perceiving mind or no,’ and are -primarily real; while such as consist in our feelings, though real -in so far as, ‘not being of our own making, they imply the action -of things without us,’ are yet only secondarily so because this -action is relative to something which is not body. Then, finally, by -a renewed confusion of the relation between thought and its object -with that between body and body, qualities, which are credited with -a primary reality as independent of and antithetical to the mind, -are brought within it again as ideas. They are supposed to copy -themselves upon it by impact and impression; and that not in touch -merely, but (visual feelings being interpreted by help of the same -conception) in sight also. - -Two ways of dealing with it. Berkeley chooses the most obvious. - -158. Such ‘materialism’ invites two different methods of attack. -On the one hand its recognised principle, that all intellectual -‘superinduction’ upon simple feeling is a departure from the real, -may be insisted on, and it may be shown that it is only by such -superinduction that simple feeling becomes a feeling of body. Matter, -then, with all its qualities, is a fiction except so far as these -can be reduced to simple feelings. Such in substance was Berkeley’s -short method with the materialists. In his early life it seemed -to him sufficient for the purposes of orthodox ‘spiritualism,’ -because, having posed the materialist, he took the moral and -spiritual attributes of God as ‘revealed,’ without enquiring into the -possibility of such revelation to a merely sensitive consciousness. -As he advanced, other questions, fatal to the constructive value of -his original method, began to force themselves upon him. Granting -that intellectual superinduction = fiction, how is the fiction -possible to a mind which cannot originate? Exclude from reality all -that such fiction constitutes, and what remains to be real? These -questions, however, though their effect on his mind appears in the -later sections of his ‘Siris,’ he never systematically pursued. He -thus missed the true method of attack on materialism--the only one -that does not build again that which it destroys--the method which -allows that matter is real but only so in virtue of that intellectual -superinduction upon feeling without which there could be for us no -reality at all: that thus it is indeed opposed to thought, but only -by a position which is thought’s own act. For the development of -such views Berkeley had not patience in his youth nor leisure in his -middle life. Whatever he may have suggested, all that he logically -achieved was an exposure of the equivocation between feeling and felt -body; and of this the next result, as appears in Hume, was a doctrine -which indeed delivers mind from dependence on matter, but only by -reducing it in effect to a succession of feelings which cannot know -themselves. - -His account of the relation between visible and tangible extension. -We do not see bodies without the mind ... - -159. It was upon the extension of the metaphor of impression to -sight as well as touch, and the consequent notion that body, with -its inseparable qualities, revealed itself through both senses, -that Berkeley first fastened. Is it evident, as Locke supposed it -to be, that men ‘perceive by their sight’ not colours merely, but -‘a distance between bodies of different colours and between parts -of the same body’; [1] in other words, situation and magnitude? To -show that they do not is the purpose of Berkeley’s ‘Essay towards a -new Theory of Vision.’ He starts from two principles which he takes -as recognised: one, that the ‘proper and immediate object of sight -is colour’; the other, that distance from the eye, or distance in -the line of vision, is not immediately seen. If, then, situation and -magnitude are ‘properly and immediately’ seen, they must be qualities -of colour. Now in one sense, according to Berkeley, they are so: in -other words, there is such a thing as _visible_ extension. We see -lights and colours in ‘sundry situations’ as well as ‘in degrees -of faintness and clearness, confusion and distinctness.’ (_Theory -of Vision_, sec. 77.) We also see objects as made up of certain -‘quantities of coloured points,’ _i.e._ as having visible magnitude. -(Ibid. sec. 54.) But situation and magnitude _as visible_ are not -external, not ‘qualities of body,’ nor do they represent by any -_necessary_ connection the situation and magnitude that are truly -qualities of body, the mind, ‘without the mind and at a distance.’ -These are tangible. Distance in all its forms--as distance from the -eye; as distance between parts of the same body, or magnitude; and -as distance of body from body, or situation--is tangible. What a man -means when he says that ‘he sees this or that thing at a distance’ is -that ‘what he sees suggests to his understanding that after having -passed a certain distance, to be measured by the motion of his body -which is perceivable by touch, he shall come to perceive such and -such tangible ideas which have been usually connected with such and -such visible ideas’ (Ibid. sec. 45). On the same principle we are -said to see the magnitude and situation of bodies. Owing to long -experience of the connection of these tangible ideas with visible -ones, the magnitude of the latter and their degrees of faintness and -clearness, of confusion and distinctness, enable us to form a ‘sudden -and true’ estimate of the magnitude of the former (_i.e._ of bodies); -even as visible situation enables us to form a like estimate of the -‘situation of things outward and tangible’ (Ibid. secs. 56 and 99). -The connection, however, between the two sets of ideas, Berkeley -insists, is habitual only, not necessary. As Hume afterwards said of -the relation of cause and effect, it is not constituted by the nature -of the ideas related. [2] The visible ideas, that as a matter of fact -‘suggest to us the various magnitudes of external objects before we -touch them, might have suggested no such thing.’ That would really -have been the case had our eyes been so framed as that the _maximum -visibile_ should be less than the _minimum tangibile_; and, as a -matter of constant experience, the greater visible extension suggests -sometimes a greater, sometimes a less, tangible extension according -to the degree of its strength or faintness, ‘being in its own nature -equally fitted to bring into our minds the idea of small or great -or no size at all, just as the words of a language are in their own -nature indifferent to signify this or that thing, or nothing at all.’ -(Ibid. secs. 62-64.) - -[1] Locke, Essay Book II. chap. xiii. sec. 2. - -[2] See below, paragraph 283 - -... nor yet feel them. The ‘esse’ of body is the ‘percipi’. - -160. So far, then, the conclusion merely is that body as external, -and space as a relation between bodies or parts of a body, are not -both seen and felt, but felt only; in other words, that it is only -through the organs of touch that we receive, strictly speaking, -impressions from without. This is all that the Essay on Vision goes -to show; but according to the ‘Principles of Human Knowledge’ this -conclusion was merely provisional. The object of touch does not, -any more than the object of sight, ‘exist without the mind,’ nor is -it ‘the image of an external thing.’ ‘In strict truth the ideas of -sight, when by them we apprehend distance and things placed at a -distance, do not suggest or mark out to us things actually existing -at a distance, but only admonish us what ideas of touch will be -imprinted in our minds at such and such distances of time, and in -consequence of such and such actions’ (‘Principles of H. K.’ sec. -44). Whether, then, we speak of visible or tangible objects, the -object _is_ the idea, its ‘esse is the percipi.’ Body is not a thing -separate from the idea of touch, yet revealed by it; so far as it -exists at all, it must either be that idea or be a succession of -ideas of which that idea is suggestive. It follows that the notion of -the real which identifies it with matter, as something external to -and independent of consciousness, and which derives the reality of -ideas from their relation to body as thus outward, must disappear. -Must not, then, the distinction between the real and fantastic, -between dreams and facts, disappear with it? What meaning is there in -asking whether any given idea is real or not, unless a reference is -implied to something other than the idea itself? - -[There are no paragraphs 161-169 in any edition or reprint. Tr] - -What then becomes of distinction between reality and fancy? - -170. Berkeley’s theory, no less than Locke’s, requires such -reference. He insists, as much as Locke does, on the difference -between ideas of imagination which do, and those of sense which -do not, depend on our own will. ‘It is no more than willing, and -straightway this or that idea arises in my fancy; and by the same -power it is obliterated and makes way for another.’ But ‘when in -broad daylight I open my eyes, it is not in my power to choose -whether I shall see or no, or to determine what particular objects -shall present themselves to my view.’ Moreover ‘the ideas of sense -are more strong, lively and distinct than those of the imagination; -they have likewise a steadiness, order, and coherence, and are not -excited at random as those which are the effects of human wills often -are, but in a regular train and series’ (Ibid. secs. 28-30). These -characteristics of ideas of sense, however, do not with Berkeley, any -more than with Locke, properly speaking, _constitute_ their reality. -This lies in their relation to something else, of which these -characteristics are the tests. The difference between the two writers -lies in their several views as to what this ‘something else’ is. With -Locke it was body or matter, as proximately, though in subordination -to the Divine Will, the ‘imprinter’ of those most lively ideas -which we cannot make for ourselves. His followers insisted on the -proximate, while they ignored the ultimate, reference. Hence, as -Berkeley conceived, their Atheism, which he could cut from under -their feet by the simple plan of eliminating the proximate reference -altogether, and thus showing that God, not matter, is the immediate -‘imprinter’ of ideas on the senses and the suggester of such ideas of -imagination as the ideas of sense, in virtue of habitual association, -constantly introduce (Ibid. sec. 33). - -The real = ideas that God causes. - -171. To eliminate the reference to matter might seem to be more -easy than to substitute for it a reference to God. If the object -of the idea is only the idea itself, does not all determination by -relation logically disappear from the idea, except (perhaps) such -as consists in the fact of its sequence or antecedence to other -ideas? This issue was afterwards to be tried by Hume--with what -consequences to science and religion we shall see. Berkeley avoids -it by insisting that the ‘percipi,’ to which ‘esse’ is equivalent, -implies reference to a mind. At first sight this reference, as common -to all ideas alike, would not seem to avail much as a basis either -for a distinction between the real and fantastic or for any Theism -except such as would ‘entitle God to all our fancies.’ If it is to -serve Berkeley’s purpose, we must suppose the idea to carry with it -not merely a relation to mind but a relation to it as its effect, and -the conscious subject to carry with him such a distinction between -his own mind and God’s as leads him to refer his ideas to God’s mind -as their cause when they are lively, distinct and coherent, but when -they are otherwise, to his own. And this, in substance, is Berkeley’s -supposition. To show the efficient power of mind he appeals to our -consciousness of ability to produce at will ideas of imagination; to -show that there is a divine mind, distinct from our own, he appeals -to our consciousness of inability to produce ideas of sense. - -Is it then a succession of feelings? - -172. Even those least disposed to ‘vanquish Berkeley with a grin’ -have found his doctrine of the real, which is also his doctrine of -God, ‘unsatisfactory.’ By the real world they are accustomed to -understand something which--at least in respect of its ‘elements’ -or ‘conditions’ or ‘laws’--permanently is; though the combinations -of the elements, the events which flow from the conditions, the -manifestations of the laws, may never be at one time what they -will be at the next. But according to the Berkeleian doctrine the -permanent seems to disappear: the ‘is’ gives place to a ‘has been’ -and ‘will be.’ If I say (δεικτικῶς) [1] ‘there is a body,’ I must -mean according to it that a feeling has just occurred to me, which -has been so constantly followed by certain other feelings that it -suggests a lively expectation of these. The suggestive feeling -alone _is_, and it is ceasing to be. If this is the true account of -propositions suggested by everyone’s constantly-recurrent experience, -what are we to make of scientific truths, _e.g._ ‘a body will change -its place sooner than let another enter it,’ ‘planets move in -ellipses,’ ‘the square on the hypotheneuse is equal to the squares on -the sides.’ In these cases, too, does the present reality lie merely -in a feeling experienced by this or that scientific man, and to him -suggestive of other feelings? Does the proposition that ‘planets move -in ellipses’ mean that to some watcher of the skies, who understands -Kepler’s laws, a certain perception of ‘visible extension’ (_i.e._ -of colour or light and shade) not only suggests, as to others, a -particular expectation of other feelings, which expectation is called -a planet, but a further expectation, not shared by the multitude, of -feelings suggesting successive situations of the visible extension, -which further expectation is called elliptical motion? Such an -explanation of general propositions would be a form of the doctrine -conveniently named after Protagoras--‘ἀληθὲς ὃ ἑκάστῳ ἑκάστοτε δοκεῖ’ -[2]--a doctrine which the vindicators of Berkeley are careful to -tell us we must not confound with his. The question, however, is not -whether Berkeley himself admits the doctrine, but whether or no it is -the logical consequence of the method which he uses for the overthrow -of materialists and ‘mathematical Atheists’? - -[1] [Greek δεικτικῶς (deiktikos) = “affirmatively” or “capable of -being proven” _i.e._ not merely hypothetically. Tr.] - -[2] [Greek ἀληθὲς ὃ ἑκάστῳ ἑκάστοτε δοκεῖ (alethes ho hekasto -hekastote dokei) = the truth for each man is as it appears to him. -Tr.] - -Berkeley goes wrong from confusion between thought and feeling. For -Locke’s ‘idea of a thing’ he substitutes ‘idea’ simply. - -173. His purpose was the maintenance of Theism, and a true instinct -told him that pure Theism, as distinct from nature-worship and -daemonism, has no philosophical foundation, unless it can be shown -that there is nothing real apart from thought. But in the hurry -of theological advocacy, and under the influence of a misleading -terminology, he failed to distinguish this true proposition--there -is nothing real apart from thought--from this false one, its virtual -contradictory--there is nothing other than feeling. The confusion -was covered, if not caused, by the ambiguity, often noticed, in -the use of the term ‘idea.’ This to Berkeley’s generation stood -alike for feeling proper, which to the subject that merely feels -is neither outer nor inner, because not referring itself to either -mind or thing, and for conception, or an object thought of under -relations. According to Locke, pain, colour, solidity, are all ideas -equally with each other and equally with the _idea of_ pain, _idea -of_ colour, _idea of_ solidity. If all alike, however, were feelings -proper, there would be no world either to exist or be spoken of. -Locke virtually saves it by two suppositions, each incompatible with -the equivalence of idea to feeling, and implying the conversion of -it into conception as above defined. One is that there are abstract -ideas; the other that there are primary qualities of which ideas -are copies, but which do not come and go with our feelings. The -latter supposition gives a world that ‘really exists,’ the former -a world that may be known and spoken of; but neither can maintain -itself without a theory of conception which is not forthcoming in -Locke himself. We need not traverse again the contradictions which -according to his statement they involve--contradictions which, under -whatever disguise, must attach to every philosophy that admits a -reality either in things as apart from thought or in thought as apart -from things, and only disappear when the thing as thought of, and -through thought individualised by the relations which constitute -its community with the universe, is recognised as alone the real. -Misled by the phrase ‘idea of a thing,’ we fancy that idea and thing -have each a separate reality of their own, and then puzzle ourselves -with questions as to how the idea can represent the thing--how the -ideas of primary qualities can be copies of them, and how, if the -real thing of experience be merely individual, a general idea can -be abstracted from it. These questions Berkeley asked and found -unanswerable. There were then two ways of dealing with them before -him. One was to supersede them by a truer view of thought and its -object, as together in essential correlation constituting the real; -but this way he did not take. The other was to avoid them by merging -both thing and idea in the indifference of simple feeling. For a -merely sentient being, it is true--for one who did not think upon -his feelings--the oppositions of inner and outer, of subjective -and objective, of fantastic and real, would not exist; but neither -would knowledge or a world to be known. That such oppositions, -misunderstood, may be a heavy burden on the human spirit, the -experience of current controversy and its spiritual effects might -alone suffice to convince us; but the philosophical deliverance can -only lie in the recognition of thought as their author, not in the -attempt to obliterate them by the reduction of thought and its world -to feeling--an attempt which contradicts itself, since it virtually -admits their existence while it renders them unaccountable. - -Which, if idea = feeling, does away with space and body. - -174. That Berkeley’s was such an attempt, looking merely to his -treatment of primary qualities and abstract ideas, we certainly could -not doubt: though, since language does not allow of its consistent -statement, and Berkeley was quite ready to turn the exigencies of -language to account, passages logically incompatible with it may -easily be found in him. The hasty reader, when he is told that body -or distance are suggested by feelings of sight and touch rather than -immediately seen, accepts the doctrine without scruple, because he -supposes that which is suggested to be a present reality, though -not at present felt. But if not at present felt it is not according -to Berkeley an idea, therefore ‘without the mind,’ therefore an -impossibility. [1] That which is suggested, then, must itself be -a feeling which consists in the expectation of other feelings. -Distance, and body, _as suggested_, can be no more than such an -expectation; and as _actually existing_, no more than the actual -succession of the expected feelings--a succession of which, as of -every succession, ‘no two parts exist together.’ [2] There is no -time, then, at which it can be said that distance and body exist. - -[1] Reference is here merely made to the doctrine by which Berkeley -disposes of ‘matter,’ the consideration of its reconcilability with -his doctrine of ‘spirits’ and ‘relations’ as objects of knowledge -being postponed. - -[2] Locke, Book II. chap. xv. sec. 1. - -He does not even retain them as ‘abstract ideas’. - -175. This, it may seem, however inconsistent with the doctrine of -primary qualities, is little more than the result which Locke himself -comes to in his Fourth Book; since, if ‘actual present succession’ -forms our only knowledge of real existence, there could be no time -at which distance and body might be _known_ as really existing. But -Locke, as we have seen, is able to save mathematical, though not -physical, knowledge from the consequences of this admission by his -doctrine of abstract ideas--‘ideas removed in our thoughts from -particular existence’--whose agreement or disagreement is stated -in propositions which ‘concern not existence,’ and for that reason -may be general without becoming either uncertain or uninstructive. -This doctrine Berkeley expressly rejects on the ground that he -could not perceive separately that which could not exist separately -(‘Principles of Human Knowledge,’ Introduction, sec. 10); a ground -which to the ordinary reader seems satisfactory because he has no -doubt, and Berkeley’s instances do not suggest a doubt, as to the -present existence of ‘individual objects’--this man, this horse, -this body. But with Berkeley to exist means to be felt (‘Principles -of Human Knowledge,’ sec. 3), and the feelings, which I name a body, -being successive, its existence must be in succession likewise. The -limitation, then, of possibility of ‘conception’ by possibility of -existence, means that ‘conception,’ too, is reduced to a succession -of feelings. - -On the same principle all permanent relations should disappear. - -176. Berkeley, then, as a consequence of the methods by which he -disposes at once of the ‘real existence’ and ‘abstract idea of -matter,’ has to meet the following questions:--How are either reality -or knowledge possible without permanent relations? and, How can -feelings, of which one is over before the next begins, constitute -or represent a world of permanent relations? The difficulty becomes -more obvious, though not more serious, when the relations in question -are not merely themselves permanent, as are those between natural -phenomena, but are relations between permanent parts like those of -space. It is for this reason that its doctrine of geometry is the -most easily assailable point of the ‘sensational’ philosophy. Locke -distinguishes the ideas of space and of duration as got, the one -from the permanent parts of space, the other ‘from the fleeting and -perpetually perishing parts of succession.’ [1] He afterwards prefers -to oppose the term ‘expansion’ to ‘duration,’ as bringing out more -clearly than ‘space’ the opposition of relation between permanent -facts to that between ‘fleeting successive facts which never exist -together.’ How, then, can a consciousness, consisting simply of -‘fleeting successive facts,’ either be or represent that of which the -differentia is that its facts are permanent and co-exist? - -[1] Book II. chap. xiv. sec. 1. - -By making colour = relations of coloured points, Berkeley represents -relation as seen. - -177. This crucial question in regard to extension does not seem even -to have suggested itself to Berkeley. The reason why is not far to -seek. Professor Fraser, in his valuable edition, represents him as -meaning by visible extension ‘coloured experience in sense,’ and by -tangible extension ‘resistent experience in sense.’ [1] No fault can -be found with this interpretation, but the essential question, which -Berkeley does not fairly meet, is whether the experience in each -case is complete in a single feeling or consists in a succession of -feelings. If in a single feeling, it clearly is not extension, as a -relation between parts, at all; if in a succession of feelings, it -is only extension because a synthetic principle, which is not itself -one of the feelings, but equally present to them all, transforms -them into permanent parts of which each qualifies the other by -outwardness to it. Berkeley does not see the necessity of such a -principle, because he allows himself to suppose extension--at any -rate visible extension--to be constituted by a single feeling. -Having first pronounced that the proper object of sight is colour, -he quietly substitutes for this _situations_ of colour, degrees of -strength and faintness in colour, and quantities of coloured points, -as if these, interchangeably with mere colour, were properly objects -of sight and perceived in single acts of vision. Now if by object of -sight were meant something other than the sensation itself--something -which to a thinking being it suggests as its cause--there would be -no harm in this language, but neither would there be any ground for -saying that the proper object of sight is colour, for distinguishing -visible from tangible extension, or for denying that the outwardness -of body to body is seen. Such restrictions and distinctions have -no meaning, unless by sight is meant the nervous irritation, the -affection of the visual organ, as it is to a merely feeling subject; -yet in the very passages where he makes them, by saying that we see -situations and degrees of colour, and quantities of coloured points, -Berkeley converts sight into a judgment of extensive and intensive -quantity. He thus fails to discern that the transition from colour -to coloured extension cannot be made without on the one hand either -the presentation of successive pictures or (which comes to the -same) successive acts of attention to a single picture, and on the -other hand a synthesis of the successive presentations as mutually -qualified parts of a whole. In other words, he ignores the work of -thought involved in the constitution alike of coloured and tangible -extension, and in virtue of which alone either is extension at all. - -[1] See Fraser’s Berkeley, ‘Theory of Vision,’ note 42. I may here -say that I have gone into less detail in my account of Berkeley’s -system than I should otherwise have thought necessary, because -Professor Fraser has supplied, in the way of explanation of it, all -that a student can require. - -Still he admits that space is constituted by a succession of feelings. - -178. But though he does not scruple to substitute for colour -situations and quantities of coloured points, these do not with him -constitute space, which he takes according to Locke’s account of it -to be ‘distance between bodies or parts of the same body.’ This, -according to his ‘Theory of Vision,’ is tangible extension, and -this again is alone the object of geometry. As in that treatise a -difference is still supposed between _tangible_ extension and the -feeling of touch, the question does not there necessarily arise -whether the tactual experience, that constitutes this extension, is -complete in a single feeling or only in a succession of feelings; -but when in the subsequent treatise the difference is effaced, it is -decided by implication that the experience is successive: [1] and all -received modifications of the theory, which assign to a locomotive or -muscular sense the office which Berkeley roughly assigned to touch, -make the same implication still more clearly. Now in the absence of -any recognition of a synthetic principle, in relation to which the -successive experience becomes what it is not in itself, this means -nothing else than that space is a succession of feelings, which again -means that space is not space, not a qualification of bodies or parts -of body by mutual externality, since to such qualification it is -necessary that bodies or their parts coexist. Thus, in his hurry to -get rid of externality as independence of the mind, he has really got -rid of it as a relation between bodies, and in so doing (however the -result may be disguised) has logically made a clean sweep of geometry -and physics. - -[1] ‘Principles of Human Knowledge,’ sec. 44. It will be observed -that in that passage Berkeley uses the term ‘distance’ not ‘space,’ -and though with him the terms are strictly interchangeable, this -may have helped to disguise from him the full monstrosity of the -doctrine, ‘space is a succession of feelings,’ which, stated in that -form, must surely have scandalised him. - -If so, it is not space at all; but Berkeley thinks it is only not -‘pure’ space. _Space_ and _pure_ space stand or fall together. - -179. Of this result he himself shows no suspicion. He professes to -be able, without violence to his doctrine, to accept the sciences -as they stand, except so far as they rest upon the needless and -unmeaning assumptions (as he reckoned them) of _pure_ space and its -infinite divisibility. The truth seems to be that--at any rate in -the state of mind represented his earlier treatises--he was only -able to work on the lines which Locke had laid. It did not occur -to him to treat the primary qualities as relations constituted by -thought, because Locke had not done so. Locke having treated them as -external to the mind, Berkeley does so likewise, and for that reason -feels that they must be got rid of. The mode of riddance, again, -was virtually determined for him by Locke. Locke having admitted -that they copied themselves in feelings, the untenable element in -this supposition had only to be dropped and they became feelings -simply. It is thus only so far as space is supposed to exist after -a mode of which, according to Locke himself, sense could take no -copy--_i.e._ as exclusive not merely of all colour but of all body, -and as infinitely divisible--that Berkeley becomes aware of its -incompatibility with his doctrine. Pure space, or ‘vacuum,’ to him -means space that can not be touched--a tangible extension that is not -tangible--and is therefore a contradiction in terms. The notion that, -though not touched, it might be seen, he excludes, [1] apparently for -the same reason which prevents him from allowing _visible_ extension -to be space at all; the reason, namely, that there is no ‘outness’ -or relation of externality between the parts of such extension. -The fact that there can be no such relation between the successive -feelings which alone, according to him, constitute ‘tangible -extension,’ he did not see to be equally fatal to the latter being -in any true sense space. In other words, he did not see that the -test of reduction to feeling, by which he disposed of the _vacuum_, -disposed of space altogether. If he had, he would have understood -that space and body were intelligible relations, which can be thought -of apart from the feelings which through them become the world that -we know, since it is they that are the conditions of these feelings -becoming a knowledge, not the feelings that are the condition of the -relations being known. Whether they can be thought of apart from -each other--whether the simple relation of externality between parts -of a whole can be thought of without the parts being considered -as solid--is of course a further question, and one which Berkeley -cannot be said properly to discuss at all, since the abstraction of -space from body to him meant its abstraction from feelings of touch. -The answer to it ceases to be difficult as soon as the question is -properly stated. - -[1] ‘Principles of Human Knowledge,’ sec. 116. - -Berkeley disposes of space for fear of limiting God. - -180. As with vacuum, so with infinite divisibility. Once let it -be understood that extension is constituted by the relation of -externality between homogeneous parts, and it follows that there can -be no _least_ part of extension, none that does not itself consist -of parts; in other words, that it is infinitely divisible: just as -conversely it follows that there can be no _last_ part of it, not -having another outside it; in other words, that (to use Locke’s -phrase) it is infinitely addible. Doubtless, as Berkeley held, there -is a ‘minimum visibile’; but this means that there are conditions -under which any seen colour disappears, and disappearing, ceases to -be known under the relation of extension; but it is only through a -confusion of the relation with the colour that the disappearance of -the latter is thought to be a disappearance of so much extension. [1] -It was, in short, the same failure to recognise the true ideality of -space, as a relation constituted by thought, that on the one hand -made its ‘purity’ and infinity unmeaning to Berkeley, and on the -other made him think that, if pure (_sc_. irreducible to feelings) -and infinite, it must limit the Divine perfection, either as being -itself God or as ‘something beside God which is eternal, uncreated, -and infinite’ (‘Principles of Human Knowledge,’ sec. 117). Fear of -this result set him upon that method of resolving space, and with it -the world of nature, into sequent feelings, which, if it had been -really susceptible of logical expression, would at best have given -him nothing but a μέγα ζῶον [2] for God. If he had been in less of -a hurry with his philosophy, he might have found that the current -tendency to ‘bind God in nature or diffuse in space’ required to be -met by a sounder than his boyish idealism--by an idealism which gives -space its due, but reflects that to make space God, or a limitation -on God, is to subject thought itself to the most superficial of the -relations by which it forms the world that it knows. - -[1] The same remark of course applies, _mutatis mutandis_, to the -‘minimum tangibile.’ See below, paragraphs 265 and 260. - -[2] [Greek μέγα ζῶον (mega zoon) = great being. Tr.] - -How he deals with possibility of general knowledge. - -181. So far we have only considered Berkeley’s reduction of primary -qualities, supposed to be sensible, to sensations as it affects the -qualities themselves, rather than as it affects the possibility -of universal judgments about them. If, indeed, as we have found, -such reduction really amounts to the absolute obliteration of the -qualities, no further question can remain as to the possibility of -general knowledge concerning them. As Berkeley, however, did not -admit the obliteration, the further question did remain for him: -and the condition of his plausibly answering it was that he should -recognise in the ‘idea,’ as subject of predication, that intelligible -qualification by relation which he did not recognise in it simply as -‘idea,’ and which essentially differences it from feeling proper. If -any particular ‘tangible extension,’ _e.g._ a right-angled triangle, -is only a feeling, or in Berkeley’s own language, ‘a fleeting -perishable passion’ [1] not existing at all, even as an ‘abstract -idea,’ except when some one’s tactual organs are being affected in -a certain way--what are we to make of such a general truth as that -the square on its base is always equal to the squares on its sides? -Omitting all difficulties about the convertibility of a figure with -a feeling, we find two questions still remain--How such separation -can be made of the figure from the other conditions of the tactual -experience as that propositions should be possible which concern the -figure simply; and how a single case of tactual experience--that -in which the mathematician finds a feeling called a right-angled -triangle followed by another which he calls equality between the -squares, &c.--leads in the absence of any ‘necessary connexion’ -to the expectation that the sequence will always be the same. [2] -The difficulty becomes the more striking when it is remembered -that though the geometrical proposition in question, according to -Berkeley, concerns the tangible, the experience which suggests it is -merely visual. - -[1] ‘Principles of Human Knowledge,’ sec. 89. - -[2] See above, paragraph 122. - -His theory of universals ... - -182. Berkeley’s answer to these questions must be gathered from his -theory of general names. ‘It is, I know,’ he says, ‘a point much -insisted on, that all knowledge and demonstration are about universal -notions, to which I fully agree: but then it does not appear to me -that those notions are formed by abstraction--_universality_, so -far as I can comprehend, not consisting in the absolute positive -nature or conception of anything, but in the relation it bears to -the particulars signified or represented by it; by virtue whereof -it is that things, names, or notions, being in their own nature -_particular_, are rendered universal. Thus, when I demonstrate any -proposition concerning triangles, it is to be supposed that I have in -view the universal idea of a triangle; which is not to be understood -as if I could frame an idea of a triangle which was neither -equilateral nor scalene nor equicrural; but only that the particular -triangle I considered, whether of this or that sort it matters not, -doth equally stand for and represent all rectilinear triangles -whatsoever, and is in that sense universal.’ Thus it is that ‘a man -may consider a figure merely as triangular.’ (‘Principles of Human -Knowledge,’ Introd. secs. 15 and 16.) - -... of value, as implying that universality of ideas lies in relation. - -183. In this passage appear the beginnings of a process of thought -which, if it had been systematically pursued by Berkeley, might have -brought him to understand by the ‘percipi,’ to which he pronounced -‘esse’ equivalent, definitely the ‘intelligi.’ As it stands, the -result of the passage merely is that the triangle (for instance) -‘in its own nature,’ because ‘particular,’ is not a possible -subject of general predication or reasoning: that it is so only as -‘considered’ under a relation of resemblance to other triangles and -by such consideration universalized. ‘In its own nature,’ or as a -‘particular idea,’ the triangle, we must suppose, is so much tangible -(or visible, as symbolical of tangible) extension, and therefore -according to Berkeley a feeling. But a relation, as he virtually -admits, [1] is neither a feeling nor felt. The triangle, then, as -considered under relation and thus a possible subject of general -propositions, is quite other than the triangle in its own nature. -This, of course, is so far merely a virtual repetition of Locke’s -embarrassing doctrine that real things are not the things which we -speak of, and which are the subject of our sciences; but it is a -repetition with two fruitful differences--one, that the thing in -its ‘absolute positive nature’ is more explicitly identified with -feeling; the other, that the process, by which the thing thought and -spoken of is supposed to be derived from the real thing, is no longer -one of ‘abstraction,’ but consists in consideration of relation. -It is true that with Berkeley the mere feeling has a ‘positive -nature’ apart from considered relations, [2] and that the considered -relation, by which the feeling is universalised, is only that of -resemblance between properties supposed to exist independently of it. -The ‘particular triangle,’ reducible to feelings of touch, has its -triangularity (we must suppose) simply as a feeling. It is only the -resemblance between the triangularity in this and other figures--not -the triangularity itself--that is a relation, and, as a relation, not -felt but considered; or in Berkeley’s language, something of which we -have not properly an ‘idea’ but a ‘notion.’ [3] - -[1] See ‘Principles of Human Knowledge,’ sec. 89. (2nd edit.) - -[2] See below, paragraph 298. - -[3] ‘Principles of Human Knowledge,’ Ibid. This perhaps is the -best place for saying that it is not from any want of respect for -Dr. Stirling that I habitually use ‘notion’ in the loose popular -way which he counts ‘barbarous,’ but because the barbarism is so -prevalent that it seems best to submit to it, and to use ‘conception’ -as the equivalent of the German ‘Begriff.’ - -But he fancies that each idea has a positive nature apart from -relation. - -184. But though Berkeley only renders explicit the difficulties -implicit in Locke’s doctrine of ideas, that is itself a great step -taken towards disposing of them. Once let the equivocation between -sensible qualities and sensations be got rid of--once let it be -admitted that the triangle in its absolute nature, as opposed to -the triangle considered, is merely a feeling, and that relations -are not feelings or felt--and the question must soon arise, What -in the absence of all relation remains to be the absolute nature -of the triangle? It is a question which ultimately admits of but -one answer. The triangularity of the given single figure must -be allowed to be just as much a relation as the resemblance, -consisting in triangularity, between it and other figures; and if a -relation, then not properly felt, but understood. The ‘particular’ -triangle, if by that is meant the triangle as subject of a singular -proposition, is no more ‘particular in time,’ no more constituted -by the occurrence of a feeling, than is the triangle as subject of -a general proposition. It really exists as constituted by relation, -and therefore only as ‘considered’ or understood. In its existence, -as in the consideration of it, the relations indicated by the terms -‘equilateral, equicrural and scalene,’ presuppose the relation of -triangularity, not it them; and for that reason it can be considered -apart from them, though not they apart from it, without any breach -between that which is considered and that which really exists. Thus, -too, it becomes explicable that a single experiment should warrant -a universal affirmation; that the mathematician, having once found -as the result of a certain comparison of magnitudes that the square -on the hypothenuse is equal to the square on the sides, without -waiting for repeated experience at once substitutes for the singular -proposition, which states his discovery, a general one. If the -singular proposition stated a sensible event or the occurrence of a -feeling, such substitution would be inexplicable: for if that were -the true account of the singular proposition, a general one could but -express such expectation of the recurrence of the event as repeated -experience of it can alone give. But a relation is not contingent -with the contingency of feeling. It is permanent with the permanence -of the combining and comparing thought which alone constitutes it; -and for that reason, whether it be recognised as the result of a -mathematical construction or of a crucial experiment in physics, the -proposition which states it must already be virtually universal. - -Traces of progress in his idealism. - -185. Of such a doctrine Berkeley is rather the unconscious forerunner -than the intelligent prophet. It is precisely upon the question -whether, or how far, he recognised the constitution of things by -intelligible relations, that the interpretation of his early (which -is his only developed) idealism rests. Is it such idealism as Hume’s, -or such idealism as that adumbrated in some passages of his own -‘Siris’? Is the idea, which is real, according to him a feeling or -a conception? Has it a nature of its own, consisting simply in its -being felt, and which we afterwards for purposes of our own consider -in various relations; or does the nature consist only in relations, -which again imply the action of a mind that is eternal--present -to that which is in succession, but not in succession itself? The -truth seems to be that this question in its full significance never -presented itself to Berkeley, at least during the period represented -by his philosophical treatises. His early idealism, as we learn -from the commonplace-book brought to light by Professor Fraser, was -merely a cruder form of Hume’s. By the time of the publication of -the ‘Principles of Human Knowledge’ he had learnt that, unless this -doctrine was to efface ‘spirit’ as well as ‘matter,’ he must modify -it by the admission of a ‘thing’ that was not an ‘idea,’ and of which -the ‘esse’ was ‘percipere’ not ‘percipi.’ This admission carried with -it the distinction between the object felt and the object known, -between ‘idea’ and ‘notion’--a distinction which was more clearly -marked in the ‘Dialogues.’ Of ‘spirit’ we could have a ‘notion,’ -though not an ‘idea.’ But it was only in the second edition of the -‘Principles’ that ‘relation’ was put along with ‘spirit,’ as that -which could be known but which was no ‘idea:’ and then without any -recognition of the fact that the whole reduction of primary qualities -to mere ideas was thereby invalidated. The objects, with which the -mathematician deals, are throughout treated as in their own nature -‘particular ideas,’ into the constitution of which relation does not -enter at all; in other words, as successive feelings. - -His way of dealing with physical truths. - -186. If the truths of mathematics seemed to Berkeley explicable on -this supposition, those of the physical sciences were not likely to -seem less so. As long as the relations with which these sciences deal -are relations between ‘sensible objects,’ he does not notice that -they _are_ relations, and therefore not feelings or felt, at all. -He treats felt things as if the same as feelings, and ignores the -relations altogether. Thus a so-called ‘sensible’ motion causes him -no difficulty. He would be content to say that it was a succession -of ideas, not perceiving that motion implies a relation between -spaces or moments as successively occupied by something that remains -one with itself--a relation which a mere sequence of feelings could -neither constitute nor of itself suggest. It is only about a motion -which does not profess to be ‘seen,’ such as the motion of the earth, -that any question is raised--a question easily disposed of by the -consideration that in a different position we should see it. ‘The -question whether the earth moves or not amounts in reality to no more -than this, to wit, whether we have reason to conclude from what hath -been observed by astronomers, that if we were placed in such and such -circumstances, and such or such a position and distance both from the -earth and sun, we should perceive the former to move among the choir -of the planets, and appearing in all respects like one of them: and -this by the established rules of nature, which we have no reason to -mistrust, is reasonably collected from the phenomena’ (‘Principles of -Human Knowledge,’ sec. 58). [1] - -[1] Cf. ‘Dialogues,’ page 147, in Prof. Fraser’s edition. - -If they imply permanent relations, his theory properly excludes them. -He supposes a divine decree that one feeling shall follow another. - -187. Now this passage clearly does not mean--as it ought to mean -if the ‘_esse_’ of the motion were the ‘_percipi_’ by us--that the -motion of the earth would begin as soon as we were there to see it. -It means that it is now going on as an ‘established law of nature,’ -which may be ‘collected from the phenomena.’ In other words, it -means that our successive feelings are so related to each other as -determined by one present and permanent system, on which not they -only but all possible feelings depend, that by a certain set of -them we are led--not to expect a recurrence of them in like order -according to the laws of association, but, what is the exact reverse -of this--to infer that certain other feelings, of which we have no -experience, would now occur to us if certain conditions of situation -on our part were fulfilled, because the ‘ordo ad universum,’ of -which these feelings would be the ‘ordo ad nos,’ does now obtain. -But though Berkeley’s words mean this for us, they did not mean it -for him. That such relation--merely intelligible, or according to -his phraseology not an idea or object of an idea at all, as he must -have admitted it to be--gives to our successive feelings the only -‘nature’ that they possess, he never recognised. By the relation of -idea to idea, as he repeatedly tells us, he meant not a ‘necessary -connexion,’ _i.e._ not a relation without which, neither idea would -be what it is, but such _de facto_ sequence of one upon the other -as renders the occurrence of one the unfailing but arbitrary sign -that the other is coming. It is thus according to him (and here Hume -merely followed suit) that feelings are symbolical--symbolical not -of an order other than the feelings and which accounts for them, but -simply of feelings to follow. To Berkeley, indeed, unlike Hume, the -sequence of feelings symbolical of each other is also symbolical of -something farther, viz. the mind of God: but when we examine what -this ‘mind’ means, we find that it is not an intelligible order by -which our feelings may be interpreted, or the spiritual subject of -such an order, but simply the arbitrary will of a creator that this -feeling shall follow that. - -Locke had explained reality by relation of ideas to outward body. -Liveliness in the idea evidence of this relation. - -188. Such a doctrine could not help being at once confused in its -account of reality, and insecure in its doctrine alike of the human -spirit and of God. On the recognition of relations as constituting -the _nature_ of ideas rests the possibility of any tenable theory of -their reality. An isolated idea could be neither real nor unreal. -Apart from a definite order of relation we may suppose (if we like) -that it would _be_, but it would certainly not be real; and as -little could it be unreal, since unreality can only result from the -confusion in our consciousness of one order of relation with another. -It is diversity of relations that distinguishes, for instance, these -letters as they now appear on paper from the same as I imagine them -with my eyes shut, giving each sort its own reality: just as upon -confusion with the other each alike becomes unreal. Thus, though -with Locke simple ideas are necessarily real, we soon find that even -according to him they are not truly so in their simplicity, but only -as related to an external thing producing them. He is right enough, -however inconsistent with himself, in making relation constitute -reality; wrong in limiting this prerogative to the one relation of -externality. When he afterwards, in virtual contradiction to this -limitation, finds the reality of moral and mathematical ideas just -in that sole relation to the mind, as its products, which he had -previously made the source of all unreality, he forces upon us the -explanation which he does not himself give, that unreality does not -lie in either relation as opposed to the other, but in the confusion -of any relation with another. It is for lack of this explanation -that Locke himself, as we have seen, finds in the liveliness -and involuntariness of ideas the sole and sufficient tests (not -_constituents_) of their reality; though they are obviously tests -which put the dreams of a man in a fever upon the same footing with -the ‘impressions’ of a man awake, and would often prove that unreal -after dinner which had been proved real before. There is a well-known -story of a man who in a certain state of health commonly saw a -particular gory apparition, but who, knowing its origin, used to have -himself bled till it disappeared. The reality of the apparition lay, -he knew, in some relation between the circulation of his blood and -his organs of sight, in distinction from the reality existing in the -normal relations of his visual organs to the light: and in his idea, -accordingly, there was nothing unreal, because he did not confuse the -one relation with the other. Locke’s doctrine, however, would allow -of no distinction between the apparition as it was for such a man -and as it would be for one who interpreted it as an actual ‘ghost.’ -However interpreted, the liveliness and the involuntariness of the -idea remain the same, as does its relation to an efficient cause. If -in order to its reality the cause must be an ‘outward body,’ then it -is no more real when rightly, than when wrongly, interpreted; while -on the ground of liveliness and involuntariness it is as real when -taken for a ghost as when referred to an excess of blood in the head. - -Berkeley retains this notion, only substituting ‘God’ for ‘body’. - -189. As has been pointed out above, it is in respect not of the -‘ratio cognoscendi’ but of the ‘ratio essendi’ that Berkeley’s -doctrine of reality differs from Locke’s. With him it is not as an -effect of an outward body, but as an immediate effect of God, that -an ‘idea of sense’ is real. Just as with Locke real ideas and matter -serve each to explain the other, so with Berkeley do real ideas and -God. If he is asked, What is God? the answer is, He is the efficient -cause of real ideas; if he is asked, What are real ideas? the answer -is, Those which God produces, as opposed to those which we make -for ourselves. To the inevitable objection, that this is a logical -see-saw, no effective answer can be extracted from Berkeley but -this--that we have subjective tests of the reality of ideas apart -from a knowledge of their cause. In his account of these Berkeley -only differs from Locke in adding to the qualifications of liveliness -and involuntariness those of ‘steadiness, order, and coherence’ in -the ideas. This addition may mean either a great deal or very little. -To us it may mean that the distinction of real and unreal is one that -applies not to feelings but to the conceived relations of feelings; -not to events as such, but to the intellectual interpretation of -them. The occurrence of a feeling taken by itself (it may be truly -said) is neither coherent nor incoherent; nor can the sequence of -feelings one upon another with any significance be called coherence, -since in that case an incoherence would be as impossible as any -failure in the sequence. As little can we mean by such coherence an -usual, by incoherence an unusual, sequence of feelings. If we did, -every sequence not before experienced--such, for instance, as is -exhibited by a new scientific experiment--being unusual, would have -to be pronounced incoherent, and therefore unreal. Coherence, in -short, we may conclude, is only predicable of a system of relations, -not felt but conceived; while incoherence arises from the attempt of -an imperfect intelligence to think an object under relations which -cannot ultimately be held together in thought. The qualification -then of ‘ideas’ as coherent has in truth no meaning unless ‘idea’ be -taken to mean not _feeling_ but _conception_: and thus understood, -the doctrine that coherent ideas _are_ (Berkeley happily excludes the -notion that they merely _represent_) the real, amounts to a clear -identification of the real with the world of conception. - -Not regarding the world as a system of intelligible relations, he -could not regard God as the subject of it. - -190. If such idealism were Berkeley’s, his inference from the -‘ideality’ of the real to spirit and God would be more valid than -it is. To have got rid of the notion that the world first exists -and then is thought of--to have seen that it only really exists as -thought of--is to have taken the first step in the only possible -‘proof of the being of God,’ as the self-conscious subject in -relation to which alone an intelligible world can exist, and the -presence of which in us is the condition of our knowing it. [1] But -there is nothing to show that in adopting coherence as one test, -among others, of the reality of ideas, he attached to it any of the -significance exhibited above. He adopted it from ordinary language -without considering how it affected his view of the world as a -succession of feelings. That still remained to him a sufficient -account of the world, even when he treated it as affording intuitive -certainty of a soul ‘naturally immortal,’ and demonstrative certainty -of God. He is not aware, while he takes his doctrine of such -certainty from Locke, that he has left out, and not replaced, the -only solid ground for it which Locke’s system suggested. - -[1] See above, paragraphs 146 and 149-152. - -His view of the soul as ‘naturally immortal’. - -191. The soul or self, as he describes it, does not differ from -Locke’s ‘thinking substance,’ except that, having got rid of -‘extended matter’ altogether, he cannot admit with Locke any -possibility of the soul’s being extended, and, having satisfied -himself that ‘time was nothing abstracted from the succession -of ideas in the mind,’ [1] he was clear that ‘the soul always -thinks’--since the time at which it did not think, being abstracted -from a succession of ideas, would be no time at all. A soul which is -necessarily unextended and therefore ‘indiscerptible,’ and without -which there would be no time, he reckons ‘naturally immortal.’ - -[1] ‘Principles of Human Knowledge,’ sec. 98. - -Endless succession of feelings is not immortality in true sense. -Berkeley’s doctrine of matter fatal to a true spiritualism; - -192. Upon this the remark must occur that, if the fact of being -unextended constituted immortality, all sounds and smells must be -immortal, and that the inseparability of time from the succession of -feelings may prove that succession endless, but proves no immortality -of a soul unless there be one self-conscious subject of that -succession, identical with itself throughout it. To the supposition -of there being such a subject, which Berkeley virtually makes, his -own mode of disposing of matter suggested ready objections. In Locke, -as we have seen, the two opposite ‘things,’ thinking and material, -always appear in strict correlativity, each representing (though he -was not aware of this) the same logical necessity of substantiation. -‘Sensation convinces us that there are solid extended substances, -and reflection that there are thinking ones.’ These are not two -convictions, however, but one conviction, representing one and the -same essential condition of knowledge. Such logical necessity indeed -is misinterpreted when made a ground for believing the real existence -either of a multitude of independent things, for everything is a -‘retainer’ to everything else; [1] or of a separation of the thinking -from the material substance, since, according to Locke’s own showing, -they at least everywhere overlap; [2] or of an absolutely last -substance, which because last would be unknowable: but it is evidence -of the action of a synthetic principle of self-consciousness without -which all reference of feelings to mutually-qualified subjects -and objects, and therefore all knowledge, would be impossible. It -is idle, however, with Berkeley so to ignore the action of this -principle on the one side as to pronounce the material world a mere -succession of feelings, and so to take it for granted on the other -as to assert that every feeling implies relation to a conscious -substance. Upon such a method the latter assertion has nothing to -rest on but an appeal to the individual’s consciousness--an appeal -which avails as much or as little for material as for thinking -substance, and, in face of the apparent fact that with a knock on the -head the conscious independent substance may disappear altogether, -cannot hold its own against the suggestion that the one substance no -less than the other is reducible to a series of feelings, so closely -and constantly sequent on each other as to seem to coalesce. We -cannot substitute for this illusory appeal the valid method of an -analysis of knowledge, without finding that substantiation in matter -is just as necessary to knowledge as substantiation in mind. If this -method had been Berkeley’s he would have found a better plan for -dealing with the ‘materialism’ in vogue. Instead of trying to show -that material substance was a fiction, he would have shown that it -was really a basis of intelligible relations, and that thus all that -was fictitious about it was its supposed sensibility and consequent -opposition to the work of thought. Then his doctrine of matter -would itself have established the necessity of spirit, not indeed -as substance but as the source of all substantiation. As it was, -misunderstanding the true nature of the antithesis between matter and -mind, in his zeal against matter he took away the ground from under -the spiritualism which he sought to maintain. He simply invited a -successor in speculation, of colder blood than himself, to try the -solution of spirit in the same crucible with matter. - -[1] Above, paragraph 125. - -[2] Above, paragraph 127. - -... as well as to a true Theism. His inference to God from necessity -of a power to produce ideas; - -193. His doctrine of God is not only open to the same objection as -his doctrine of spiritual substance, but to others which arise from -the illogical restrictions that have to be put upon his notion of -such substance, if it is to represent at once the God of received -theology and the God whose agency the Berkeleian system requires as -the basis of distinction between the real and unreal. Admitting the -supposition involved in his certainty of the ‘natural immortality’ -of the soul--the supposition that the succession of feelings which -constitutes the world, and which at no time was not, implies one -feeling substance--that substance we should naturally conclude was -God. Such a God, it is true (as has been already pointed out [1]), -would merely be the μέγα ζῶον [2] of the crudest Pantheism, but it -is the only God logically admissible--if any be admissible--in an -‘ideal’ system of which the text is not ‘the world really exists -only as thought of,’ but ‘the world only exists as a succession of -feelings.’ It was other than a _feeling_ substance, however, that -Berkeley required not merely to satisfy his religious instincts, -but to take the place held by ‘outward body’ with Locke as the -efficient of real ideas. The reference to this feeling substance, if -necessary for any idea, is necessary for all--for the ‘fantastic’ -as well as for those of sense--and can therefore afford no ground -for distinction between the real and unreal. Instead, however, of -being thus led to a truer view of this distinction, as in truth a -distinction between the complete and incomplete conception of an -intelligible world, he simply puts the feeling substance, when he -regards it as God, under an arbitrary limitation, making it relative -only to those ideas of which with Locke ‘matter’ was the substance, -as opposed to those which Locke had referred to the thinking thing. -The direct consequence of this limitation, indeed, might seem to -be merely to make God an animal of partial, instead of universal, -susceptibility; but this consequence Berkeley avoids by dropping -the ordinary notion of substance altogether, so as to represent -the ideas of sense not as subsisting in God but as effects of His -power--as related to Him, in short, just as with Locke ideas of sense -are related to the primary qualities of matter. ‘There must be an -active power to produce our ideas, which is not to be found in ideas -themselves, for we are conscious that they are inert, nor in matter, -since that is but a name for a bundle of ideas; which must therefore -be in spirit, since of that we are conscious as active; yet not in -the spirit of which we are conscious, since then there would be no -difference between real and imaginary ideas; therefore in a Divine -Spirit, to whom, however, may forthwith be ascribed the attributes of -the spirit of which we are conscious.’ Such is the sum of Berkeley’s -natural theology. - -[1] Above, paragraph 180. - -[2] [Greek μέγα ζῶον (mega zoon) = great being. Tr.] - -... a necessity which Hume does not see. A different turn should have -been given to his idealism, if it was to serve his purpose. - -194. From a follower of Hume it of course invites the reply that -he does not see the necessity of an active power at all, to which, -since, according to Berkeley’s own showing, it is no possible ‘idea’ -or object of an idea, all his own polemic against the ‘absolute -idea’ of matter is equally applicable; that the efficient power, -of which we profess to be conscious in ourselves, is itself only a -name for a particular feeling or impression which precedes certain -other of our impressions; that, even if it were more than this, the -transition from the spiritual efficiency of which we are conscious -to another, of which it is the special differentia that we are not -conscious of it, would be quite illegitimate, and that thus in -saying that certain feelings are real because, being lively and -involuntary, they must be the work of this unknown spirit, we in -effect say nothing more than that they are real because lively and -involuntary. Against a retort of this kind Berkeley’s theistic armour -is even less proof than Locke’s. His ‘proof of the being of God’ -is in fact Locke’s with the sole _nervus probandi_ left out. The -value of Locke’s proof, as an argument from their being something -now to their having been something from eternity, lay, we saw, in -its convertibility into an argument from the world as a system of -relations to a present and eternal subject of those relations. For -its being so convertible there was this to be said, that Locke, with -whatever inconsistency, at least recognised the constitution of -reality by permanent relations, though he treated the mere relation -of external efficiency--that in virtue of which we say of nature that -it consists of bodies outward to and acting on each other--as if it -alone constituted the reality of the world. Berkeley’s reduction -of the ‘primary qualities of matter’ to a succession of feelings -logically effaces this relation, and puts nothing intelligible, -nothing but a name, in its place. The effacement of the distinction -between the real and unreal, which would properly ensue, is only -prevented by bringing back relation to something under the name of -God, either wholly unknown and indeterminate, or else, under a thin -disguise, determined by that very relation of external efficiency -which, when ascribed to something only nominally different, had been -pronounced a gratuitous fiction. If Berkeley had dealt with the -opposition of reality to thought by showing the primary qualities -to be conceived relations, and the distinction between the real and -unreal to be one between the fully and the defectively conceived, the -case would have been different. The real and God would alike have -been logically saved. The peculiar embarrassment of Locke’s doctrine -we have found to be that it involves the unreality of every object, -into the constitution of which there enters any idea of reflection, -or any idea retained in the mind, as distinct from the present effect -of a body acting upon us--_i.e._ of every object of which anything -can be said. With the definite substitution of full intelligibility -of relations for present sensibility, as the true account of the -real, this embarrassment would have been got rid of. At the same -time there would have been implied an intelligent subject of these -relations; the ascription to whom, indeed, of moral attributes would -have remained a further problem, but who, far from being a ‘Great -Unknown,’ would be at least determined by relation to that order of -nature which is as necessary to Him as He to it. But in fact, as -we have seen, the notion of the reality of relations, not felt but -understood, only appears in Berkeley’s developed philosophy as an -after-thought, and the notion of an order of nature, other than our -feelings, which enables us to infer what feelings that have never -been felt would be, is an unexplained intrusion in it. The same is -true of the doctrine, which struggles to the surface in the Third -Dialogue, that the ‘sensible world’ is to God not felt at all, -but known; that to Him it is precisely not that which according -to Berkeley’s refutation of materialism it really is--a series or -collection of sensations. These ‘after-thoughts,’ when thoroughly -thought out, imply a complete departure from Berkeley’s original -interpretation of ‘phenomena’ as simple feelings; but with him, -so far from being thought out, they merely suggested themselves -incidentally as the conceptions of God and reality were found to -require them. In other words, that interpretation of phenomena, which -is necessary to any valid ‘collection’ from them of the existence -of God, only appears in him as a consequence of that ‘collection’ -having been made. To pursue the original interpretation, so that all -might know what it left of reality, was the best way of deciding -the question of its compatibility with a rational belief in God--a -question of too momentous an interest to be fairly considered in -itself. Thus to pursue it was the mission of Hume. - -Hume’s mission. His account of impressions and ideas. Ideas are -fainter impressions. - -195. Hume begins with an account of the ‘perceptions of the human -mind,’ which corresponds to Locke’s account of ideas with two main -qualifications, both tending to complete that dependence of thought -on something other than itself which Locke had asserted, but not -consistently maintained. He distinguishes ‘perceptions’ (equivalent -to Locke’s ideas) into ‘impressions’ and ‘ideas’ accordingly as -they are originally produced in feeling or reproduced by memory and -imagination, and he does not allow ‘ideas of reflection’ any place in -the _original_ ‘furniture of the mind.’ ‘An impression first strikes -upon the senses, and makes us perceive heat or cold, thirst or -hunger, pleasure or pain, of some kind or other. Of this impression -there is a copy taken by the mind, which remains after the impression -ceases; and this we call an idea. This idea of pleasure or pain, when -it returns upon the soul, produces the new impressions of desire and -aversion, hope and fear, which may properly be called impressions -of reflection, because derived from it. These, again, are copied by -the memory and imagination, and become ideas; which, perhaps, in -their turn give rise to other impressions and ideas; so that the -impressions are only antecedent to their correspondent ideas, but -posterior to those of sensation and derived from them’ (Part I. §2). -He is at the same time careful to explain that the causes from which -the impressions of sensation arise are unknown (ibid.), and that by -the term ‘impression’ he is not to be ‘understood to express the -manner in which our lively perceptions are produced in the soul, -but merely the perceptions themselves’. [1] The distinction between -impression and idea he treats as equivalent to that between feeling -and thinking, which, again, lies merely in the different degrees of -‘force and liveliness’ with which the perceptions, thus designated, -severally ‘strike upon the mind.’ [2] Thus the rule which he -emphasises [3] ‘that all our simple ideas in their first appearance -are derived from simple impressions which are correspondent to them -and which they exactly represent,’ strictly taken, means no more -than that a feeling must be more lively before it becomes less so. -As the reproduced perception, or ‘idea,’ differs in this respect -from the original one, so, according to the greater or less degree -of secondary liveliness which it possesses, is it called ‘idea of -memory,’ or ‘idea of imagination.’ The only other distinction noticed -is that, as might be expected, the comparative faintness of the -ideas of imagination is accompanied by a possibility of their being -reproduced in a different order from that in which the corresponding -ideas were originally presented. Memory, on the contrary, ‘is in a -manner tied down in this respect, without any power of variation’; -[4] which must be understood to mean that, when the ideas are faint -enough to allow of variation in the order of reproduction, they are -not called ‘ideas of memory.’ - -[1] p. 312, note [Introduction to the Treatise of Human Nature] - -[2] See pp. 327 and 375 [Book I, part I., sec. II. and part III. sec. -II.] - -[3] p. 310 [Introduction to the Treatise of Human Nature] - -[4] p. 318 [Book I, part I., sec. III.] - -‘Ideas’ that cannot be so represented must be explained as mere words. - -196. All, then, that Hume could find in his mind, when after Locke’s -example he ‘looked into it,’ were, according to his own statement, -feelings with their copies, dividing themselves into two main -orders--those of sensation and those of reflection, of which the -latter, though results of the former, are not their copies. The -question, then, that he had to deal with was, to what impressions -he could reduce those conceptions of relation--of cause and effect, -substance and attribute, and identity--which all knowledge involves. -Failing the impressions of sensation he must try those of reflection, -and failing both he must pronounce such conceptions to be no ‘ideas’ -at all, but words misunderstood, and leave knowledge to take its -chance. The vital nerve of his philosophy lies in his treatment -of the ‘association of ideas’ as a sort of process of spontaneous -generation, by which impressions of sensation issue in such -impressions of reflection, in the shape of habitual propensities,’ -[1] as will account, not indeed for there being--since there really -are not--but for there seeming to be, those formal conceptions which -Locke, to the embarrassment of his philosophy, had treated as at once -real and creations of the mind. - -[1] Pp. 460 and 496 [Book I, part III., sec. XIV. and part IV., sec. -II.] - -Hume, taken strictly, leaves no distinction between impressions of -reflection and of sensation. - -197. Such a method meets at the outset with the difficulty that -the impressions of sensation and those of reflection, if Locke’s -determination of the former by reference to an impressive matter -is excluded, are each determined only by reference to the other. -What is an impression of reflection? It is one that can only -come after an impression of sensation. What is an impression of -sensation? It is one that comes before any impression of reflection. -An apparent determination, indeed, is gained by speaking of the -original impressions as ‘conveyed to us by our senses;’ but this -really means determination by reference to the organs of our body -as affected by outward bodies--in short, by a physical theory. But -of the two essential terms of this theory, ‘our own body,’ and -‘outward body,’ neither, according to Hume, expresses anything -present to the original consciousness. ‘Properly speaking, it is -not our body we perceive when we regard our limbs and members, -but certain impressions which enter by the senses.’ Nor do any of -our impressions ‘inform us of distance and outness (so to speak) -immediately, and without a certain reasoning and experience’. [1] In -such admissions Hume is as much a Berkeleian as Berkeley himself, and -they effectually exclude any reference to body from those original -impressions, by reference to which all other modes of consciousness -are to be explained. - -[1] p. 481 [Book I, part IV., sec. II.] - -Locke’s theory of sensation disappears. Physiology won’t answer the -question that Locke asked. - -198. He thus logically cuts off his psychology from the support -which, according to popular conceptions, its primary truths derive -from physiology. We have already noticed how with Locke metaphysic -begs defence of physic; [1] how, having undertaken to answer by -the impossible method of self-observation the question as to what -consciousness is to itself at its beginning, he in fact tells us what -it is to the natural philosopher, who accounts for the production of -sensation by the impact of matter ‘on the outward parts, continued -to the brain.’ To those, of course, who hold that the only possible -theory of knowledge and of the human spirit is physical, it must seem -that this was his greatest merit; that, an unmeaning question having -been asked, it was the best thing to give an answer which indeed -is no answer to the question, but has some elementary truth of its -own. According to them, though he may have been wrong in supposing -consciousness to be to itself what the physiologist explains it to -be--since any supposition at all about it except as a phenomenon, -to which certain other phenomena are invariably antecedent, is at -best superfluous--he was not wrong in taking the physiological -explanation to be the true and sufficient one. To such persons we can -but respectfully point out that they have not come in sight of the -problem which Locke and his followers, on however false a method, -sought to solve; that, however certain may be the correlation between -the brain and thought, in the sense that the individual would be -incapable of the processes of thought unless he had brain and nerves -of a particular sort, yet it is equally certain that every theory of -the correlation must presuppose a knowledge of the processes, and -leave that knowledge exactly where it was before; that thus their -science, valuable like every other science within its own department, -takes for granted just what metaphysic, as a theory of knowledge, -seeks to explain. When the origin, for instance, of the conception -of body or of that of an organic structure is in question, it is -in the strictest sense preposterous to be told that body makes the -conception of body, and that unless the brain were organic to thought -I should not now be thinking. ‘The brain is organic to thought;’ here -is a proposition involving conceptions within conceptions--a whole -hierarchy of ideas. How am I enabled to re-think these in order, to -make my way from the simpler to the more complex, by any iteration -or demonstration of the proposition, which no one disputes, or by -the most precise examination of the details of the organic structure -itself? - -[1] See above, paragraph 17. - -Those who think it will don’t understand the question. - -199. The quarrel of the physiologist with the metaphysician is, in -fact, due to an _ignorantia elenchi_ on the part of the former, for -which the behaviour of English ‘metaphysicians,’ in attempting to -assimilate their own procedure to that of the natural philosophers, -and thus to win the popular acceptance which these alone can fairly -look for, has afforded too much excuse. The question really at issue -is not between two co-ordinate sciences, as if a theory of the human -body were claiming also to be a theory of the human soul, and the -theory of the soul were resisting the aggression. The question is, -whether the conceptions which all the departmental sciences alike -presuppose shall have an account given of them or no. For dispensing -with such an account altogether (life being short) there is much -to be said, if only men would or could dispense with it; but the -physiologist, when he claims that his science should supersede -metaphysic, is not dispensing with it, but rendering it in a -preposterous way. He accounts for the formal conceptions in question, -in other words for thought as it is common to all the sciences, as -sequent upon the antecedent facts which his science ascertains--the -facts of the animal organisation. But these conceptions--the -relations of cause and effect, &c.--are necessary to constitute the -facts. They are not an _ex post facto_ interpretation of them, but an -interpretation without which there would be no ascertainable facts -at all. To account for them, therefore, as the result of the facts -is to proceed as a geologist would do, who should treat the present -conformation of the earth as the result of a certain series of past -events, and yet, in describing these, should assume the present -conformation as a determining element in each. - -Hume’s psychology will not answer it either. - -200. ‘Empirical psychology,’ however, claims to have a way of its -own for explaining thought, distinct from that of the physiologist, -but yet founded on observation, though it is admitted that the -observation takes place under difficulties. Its method consists in -a history of consciousness, as a series of events or successive -states observed in the individual by himself. By tracing such a chain -of _de facto_ sequence it undertakes to account for the elements -common to all knowledge. Its first concern, then, must be, as we -have previously put it, to ascertain what consciousness is to itself -at its beginning. No one with Berkeley before him, and accepting -Berkeley’s negative results, could answer this question in Locke’s -simple way by making the primitive consciousness report itself as an -effect of the operation of body. To do so is to transfer a later and -highly complex form of consciousness, whose growth has to be traced, -into the earlier and simple form from which the growth is supposed to -begin. This, upon the supposition that the process of consciousness -by which conceptions are formed is a series of psychical events--a -supposition on which the whole method of empirical psychology -rests--is in principle the same false procedure as that which we -have imagined in the case of a geologist above. But the question -is whether, by any procedure not open to this condemnation, the -theory could seem to do what it professes to do--explain thought -or ‘cognition by means of conceptions’ as something which happens -in sequence upon previous psychical events. Does it not, however -stated, carry with it an implication of the supposed later state in -the earlier, and is it not solely in virtue of this implication that -it seems to be able to trace the genesis of the later? No one has -pursued it with stricter promises, or made a fairer show of being -faithful to them, than Hume. He will begin with simple feeling, -as first experienced by the individual--unqualified by complex -conceptions, physical or metaphysical, of matter or of mind--and -trace the process by which it generates the ‘ideas of philosophical -relation.’ If it can be shown, as we believe it can be, that, even -when thus pursued, its semblance of success is due to the fact that, -by interpreting the earliest consciousness in terms of the latest, it -puts the latter in place of the former, some suspicion may perhaps -be created that a natural history of self-consciousness, and of the -conceptions by which it makes the world its own, is impossible, -since such a history must be of events, and self-consciousness is -not reducible to a series of events; being already at its beginning -formally, or potentially, or implicitly all that it becomes actually -or explicitly in developed knowledge. - -It only seems to do so by assuming the ‘fiction’ it has to account -for; by assuming that impression represents a real world. - -201. If Hume were consistent in allowing no other determination to -the impression than that of its having the maximum of vivacity, or -to other modes of consciousness than the several degrees of their -removal from this maximum, he would certainly have avoided the -difficulties which attend Locke’s use of the metaphor of impression, -while at the same time he would have missed the convenience, involved -in this use, of being able to represent the primitive consciousness -as already a recognition of a thing impressing it, and thus an -‘idea of a quality of body.’ But at the outset he remarks that ‘the -examination of our sensations’ (_i.e._ our impressions of sensation) -‘belongs more to anatomists and natural philosophers than to moral,’ -and that for that reason he shall begin not with them but with -ideas. [1] Now this virtually means that he will begin, indeed, -with the feelings he finds in himself, but with these as determined -by the notion that they are results of something else, of which -the nature is not for the present explained. Thus, while he does -not, like Locke, identify our earliest consciousness with a rough -and ready physical theory of its cause, he gains the advantage of -this identification in the mind of his reader, who from sensation, -thus apparently defined, transfers a definiteness to the ideas and -secondary impressions as derived from it, though in the sequel the -theory turns out, if possible at all, to be at best a remote result -of custom and association. We shall see this more clearly if we look -back to the general account of impressions and ideas quoted above. -‘An impression first strikes upon the senses and makes us perceive -pleasure or pain, of which a copy is taken by the mind,’ called -an idea. Now if we set aside the notion of a body making impact -upon a sensuous, and through it upon a mental, tablet, pleasure or -pain _is_ the impression, which, again, is as much or as little in -the mind as the idea. Thus the statement might be re-written as -follows:--‘Pleasure or pain makes the mind perceive pleasure or pain, -of which a copy is taken by the mind.’ This, of course, is nonsense; -but between this nonsense and the plausibility of the statement as it -stands, the difference depends on the double distinction understood -in the latter--the distinction _(a)_ between the producing cause of -the impression and the impression produced; and _(b)_ between the -impression as produced on the senses, and the idea as preserved by -the mind. This passage, as we shall see, is only a sample of many of -the same sort. Throughout, however explicitly Hume may give warning -that the difference between impression and idea is only one of -liveliness, however little he may scruple in the sequel to reduce -body and mind alike to the succession of feelings, his system gains -the benefit of the contrary assumption which the uncritical reader -is ready to make for him. As often as the question returns whether -a phrase, purporting to express an ‘abstract conception,’ expresses -any actual idea or no, his test is, ‘Point out the impression from -which the idea, if there be any, is derived’--a test which has -clearly no significance if the impression is merely the idea itself -at a livelier stage (for a person, claiming to have the idea, -would merely have to say that he had never known it more lively, -and that, therefore, it was itself an impression, and the force of -the test would be gone), but which seems so satisfactory because -the impression is regarded as the direct effect of outward things, -and thus as having a prerogative of reality over any perception to -which the mind contributes anything of its own. By availing himself -alternately of this popular conception of the impression of sensation -and of his own account of it, he gains a double means of suppressing -any claim of thought to originate. Every idea, by being supposed in a -more lively state, can be represented as derived from an impression, -and thus (according to the popular notion) as an effect of something -which, whatever it is, is not thought. If thereupon it is pointed out -that this outward something is a form of substance which, according -to Hume’s own showing, is a fiction of thought, there is an easy -refuge open in the reply that ‘impression’ is only meant to express -a lively feeling, not any dependence upon matter of which we know -nothing. - -[1] p. 317 [Book I, part I., sec. III.] - -So the ‘Positivist’ juggles with ‘phenomena’. - -202. Thus the way is prepared for the juggle which the modern popular -logic performs with the word ‘phenomenon’--a term which gains -acceptance for the theory that turns upon it because it conveys the -notion of a relation between a real order and a perceiving mind, -and thus gives to those who avail themselves of it the benefit -of an implication of the ‘noumena’ which they affect to ignore. -Hume’s inconsistency, however, stops far short of that of his later -disciples. For the purpose of detraction from the work of thought he -availed himself, indeed, of that work as embodied in language, but -only so far as was necessary to his destructive purpose. He did not -seriously affect to be reconstructing the fabric of knowledge on a -basis of fact. There occasionally appears in him, indeed, something -of the charlatanry of common sense in passages, more worthy of -Bolingbroke than himself, where he writes as a champion of facts -against metaphysical jargon. But when we get behind the mask of -concession to popular prejudice, partly ironical, partly due to his -undoubted vanity, we find much more of the ancient sceptic than of -the ‘positive philosopher.’ - -Essential difference, however, between Hume and the ‘Positivist’. - -203. The ancient sceptic (at least as represented by the ancient -philosophers), finding knowledge on the basis of distinction between -the real and apparent to be impossible, discarded the enterprise -of arriving at general truth in opposition to what appears to -the individual at any particular instant, and satisfied himself -with noting such general tendencies of expectation and desire as -would guide men in the conduct of life and enable them to get -what they wanted by contrivance and persuasion. [1] Such a state -of mind excludes all motive to the ‘interrogation of nature,’ -for it recognises no ‘nature’ but the present appearance to the -individual; and this does not admit of being interrogated. The -‘positive philosopher’ has nothing in common with it but the use, -in a different sense, of the word ‘apparent.’ He plumes himself, -indeed, on not going in quest of any ‘thing-in-itself’ other than -what appears to the senses; but he distinguishes between a real -and apparent in the order of appearance, and considers the real -order of appearance, having a permanence and uniformity which -belong to no feeling as the individual feels it, to be the true -object of knowledge. No one is more severe upon ‘propensities to -believe,’ however spontaneously suggested by the ordinary sequence -of appearances, if they are found to conflict with the order of -nature as ascertained by experimental interrogation; _i.e._ with a -sequence observed (it may be) in but a single instance. Which of the -two attitudes of thought is the more nearly Hume’s, will come out as -we proceed. It was just with the distinction between the ‘real and -fantastic,’ as Locke had left it, that he had to deal; and, as will -appear, it is finally by a ‘propensity to feign,’ not by a uniform -order of natural phenomena, that he replaces the real which Locke, -according to his first mind, had found in archetypal things and their -operations on us. - -[1] Cf. Plato’s ‘Protagoras,’ 323, and ‘Theaetetus,’ 167, with the -concluding paragraphs of the last part of the first book of Hume’s -‘Treatise on Human Nature.’ - -He adopts Berkeley’s doctrine of ideas, but without Berkeley’s saving -suppositions, - -204. We have seen that Berkeley, having reduced ‘simple ideas’ to -their simplicity by showing the illegitimacy of the assumption that -they report qualities of a matter which is itself a complex idea, is -only able to make his constructive theory march by the supposition of -the reality and knowability of ‘spirit’ and relations. ‘Ideas’ are -‘fleeting, perishable passions;’ but the relations between them are -uniform, and in virtue of this uniformity the fleeting idea may be -interpreted as a symbol of a real order. But such relations, as real, -imply the presence of the ideas to the constant mind of God, and, as -knowable, their presence to a like mind in us. We have further seen -how little Berkeley, according to the method by which he disposed of -‘abstract general ideas,’ was entitled to such a supposition. Hume -sets it aside; but the question is, whether without a supposition -virtually the same he can represent the association of ideas as doing -the work that he assigned to it. - -... in regard to ‘spirit’, - -205. His exclusion of Berkeley’s supposition with regard to ‘spirit’ -is stated without disguise, though unfortunately not till towards -the end of the first book of the ‘Treatise on Human Nature,’ which -could not have run so smoothly if the statement had been made at -the beginning. It follows legitimately from the method, which he -inherited, of ‘looking into his mind to see how it wrought.’ ‘From -what impression,’ he asks, ‘could the idea of self be derived? It -must be some one impression that gives rise to every real idea. -But self or person is not any impression, but that to which our -several impressions and ideas are supposed to have a reference. -If any impression gives rise to the idea of self, that impression -must continue invariably the same through the whole course of our -lives, since self is supposed to exist after that manner. But there -is no impression constant and invariable. Pain and pleasure, grief -and joy, passions and sensations succeed each other, and never -all exist at the same time. It cannot, therefore, be from any of -these impressions, or from any other, that the idea of self is -derived; and, consequently, there is no such idea.’ Again: ‘When I -enter most intimately into what is called myself, I always stumble -on some particular perception of heat or cold, light or shade, -love or hatred, pain or pleasure. I never can catch myself at any -time without a perception, and never can observe anything but the -perception. When my perceptions are removed for any time, as by -sound sleep, so long am I insensible of myself, and may truly be -said not to exist.’ Thus ‘men are nothing but a bundle or collection -of different perceptions that succeed each other with inconceivable -rapidity, and are in a perpetual flux or movement. Our eyes cannot -turn in their sockets without varying our perceptions. Our thought -is still more variable than our sight. ... nor is there any single -power of the soul which remains unalterably the same perhaps for one -moment.... There is properly no simplicity in the mind at one time -nor identity at different’. [1] - -[1] pp. 533 and 534 [Book I., part IV., sec. VI.] - -... in regard to relations. His account of these. - -206. His position in regard to ideas of relation cannot be so -summarily exhibited. It is from its ambiguity, indeed, that his -system derives at once its plausibility and its weakness. In the -first place, it is necessary, according to him, to distinguish -between ‘natural’ and ‘philosophical relation.’ The latter is one -of which the idea is acquired by the comparison of objects, as -distinct from natural relation or ‘the quality by which two ideas -are connected together in the imagination, and the one naturally’ -(_i.e._ according to the principle of association) ‘introduces the -other’. [1] Of philosophical relation--or, according to another form -of expression, of ‘qualities by which the ideas of philosophical -relation are produced’--seven kinds are enumerated; viz. -‘resemblance, identity, relations of time and place, proportion in -quantity and number, degrees in quality, contrariety, and causation’. -[2] Some of these do, some do not, _apparently_ correspond to the -qualities by which the mind is _naturally_ ‘conveyed from one idea -to another;’ or which, in other words, constitute the ‘gentle force’ -that determines the order in which the imagination habitually puts -together ideas. Freedom in the conjunction of ideas, indeed, is -implied in the term ‘imagination,’ which is only thus differenced -from ‘memory;’ but, as a matter of fact, it commonly only connects -ideas which are related to each other in the way either of -resemblance, or of contiguity in time and place, or of cause and -effect. Other relations of the philosophical sort are the opposite -of _natural_. Thus, ‘distance will be allowed by philosophers to be -a true relation, because we acquire an idea of it by the comparing -of objects; but in a common way we say, “that nothing can be more -distant than such or such things from each other; nothing can have -less relation”’ (ibid.). - -[1] p. 322 [Book I, part I., sec. V.] - -[2] ibid., and p. 372 [Book I., part III., sec. I.] - -It corresponds to Locke’s account of the sorts of agreement between -ideas. - -207. Hume’s classification of philosophical relations evidently -serves the same purpose as Locke’s, of the ‘four sorts of agreement -or disagreement between ideas,’ in the perception of which -knowledge consists; [1] but there are some important discrepancies. -Locke’s second sort, which he awkwardly describes as ‘agreement or -disagreement in the way of relation,’ may fairly be taken to cover -three of Hume’s kinds; viz. relations of time and place, proportion -in quantity or number, and degrees in any quality. About Locke’s -first sort, ‘identity and diversity,’ there is more difficulty. Under -‘identity,’ as was pointed out above, he includes the relations -which Hume distinguishes as ‘identity proper’ and ‘resemblance.’ -‘Diversity’ at first sight might seem to correspond to ‘contrariety;’ -but the latter, according to Hume’s usage, is much more restricted -in meaning. Difference of number and difference of kind, which he -distinguishes as the opposites severally of identity and resemblance, -though they come under Locke’s ‘diversity,’ are not by Hume -considered relations at all, on the principle that ‘no relation of -any kind can subsist without some degree of resemblance.’ They are -‘rather a negation of relation than anything real and positive.’ -‘Contrariety’ he reckons only to obtain between ideas of existence -and non-existence, ‘which are plainly resembling as implying both of -them an idea of the object; though the latter excludes the object -from all times and places in which it is supposed not to exist’. -[2] There remain ‘cause and effect’ in Hume’s list; ‘co-existence’ -and ‘real existence’ in Locke’s. ‘Co-existence’ is not expressly -identified by Locke with the relation of cause and effect, but it -is with ‘necessary connection.’ It means specially, it will be -remembered [3], the co-existence of ideas, not as constituents of a -‘nominal essence,’ but as qualities of real substances in nature; -and our knowledge of this depends on our knowledge of necessary -connection between the qualities, either as one supposing the -other (which is the form of necessary connection between primary -qualities), or as one being the effect of the other (which is the -form of necessary connection between the ideas of secondary qualities -and the primary ones). Having no knowledge of necessary connection -as in real substances, we have none of ‘co-existence’ in the above -sense, but only of the present union of ideas in any particular -experiment. [4] The parallel between this doctrine of Locke’s and -Hume’s of cause and effect will appear as we proceed. To ‘real -existence,’ since the knowledge of it according to Locke’s account is -not a perception of agreement between ideas at all, it is not strange -that nothing should correspond in Hume’s list of relations. - -[1] See above, paragraph 25 and the passages from Locke there -referred to. - -[2] p. 323 [Book I, part I., sec. V.] - -[3] See above, paragraph 122. - -[4] Locke, Book IV. sec. iii. chap. xiv.; and above, paragraph 121 -and 122. - -Could Hume consistently admit idea of relation at all? - -208. It is his method of dealing with these ideas of philosophical -relation that is specially characteristic of Hume, Let us, then, -consider how the notion of relation altogether is affected by his -reduction of the world of consciousness to impressions and ideas. -What is an impression? To this, as we have seen, the only direct -answer given by him is that it is a feeling which must be more lively -before it becomes less so. [1] For a further account of what is to -be understood by it we must look to the passages where the governing -terms of ‘school-metaphysics’ are, one after the other, shown to be -unmeaning, because not taken from impressions. Thus, when the idea -of substance is to be reduced to an ‘unintelligible chimaera,’ it is -asked whether it ‘be derived from the impressions of sensation or -reflection? If it be conveyed to us by our senses, I ask, which of -them, and after what manner? If it be perceived by the eyes, it must -be a colour; if by the ears, a sound; if by the palate, a taste; and -so of the other senses. But I believe none will assert that substance -is either a colour, or a sound, or a taste. The idea of substance -must therefore be derived from an impression of reflection, if it -really exist. But the impressions of reflection resolve themselves -into our passions and emotions’. [2] From the polemic against -abstract ideas we learn further that ‘the appearance of an object to -the senses’ is the same thing as an ‘impression becoming present to -the mind’. [3] That is to say, when we talk of an impression of an -object, it is not to be understood that the feeling is determined by -reference to anything other than itself: it is itself the object. -To the same purpose, in the criticism of the notion of an external -world, we are told that ‘the senses are incapable of giving rise -to the notion of the continued existence of their objects, after -they no longer appear to the senses; for that is a contradiction -in terms’ (since the appearance _is_ the object); and that ‘they -offer not their impressions as the images of something distinct, or -independent, or external, because they convey to us nothing but a -single perception, and never give us the least intimation of anything -beyond’. [4] The distinction between impression of sensation and -impression of reflection, then, cannot, any more than that between -impression and idea, be regarded as either really or apparently a -distinction between outer and inner. ‘All impressions are internal -and perishing existences’; [5] and, ‘everything that enters the mind -being in reality as the impression, ’tis impossible anything should -to feeling appear different’. [6] - -[1] See above, paragraphs 195 and 197. - -[2] p. 324 [Book I, part I., sec. VI.] - -[3] p. 327 [Book I, part I., sec. VII.] - -[4] p. 479 [Book I, part IV., sec. II.] - -[5] p. 483 [Book I, part IV., sec. II.] - -[6] p. 480 [Book I, part IV., sec. II.] - -209. This amounts to a full acceptance of Berkeley’s doctrine -of sense; and the question necessarily arises--such being the -impression, and all ideas being impressions grown weaker, can there -be an idea of relation at all? Is it not open to the same challenge -which Hume offers to those who talk of an idea of substance or of -spirit? ‘It is from some one impression that every real idea is -derived.’ What, then, is the one impression from which the idea of -relation is derived? ‘If it be perceived by the eyes, it must be a -colour; if by the ears, a sound; if by the palate, a taste; and so of -the other senses.’ There remain ‘our passions and emotions;’ but what -passion or emotion is a resemblance, or a proportion, or a relation -of cause and effect? - -Only in regard to identity and causation that he sees any difficulty. -These he treats as fictions resulting from ‘natural relations’ of -ideas: _i.e._ from resemblance and contiguity. - -210. Respect for Hume’s thoroughness as a philosopher must be -qualified by the observation that he does not attempt to meet this -difficulty in its generality, but only as it affects the relations -of identity and causation. The truth seems to be that he wrote with -Berkeley steadily before his mind; and it was Berkeley’s treatment of -these two relations in particular as not sensible but intelligible, -and his assertion of a philosophic Theism on the strength of their -mere intelligibility, that determined Hume, since it would have been -an anachronism any longer to treat them as sensible, to dispose of -them altogether. The condition of his doing so with success was -that, however unwarrantably, he should treat the other relations -as sensible. The language, which seems to express ideas of the two -questionable relations, he has to account for as the result of -certain impressions of reflection, called ‘propensities to feign,’ -which in their turn have to be accounted for as resulting from the -_natural_ relations of ideas according to the definition of these -quoted above, [1] as ‘the qualities by which one idea habitually -introduces another.’ Among these, as we saw, he included not -only resemblance and contiguity in time or place, but ‘cause and -effect.’ ‘There is no relation,’ he says, ‘which produces a stronger -connection in the fancy than this.’ But in this, as in much of the -language which gives the first two Parts their plausibility, he is -taking advantage of received notions on the part of the reader, which -it is the work of the rest of the book to set aside. In any sense, -according to him, in which it differs from usual contiguity, the -relation of cause and effect is itself reducible to a ‘propensity -to feign’ arising from the other natural relations; but when the -reader is told of its producing ‘a strong connection in the fancy,’ -he is not apt to think of it as itself nothing more than the product -of such a connection. For the present, however, we have only to -point out that Hume, when he co-ordinates it with the other natural -relations, must be understood to do so provisionally. According to -him it is derived, while they are primary. Upon them, then, rested -the possibility of filling the gap between the occurrence of single -impressions, none ‘determined by reference to anything other than -itself,’ and what we are pleased to call our knowledge, with its -fictions of mind and thing, of real and apparent, of necessary as -distinct from usual connection. - -[1] See above, paragraph 206. - -211. We will begin with Resemblance. As to this, it will be said, it -is an affectation of subtlety to question whether there can be an -impression of it or no. The difficulty only arises from our regarding -the perception of resemblance as different from, and subsequent to, -the resembling sensations; whereas, in fact, the occurrence of two -impressions of sense, such as (let us say) yellow and red, is itself -the impression of their likeness and unlikeness. Hume himself, it may -be further urged, at any rate in regard to resemblance, anticipates -this solution of an imaginary difficulty by his important division -of philosophical relations into two classes [1]--‘such as depend -entirely on the ideas which we compare together, and such as may be -changed without any change in the ideas’--and by his inclusion of -resemblance in the former class. - -[1] p. 372 [Book I, part III., sec. I.] - -Is resemblance then an impression? - -212. Now we gladly admit the mistake of supposing that sensations -undetermined by relation first occur, and that afterwards we become -conscious of their relation in the way of likeness or unlikeness. -Apart from such relation, it is true, the sensations would be -nothing. But this admission involves an important qualification -of the doctrine that impressions are single, and that the mind -(according to Hume’s awkward figure) is a ‘bundle or collection of -these,’ succeeding each other ‘in a perpetual flux or movement.’ It -implies that the single impression in its singleness is what it is -through relation to another, which must therefore be present along -with it; and that thus, though they may occur in a perpetual flux -of succession--every turn of the eyes in their sockets, as Hume -truly says, giving a new one--yet, just so far as they are qualified -by likeness or unlikeness to each other, they must be taken out -of that succession by something which is not itself in it, but is -indivisibly present to every moment of it. This we may call soul, or -mind, or what we will; but we must not identify it with the brain -[1] either directly or by implication (as we do when we ‘refer to -the anatomist’ for an account of it), since by the brain is meant -something material, _i.e._ divisible, which the unifying subject -spoken of, as feeling no less than as thinking, cannot be. In short, -any such modification of Hume’s doctrine of the singleness and -successiveness of impressions as will entitle us to speak of their -carrying with them, though single and successive, the consciousness -of their resemblance to each other, will also entitle us to speak of -their carrying with them a reference to that which is not itself any -single impression, but is permanent throughout the impressions; and -the whole ground of Hume’s polemic against the idea of self or spirit -is removed. [2] - -[1] It is, of course, quite a different thing to say that the brain -(or, more properly, the whole body) is organic to it. - -[2] See above, paragraph 205. - -Distinction between resembling feelings and idea of resemblance. - -213. The above admission, however, does not dispose of the question -about ideas of resemblance. A feeling qualified by relation of -resemblance to other feelings is a different thing from an idea -of that relation--different with all the difference which Hume -ignores between feeling and thought, between consciousness and -self-consciousness. The qualification of successive feelings by -mutual relation implies, indeed, the presence to them of a subject -permanent and immaterial (_i.e._ not in time or space); but it does -not imply that this subject presents them to itself as related -objects, permanent with its own permanence, which abide and may -be considered apart from ‘the circumstances in time’ of their -occurrence. Yet such presentation is supposed by all language other -than interjectional. It is it alone which can give us names of -things, as distinct from noises prompted by the feelings as they -occur. Of course it is open to any one to say that by an idea of -resemblance he does not mean any thought involving the self-conscious -presentation spoken of, but merely a feeling qualified by -resemblance, and not at its liveliest stage. Thus Hume tells us that -by ‘idea’ he merely means a feeling less lively than it has been, and -that by idea _of anything_ he implies no reference to anything other -than the idea, [1] but means just a related idea, _i.e._ a feeling -qualified by ‘natural relation’ to other feelings. It is by this -thoughtful abnegation of thought, as we shall find, that he arrives -at his sceptical result. But language (for the reason mentioned) -would not allow him to be faithful to the abnegation. He could not -make such a profession without being false to it. This appears -already in his account of ‘complex’ and ‘abstract’ ideas. - -[1] See above, paragraph 208. - -Substances = collections of ideas. - -214, His account of the idea of a substance [1] is simply Locke’s, as -Locke’s would become upon elimination of the notion that there is a -real ‘something’ in which the collection of ideas subsist, and from -which they result. It thus avoids all difficulties about the relation -between nominal and real essence. Just as Locke says that in the case -of a ‘mixed mode’ the nominal essence _is_ the real, so Hume would -say of a substance. The only difference is that while the collection -of ideas, called a mixed mode, does not admit of addition without -a change of its name, that called a substance does. Upon discovery -of the solubility of gold in aqua regia we add that idea to the -collection, to which the name ‘gold’ has previously been assigned, -without disturbance in the use of the name, because the name already -covers not only the ideas of certain qualities, but also the idea of -a ‘principle of union’ between them, which will extend to any ideas -presented along with them. As this principle of union, however, is -not itself any ‘real essence,’ but ‘part of the complex idea,’ the -question, so troublesome to Locke, whether a proposition about gold -asserts real co-existence or only the inclusion of an idea in a -nominal essence, will be superfluous. How the ‘principle of union’ is -to be explained, will appear below. [2] - -[1] p. 324 [Book I, part I., sec. VI.] - -[2] Paragraph 303, and the following. - -How can ideas ‘in flux’ be collected? - -215. There are names, then, which represent ‘collections of ideas.’ -How can we explain such collection if ideas are merely related -feelings grown’ fainter? Do we, when we use one of these names -significantly, recall, though in a fainter form, a series of feelings -that we have experienced in the process of collection? Does the -chemist, when he says that gold is soluble in aqua regia, recall the -visual and tactual feeling which he experienced when he found it -soluble? If so, as that feeling took its character from relation to -a multitude of other ‘complex ideas,’ he must on the same principle -recall in endless series the sensible occurrences from which each -constituent of each constituent of these was derived; and a like -process must be gone through when gold is pronounced ductile, -malleable, &c. But this would be, according to the figure which -Hume himself adopts, to recall a ‘perpetual flux.’ The very term -‘collection of ideas,’ indeed, if this be the meaning of ideas, is -an absurdity, for how can a perpetual flux be collected? If we turn -for a solution of the difficulty to the chapter where Hume expressly -discusses the significance of general names, we shall find that it -is not the question we have here put, and which flows directly from -his account of ideas, that he is there treating, but an entirely -different one, and one that could not be raised till for related -feeling had been substituted the thought of an object under relations. - -Are there general ideas? Berkeley said, ‘yes and no’. - -216. The chapter mentioned concerns the question which arises out of -Locke’s pregnant statement that words and ideas are ‘particular in -their existence’ even when ‘general in their signification.’ From -this statement we saw [1] that Berkeley derived his explanation of -the apparent generality of ideas--the explanation, namely, which -reduces it to a relation, yet not such a one as would affect the -nature of the idea itself, which is and remains ‘particular,’ but -a symbolical relation between it and other particular ideas for -which it is taken to stand. An idea, however, that carries with it a -consciousness of symbolical relation to other ideas, cannot but be -qualified by this relation. The generality must become part of its -‘nature,’ and, accordingly, the distinction between idea and thing -being obliterated, of the nature of things. Thus Berkeley virtually -arrives at a result which renders unmeaning his preliminary exclusion -of universality from ‘the absolute, positive nature or conception of -anything.’ Hume seeks to avoid it by putting ‘custom’ in the place -of the consciousness of symbolical relation. True to his vocation of -explaining away all functions of thought that will not sort with the -treatment of it as ‘decaying sense,’ he would resolve that idea of a -relation between certain ideas, in virtue of which one is taken to -stand for the rest, into the _de facto_ sequence upon one of them of -the rest. Here, as everywhere else, he would make related feelings do -instead of relations of ideas; but whether the related feelings, as -he is obliged to describe them, do not already presuppose relations -of ideas in distinction from feelings, remains to be seen. - -[1] Above, paragraphs 182 and 183. - -Hume ‘no’ simply. How he accounts for the appearance of there being -such. - -217. The question about ‘generality of signification,’ as he puts it, -comes to this. In every proposition, though its subject be a common -noun, we necessarily present to ourselves some one individual object -‘with all its particular circumstances and proportions.’ How then can -the proposition be general in denotation and connotation? How can it -be made with reference to a multitude of individual objects other -than that presented to the mind, and how can it concern only such of -the qualities of the latter as are common to the multitude? The first -part of the question is answered as follows:-‘When we have found a -resemblance among several objects that often occur to us, we apply -the same name to all of them ... whatever differences may appear -among them. After we have acquired a custom of this kind, the hearing -of that name revives the idea of one of these objects, and makes the -imagination conceive it with all its particular circumstances and -proportions. But as the same word is supposed to have been frequently -applied to other individuals, that are different in many respects -from that idea which is immediately present to the mind, the word -not being able to revive the idea of all these individuals, only -touches the soul and revives that custom which we have acquired by -surveying them. They are not really and in fact present to the mind, -but only in power. ... The word raises up an individual idea along -with a certain custom, and that custom produces any other individual -one for which we may have occasion. ... Thus, should we mention the -word triangle and form the idea of a particular equilateral one to -correspond to it, and should we afterwards assert _that the three -angles of a triangle are equal to each other_, the other individuals -of a scalenum and isosceles, which we overlooked at first, -immediately crowd in upon us and make us perceive the falsehood of -this proposition, though it be true with relation to that idea which -we had formed’. [1] - -[1] p. 328 [Book I, part I., sec. VII.] - -218. Next, as to the question concerning connotation:--‘The mind -would never have dreamed of distinguishing a figure from the body -figured, as being in reality neither distinguishable nor different -nor separable, did it not observe that even in this simplicity there -might be contained many different resemblances and relations. Thus, -when a globe of white marble is presented, we receive only the -impression of a white colour disposed in a certain form, nor are -we able to distinguish and separate the colour from the form. But -observing afterwards a globe of black marble and a cube of white, -and comparing them with our former object, we find two separate -resemblances in what formerly seemed, and really is, perfectly -inseparable. After a little more practice of this kind, we begin -to distinguish the figure from the colour by a _distinction of -reason_;--_i.e._ we consider the figure and colour together, since -they are, in effect, the same and indistinguishable; but still view -them in different aspects according to the resemblances of which they -are susceptible. ... A person who desires us to consider the figure -of a globe of white marble without thinking on its colour, desires an -impossibility; but his meaning is, that we should consider the colour -and figure together, but still keep in our eye the resemblance to the -globe of black marble or that to any other globe whatever’. [1] - -[1] p. 333 [Book I, part I., sec. VII.] - -His account implies that ‘ideas’ are conceptions, not feelings. - -219. It is clear that the process described in these passages -supposes ‘ab initio’ the conversion of a feeling into a conception; -in other words, the substitution of the definite individuality of -a thing, thought of under attributes, for the mere singleness in -time of a feeling that occurs after another and before a third. The -‘finding of resemblances and differences among objects that often -occur to us’ implies that each object is distinguished as one and -abiding from manifold occurrences, in the way of related feelings, in -which it is presented to us, and that these accordingly are regarded -as representing permanent relations or qualities of the object. Thus -from being related feelings, whether more or less ‘vivacious,’ they -have become, in the proper sense, ideas of relation. The difficulty -about the use of general names, as Hume puts it, really arises just -from the extent to which this process of determination by ideas of -relation, and with it the removal of the object of thought from -simple feeling, is supposed to have gone. It is because the idea is -so complex in its individuality, and because this qualification is -not understood to be the work of thought, by comparison and contrast -accumulating attributes on an object which it itself constitutes, -but is regarded as given ready-made in an impression (_i.e._ a -feeling), that the question arises whether a general proposition is -really possible or no. To all intents and purposes Hume decides that -it is not. The mind is so tied down to the particular collection of -qualities which is given to it or which it ‘finds,’ that it cannot -present one of them to itself without presenting all. Having never -found a triangle that is not equilateral or isosceles or scalene, we -cannot imagine one, for ideas can only be copies of impressions, and -the imagination, though it has a certain freedom in combining what -it finds, can invent nothing that it does not find. Thus the idea, -represented by a general name and of which an assertion, general -in form, is made, must always have a multitude of other qualities -besides those common to it with the other individuals to which the -name is applicable. If any of these, however, were included in the -predicate of the proposition, the sleeping custom, which determines -the mind to pass from the idea present to it to the others to which -the name has been applied, would be awakened, and it would be seen at -once that the predicate is not true of them. When I make a general -statement about ‘the horse,’ there must be present to my mind some -particular horse of my acquaintance, but if on the strength of this -I asserted that ‘the horse is a grey-haired animal,’ the custom of -applying the name without reference to colour would return upon me -and correct me--as it would not if the predicate were ‘four-footed.’ - -He virtually yields the point in regard to the _predicate_ of -propositions. - -220. It would seem then that the predicate may, though the subject -cannot, represent either a single quality, or a set of qualities -which falls far short even of those common to the class, much more of -those which characterise any individual. If I can think these apart, -or have an idea of them, as the predicate of a proposition, why -not (it may be asked) as the subject? It may be said, indeed, with -truth, that it is a mistake to think of the subject as representing -one idea and the predicate another; that the proposition as a whole -represents one idea, in the sense of a conception of relation between -attributes, and that at bottom this account of it is consistent -with Locke’s definition of knowledge as a perception of relation -between ‘ideas,’ since with him ‘ideas’ and ‘qualities’ are used -interchangeably. [1] It is no less true, however, that the relation -between attributes, which the proposition states, is a relation -between them in an individual subject. It is the nature of the -individuality of this subject, then, that is really in question. -Must it, as Hume supposed, be ‘considered’ under other qualities -than those to which the predicate relates? When the proposition -only concerns the relation between certain qualities of a spherical -figure, must the figure still be considered as of a certain colour -and material? - -[1] See above, paragraph 17. - -As to the subject, he equivocates between singleness of feeling and -individuality of conception. - -221. The possibility of such a question being raised implies that -the step has been already taken, which Hume ignored, from feeling -to thought. His doctrine on the matter arises from that mental -equivocation, of which the effects on Locke have been already -noticed, [1] between the mere singleness of a feeling in time and the -individuality of the object of thought as a complex of relations. -If the impression is the single feeling which disappears with a -turn of the head, and the idea a weaker impression, every idea must -indeed be in one sense ‘individual,’ but in a sense that renders -all predication impossible because it empties the idea of all -content. Really, according to Hume’s doctrine of general names, it is -individual in a sense which is the most remote opposite of this, as a -multitude of ‘different resemblances and relations’ in ‘simplicity.’ -It is just such an individual as Locke supposed to be found (so to -speak) ready-made in nature, and from which he supposed the mind -successively to abstract ideas less and less determinate. Such an -object Hume, coming after Berkeley, could not regard in Locke’s -fashion as a separate material existence outside consciousness. The -idea with him is a ‘copy’ not of a thing but of an ‘impression,’ -but to the impression he transfers all that individualization by -qualities which Locke had ascribed to the substance found in nature; -and from the impression again transfers it to the idea which ‘is but -the weaker impression.’ Thus the singleness in time of the impression -becomes the ‘simplicity’ of an object ‘containing many different -resemblances and relations,’ and the individuality of the subject -of a proposition, instead of being regarded in its true light as a -temporary isolation from other relations of those for the time under -view--an individuality which is perpetually shifting its limits as -thought proceeds--becomes an individuality fixed once for all by what -is given in the impression. Because, as is supposed, I can only ‘see’ -a globe as of a certain colour and material, I can only think of it -as such. If the ‘sight’ of it had been rightly interpreted as itself -a complex work of thought, successively detaching felt things from -the ‘flux’ of feelings and determining these by relations similarly -detached, the difficulty of thinking certain of these--_e.g._ those -designated as ‘figure’--apart from the rest would have disappeared. -It would have been seen that this was merely to separate in -reflective analysis what had been gradually put together in the -successive synthesis of perception. But such an interpretation of the -supposed _datum_ of sense would have been to elevate thought from the -position which Hume assigned to it, as a ‘decaying sense,’ to that of -being itself the organizer of the world which it knows. [2] - -[1] See above, paragraphs 47, 95, &c. - -[2] The phrase ‘decaying sense’ belongs to Hobbes, but its meaning is -adopted by Hume. - -Result is a theory which admits predication, but only as singular. - -222. Here, then, as elsewhere, the embarrassment of Hume’s doctrine -is nothing which a better statement of it could avoid. Nay, so -dexterous is his statement, that only upon a close scrutiny does -the embarrassment disclose itself. To be faithful at once to his -reduction of the impression to simple feeling, and to his account of -the idea as a mere copy of the impression, was really impossible. If -he had kept his word in regard to the impression, he must have found -thought filling the void left by the disappearance, under Berkeley’s -criticism, of that outward system of things which Locke had commonly -taken for granted. He preferred fidelity to his account of the -idea, and thus virtually restores the fiction which represents the -real world as consisting of so many, materially separate, bundles -of qualities--a fiction which even Locke in his better moments -was beginning to outgrow--with only the difference that for the -separation of ‘substances’ in space he substitutes a separation of -‘impressions’ in time. That thought (the ‘idea’) can but faintly -copy feeling (the ‘impression’) he consistently maintains, but he -avails himself of the actual determination of feeling by reference -to an object of thought--the determination expressed by such phrases -as impression of a man, impression of a globe, &c.--to charge the -feeling with a content which it only derives from such determination, -while yet he denies it. By this means predication can be accounted -for, as it could not be if our consciousness consisted of mere -feelings and their copies, but only in the form of the singular -proposition; because the object of thought determined by relations, -being identified with a single feeling, must be limited by the ‘this’ -or ‘that’ which expresses this singleness of feeling. It is really -_this_ or _that_ globe, _this_ or _that_ man, that is the subject -of the proposition, according to Hume, even when in form it is -general. It is true that the general name ‘globe’ or ‘man’ not merely -represents a ‘particular’ globe or man, though that is all that is -presented to the mind, but also ‘raises up a custom which produces -any other individual idea for which we may have occasion.’ As this -custom, however, is neither itself an idea nor affects the singleness -of the subject idea, it does not constitute any distinction between -singular and general propositions, but only between two sorts of the -singular proposition according as it does, or does not, suggest an -indefinite series of other singular propositions, in which the same -qualities are affirmed of different individual ideas to which the -subject-name has been applied. - -All propositions restricted in same way as Locke’s propositions about -real existence. - -223. A customary sequence, then, of individual ideas upon each other -is the reality, which through the delusion of words (as we must -suppose) has given rise to the fiction of there being such a thing -as general knowledge. We say ‘fiction,’ for with the possibility of -general propositions, as the Greek philosophers once for all pointed -out, stands or falls the possibility of science. Locke was so far -aware of this that, upon the same principle which led him to deny the -possibility of general propositions concerning real existence, he -‘suspected’ a science of nature to be impossible, and only found an -exemption for moral and mathematical truth from this condemnation in -its ‘bare ideality.’ Hume does away with the exemption. He applies -to all propositions alike the same limitation which Locke applies to -those concerning real existence. With Locke there may very well be a -proposition which to the mind, as well as in form, is general--one of -which the subject is an ‘abstract general idea’--but such proposition -‘concerns not existence.’ As knowledge of real existence is limited -to the ‘actual present sensation,’ so a proposition about such -existence is limited to what is given in such sensation. It is a -real truth that this piece of gold is now being dissolved in aqua -regia, when the ‘particular experiment’ is going on under our eyes, -but the general proposition ‘gold is soluble’ is only an analysis of -a nominal essence. With Hume the distinction between propositions -that do, and those that do not, ‘concern existence’ disappears. -Every proposition is on the same footing in this respect, since it -must needs be a statement about an ‘idea,’ and every idea exists. -‘Every object that is presented must necessarily be existent. ... -Whatever we conceive, we conceive to be existent. Any idea we please -to form is the idea of a being; and the idea of a being is any idea -we please to form’. [1] But since, according to him, the idea cannot -be separated, as Locke supposed it could, from the conditions ‘that -determine it to this or that particular existence,’ propositions -of the sort which Locke understood by ‘general propositions -concerning substances,’ though if they were possible they would -‘concern existence’ as much as any, are simply impossible. Hume, -in short, though he identifies the real and nominal essences which -Locke had distinguished, yet limits the nominal essence by the same -‘particularity in space and time’ by which Locke had limited the real. - -[1] p. 370 [Book I, part II., sec. VI.] - -The question, how the _singular_ proposition is possible, the vital -one. - -224. A great advance in simplification has been made when the false -sort of ‘conceptualism’ has thus been got rid of--that conceptualism -which opposes knowing and being under the notion that things, -though merely individual in reality, may be known as general. This -riddance having been achieved, as it was by Hume, the import of the -proposition becomes the central question of philosophy, the answer -to which must determine our theory of real existence just as much -as of the mind. The issue may be taken on the proposition in its -singular no less than in its general form. The weakness of Hume’s -opponents, indeed, has lain primarily in their allowing that his -doctrine would account for any significant predication whatever, -as distinct from exclamations prompted by feelings as they occur. -This has been the inch, which once yielded, the full ell of his -nominalism has been easily won; just as Locke’s empiricism becomes -invincible as soon as it is admitted that qualified things are ‘found -in nature’ without any constitutive action of the mind. As the only -effective way of dealing with Locke is to ask,--After abstraction -of all that he himself admitted to be the creation of thought, what -remains to be merely found?--so Hume must be met _in limine_ by the -question whether, apart from such ideas of relation as according to -his own showing are not simple impressions, so much as the singular -proposition is possible. If not, then the singularity of such -proposition does not consist in any singleness of presentation to -sense; it is not the ‘particularity in time’ of a present feeling; -and the exclusion of generality, whether in thoughts or in things, -as following from the supposed necessity of such singleness or -particularity, is quite groundless. - -Not relations of resemblance only, but those of quantity also, -treated by Hume as feelings. - -225. Hitherto the idea of relation which we have had specially in -view has been that of relation in the way of resemblance, and the -propositions have been such as represent the most obvious ‘facts of -observation’--facts about this or that ‘body,’ man or horse or ball. -We have seen that these already suppose the thought of an object -qualified, not transitory as are feelings, but one to which feelings -are referred on their occurrence as resemblances or differences -between it and other objects; but that by an equivocation, which -unexamined phraseology covers, between the thought of such an object -and feeling proper--as if because we talk of seeing a man, therefore -a man were a feeling of colour--Hume is able to represent them as -mere data of sense, and thus to ignore the difference between related -feelings and ideas of relation. Thus the first step has been taken -towards transferring to the sensitive subject, as merely sensitive, -the power of thought and significant speech. The next is to transfer -to it ideas of those other relations [1] which Hume classifies as -‘relations of time and place, proportion in quantity or number, -degrees in any quality’. [2] This done, it is sufficiently equipped -for achieving its deliverance from metaphysics. An animal, capable of -experiments concerning matter of fact, and of reasoning concerning -quantity and number, would certainly have some excuse for throwing -into the fire all books which sought to make it ashamed of its -animality. [3] - -[1] The course which our examination of Hume should take was marked -out, it will be remembered, by his enumeration of the ‘_natural_’ -relations that regulate the association of ideas. It might seem -a departure from this course to proceed, as in the text, from -the relation of resemblance to ‘relations of time and place, -proportion in quantity or number, and degrees of any quality,’ -since these appear in Hume’s enumeration, not of ‘_natural_’ but -of ‘_philosophical_’ relations. Such departure, however, is the -consequence of Hume’s own procedure. Whether he considered these -relations merely equivalent to the ‘natural ones’ of resemblance -and contiguity, he does not expressly say; but his reduction of the -principles of mathematics to data of sense implies that he did so. -The treatment of degrees in quality and proportions in quantity as -sensible implies that the difference between resemblance and measured -resemblance, between contiguity and measured contiguity, is ignored. - -[2] p. 368 [Book I, part II., sec. V.] - -[3] If we take in our hand any volume of divinity or -school-metaphysics, for instance, let us ask, _Does it contain -any abstract reasoning for quantity or number?_ No. _Does it -contain any experimental reasoning concerning matter of fact and -existence?_ No. _Commit it then to the flames, for it can contain -nothing but sophistry and illusion.’_--‘Inquiry concerning the Human -Understanding,’ at the end. - -He draws the line between certainty and probability at the same point -as Locke; but is more definite as to probability, - -226. In thus leaving mathematics and a limited sort of experimental -physics (limited by the exclusion of all general inference from the -experiment) out of the reach of his scepticism, and in making them -his basis of attack upon what he conceived to be the more pretentious -claims of knowledge, Hume was again following the course marked out -for him by Locke. It will be remembered that Locke, even when his -‘suspicion’ of knowledge is at its strongest, still finds solid -ground _(a)_ in ‘particular experiments’ upon nature, expressed -in singular propositions as opposed to assertions of universal or -necessary connexion, and _(b)_ in mathematical truths which are at -once general, certain, and instructive, because ‘barely ideal.’ All -speculative propositions that do not fall under one or other of these -heads are either ‘trifling’ or merely ‘probable.’ Hume draws the line -between certainty and probability at the same point, nor in regard -to the ground of certainty as to ‘matter of fact or existence’ is -there any essential difference between him and his master. As this -ground is the ‘actual present sensation’ with the one, so it is the -‘impression’ with the other; and it is only when the proposition -becomes universal or asserts a necessary connection, that the -certainty, thus given, is by either supposed to fail. It is true that -with Locke this authority of the sensation is a derived authority, -depending on its reference to a ‘body now operating upon us,’ while -with Hume, so far as he is faithful to his profession of discarding -such reference, it is original. But with each alike the fundamental -notion is that a feeling must be ‘true _while it lasts_,’ and that -in regard to real existence or matter of fact no other truth can -be known but this. Neither perceives that a truth thus restricted -is no truth at all--nothing that can be stated even in a singular -proposition; that the ‘particularity in time,’ on which is supposed -to depend the real certainty of the simple feeling, is just that -which deprives it of significance [1]--because neither is really -faithful to the restriction. Each allows himself to substitute for -the momentary feeling an object qualified by relations, which are the -exact opposite of momentary feelings. ‘If I myself see a man walk -on the ice,’ says Locke (IV, xv. 5), ‘it is past probability, it is -knowledge:’ nor would Hume, though ready enough on occasion to point -out that what is seen must be a colour, have any scruple in assuming -that such a complex judgment as the above so-called ‘sight’ has the -certainty of a simple impression. It is only in bringing to bear upon -the characteristic admission of Locke’s Fourth Book, that no general -knowledge of nature can be more than probable, a more definite notion -of what probability is, and in exhibiting the latent inconsistency -of this admission with Locke’s own doctrine of ideas as effects of -a causative substance, that he modifies the theory of _physical_ -certainty which he inherited. In their treatment of mathematical -truths on the other hand, of propositions involving relations of -distance, quantity and degree, a fundamental discrepancy appears -between the two writers. The ground of certainty, which Hume admits -in regard to propositions of this order, must be examined before we -can appreciate his theory of probability as it affects the relations -of cause and substance. - -[1] See above, paragraphs 45 and 97. - -... and does not admit opposition of mathematical to physical -certainty--here following Berkeley. - -227. It has been shown [1] that Locke’s opposition of mathematical to -physical certainty, with his ascription to the former of instructive -generality on the ground of its bare ideality--the ‘ideal’ in this -regard being opposed to what is found in sensation--strikes at the -very root of his system. It implies that thought can originate, and -that what it originates is in some sort real--nay, as being nothing -else than the ‘primary qualities of matter,’ is the source of all -other reality. Here was an alien element which ‘empiricism’ could not -assimilate without changing its character. Carrying such a conception -along with it, it was already charged with an influence which must -ultimately work its complete transmutation by compelling, not the -admission of an ideal world of guess and aspiration alongside of -the empirical, but the recognition of the empirical as itself ideal -The time for this transmutation, however, was not yet. Berkeley, in -over-hasty zeal for God, had missed that only true way of finding God -in the world which lies in the discovery that the world is Thought. -Having taken fright at the ‘mathematical Atheism,’ which seemed to -grow out of the current doctrines about primary qualities of matter, -instead of applying Locke’s own admissions to show that these were -intelligible and merely intelligible, he fancied that he had won the -battle for Theism by making out that they were merely feelings or -sequences of feelings. From him Hume got the text for all he had to -say against the metaphysical mathematicians; but, for the reason that -Hume applied it with no theological interest, its true import becomes -more apparent with him than with Berkeley. - -[1] See above, paragraphs 117 and 125. - -His criticisms of the doctrine of primary qualities. - -228. His account of mathematical truths, as contained in Part II. -of the First Book of the ‘Treatise on Human Nature,’ cannot be -fairly read except in connection with the chapters in Part IV. -on ‘Scepticism with regard to the Senses,’ and on ‘the Modern -Philosophy.’ The latter chapter is expressly a polemic against -Locke’s doctrine of primary qualities, and its drift is to reverse -the relations which Locke had asserted between them and sensations, -making the primary qualities depend on sensations, instead of -sensations on the primary qualities. In Locke himself we have -found that two inconsistent views on the subject perpetually cross -each other. [1] According to one, momentary sensation is the sole -conveyance to us of reality; according to the other, the real is -constituted by qualities of bodies which not only ‘are in them -whether we perceive them or not,’ but which only complex ideas -of relation can represent. The unconscious device which covered -this inconsistency lay, we found, [2] in the conversion of the -mere feeling of touch into the touch _of a body_, and thus into an -experience of solidity. By this conversion, since solidity according -to Locke’s account carries with it all the primary qualities, -these too become data of sensation, while yet, by the retention of -the opposition between them and ideas, the advantage is gained of -apparently avoiding that identification of what is real with simple -feeling, which science and common sense alike repel. - -[1] See above, paragraph 99 and following. - -[2] See above, paragraph 101. - -It will not do to oppose bodies to our feeling when only feeling can -give idea of body. - -229. Hume makes a show of getting rid of this see-saw. Instead of -assuming at once the reality of sensation on the strength of its -relation to the primary qualities and the reality of these on the -strength of their being given in tactual experience, he pronounces -sensations alone the real, to which the primary qualities must be -reduced, if they are not to disappear altogether. ‘If colours, -sounds, tastes, and smells be merely perceptions, nothing we -can conceive is possessed of a real, continued, and independent -existence’. [1] That they are perceptions is of course undoubted. -The question is, whether there is a real something beside and -beyond them, contrast with which is implied in speaking of them -as ‘_merely_ perceptions.’ The supposed qualities of such a real -are ‘motion, extension, and solidity’. [2] To modes of these the -other primary qualities enumerated by Locke are reducible; and of -these again motion and extension, according to Locke’s account no -less than Hume’s own, presuppose solidity. What then do we assert -of the real, in contrast with which we talk of perception, as -_mere_ perception, when we say that it is solid? ‘In order to form -an idea of solidity we must conceive two bodies pressing on each -other without any penetration. ... Now, what idea do we form of -these bodies? ... To say that we conceive them as solid is to run -on _ad infinitum_. To affirm that we paint them out to ourselves as -extended, either resolves them all into a false idea or returns in a -circle; extension must necessarily be conceived either as coloured, -which is a false idea, [3] or as solid, which brings us back to the -first question.’ Of solidity, then, the ultimate determination of -the supposed real, there is ‘no idea to be formed’ apart from those -perceptions to which, as independent of our senses, it is opposed. -‘After exclusion of colours, sounds, heat and cold from the rank of -external existences, there remains nothing which can afford us a just -and consistent idea of body.’ - -[1] p. 513 [Book I, part IV., sec. IV.] - -[2] Ibid. - -[3] ‘A false idea,’ that is, according to the doctrine that extension -is a primary quality, while colour is only an idea of a secondary -quality, not resembling the quality as it is in the thing. - -Locke’s shuffle of ‘body,’ ‘solidity,’ and ‘touch,’ fairly exposed. - -230. Our examination of Locke has shown us how it is that his -interpretation of ideas by reference to body is fairly open to this -attack. It is so because, in thus interpreting them, he did not know -what he was really about. He thought he was explaining ideas of sense -according to the only method of explanation which he recognises--the -method of resolving complex into simple ideas, and of ‘sending a man -to his senses’ for a knowledge of the simple. In fact, however, when -he explained ideas of sense as derived from the qualities of body, -he was explaining simple ideas by reference to that which, according -to his own showing, is a complex idea. To say that, as Locke -understood the derivation in question, the primary qualities are -an ἄιτιον γενέσεως to the ideas of secondary qualities, but not an -ἄιτιον γνώσεως [1]--that without our having ideas of them they cause -those ideas of sense from which afterwards our ideas of the primary -qualities are formed--is to suppose an order of reality other than -the order of our sensitive experience, and thus to contradict Locke’s -fundamental doctrine that the genesis of ideas is to be found by -observing their succession in ‘our own breasts.’ It is not thus that -Locke himself escapes the difficulty. As we have seen, he supposes -our ideas of sense to be from the beginning ideas of the qualities of -bodies, and virtually justifies the supposition by sending the reader -to his sense of touch for that idea of solidity in which, as he -defines it, all the primary qualities are involved. That the sense in -question does not really yield the idea is what Hume points out when -he says that, ‘though bodies are felt by means of their solidity, yet -the feeling is quite a different thing from the solidity, nor have -they the least resemblance to each other.’ In other words, having -come to suppose that there are solid bodies, we explain our feeling -as due to their solidity; but we may not at once interpret feeling -as the result of solidity, and treat solidity as itself a feeling. -It was by allowing himself so to treat it that Locke disguised -from himself the objection to his interpretation of feeling. Hume -tears off the disguise, and in effect gives him the choice of being -convicted either of reasoning in a circle or of explaining the simple -idea by reference to the complex. The solidity, which is to explain -feeling, can itself only be explained by reference to body. If body -is only a complex of ideas of sense, in referring tactual feeling to -it we are explaining a simple idea by reference to a compound one. -If it is not, how is it to be defined except in the ‘circular’ way, -which Locke in fact adopts when he makes body a ‘texture of solid -parts’ and solidity a relation of bodies? [2] - -[1] [Greek ἄιτιον γενέσεως (aition geneseos) = cause of coming-to-be, -ἄιτιον γνώσεως (aition gnoseos) = cause of being known. Tr.] - -[2] See above, paragraph 101. - -True rationale of Locke’s doctrine. - -231. This ‘vicious circle’ was nothing of which Locke need have been -ashamed, if only he had understood and avowed its necessity. Body -is to solidity and to the primary qualities in general simply as a -substance to the relations that determine it; and the ‘circle’ in -question merely represents the logical impossibility of defining -a substance except by relations, and of defining these relations -without presupposing a substance. It was only Locke’s confusion -of the order of logical correlation with the sequence of feelings -in time, that laid him open to the charge of making body and the -ideas of primary qualities, and again the latter ideas and those -of secondary qualities, at once precede and follow each other. To -avoid this confusion by recognising the logical order--the order of -intellectual ‘fictions’--as that apart from which the sequence of -feelings would be no order of knowable reality at all, would be of -course impossible for one who took Locke’s antithesis of thought -and fact for granted. The time for that was not yet. A way of -escape had first to be sought in a more strict adherence to Locke’s -identification of the sequence of feelings with the order of reality. -Hence Hume’s attempt, reversing Locke’s derivation of ideas of sense -from primary qualities of body, to derive what with Locke had been -primary qualities, as compound impressions of sense, from simple -impressions and to reduce body itself to a name not for any ‘just -and consistent idea,’ but for a ‘propensity to feign,’ the gradual -product of custom and imagination. The question by which the value of -such derivation and reduction is to be tried is our old one, whether -it is not a tacit conversion of the supposed original impressions -into qualities of body that alone makes them seem to yield the result -required of them. If the Fourth Book of the ‘Treatise on Human -Nature,’ with its elimination of the idea of body, had come before -the second, would not the plausibility of the account of mathematical -ideas contained in the latter have disappeared? And conversely, if -these ideas had been reduced to that which upon elimination of the -idea of body they properly become, would not that ‘propensity to -feign,’ which is to take the place of the excluded idea, be itself -unaccountable? - -With Hume ‘body’ logically disappears. What then? - -232. ‘After exclusion of colours, sounds, heat and cold, from the -rank of external existences, there remains nothing which can afford -us a just and consistent idea of body.’ Now, no one can ‘exclude -them from the rank of external existences’ more decisively than -Hume. They are impressions, and ‘all impressions are internal and -perishing existences, and appear as such.’ Nor does he shirk the -consequence, that we have no ‘just and consistent idea of body.’ It -is true that we cannot avoid a ‘belief in its existence’--a belief -which according to Hume consists in the supposition of ‘a continued -existence of objects when they no longer appear to the senses, and of -their existence as distinct from the mind and perceptions;’ in other -words, as ‘external to and independent of us.’ This belief, however, -as he shows, is not given by the senses. That we should feel the -existence of an object to be continued when we no longer feel it, is -a contradiction in terms; nor is it less so, that we should feel it -to be distinct from the feeling. We cannot, then, have an impression -of body; and, since we cannot have an idea which does not correspond -to an impression or collection of impressions, it follows that we can -have no idea of it. How the ‘belief in its existence’ is accounted -for by Hume in the absence of any idea of it, is a question to be -considered later. [1] Our present concern is to know whether the idea -of extension can hold its ground when the idea of body is excluded. - -[1] See below, paragraph 303, and foll. - -Can space survive body? Hume derives idea of it from sight and -feeling. Significance with him of such derivation. - -233. ‘The first notion of space and extension,’ he says, ‘is derived -solely from the senses of sight and feeling: nor is there anything -but what is coloured or tangible that has parts disposed after -such a manner as to convey the idea.’ Now, there may be a meaning -of ‘derivation,’ according to which no one would care to dispute -the first clause of this sentence. Those who hold that _really_, -i.e. _for a consciousness to which the distinction between real and -unreal is possible_, there is no feeling except such as is determined -by thought, are yet far from holding that the determination is -arbitrary; that any and every feeling is potentially any and every -conception. Of the feelings to which the visual and tactual nerves -are organic, as they would be for a merely feeling consciousness, -nothing, they hold, can be said; in that sense they are an ἄπειρον; -[1] but for the thinking consciousness, or (which is the same) as -they _really_ are, these feelings do, while those to which other -nerves are organic do not, form the specific possibility of the -conception of space. According to this meaning of the words, all -must admit that ‘the first notion of space and extension is derived -from the senses of sight and feeling;’ though it does not follow -that a repeated or continued activity of either sense is necessary -to the continued presence of the notion. With Hume, however, the -derivation spoken of must mean that the notion of space is, to begin -with, simply a visual or tactual feeling, and that such it remains, -though with indefinite abatement and revival in the liveliness of the -feeling, according to the amount of which it is called ‘impression’ -or ‘idea.’ If we supposed him to mean, not that the notion of space -was either a visual or tactual feeling indifferently, but that it -was a compound result of both, [2] we should merely have to meet -a further difficulty as to the possibility of such composition of -feelings when their inward synthesis in a soul, and the outward in a -body, have been alike excluded. In the next clause of the sentence, -however, we find that for visual and tactual feelings there are -quietly substituted ‘coloured and tangible objects, having parts so -disposed as to convey the idea of extension.’ It is in the light of -this latter clause that the uncritical reader interprets the former. -He reads back the plausibility of the one into the other, and, having -done so, finds the whole plausible. Now this plausibility of the -latter clause arises from its implying a three-fold distinction--a -distinction of colour or tangibility on the one side from the -disposition of the parts on the other; a distinction of the colour, -tangibility and disposition of parts alike from an object to which -they belong; and a distinction of this object from the idea that it -conveys. In other words, it supposes a negative answer to the three -following questions:--Is the idea of extension the same as that of -colour or tangibility? Is it possible without reference to something -other than a possible impression? Is the idea of extension itself -extended? Yet to the two latter questions, according to Hume’s -express statements, the answer must be affirmative; nor can he avoid -the affirmative answer to the first, to which he would properly be -brought, except by equivocation. - -[1] [Greek ἄπειρον (apeiron) = unlimited, indefinite or infinite. Tr.] - -[2] It is not really in this sense that the impression of space -according to Hume is a ‘compound’ one, as will appear below. - -It means, in effect, that colour and space are the same, and that -feeling may be extended. - -234. The _pièces justificatives_ for this assertion are not far to -seek. Some of them have been adduced already. The idea of space, like -every other idea, must be a ‘copy of an impression.’ [1] To speak of -a feeling in its fainter stage as an ‘image’ of what it was in its -livelier stage may, indeed, seem a curious use of terms; but in this -sense only, according to Hume’s strict doctrine, can the idea of -space be spoken of as an ‘image’ of anything at all. The impression -from which it is derived, _i.e._ the feeling at its liveliest, -cannot properly be so spoken of, for ‘no impression is presented -by the senses as the image of anything distinct, or external, or -independent.’ [2] If no impression is so presented, neither can -any idea, which copies the impression, be so. It can involve no -reference to anything which does not come and go with the impression. -Accordingly no distinction is possible between space on the one hand, -and either the impression or idea of it on the other. All impressions -and ideas that can be said to be of extension must be themselves -extended; and conversely, as Hume puts it, ‘all the qualities of -extension are qualities of a perception.’ It should follow that space -is either a colour or feeling of touch. In the terms which Hume -himself uses with reference to ‘substance,’ ‘if it be perceived by -the eyes, it must be colour; if by the ears, a sound; and so on, of -the other senses.’ As he expressly tells us that it is ‘perceived by -the eyes,’ the conclusion is inevitable. - -[1] P. 340 [Book I, part II., sec. III.] - -[2] P. 479 [Book I, part IV., sec. II.] - -The parts of space are parts of a perception. - -235. Hume does not attempt to reject the conclusion directly. He -had too much eye to the appearance of consistency for that. But, -in professing to admit it, he wholly alters its significance. The -passage in question must be quoted at length. ‘The table, which just -now appears to me, is only a perception, and all its qualities are -qualities of a perception. Now, the most obvious of all its qualities -is extension. The perception consists of parts. These parts are so -situated as to afford us the notion of distance and contiguity, -of length, breadth, and thickness. The termination of these three -dimensions is what we call figure. The figure is moveable, separable, -and divisible. Mobility and separability are the distinguishing -properties of extended objects. And, to cut short all disputes, the -very idea of extension is copied from nothing but an impression, -and consequently must perfectly agree to it. To say the idea of -extension agrees to anything is to say it is extended.’ Thus ‘there -are impressions and ideas that are really extended.’ [1] - -[1] P. 523 [Book I, part IV., sec. V.] - -Yet the parts of space are co-existent not successive. - -236. In order to a proper appreciation of this passage it is -essential to bear in mind that Hume, so far as the usages of -language would allow him, ignores all such differences in modes of -consciousness as the Germans indicate by the distinction between -‘Empfindung’ and ‘Vorstellung,’ and by that between ‘Anschauung’ -and ‘Begriff;’ or, more properly, that he expressly merges them in -a mode of consciousness for which, according to the most consistent -account that can be gathered from him, the most natural term -would be ‘feeling.’ [1] It is true that Hume himself, admitting a -distinction in the degree of vivacity with which this consciousness -is at different times presented, inclines to restrict the term -‘feeling’ to its more vivacious stage, and to use ‘perception’ as -the more general term, applicable whatever the degree of vivacity -may be. [2] We must not allow him, however, in using this term to -gain the advantage of a meaning which popular theory does, but his -does not, attach to it. ‘Perception’ with him covers ‘idea’ as well -as ‘impression;’ but nothing can be said of idea that cannot be -said of impression, save that it is less lively, nor of impression -that cannot be said of idea, save that it is more so. It is this -explicit reduction of all consciousness virtually, if not in name, to -feeling that brings to the surface the difficulties latent in Locke’s -‘idealism.’ These we have already traced at large; but they may be -summed up in the question, How can feelings, as ‘particular in time’ -or (which is the same) in ‘perpetual flux,’ constitute or represent -a world of permanent relations? [3] The difficulty becomes more -obvious, though not more real, when the relations in question are not -merely themselves permanent, like those between natural phenomena, -but are ‘relations between permanent parts,’ like those of space. -It is for this reason that its doctrine about geometry has always -been found the most easily assailable point of the ‘sensational’ -philosophy. Locke distinguishes the ideas of space and of duration -as got, the one ‘from the permanent parts of space,’ the other ‘from -the fleeting and perpetually perishing parts of succession.’ [4] He -afterwards prefers the term ‘expansion’ to space, as the opposite -of duration, because it brings out more clearly the distinction -of a relation between permanent parts from that between ‘fleeting -successive parts which never exist together.’ How, then, can a -consciousness consisting simply of ‘fleeting successive parts’ either -be or represent that of which the differentia is that its parts are -permanent and co-exist? - -[1] As implying no distinction from, or reference to, a thing causing -and a subject experiencing it. See above, paragraphs 195 and 208, and -the passages there referred to. - -[2] ‘To hate, to love, to think, to feel, to see; all this is nothing -but to perceive.’ p. 371 [Book I, part II., sec. IV.]. ‘When I -shut my eyes and _think_ of my chamber, the ideas I form are exact -representations of the impressions I _felt_.’ p. 312 [Book I, part -I., sec. I.]. - -[3] See above, paragraphs 172 & 176. - -[4] Essay Book II. chap. xiv. sec. 1. - -Hume cannot make space a ‘perception’ without being false to his own -account of perception; - -237. If this crux had been fairly faced by Hume, he must have seen -that the only way in which he could consistently deal with it was -by radically altering, with whatever consequence to the sciences, -Locke’s account of space. As it was, he did not face it, but--whether -intentionally or only in effect--disguised it by availing himself of -the received usages of language, which roughly represent a theory -the exact opposite of his own, to cover the incompatibility between -the established view of the nature of space, and his own reduction -of it to feeling. A very little examination of the passage, quoted -at large above, will show that while in it a profession is made -of identifying extension and a certain sort of perception with -each other, its effect is not really to reduce extension to such a -perception as Hume elsewhere explains all perceptions to be, but -to transfer the recognised properties of extension which with such -reduction would disappear, to something which for the time he chooses -to reckon a perception, but which he can only so reckon at the cost -of contradicting his whole method of dealing with the ideas of God, -the soul, and the world. The passage, in fact, is merely one sample -of the continued shuffle by which Hume on the one hand ascribes to -feeling that intelligible content which it only derives from relation -to objects of thought, and on the other disposes of these objects -because they are not feelings. - -... as appears if we put ‘feeling’ for ‘perception’ in the passages -in question. - -238. ‘The table, which just now appears to me, is only a perception, -and all its qualities are qualities of a perception. Now, the most -obvious of all its qualities is extension. The perception consists -of parts. These parts are so situated as to afford us the notion -of distance and contiguity, of length, breadth, and thickness,’ -&c., &c. If, now, throughout this statement (as according to Hume’s -doctrine we are entitled to do) we write _feeling_ for ‘perception’ -and ‘notion,’ it will appear that this table is a feeling, which -has another feeling, called extension, as one of its qualities; and -that this latter feeling consists of parts. These, in turn, must be -themselves feelings, since the parts of which a perception consists -must be themselves perceived, and, being perceived, must, according -to Hume, be themselves perceptions which = feelings. These feelings, -again, afford us other feelings of certain relations--distance and -contiguity, &c.--feelings which, as Hume’s doctrine allows of no -distinction between the feeling and that of which it is the feeling, -must be themselves relations. Thus it would seem that a feeling may -have another feeling as one of its qualities; that the feeling, which -is thus a quality, has other feelings as its co-existent parts; and -that the feelings which are parts ‘afford us’ other feelings which -are relations. Is that sense or nonsense? - -To make sense of them, we must take perception to mean perceived -thing, - -239. To this a follower of Hume, if he could be brought to admit the -legitimacy of depriving his master of the benefit of synonyms, might -probably reply, that the apparent nonsense only arises from our being -unaccustomed to such use of the term ‘feeling;’ that the table is a -‘bundle of feelings,’ actual and possible, of which the actual one -of sight suggests a lively expectation, easily confused with the -presence, of the others belonging to the other senses; that any one -of these may be considered a quality of the total impression formed -by all; that the feeling thus considered, if it happens to be visual, -may not improperly be said to consist of other feelings, as a whole -consists of parts, since it is the result of impressions on different -parts of the retina, and from a different point of view even itself -to be the relation between the parts, just as naturally as a mutual -feeling of friendship may be said either to consist of the loves of -the two parties to the friendship, or to constitute the relation -between them. Such language represents those modern adaptations of -Hume, which retain his identification of the real with the felt but -ignore his restrictions on the felt. Undoubtedly, if Hume allowed -us to drop the distinction between feeling as it might be for a -merely feeling consciousness, and feeling as it is for a thinking -consciousness, the objection to his speaking of feeling in those -terms, in which it must be spoken of if extension is to be a feeling, -would disappear; but so, likewise, would the objection to speaking of -thought as constitutive of reality. To appreciate his view we must -take feeling not as we really know it--for we cannot know it except -under those conditions of self-consciousness, the logical categories, -which in his attempt to get at feeling, pure and simple, Hume is -consistent enough to exclude--but as it becomes upon exclusion of -all determination by objects which Hume reckons fictitious. What it -would thus become _positively_ we of course cannot say, for of the -unknowable nothing can be said; but we can decide _negatively_ what -it cannot be. Can that in any case be said of it, which must be said -of it if a feeling may be extended, and if extension is a feeling? -Can it be such a quality of an object, so consisting of parts, and -such a relation, as we have found that Hume takes it to be in his -account of the perception of this table? - -... which it can only mean as the result of certain ‘fictions’. - -240. After having taken leave throughout the earlier part of the -‘Treatise on Human Nature’ to speak in the ordinary way of objects -and their qualities--and otherwise of course he could not have -spoken at all--in the fourth book he seems for the first time to -become aware that his doctrine did not authorise such language. -To perceive qualities of an object is to be conscious of relation -between a subject and object, of which neither perishes with the -moment of perception. Such consciousness is self-consciousness, -and cannot be reduced to any natural observable event, since it is -consciousness of that of which we cannot say ‘Lo, here,’ or ‘Lo, -there,’ ‘it is now but was not then,’ or ‘it was then but is not -now.’ It is therefore something which the spirit of the Lockeian -philosophy cannot assimilate, and which Hume, as the most consistent -exponent of that spirit, most consistently tried to get rid of. -The subject as self, the object as body, he professes to reduce to -figures of speech, to be accounted for as the result of certain -‘propensities to feign:’ nor will he allow that any impression or -idea (and impressions and ideas with him, be it remembered, exhaust -our consciousness) carries with it a reference to an object other -than itself, any more than do pleasure or pain to which ‘in their -nature’ all perceptions correspond. [1] He cannot, indeed, avoid -speaking of the consciousness thus reduced to the level of simple -pain and pleasure, as being that which in fact it can only be when -determined by relation to a self-conscious subject, _i.e._ as itself -an object; but he is so far faithful in his attempt to avoid such -determination, that he does not reckon the object more permanent -than the impression. It, too, is a ‘perishing existence.’ As the -impression disappears with a ‘turn of the eye in its socket,’ so does -the object, which really is the impression, and cannot appear other -than it is any more than a feeling can be felt to be what it is not. -[2] - -[1] ‘Every impression, external and internal, passions, affections, -sensations, pains, and pleasures, are originally on the same footing; -and, whatever other differences we may observe among them, appear, -all of them, in their true colours, as impressions or perceptions.’ -p. 480. [Book I, part IV., sec. II.] - -‘All sensations are felt by the mind such as they really are; and, -when we doubt whether they present themselves as distinct objects or -as mere impressions, the difficulty is not concerning their nature, -but concerning their relations and situation.’ p. 480. [ibid.] - -[2] See above, paragraph 208, with the passages there cited. - -If felt thing is no more than feeling, how can it have qualities? - -241. Such being the only possible object, how can qualities of it -be perceived? We cannot here find refuge in any such propensity to -feign as that which, according to Hume, leads us to ‘endow objects -with a continued existence, distinct from our perceptions.’ If such -propensities can give rise to impressions at all, it can only be to -impressions of reflection, and it cannot be in virtue of them that -extension, an impression of sensation, is given as a quality of an -object. Now if there is any meaning in the phrase ‘qualities of an -object,’ it implies that the qualities co-exist with each other and -the object. Feelings, then, which are felt as qualities of another -feeling must co-exist with, _i.e._ (according to Hume) be felt at -the same time as, it and each other. Thus, if an impression of sight -be the supposed object, no feeling that occurs after this impression -has disappeared can be a quality of it. Accordingly, when Hume speaks -of extension being seen as one of the qualities of this table, he -is only entitled to mean that it is one among several feelings, -experienced at one and the same time, which together constitute -the table. Whatever is not so experienced, whether extension or -anything else, can be no quality of that ‘perception.’ How much -of the perception, then, will survive? Can any feelings, strictly -speaking, be cotemporaneous? Those received through different senses, -as Hume is careful to show, may be; _e.g._ the smell, taste, and -colour of a fruit. [1] In regard to them, therefore, we may waive -the difficulty, How can feelings successive to each other be yet -co-existent qualities? but only to find ourselves in another as to -what the object may be of which the cotemporaneous feelings are -qualities. It cannot, according to Hume, be other than one or all -of the cotemporaneous feelings. Is, then, the taste of an apple a -quality of its colour or of its smell, or of colour, smell, and taste -put together? It will not help us to speak of the several feelings -as qualities of the ‘total impression;’ for the ‘total impression’ -either merely means the several feelings put together, or else -covertly implies just that reference to an object other than these, -which Hume expressly excludes. - -[1] ‘The taste and smell of any fruit are inseparable from its other -qualities of colour and tangibility, and ... ’tis certain they are -always co-existent. Nor are they only co-existent in general, but -also cotemporary in their appearance in the mind.’ p. 521. (Contrast -p. 370, where existence and appearance are identified.) [Book I, part -IV., sec. V. and part II, sec. IV.] - -The thing will have ceased before the quality begins to be. - -242. In fact, however, when he speaks of the feeling, which is -called extension, as a quality of the feeling, which is called -sight, of the table, he has not even the excuse that he might have -had if the feelings in question, being of different senses, might be -cotemporary. According to him they are feelings of the same sense. -The extension of the table he took to be a datum of sight just as -properly as its colour; yet he cannot call it the same as colour, but -only ‘a quality of the coloured object.’ As the ‘coloured object,’ -however, apart from ‘propensities to feign,’ can, according to him, -be no other than the feeling of colour, his doctrine can only mean -that, colour and extension being feelings of the same sense, the -latter is a quality of the former. Is this any more possible than -that red should be a quality of blue, or a sour taste of a bitter -one? Must not the two feelings be successive, however closely -successive, so that the one which is object will have disappeared -before the other, which is to be its quality, will have occurred? [1] - -[1] It should be needless to point out that by taking extension to be -a quality of ‘tangibility’ or muscular effort we merely change the -difficulty. The question as to its relation to such feelings will be -simply a repetition of that, put in the text, as to its relation to -the feeling of colour. - -Hume equivocates by putting ‘coloured points’ for colour. - -243. If we look to the detailed account which Hume gives of the -relation between extension and colour, we find that he avoids the -appearance of making one feeling a quality of another, by in fact -substituting for colour a superficies of coloured points, in which -it is very easy to find extension as a quality because it already -is extension as an object. To speak of extension, though a feeling, -as made up of parts is just as legitimate or illegitimate as to -speak of the feeling of colour being made up of coloured points. The -legitimacy of this once admitted, there remains, indeed, a logical -question as to how it is that a quality should be spoken of in terms -that seem proper to a substance--as is done when it is said to -consist of parts--and yet, again, should be pronounced a relation -of these parts; but to one who professed to merge all logical -distinctions in the indifference of simple feeling, such a question -could have no recognised meaning. It is, then, upon the question -whether, according to Hume’s doctrine of perception, the perception -of an object made up of coloured points may be used interchangeably -with the perception of colour, that the consistency of his doctrine -of extension must finally be tried. - -244. The detailed account is to the following effect:--‘Upon opening -my eyes and turning them to the surrounding objects, I perceive many -visible bodies; and upon shutting them again and considering the -distance betwixt these bodies, I acquire the idea of extension.’ -From what impression, Hume proceeds to ask, is this idea derived? -‘Internal impressions’ being excluded, ‘there remain nothing but the -senses which can convey to us this original impression.’ ... ‘The -table before me is alone sufficient by its view to give me the idea -of extension. This idea, then, is borrowed from and represents some -impression which this moment appears to the senses. But my senses -convey to me only the impressions of coloured points, disposed in a -certain manner. ... We may conclude that the idea of extension is -nothing but a copy of these coloured points and of the manner of -their appearance.’ [1] - -[1] Pp. 340 and 341. [Book I, part II., sec. III.] - -Can a ‘disposition of coloured points’ be an impression? - -245. If the first sentence of the above had been found by Hume in -an author whom he was criticising, he would scarcely have been -slow to pronounce it tautological. As it stands, it simply tells -us that having seen things extended we consider their extension, -and upon considering it acquire an idea of it. It is a fair sample -enough of those ‘natural histories’ of the soul in vogue among us, -which by the help of a varied nomenclature seem able to explain a -supposed later state of consciousness as the result of a supposed -earlier one, because the terms in which the earlier is described -in effect assume the later. It may be said, however, that it is -only by a misinterpretation of a carelessly written sentence that -Hume can be represented as deriving the idea of extension from the -consideration of distance; that, as the sequel shows, he regarded the -‘consideration’ and the ‘idea’ in question as equivalent, and derived -from the same impression of sense. It is undoubtedly upon his account -of this impression that his doctrine of extension depends. It is -described as ‘an impression of coloured points disposed in a certain -manner.’ To it the idea of extension is related simply as a copy; -which, we have seen, properly means with Hume, as a feeling in a less -lively stage is related to the same feeling in a more lively stage. -It is itself, we must note, the _impression_ of extension; and it is -an impression of sense, about which, accordingly, no further question -can properly be raised. Hume, indeed, allows himself to speak as -if it were included in a ‘perception of visible bodies’ other than -itself; just as in the passage from the fourth book previously -examined, he speaks as if the perception, called extension, were a -quality of some other perception. This we must regard as an exercise -of the privilege which he claims of ‘speaking with the vulgar while -he thought with the learned;’ since, according to him, ‘visible -body,’ in any other sense than that of the impression of coloured -points, is properly a name for a ‘propensity to feign’ resulting from -a process posterior to all impressions of sense. The question remains -whether, in speaking of an impression as one of ‘coloured points -disposed in a certain manner,’ he is not introducing a ‘fiction -of thought’ into the impression just as much as in calling it a -‘perception of body.’ - -The points must be themselves impressions, and therefore not -co-existent. - -246. An impression, we know, can, according to Hume, never be _of_ an -object in the sense of involving a reference to anything other than -itself. When one is said, then, to be _of_ coloured points, &c., this -can only mean that itself _is_, or consists of, such points. Thus the -question we have to answer is only a more definite form of the one -previously put, Can a feeling consist of parts? In answering it we -must remember that the parts, here supposed to be coloured points, -must, according to Hume’s doctrine, be themselves impressions or they -are nothing. Consistently with this he speaks of extension as ‘a -compound impression, consisting of parts or lesser impressions, that -are indivisible to the eye or feeling, and may be called impressions -of atoms or corpuscles, endowed with colour and solidity.’ [1] Now, -unless we suppose that a multitude of feelings of one and the same -sense can be present together, these ‘lesser impressions’ must follow -each other and precede the ‘compound impression.’ That is to say, -none of the parts of which extension consists will be in existence -at the same time, and all will have ceased to exist before extension -itself comes into being. Can we, then, adopt the alternative -supposition that a multitude of feelings of one and the same sense -can be present together? In answering this question according to -Hume’s premisses we may not help ourselves by saying that in a case -of vision there really are impressions on different parts of the -retina. To say that it _really_ is so, is to say that it is so for -the _thinking_ consciousness--for a consciousness that distinguishes -between what it feels and what it knows. To a man, as simply seeing -and while he sees, his sight is not an impression on the retina at -all, much less a combination of impressions on different parts of -the retina. It is so for him only as thinking on the organs of his -sight; or, if we like, as ‘seeing’ them in another, but ‘seeing’ them -in a way determined by sundry suppositions (bodies, rays, and the -like) which are not feelings, and therefore with Hume not possible -‘perceptions,’ at all. But it is the impression of sight, as it would -be for one simply seeing and while he sees, undetermined by reference -to anything other than itself, whether subject or object--an -impression as it would be for a merely feeling consciousness or (in -Hume’s language) ‘on the same footing with pain and pleasure’--that -we have to do with when, from Hume’s point of view, we ask whether a -multitude of such impressions can be present at once, _i.e._ as one -impression. - -[1] P. 345 [Book I, part II., sec. IV.] - -A ‘compound impression’ excluded by Hume’s doctrine of time. - -247. If this question had been brought home to Hume, he could -scarcely have avoided the admission that to answer it affirmatively -involved just as much of a contradiction as that which he recognises -between the ‘interrupted’ and ‘continuous’ existence of objects; -[1] and just as in the latter case he gets over the contradiction -by taking the interrupted existence, because the datum of sense, -to be the reality, and the continued existence to be a belief -resulting from ‘propensities to feign,’ so in the case before us -he must have taken the multiplicity of successive impressions to -be the reality, and their co-existence as related parts to be a -figure of speech, which he must account for as best he could. As -it is, he so plays fast and loose with the meaning of ‘impression’ -as to hide the contradiction which is involved in the notion of a -‘compound impression’ if impression is interpreted as feeling--the -contradiction, namely, that a single feeling should he felt to be -manifold--and in consequence loses the chance of being brought to -that truer interpretation of the compound impression, as the thought -of an object under relations, which a more honest trial of its -reduction to feeling might have shown to be necessary. To convict so -skilful a writer of a contradiction in terms can never be an easy -task. He does not in so many words tell us that all impressions of -sight must be successive, but he does tell us that ‘the impressions -of touch,’ which, indifferently with those of sight, he holds to -constitute the compound impression of extension, ‘change every moment -upon us.’ [2] And in the immediate sequel of the passage where he -has made out extension to be a compound of co-existent impressions, -he derives the idea of time ‘from the succession of our perceptions -_of every kind_, ideas as well as impressions, and impressions of -reflection as well as of sensation.’ The parts of time, he goes on to -say, cannot be co-existent; and, since ‘time itself is nothing but -different ideas and impressions succeeding each other,’ these parts, -we must conclude, are those ‘perceptions of every kind’ from which -the idea of time is derived. [3] It is only, in fact, by availing -himself of the distinction, which he yet expressly rejects, between -the impression and its object, that he disguises the contradiction in -terms of first pronouncing certain impressions, as parts of space, -co-existent, and then pronouncing all impressions, as parts of time, -successive. A statement that ‘as from the coexistence of visual, and -also of tactual, perceptions we receive the idea of extension, so -from the succession of perceptions of every kind we form the idea -of time,’ would arouse the suspicion of the most casual reader; -while Hume’s version of the same,--‘as ’tis from the disposition of -visible and tangible objects we receive the idea of space, so from -the succession of ideas and impressions we form the idea of time’ -[4]--has the full ring of empirical plausibility. - -[1] P. 483 and following, and p. 486 [Book I, part IV., sec. II.] - -[2] P. 516 [Book I, part IV., sec. IV.]. - -[3] Pp. 342, 343 [Book I, part II., sec. III.]. - -[4] P. 342 [Book I, part II., sec. III.] - -The fact that colours mix, not to the purpose. - -248. This plausibility depends chiefly on our reading into Hume’s -doctrine a physical theory which, as implying a distinction between -feeling and its real but unfelt cause, is strictly incompatible with -it. Is it not an undoubted fact, the reader asks, that two colours -may combine to produce a third different from both--that red and -yellow, for instance, together produce orange? Is not this already an -instance of a compound impression? Why may not a like composition of -unextended impressions of colour constitute an impression different -from any one of the component impressions, viz. extended colour? -A moment’s consideration, however, will show that no one has a -conscious sensation at once of red and yellow, and of orange as a -compound of the two. The elements which combine to produce the colour -called orange are not--as they ought to be if it is to be a case of -compound impression in Hume’s sense--feelings of the person who sees -the orange colour, but certain known causes of feeling, confused in -language with the feelings, which separately they might produce, -but which in fact they do not produce when they combine to give the -sensation of orange; and to such causes of feeling, which are not -themselves feelings, Hume properly can have nothing to say. - -How Hume avoids appearance of identifying space with colour, and -accounts for the abstraction of space. - -249. So far we have been considering the composition of impressions -generally, without special reference to extension. The contradiction -pointed out arises from the confusion between impressions as felt -and impressions as thought of; colour, between feelings as they -are in themselves, presented successively in time, and feelings as -determined by relation to the thinking subject, which takes them out -of the flux of time and converts them into members of a permanent -whole. It is in this form that the confusion is most apt to elude us. -When the conceived object is one of which the qualities can really -be felt, _e.g._ colour, we readily forget that a felt quality is no -longer simply a feeling. But the case is different when the object -is one, like extension, which forces on us the question whether its -qualities can be felt, or presented in feeling, at all. A compound -of impressions of colour, to adopt Hume’s phraseology, even if such -composition were possible, would still be nothing else than an -impression of colour. In more accurate language, the conception, -which results from the action of thought upon feelings of colour, -can only be a conception of colour. Is extension, then, the same as -colour? To say that it was would imply that geometry was a science -of colour; and Hume, though ready enough to outrage ‘Metaphysics and -School Divinity,’ always stops reverently short of direct offence -to the mathematical sciences. As has been said above, of the three -main questions about the idea of extension which his doctrine -raises--Is it itself extended? Is it possible without reference to -something other than a possible impression? Is it the same as the -idea of colour or tangibility?--the last is the only one which he can -scarcely even profess to answer in the affirmative. [1] Even when he -has gone so far as to speak of the parts of a perception, a sound -instinct compels him, instead of identifying the perception directly -with extension, to speak of it as ‘affording through the situation -of its parts the notion of’ extension. [2] In like manner, when he -has asserted extension to be a compound of impressions, he avoids -the proper consequence of the assertion by speaking of the component -impressions as those, not of colour but, of coloured points, ‘atoms -or corpuscles endowed with colour and solidity;’ and, again, does not -call extension the compound of these simply, but the compound of them -as ‘disposed in a certain manner.’ When the idea which is a copy of -this impression has to be spoken of, the expression is varied again. -It is an ‘idea of the coloured points _and of the manner of their -appearance_,’ or of their ‘disposition.’ The disposition of the parts -having been thus virtually distinguished from their colour, it is -easy to suppose that, finding a likeness in the disposition of points -under every unlikeness of their colour, ‘we omit the peculiarities -of colour, as far as possible, and found an abstract idea merely on -that disposition of points, or manner of appearance, in which they -agree. Nay, even when the resemblance is carried beyond the objects -of one sense, and the impressions of touch are found to be similar -to those of sight in the disposition of their parts, this does not -hinder the abstract idea from representing both on account of their -resemblance’. [3] - -[1] Above, paragraph 233. Though, as we shall see, he does so in one -passage. - -[2] Above, paragraph 235. - -[3] P. 341 [Book I, part II., sec. III.] - -In so doing, he implies that space is a relation, and a relation -which is not a possible impression. - -250. If words have any meaning, the above must imply that the -disposition of points is at least a different idea from either colour -or tangibility, however impossible it may be for us to experience -it without one or other of the latter. Nor can we suppose that -this impression, other than colour, is one that first results from -the composition of colours, even if we admit that such composition -could yield a result different from colour. According to Hume, -the components of the compound impression are already impressions -of coloured ‘points, atoms, or corpuscles,’ and such points imply -just that limitation by mutual externality, which is already the -disposition in question. Is this ‘disposition,’ then, an impression -of sensation? If so, ‘through which of the senses is it received? If -it be perceived by the eyes it must be a colour,’ &c. &c.; [1] but -from colour, the impression with which Hume would have identified it -if he could, he yet finds himself obliged virtually to distinguish -it. It is a relation, and not even one of those relations, such as -resemblance, which in Hume’s language, ‘depending on the nature -of the impressions related,’ [2] may plausibly be reckoned to -be themselves impressions. The ‘disposition’ of parts and their -‘situation’ he uses interchangeably, and the situation of impressions -he expressly opposes to their ‘nature’ [3]--that nature in respect -of which all impressions, call them what we like, are ‘originally -on the same footing’ with pain and pleasure. Consistently with this -he pronounces the ‘external position’ of objects--their position as -bodies external to each other and to our body--to be no datum of -sense, no impression or idea, at all. [4] Our belief in it has to -be accounted for as a complex result of ‘propensities to feign.’ -How, then, can there be an impression of that which does not belong -to the nature of any impression? What difference is there between -‘bodies’ and ‘corpuscles endowed with colour and solidity,’ that the -outwardness of the latter to each other--also called their ‘distance’ -from each, other [5]--should be an impression, while it is admitted -that the same relation between ‘bodies’ cannot be so? - -[1] Above, paragraph 208. - -[2] P. 372 [Book I, part III., sec. I.], ‘Philosophical relations -may be divided into two classes: into such as depend entirely on the -ideas which we compare together; and such as may be changed without -any change in the ideas. ... The relations of contiguity and distance -between two objects may be changed without any change in the objects -themselves or their ideas.’ - -[3] P. 480. [Book I, part IV., sec. II.] ‘When we doubt whether -sensations present themselves as distinct objects or as mere -impressions, the difficulty is not concerning their nature, but -concerning their relations and situation.’ - -[4] P. 481. [Book I, part IV., sec. II.] In there showing that the -senses alone cannot convince us of the external existence of body, -he remarks that ‘sounds, tastes, and smells appear not to have any -existence in extension;’ and (p. 483) [ibid] ‘as far as the senses -are judges, all perceptions are the same in the manner of their -existence.’ Therefore perceptions of sight cannot have ‘an existence -in extension’ any more than ‘sounds, tastes, and smells;’ and if so, -how can ‘existence in extension’ be a perception? - -[5] Above, paragraphs 235 and 244. - -No logical alternative between identifying space with colour, and -admitting an idea not copied from an impression. - -251. To have plainly admitted that it was not an impression must -have compelled Hume either to discard the ‘abstract idea’ with which -geometry deals, or to admit the possibility of ideas other than -‘fainter impressions.’ It is a principle on which he insists with -much emphasis and repetition, that whatever ‘objects,’ ‘impressions,’ -or ‘ideas’ are distinguishable are also separable. [1] Now if there -is an abstract idea of extension, it can scarcely be other than -distinguishable, and consequently (according to Hume’s account of -the relation of idea to impression) derived from a distinguishable -and therefore separable impression. It would seem then that Hume -cannot escape conviction of one of two inconsistencies; either that -of supposing a separate impression of extension, which yet is not -of the nature of any assignable sensation; or that of supposing an -abstract idea of it in the absence of any such impression. We shall -find that he does not directly face either horn of the dilemma, but -evades both of them. He admits that ‘the ideas of space and time -are no separate and distinct ideas, but merely those of the manner -or order in which objects’ (_sc._ impressions) ‘exist’. [2] In the -Fourth Book, where the equivalence of impression to feeling is more -consistently carried out, the fact that what is commonly reckoned an -impression is really a judgment about the ‘manner of existence,’ as -opposed to the ‘nature,’ of impressions, is taken as sufficient proof -that it is no impression at all; and if not an impression, therefore -not an idea. [3] He thus involuntarily recognized the true difference -between feeling and thought, between the mere occurrence of feelings -and the presentation of that occurrence by the self-conscious subject -to itself; and, if only he had known what he was about in the -recognition, might have anticipated Kant’s distinction between the -matter and form of sensation. In the Second Book, however, he will -neither say explicitly that space is an impression of colour or a -compound of colours--that would be to extinguish geometry; nor yet -that it is impression of sense separate from that of colour--that -would lay him open to the retort that he was virtually introducing -a sixth sense; nor on the other hand will he boldly avow of it, as -he afterwards does of body, that it is a fiction. He denies that it -is a separate impression, so far as that is necessary for avoiding -the challenge to specify the sense through which it is received; -he distinguishes it from a mere impression of sight, when it is -necessary to avoid its simple identification with colour. By speaking -of it as ‘the manner in which objects exist’--so long as he is not -confronted with the declarations of the Fourth Book or with the -question how, the objects being impressions, their order of existence -can be at once that of succession in time and of co-existence in -space--he gains the credit for it of being a datum of sight, yet -so far distinct from colour as to be a possible ‘foundation for an -abstract idea,’ representative also of objects not coloured at all -but tangible. At the same time, if pressed with the question how it -could be an impression of sight and yet not interchangeable with -colour, he could put off the questioner by reminding him that he -never made it a ‘separate or distinct impression, but one of the -manner in which objects exist.’ - -[1] Pp. 319, 326, 332, 335, 518. [Book I, part I., sec. IV and VII, -part II, sec. I, and part IV., sec. V.] - -[2] P. 346. [Book I, part II., sec. IV.] - -[3] P. 480. [Book I, part IV., sec. II.] - -In his account of the idea as _abstract_, Hume really introduces -distinction between feeling and conception; - -252. Disguise it as he might, however, the admission that there -was in some sense an abstract idea of space, which the existence -of geometry required of him, really carried with it the admission -either of a distinct impression of the same, or of some transmuting -process by which the idea may become what the impression is not. -His way of evading this consequence has been already noticed in our -examination of his doctrine of ‘abstract ideas’ generally, though -without special reference to extension. [1] It consists in asserting -figure and colour to be ‘really,’ or as an impression, ‘the same and -indistinguishable,’ but different as ‘relations and resemblances’ of -the impression; in other words, different according to the ‘light in -which the impression is considered’ or ‘the aspect in which it is -viewed.’ Of these ‘separate resemblances and relations,’ however, are -there ideas or are there not? If there are not, they are according -to Hume nothing of which we are conscious at all; if there are, -there must be distinguishable, and therefore separable, impressions -corresponding. To say then that figure and colour form one and the -same indistinguishable impression, and yet that they constitute -‘different resemblances and relations,’ without such explanation -as Hume cannot consistently give, is in fact a contradiction in -terms. The true explanation is that the ‘impression’ has a different -meaning, when figure and colour are said to be inseparable in the -impression, from that which it has when spoken of as a subject of -different resemblances and relations. In the former sense it is -the feeling pure and simple--_one_ as presented singly in time, -after another and before a third. In this sense it is doubtless -insusceptible of distinction into qualities of figure and colour, -because (for reasons already stated) it can have no qualities at -all. But the ‘simplicity in which many different resemblances and -relations may be contained’ is quite other than this singleness. It -is the unity of an object thought of under manifold relations--a -unity of which Hume, reducing all consciousness to ‘impression’ and -impression to feeling, has no consistent account to give. Failing -such an account, the unity of the intelligible object, and the -singleness of the feeling in time, are simply confused with each -other. It is only an object as thought of, not a feeling as felt, -that can properly be said to have qualities at all; while it is only -because it is still regarded as a feeling that qualities of it, which -cannot be referred to separate impressions, are pronounced the same -and indistinguishable. If the idea of space is other than a feeling -grown fainter, the sole reason for regarding it as originally an -impression of colour disappears; if it _is_ such a feeling, it cannot -contain such ‘different resemblances and relations’ as render it -representative of objects not only coloured in every possible way, -but not coloured at all. - -[1] Above, paragraph 218. - -... yet avoids appearance of doing so, by treating ‘consideration’ of -the relations of a felt thing as if it were itself the feeling. - -253. It is thus by playing fast and loose with the difference between -feeling and conception that Hume is able, when the character of -extension as an intelligible relation is urged, to reply that it is -the same with the feeling of colour; and on the other hand, when -asked how there then can be an abstract idea of it, to reply that -this does not mean a separate idea, but coloured objects considered -under a certain relation, viz. under that which consists in the -disposition of their parts. The most effective way of meeting him on -his own ground is to ask him how it is, since ‘consideration’ can -only mean a succession of ideas, and ideas are fainter impressions, -that extension, being one and the same impression with colour, can -by any ‘consideration’ become so different from it as to constitute -a resemblance to objects that are not coloured at all. The true -explanation, according to his own terminology, would be that the -resemblance between the white globe and all other globes, being -a resemblance not of impressions but of such relations between -impressions as do not ‘depend on the nature of the impressions’ -related, is unaffected by the presence or absence of colour or any -other sensation. Of such relations, however, there can properly, -if ideas are fainter impressions, be no ideas at all. In regard -to those of cause and identity Hume virtually admits this; but -the ‘propensities to feign’ by which in the case of these latter -relations he tries to account for the appearance of there being -ideas of them, cannot plausibly be applied to relations in space and -time, of which, as we shall see, ideas must be assumed in order to -account for the ‘fictions’ of body and necessary connexion. Since -then they cannot be derived from any separate impression without the -introduction in effect of a sixth sense, and since all constitutive -action of thought as distinct from feeling is denied by Hume, the -only way to save appearances is to treat the order in which a -multitude of impressions present themselves as the same with each -impression, even though immediately afterwards it may have to be -confessed, that it is so independent of the nature of any or all of -the impressions as to be the foundation of an abstract idea, which is -representative of other impressions having nothing whatever in common -with them but the order of appearance. This once allowed--an abstract -idea having been somehow arrived at which is not really the copy of -any impression--it is easy to argue back from the abstract idea to an -impression, and because there is an idea of the composition of points -to substitute a ‘composition of coloured points’ for colour as the -original impression. From such impression, being already extension, -the idea of extension can undoubtedly be abstracted. - -Summary of contradictions in his account of extension. - -254. We now know what becomes of ‘extended matter’ when the doctrine, -which has only to be stated to find acceptance, that we cannot ‘look -for anything anywhere but in our ideas’--in other words that for -us there is no world but consciousness--is fairly carried out. Its -position must become more and more equivocal, as the assumption, that -consciousness reveals to us an alien matter, has in one after another -of its details to be rejected, until a principle of synthesis within -consciousness is found to explain it. In default of this, the feeling -consciousness has to be made to take its place as best it may; which -means that what is said of it as feeling has to be unsaid of it as -extended, and _vice versâ_. As _feeling_, it carries no reference to -anything other than itself, to an object of which it is a quality; -as _extended_, it is a qualified object. As _extended_ again, its -qualities are relations of coexistent parts; as _feeling_, it is an -unlimited succession, and therefore, not being a possible whole, can -have no parts at all. Finally as _feeling_, it must in each moment of -existence either be ‘on the same footing’ with pain and pleasure or -else--a distinction between impressions of sensation and reflection -being unwarrantably admitted--be a colour, a taste, a sound, a smell, -or ‘tangibility;’ as _extended_, it is an ‘order of appearance’ or -‘disposition of corpuscles,’ which, being predicable indifferently -at any rate of two of these sensations, can no more be the same with -either than either can be the same with the other. It is not the -fault of Hume but his merit that, in undertaking to maintain more -strictly than others the identification of extension with feeling, -he brought its impossibility more clearly into view. The pity is -that having carried his speculative enterprise so far before he was -thirty, he allowed literary vanity to interfere with its consistent -pursuit, caring only to think out the philosophy which he inherited -so far as it enabled him to pose with advantage against Mystics and -Dogmatists, but not to that further issue which is the entrance to -the philosophy of Kant. - -He gives no account of quantity as such. - -255. As it was, he never came fairly to ask himself the fruitful -question. How the sciences of quantity ‘continuous and discreet,’ -which undoubtedly do exist, are possible to a merely feeling -consciousness, because, while professedly reducing all consciousness -to this form, he still allowed himself to interpret it in the terms -of these sciences and, having done so, could easily account for their -apparent ‘abstraction’ from it. If colour is already for feeling a -magnitude, as is implied in calling it a ‘composition of coloured -points,’ the question, how a knowledge of magnitude is possible, is -of course superfluous. It only remains to deal, as Hume professes to -do, with the apparent abstraction in mathematics of magnitude from -colour and the consequent suppositions of pure space and infinite -divisibility. Any ulterior problem he ignores. That magnitude is not -any the more a feeling for being ‘endowed with colour’ he shows no -suspicion. He pursues his ‘sensationalism’ in short, in its bearing -on mathematics, just as far as Berkeley did and no further. The -question at issue, as he conceived it, was not as to the possibility -of magnitude altogether, but only as to the existence of a vacuum; -not as to the possibility of number altogether, but only as to the -infinity of its parts. Just as he takes magnitude for granted as -found in extension, and extension as equivalent to the feeling of -colour, so he takes number for granted, without indeed any explicit -account of the impression in which it is to be found, but apparently -as found in time, which again is identified with the succession of -impressions. In the second part of the Treatise, though the idea of -number is assumed and an account is given of it which is supposed -to be fatal to the infinite divisibility of extension, we are told -nothing of the impression or impressions from which it is derived. -In the Fourth Part, however, there is a passage in which a certain -consideration of time is spoken of as its source. - -His account of the relation between Time and Number. - -256. In the latter passage, in order to account for the idea of -identity, he is supposing ‘a single object placed before us and -surveyed for any time without our discovering in it any variation -or interruption.’ ‘When we consider any two points of this time,’ -he proceeds, ‘we may place them in different lights. We may either -survey them at the very same instant; in which case they give us the -idea of number, both by themselves and by the object, which must be -multiplied in order to be conceived at once, as existent in these -two different points of time: or, on the other hand, we may trace -the succession of time by a like succession of ideas, and conceiving -first one moment, along with the object then existent, imagine -afterwards a change in the time without any variation or interruption -in the object; in which case it gives us the idea of unity’. [1] - -[1] P. 490. [Book I, part IV., sec. II.] - -What does it come to? - -257. A slight scrutiny of this passage will show that it is a -prolonged tautology. The difference is merely verbal between the -processes by which the ideas of number and unity are severally -supposed to be given, except that in the former process it is the -moment of surveying the times that is supposed to be one, while -the times themselves are many; in the latter it is the object that -is supposed to be one, but the times many. According to the second -version of the former process--that according to which the different -times surveyed together are said to give the idea of number ‘by -their object’--even this difference disappears. The only remaining -distinction is that in the one case the object is supposed to be -given as one, ‘without interruption or variation,’ but to become -multiple as conceived to exist in different moments; in the other the -objects are supposed to be given as manifold, being ideas presented -in successive times, but to become one through the imaginary -restriction of the multiplicity to the times in distinction from the -object. Undoubtedly any one of these verbally distinct processes will -yield indifferently the ideas of number and of unity, since these -ideas in strict correlativity are presupposed by each of them. ‘Two -points of time surveyed at the same time’ will give us the idea of -number because, being a duality in unity, they are already a number. -So, too, and for the same reason, will the object, one in itself but -multiple as existent at different times. Nor does the idea given by -imagining ideas, successively presented, to be ‘one uninterrupted -object,’ differ from the above more than many-in-one differs from -one-in-many. The real questions of course are, How two times can be -surveyed at one time; how a single object can be multiplied or become -many; how a succession of ideas can be imagined to be an unvaried and -uninterrupted object. To these questions Hume has no answer to give. -His reduction of thought to feeling logically excluded an answer, and -the only alternative for him was to ignore or disguise them. - -Unites alone really exist: number a ‘fictitious denomination’. Yet -‘unites’ and ‘number’ are correlative; and the supposed fiction -unaccountable. - -258. In the passage from part II. of the Treatise, already referred -to, he distinctly tells us that the unity to which existence -belongs excludes multiplicity. ‘Existence itself belongs to unity, -and is never applicable to number but on account of the unites of -which the number is composed. Twenty men may be said to exist, but -’tis only because one, two, three, four, &c., are existent. ... A -unite, consisting of a number of fractions, is merely a fictitious -denomination, which the mind may apply to any quantity of objects -it collects together; nor can such an unity any more exist alone -than number can, as being in reality a true number. But the unity -which can exist alone, and whose existence is necessary to that of -all number, is of another kind and must be perfectly indivisible -and incapable of being resolved into any lesser unity’. [1] What -then is the ‘unity which can exist alone’? The answer, according -to Hume, must be that it is an impression separately felt and not -resoluble into any other impressions. But then the question arises, -how a succession of such impressions can form a number or sum; and -if they cannot, how the so-called real unity or separate impression -can in any sense be a unite, since a unite is only so as one of a -sum. To put the question otherwise, Is it not the case that a unite -has no more meaning without number than number without unites, and -that every number is not only just such a ‘fictitious denomination,’ -as Hume pronounces a ‘unite consisting of a number of fractions’ -to be, but a fiction impossible for our consciousness according to -Hume’s account of it? It will not do to say that such a question -touches only the fiction of ‘abstract number,’ but not the existence -of numbered objects; that (to take Hume’s instance) twenty men exist -with the existence of each individual man, each real unit, of the -lot. It is precisely the numerability of objects--not indeed their -existence, if that only means their successive appearance, but their -existence _as a sum_--that is in question. If such numerability -is possible for such a consciousness as Hume makes ours to be; in -other words, if he can explain the fact that we count; ‘abstract -number’ may no doubt be left to take care of itself. Is it then -possible? ‘Separate impressions’ mean impressions felt at different -times, which accordingly can no more co-exist than, to use Hume’s -expression, ‘the year 1737 can concur with the year 1738;’ whereas -the constituents of a sum must, as such, co-exist. Thus when we are -told that ‘twenty may be said to exist because one, two, three, &c., -are existent,’ the alleged reason, understood as Hume was bound -to understand it, is incompatible with the supposed consequence. -The existence of an object would, to him, mean no more than the -occurrence of an impression; but that one impression should occur, -and then another and then another, is the exact opposite of their -coexistence as a sum of impressions, and it is such co-existence that -is implied when the impressions are counted and pronounced so many. -Thus when Hume tells us that a single object, by being ‘multiplied -in order to be conceived at once as existent in different points of -time,’ gives us the idea of number, we are forced to ask him what -precisely it is which thus, being one, can become manifold. Is it a -‘unite that can exist alone’? That, having no parts, cannot become -manifold by resolution. ‘But it may by repetition?’ No, for it is -a separate impression, and the repetition of an impression cannot -co-exist, so as to form one sum, with its former occurrence. ‘But it -may be _thought of_ as doing so?’ No, for that, according to Hume, -could only mean that feelings might concur in a fainter stage though -they could not in a livelier. Is the single object then a unite which -already consists of parts? But that is a ‘fictitious denomination,’ -and presupposes the very idea of number that has to be accounted for. - -[1] P. 338. [Book I, part II., sec. II.] - -Idea of time even more unaccountable on Hume’s principles. - -259. The impossibility of getting number, as a many-in-one, out of -the succession of feelings, so long as the self is treated as only -another name for that succession, is less easy to disguise when the -supposed units are not merely given in succession, but are actually -the moments of the succession; in other words, when time is the -many-in-one to be accounted for. How can a multitude of feelings -of which no two are present together, undetermined by relation to -anything other than the feelings, be at the same time a consciousness -of the relation between the moments in which the feelings are given, -or of a sum which these moments form? How can there be a relation -between ‘objects’ of which one has ceased before the other has -begun to exist? ‘For the same reason,’ says Hume, ‘that the year -1737 cannot concur with the present year 1738, every moment must be -distinct from, and posterior or antecedent to, another’. [1] How -then can the present moment form one sum with all past moments, -the present year with all past years; the sum which we indicate -by the number 1738? The answer of common sense of course will be -that, though the feeling of one moment is really past before that -of another begins, yet thought retains the former, and combining -it with the latter, gets the idea of time both as a relation and -as a sum. Such an answer, however, implies that the retaining and -combining thought is other than the succession of the feelings, and -while it takes this succession to be the reality, imports into it -that determination by the relations of past and present which it can -only derive from the retaining and combining thought opposed to it. -It is thus both inconsistent with Hume’s doctrine, which allows no -such distinction between thought, _i.e._ the succession of ideas, -and the succession of impressions, and inconsistent with itself. Yet -Hume by disguising both inconsistencies contrives to avail himself -of it. By tacitly assuming that a conception of ‘the manner in which -impressions appear to the mind’ is given in and with the occurrence -of the impressions, he imports the consciousness of time, both as -relation and as numerable quantity, into the sequence of impressions. -He thus gains the advantage of being able to speak of this sequence -indifferently under predicates which properly exclude each other. -He can make it now a consciousness in time, now a consciousness -of itself as in time; now a series that cannot be summed, now a -conception of the sum of the series. The sequence of feelings, then, -having been so dealt with as to make it appear in effect that time -can be _felt_, that it should be _thought of_ can involve no further -difficulty. The conception, smuggled into sensitive experience as -an ‘impression,’ can be extracted from it again as ‘idea,’ without -ostensible departure from the principle that the idea is only the -weaker impression. - -[1] P. 338. [Book I, part II., sec. II.] - -His ostensible explanation of it. - -260. ‘The idea of time is not derived from a particular impression -mixed up with others and plainly distinguishable from them, but -arises altogether from the manner in which impressions appear to the -mind, without making one of the number. Five notes played on the -flute give us the impression and idea of time, though time be not a -sixth impression which presents itself to the hearing or any other of -the senses. Nor is it a sixth impression which the mind by reflection -finds in itself. These five sounds, making their appearance in this -particular manner, excite no emotion or affection in the mind, which -being observed by it can give rise to a new idea. For _that_ is -necessary to produce a new idea of reflection; nor can the mind, by -revolving over a thousand times all its ideas of sensation, ever -extract from them any new original idea, unless nature has so framed -its faculties that it feels some new original impression arise from -such a contemplation. But here it only takes notice of the _manner_ -in which the different sounds make their appearance, and that it may -afterwards consider without considering these particular sounds, but -may conjoin it with any other objects. The ideas of some objects it -certainly must have, nor is it possible for it without these ever to -arrive at any conception of time; which, since it appears not as any -primary distinct impression, can plainly be nothing but different -ideas or impressions or objects disposed in a certain manner, _i.e._ -succeeding each other. [1] - -[1] P. 343. [Book I, part II., sec. III.] - -It turns upon equivocation between feeling and conception of -relations between felt things. - -261. In this passage the equivocation between ‘impression’ as -feeling, and ‘impression’ as conception of the manner in which -feelings occur, is less successfully disguised than is the like -equivocation in the account of extension--not indeed from any failure -in Hume’s power of statement, but from the nature of the case. In -truth the mere reproduction of impressions can as little account for -the one conception as for the other. Just as, in order to account -for the ‘impression’ from which the abstract idea of space may -be derived, we have to suppose first that the feeling of colour, -through being presented by the self-conscious subject to itself, -becomes a coloured thing, and next, that this thing is viewed as -a whole of parts limiting each other; so, in order to account for -the ‘impression’ from which the idea of time may be abstracted, -we have to suppose the presentation of the succession of feelings -to a consciousness not in succession, and the consequent view of -such presented succession as a sum of numerable parts. It is a -relation only possible for a thinking consciousness--a relation, -in Hume’s language, not depending on the nature of the impressions -related--that has in each case to be introduced into experience in -order to be extracted from it again by ‘consideration:’ but there is -this difference, that in one case the relation is not really between -feelings at all, but between things or parts of a thing; while in the -other it is just that relation between feelings, the introduction -of which excludes the possibility that any feeling should be the -consciousness of the relation. Thus to speak of a feeling of -extension does not involve so direct a contradiction as to speak in -the same way of time. The reader gives Hume the benefit of a way of -thinking which Hume’s own theory excludes. Himself distinguishing -between feeling and felt thing, and regarding extension as a relation -between parts of a thing, he does not reflect that for Hume there is -no such distinction; that a ‘feeling of extension’ means that feeling -is extended, which again means that it has co-existent parts; and -that what is thus said of feeling as _extended_ is incompatible with -what is said of it as _feeling_. But when it comes to a ‘feeling -of time’--a feeling of the successiveness of all feelings--the -incompatibility between what is said of feeling as the object and -what is implied of it as the subject is less easy to disguise. In -like manner because we cannot really think of extension as being that -which yet according to Hume it is, it does not strike us, when he -speaks of it as coloured or of colour as extended, that he is making -one feeling a quality of another. But it would be otherwise if any -specific feeling were taken as a quality of what is ostensibly a -relation between all feelings. There is thus no ‘sensible quality’ -with which time can be said to be ‘endowed,’ as extension with -‘colour and solidity;’ none that can be made to do the same duty in -regard to it as these do in regard to extension, ‘giving the idea’ of -it without actually being it. - -He fails to assign any impression or compound of impressions from -which idea of time is copied. - -262. Hence, as the passage last quoted shows, in the case of time the -alternative between ascribing it to a sixth sense, and confessing -that it is not an impression at all, is very hard to avoid. It would -seem that there is an impression of ‘the manner in which impressions -appear to the mind,’ which yet is no ‘distinct impression.’ What, -then, is it? It cannot be any one of the impressions of sense, for -then it would be a distinct impression. It cannot be a ‘compound -impression,’ for such composition is incompatible with that -successiveness of all feelings to each other which is the object of -the supposed impression. It cannot be any ‘new original impression’ -arising from the contemplation of other impressions, for then, -according to Hume, it would be ‘an affection or emotion.’ But after -the exclusion of impressions of sense, compound impressions, and -impressions of reflection, Hume’s inventory of the possible sources -of ideas is exhausted. To have been consistent, he ought to have -dealt with the relation of time as he afterwards does with that of -cause and effect, and, in default of an impression from which it -could be derived, have reduced it to a figure of speech. But since -the possibility of accounting for the propensities to feign, which -our language about cause and effect according to him represents, -required the consciousness of relation in time, this course could -not be taken. Accordingly after the possibility of time being an -impression has been excluded as plainly as it can be by anything -short of a direct negation, by a device singularly _naïf_ it is -made to appear as an impression after all. On being told that -the consciousness of time is not a ‘new original impression of -reflection,’ since in that case it would be an emotion or affection, -but ‘_only_ the notice which the mind takes of the manner in which -impressions appear to it,’ the reader must be supposed to forget -the previous admission that it is no distinct impression at all, -and to interpret this ‘notice which the mind takes,’ because it is -not an impression of reflection, as an impression of sense. To make -such interpretation easier, the account given of time earlier in -the paragraph quoted is judiciously altered at its close, so that -instead of having to ascribe to feeling a consciousness of ‘the -manner in which impressions appear to the mind,’ we have only to -ascribe to it the impressions so appearing. But this alteration -admitted, what becomes of the ‘abstractness’ of the idea of time, -_i.e._ of the possibility of its being ‘conjoined with any objects’ -indifferently? It is the essential condition of such indifferent -conjunction, as Hume puts it, that time should be only the manner of -appearance as distinct from the impressions themselves. If time _is_ -the impressions, it must have the specific sensuous character which -belongs to these. It must be a multitude of sounds, a multitude of -tastes, a multitude of smells--these one after the other in endless -series. How then can such a series of impressions become such an -idea, _i.e._ so grow fainter as to be ‘conjoined’ indifferently ‘with -any impressions whatever’? - -How can he adjust the exact sciences to his theory of space and time? - -263. The case then between Hume and the conceptions which the exact -sciences presuppose, as we have so far examined it, stands thus. Of -the idea of quantity, as such, he gives no account whatever. We are -told, indeed, that there are ‘unites which can exist alone,’ _i.e._ -can be felt separately, and which are indivisible; but how such -unites, being separate impressions, can form a sum or number, or what -meaning a unite can have except as one of a number--how again a sum -formed of separate unites can be a continuous whole or magnitude--we -are not told at all. Of the ideas of space and time we do find an -account. They are said to be given in impressions, but, to justify -this account of them, each impression has to be taken to be at the -same time a consciousness of the manner of its own existence, as -determined by relation to other impressions not felt along with it -and as interpreted in a way that presupposes the unexplained idea -of quantity. With this supposed origin of the ideas the sciences -resting on them have to be adjusted. They may take the relations of -number and magnitude, time and space, for granted, as ‘qualities of -perceptions,’ and no question will be asked as to how the perceptions -come to assume qualities confessed to be ‘independent of their own -nature.’ It is only when they treat them in a way incompatible not -merely with their being feelings--that must always be the case--but -with their being relations between felt things, that they are -supposed to cross the line which separates experimental knowledge -from metaphysical jargon. So long then as space is considered merely -as the relation of externality between objects of the ‘outer,’ time -as that of succession between objects of the ‘inner,’ sense--in -other words, so long as they remain what they are to the earliest -self-consciousness and do not become the subject matter of any -science of quantity--if we sink the difference between feelings and -relations of felt things, and ask no questions about the origin of -the distinction between outer and inner sense, they may be taken as -data of sensitive experience. It is otherwise when they are treated -as quantities, and it is their susceptibility of being so treated -that, rightly understood, brings out their true character as the -intelligible element in sensitive experience. But Hume contrives at -once to treat them as quantities, thus seeming to give the exact -sciences their due, and yet to appeal to their supposed origin in -sense as evidence of their not having properties which, if they are -quantities, they certainly must have. Having thus seemingly disposed -of the purely intelligible character of quantity in its application -to space and time, he can more safely ignore what he could not so -plausibly dispose of--its pure intelligibility as number. - -In order to seem to do so, he must get rid of ‘Infinite Divisibility’. - -264. The condition of such a method being acquiesced in is, that -quantity in all its forms should be found reducible to ultimate -unites or indivisible parts in the shape of separate impressions. -Should it be found so, the whole question indeed, how ideas of -relation are possible for a merely feeling consciousness, would -still remain, but mathematics would stand on the same footing -with the experimental sciences, as a science of relations between -impressions. Upon this reducibility, then, we find Hume constantly -insisting. In regard to number indeed he could not ignore the fact -that the science which deals with it recognizes no ultimate unite, -but only such a one as ‘is itself a true number.’ But he passes -lightly over this difficulty with the remark that the divisible -unite of actual arithmetic is a ‘fictitious denomination’--leaving -his reader to guess how the fiction can be possible if the real -unite is a separate indivisible impression--and proceeds with the -more hopeful task of resolving space into such impressions. He is -well aware that the constitution of space by impressions and its -constitution by indivisible parts stand or fall together. If space is -a compound impression, it is made up of indivisible parts, for there -is a ‘minimum visibile’ and by consequence a minimum of imagination; -and conversely, if its parts are indivisible, they can be nothing -but impressions; for, being indivisible, they cannot be extended, -and, not being extended, they must be either simple impressions or -nothing. With that instinct of literary strategy which never fails -him, Hume feels that the case against infinite divisibility, from its -apparent implication of an infinite capacity in the mind, is more -effective than that in favour of space being a compound impression, -and accordingly puts that to the front in the Second Part of the -Treatise, in order, having found credit for establishing it, to argue -back to the constitution of space by impressions. In fact, however, -it is on the supposed composition of all quantity from separate -impressions that his argument against its infinite divisibility rests. - -Quantity made up of impressions, and there must be a least possible -impression. - -265. The essence of his doctrine is contained in the following -passages: ‘’Tis certain that the imagination reaches a _minimum_, -and may raise up to itself an idea, of which it cannot conceive -any subdivision, and which cannot be diminished without a total -annihilation. When you tell me of the thousandth and ten thousandth -part of a grain of sand, I have a distinct idea of these numbers -and of their several proportions, but the images which I form in -my mind to represent the things themselves are nothing different -from each other nor inferior to that image by which I represent -the grain of sand itself, which is supposed so vastly to exceed -them. What consists of parts is distinguishable into them, and what -is distinguishable is separable. But whatever we may imagine of -the thing, the idea of a grain of sand is not distinguishable nor -separable into twenty, much less into a thousand, ten thousand, or -an infinite number of different ideas. ’Tis the same case with the -impressions of the senses as with the ideas of the imagination. Put -a spot of ink upon paper, fix your eye upon that spot, and retire -to such a distance that at last you lose sight of it; ’tis plain -that the moment before it vanished the image or impression was -perfectly indivisible. ’Tis not for want of rays of light striking -on our eyes that the minute parts of distant bodies convey not -any sensible impression; but because they are removed beyond that -distance at which their impressions were reduced to a _minimum_, and -were incapable of any further diminution. A microscope or telescope, -which renders them visible, produces not any new rays of light, -but only spreads those which always flowed from them; and by that -means both gives parts to impressions, which to the naked eye appear -simple and uncompounded, and advances to a minimum what was formerly -imperceptible.’ [1] - -[1] P. 335, Part II. § 1. - -Yet it is admitted that there is an idea of number not made up of -impressions. A finite division into impressions no more possible than -an infinite one. - -266. In this passage it will be seen that Hume virtually yields the -point as regards number. When he is told of the thousandth or ten -thousandth part of a grain of sand he has ‘a distinct idea of these -numbers and of their different proportions,’ though to this idea no -distinct ‘image’ corresponds; in other words, though the idea is -not a copy of any impression. It is of such parts _as parts of the -grain of sand_--as parts of a ‘compound impression’--that he can -form no idea, and for the reason given in the sequel, that they are -less than any possible impression, less than the ‘minimum visibile.’ -This, it would seem, is a fixed quantity. That which is the least -possible impression once is so always. Telescopes and microscopes do -not alter it, but present it under conditions under which it could -not be presented to the naked eye. Their effect, according to Hume, -could not be to render that visible which existed unseen before, nor -to reveal parts in that which previously had, though it seemed not -to have, them--that would imply that an impression was ‘an image of -something distinct and external’--but either to present a simple -impression of sight where previously there was none or to substitute -a compound impression for one that was simple. [1] It is then because -all divisibility is supposed to be into impressions, _i.e._ into -feelings, and because there are conditions under which every feeling -disappears, that an infinite divisibility is pronounced impossible. -But the question is whether a finite divisibility into feelings is -not just as impossible as an infinite one. Just as for the reasons -stated above [2] a ‘compound feeling’ is impossible, so is the -division of a compound into feelings. Undoubtedly if the ‘minimum -visibile’ were a feeling it would not be divisible, but for the same -reason it would not be a quantity. But if it is not a quantity, -with what meaning is it called a minimum, and how can a quantity be -supposed to be made up of such ‘visibilia’ as have themselves no -quantity? In truth the ‘minimum visibile’ is not a feeling at all but -a felt thing, conceived under attributes of quantity; in particular, -as the term ‘minimum’ implies, under a relation of proportion to -other quantities of which, if expressed numerically, Hume himself, -according to the admission above noticed, would have to confess there -was an idea which was an image of no impression. That which thought -thus presents to itself as a thing doubtless has been a feeling; -but, as thus presented, it is already other than and independent of -feeling. With a step backward or a turn of the head, the feeling -may cease, ‘the spot of ink may vanish;’ but the thing does not -therefore cease to be a thing or to have quantity, which implies the -possibility of continuous division. - -[1] It will be noticed that in the last sentence of the passage -quoted, Hume assumes the convenient privilege of ‘speaking with the -vulgar,’ and treats the ‘minimum visibile’ presented by telescope -or microscope as representing something other than itself, which -previously existed, though it was imperceptible. - -[2] See above, §§ 241 & 246. - -In Hume’s instances it is not really a feeling, but a conceived -thing, that appears as finitely divisible. - -267. It is thus the confusion between feeling and conception that -is at the bottom of the difficulty about divisibility. For a -consciousness formed merely by the succession of feelings, as there -would be no _thing_ at all, so there would be no parts of a thing--no -addibility or divisibility. But Hume is forced by the exigencies -of his theory to hold together, as best he may, the reduction of -all consciousness to feeling and the existence for it of divisible -objects. The consequence is his supposition of ‘compound impressions’ -or feelings having parts, divisible into separate impressions but -divisible no further when these separate impressions have been -reached. We find, however, that in all the instances he gives it is -not really a feeling that is divided into feelings, but a thing into -other things. It is the heap of sand, for instance, that is divided -into grains, not the feeling which, by intellectual interpretation, -represents to me a heap of sand that is divided into lesser feelings. -I may feel the heap and feel the grain, but it is not a feeling -that is the heap nor a feeling that is the grain. Hume would not -offend common sense by saying that it was so, but his theory really -required that he should, for the supposition that the grain is no -further divisible when there are no separate impressions into which -it may be divided, implies that in that case it is itself a separate -impression, even as the heap is a compound one. But what difference, -it may be asked, does it make to say that the heap and the grain are -not feelings, but things conceived of, if it is admitted, as since -Berkeley it must be, that the thing is nothing outside or independent -of consciousness? Do we not by such a statement merely change names -and invite the question how a thought can have parts, in place of the -question how a feeling can have them? - -Upon true notion of quantity infinite divisibility follows of course. - -268. If thought were no more than Hume takes feeling to be, this -objection would be valid. But if by thought we understand the -self-conscious principle which, present to all feelings, forms out -of them a world of mutually related objects, permanent with its own -permanence, we shall also understand that the relations by which -thought qualifies its object are not qualities of itself--that, -in thinking of its object as made up of parts, it does not become -itself a quantum. We shall also be on the way to understand how -thought, detaching that relation of simple distinctness by which it -has qualified its objects, finds before it a multitude of units of -which each, as combining in itself distinctions from all the other -units, is at the same time itself a multitude; in other words, -finds a quantum of which each part, being the same in kind with -the whole and all other parts, is also a quantum; _i.e._ which is -infinitely divisible. When once it is understood, in short, that -quantity is simply the most elementary of the relations by which -thought constitutes the real world, as detached from this world and -presented by thought to itself as a separate object, then infinite -divisibility becomes a matter of course. It is real just in so far -as quantity, of which it is a necessary attribute, is real. If -quantity, though not feeling, is yet real, that its parts should not -be feelings can be nothing against their reality. This once admitted, -the objections to infinite divisibility disappear; but so likewise -does that mysterious dignity supposed to attach to it, or to its -correlative, the infinitely addible, as implying an infinite capacity -in the mind. From Hume’s point of view, the mind being ‘a bundle -of impressions’--though how impressions, being successive, should -form a bundle is not explained--its capacity must mean the number of -its impressions, and, all divisibility being into impressions, it -follows that infinite divisibility means an infinite capacity in the -mind. This notion however arises, as we have shown, from a confusion -between a _felt_ division of an impossible ‘compound feeling,’ and -that conceived divisibility of an object which constitutes but a -single attribute of the object and represents a single relation of -the mind towards it. There may be a sense in which all conception -implies infinity in the conceiving mind, but so far from this -doing so in any special way, it arises, as we have seen, from the -presentation of objects under that very condition of endless, -unremoved, distinction which constitutes the true limitation of our -thought. - -What are the ultimate elements of extension? If not extended, what -are they? - -269. When, as with Hume, it is only in its application to space and -time that the question of infinite divisibility is treated, its true -nature is more easily disguised, for the reason already indicated, -that space and time are not necessarily considered as quanta. When -Hume, indeed, speaks of space as a ‘composition of parts’ or ‘made -up of points,’ he is of course treating it as a quantum; but we -shall find that in seeking to avoid the necessary consequence of -its being a quantum--the consequence, namely, that it is infinitely -divisible--he can take advantage of the possibility of treating -it as the simple, unquantified, relation of externality. We have -already spoken of the dexterity with which, having shown that all -divisibility, because into impressions, is into simple parts, he -turns this into an argument in favour of the composition of space -by impressions. ‘Our idea of space is compounded of parts which are -indivisible.’ Let us take one of these parts, then, and ask what sort -of idea it is: ‘let us form a judgment of its nature and qualities.’ -‘’Tis plain it is not an idea of extension: for the idea of extension -consists of parts; and this idea, according to the supposition, is -perfectly simple and indivisible. Is it therefore nothing? That is -impossible,’ for it would imply that a real idea was composed of -nonentities. The way out of the difficulty is to ‘endow the simple -parts with colour and solidity.’ In words already quoted, ‘that -compound impression, which represents extension, consists of several -lesser impressions, that are indivisible to the eye or feeling, and -may be called impressions of atoms or corpuscles endowed with colour -and solidity.’ (Part II. § 3, near the end.) - -Colours or coloured points? What is the difference? - -270. It is very plain that in this passage Hume is riding two horses -at once. He is trying so to combine the notion of the constitution -of space by impressions with that of its constitution by points, as -to disguise the real meaning of each. In what lies the difference -between the feelings of colour, of which we have shown that they -cannot without contradiction be supposed to ‘make up extension,’ -and ‘coloured points or corpuscles’? Unless the points, as points, -mean something, the substitution of coloured points for colours -means nothing. But according to Hume the point is nothing except as -an impression of sight or touch. If then we refuse his words the -benefit of an interpretation which his doctrine excludes, we find -that there remains simply the impossible supposition that space -consists of feelings. This result cannot be avoided, unless in -speaking of space as composed of points, we understand by the point -that which is definitely other than an impression. Thus the question -which Hume puts--If extension is made up of parts, and these, being -indivisible, are unextended, what are they?--really remains untouched -by his ostensible answer. Such a question indeed to a philosophy like -Locke’s, which, ignoring the constitution of reality by relations, -supposed real things to be first found and then relations to be -superinduced by the mind--much more to one like Hume’s, which left no -mind to superinduce them--was necessarily unanswerable. - -True way of dealing with the question. - -271. In truth, extension is the relation of mutual externality. The -constituents of this relation have not, as such, any nature but what -is given by the relation. If in Hume’s language we ‘separate each -from the others and, considering it apart, form a judgment of its -nature and qualities,’ by the very way we put the problem we render -it insoluble or, more properly, destroy it; for, thus separated, -they have no nature. It is this that we express by the proposition -which would otherwise be tautological, that extension is a relation -between extended points. The ‘points’ are the simplest expression -for those coefficients to the relation of mutual externality, which, -as determined by that relation and no otherwise, have themselves the -attribute of being extended and that only. If it is asked whether -the points, being extended, are therefore divisible, the answer must -be twofold. _Separately_ they are not divisible, for separately they -are nothing. Whether, as determined by mutual relation, they are -divisible or no, depends on whether they are treated as forming a -quantum or no. If they are not so treated, we cannot with propriety -pronounce them to be either further divisible or not so, for the -question of divisibility has no application to them. But being -perfectly homogeneous with each other and with that which together -they constitute, they are susceptible of being so treated, and are -so treated when, with Hume in the passage before us, we speak of -them as the parts of which extended matter consists. Thus considered -as parts of a quantum and therefore themselves quanta, the infinite -divisibility which belongs to all quantity belongs also to them. - -‘If the point were divisible, it would be no termination of a line.’ -Answer to this. - -272. In this lies the answer to the most really cogent argument which -Hume offers against infinite divisibility ‘A surface terminates -a solid; a line terminates a surface; a point terminates a line: -but I assert that if the _ideas_ of a point, line, or surface were -not indivisible, ’tis impossible we should ever conceive these -terminations. For let these ideas be supposed infinitely divisible, -and then let the fancy endeavour to fix itself on the idea of the -last surface, line, or point, it immediately finds this idea to -break into parts; and upon its seizing the last of these parts it -loses its hold by a new division, and so on _ad infinitum_, without -any possibility of its arriving at a concluding idea’. [1] If -‘point,’ ‘line,’ or ‘surface’ were really names for ‘ideas’ either in -Hume’s sense, as feelings grown fainter, or in Locke’s, as definite -imprints made by outward things, this passage would be perplexing. -In truth they represent objects determined by certain conceived -relations, and the relation under which the object is considered -may vary without a corresponding variation in the name. When a -‘point’ is considered simply as the ‘termination of a line,’ it is -not considered as a quantum. It represents the abstraction of the -relation of externality, as existing between _two lines_. It is these -lines, not the point, that in this case are the constituents of the -relation, and thus it is they alone that are for the time considered -as extended, therefore as quanta, therefore as divisible. So when the -line in turn is considered as the ‘termination of a surface.’ It then -represents the relation of externality _as between surfaces_, and -for the time it is the surfaces, not the line, that are considered -to have extension and its consequences. The same applies to the view -of a surface as the termination of a solid. Just as the line, though -not a quantum when considered simply as a relation between surfaces, -becomes so when considered in relation to another line, so the point, -though it ‘has no magnitude’ when considered as the termination of -a line, yet acquires parts, or becomes divisible, so soon as it is -considered in relation to other points as a constituent of extended -matter; and it is thus that Hume considers it, ἑκὼν ἢ ἄκων [2], when -he talks of extension as ‘made up of coloured points.’ - -[1] P. 345. [Book I, part II., sec. IV.] - -[2] [Greek ἑκὼν ἢ ἄκων (hekon e akon) = like it or not. Tr.] - -What becomes of the exactness of mathematics according to Hume? - -273. It is the necessity then, according to his theory, of making -space an impression that throughout underlies Hume’s argument against -its infinite divisibility; and, as we have seen, the same theory -which excludes its infinite divisibility logically extinguishes it as -a quantity, divisible and measurable, altogether. He of course does -not recognize this consequence. He is obliged indeed to admit that -in regard to the proportions of ‘greater, equal and less,’ and the -relations of different parts of space to each other, no judgments -of universality or exactness are possible. We may judge of them, -however, he holds, with various approximations to exactness, whereas -upon the supposition of infinite divisibility, as he ingeniously -makes out, we could not judge of them at all. He ‘asks the -mathematicians, what they mean when they say that one line or surface -is equal to, or greater or less than, another.’ If they ‘maintain the -composition of extension by indivisible points,’ their answer, he -supposes, will be that ‘lines or surfaces are equal when the numbers -of points in each are equal.’ This answer he reckons ‘just,’ but the -standard of equality given is entirely useless. ‘For as the points -which enter into the composition of any line or surface, whether -perceived by the sight or touch, are so minute and so confounded with -each other that ’tis utterly impossible for the mind to compute their -number, such a computation will never afford us a standard by which -we may judge of proportions.’ The opposite sect of mathematicians, -however, are in worse case, having no standard of equality whatever -to assign. ‘For since, according to their hypothesis, the least as -well as greatest figures contain an infinite number of parts, and -since infinite numbers, properly speaking, can neither be equal -nor unequal with respect to each other, the equality or inequality -of any portion of space can never depend on any proportion in the -number of their parts.’ His own doctrine is ‘that the only useful -notion of equality or inequality is derived from the whole united -appearance, and the comparison of, particular objects.’ The judgments -thus derived are in many cases certain and infallible. ‘When the -measure of a yard and that of a foot are presented, the mind can no -more question that the first is longer than the second than it can -doubt of those principles which are most clear and self-evident.’ -Such judgments, however, though ‘sometimes infallible, are not always -so.’ Upon a ‘review and reflection’ we often ‘pronounce those objects -equal which at first we esteemed unequal,’ and vice versâ. Often -also ‘we discover our error by a juxtaposition of the objects; or, -where that is impracticable, by the use of some common and invariable -measure which, being successively applied to each, informs us of -their different proportions. And even this correction is susceptible -of a new correction, and of different degrees of exactness, according -to the nature of the instrument by which we measure the bodies, and -the care which we employ in the comparison.’ [1] - -[1] Pp. 351-53. [Book I, part II., sec. IV.] - -The universal propositions of geometry either untrue or unmeaning. - -274. Such indefinite approach to exactness is all that Hume can allow -to the mathematician. But it is undoubtedly another and an absolute -sort of exactness that the mathematician himself supposes when he -pronounces all right angles equal. Such perfect equality ‘beyond what -we have instruments and art’ to ascertain, Hume boldly calls a ‘mere -fiction of the mind, useless as well as incomprehensible’. [1] Thus -when the mathematician talks of certain angles as always equal, of -certain lines as never meeting, he is either making statements that -are untrue or speaking of nonentities. If his ‘lines’ and ‘angles’ -mean ideas that we can possibly have, his universal propositions are -untrue; if they do not, according to Hume they can mean nothing. -He says, for instance, that ‘two right lines cannot have a common -segment;’ but of such ideas of right lines as we can possibly have -this is only true ‘where the right lines incline upon each other with -a sensible angle.’ [2] It is not true when they ‘approach at the rate -of an inch in 20 leagues.’ According to the ‘original standard of a -right line,’ which is ‘nothing but a certain general appearance, ’tis -evident right lines may be made to concur with each other’. [3] Any -other standard is a ‘useless and incomprehensible fiction.’ Strictly -speaking, according to Hume, we have it not, but only a tendency to -suppose that we have it arising from the progressive correction of -our actual measurements. [4] - -[1] P. 353. [Book I, part II., sec. IV.] - -[2] Cf. Aristotle, Metaph. 998a, on a corresponding view ascribed to -Protagoras. - -[3] P. 356. [Book I, part II., sec. IV.] - -[4] P. 354. [Book I, part II., sec. IV.] - -Distinction between Hume’s doctrine and that of the hypothetical -nature of mathematics. - -275. Now it is obvious that what Hume accounts for by means of -this tendency to feign, even if the tendency did not presuppose -conditions incompatible with his theory, is not mathematical -science as it exists. It has even less appearance of being so -than (to anticipate) has that which is accounted for by those -propensities to feign, which he substitutes for the ideas of cause -and substance, of being natural science as it exists. In the latter -case, when the idea of necessary connexion has been disposed of, -an impression of reflection can with some plausibility be made -to do duty instead; but there is no impression of reflection in -Hume’s sense of the word, no ‘propensity,’ that can be the subject -of mathematical reasoning. He speaks, indeed, of our _supposing_ -some imaginary standard--of our having ‘an obscure and implicit -notion’--of perfect equality, but such language is only a way of -saving appearances; for according to him, a ‘supposition’ or ‘notion’ -which is neither impression nor idea, cannot be anything. A hasty -reader, catching at the term ‘supposition,’ may find his statement -plausible with all the plausibility of the modern doctrine, which -accounts for the universality and exactness of mathematical truths -as ‘hypothetical’--the doctrine that we suppose figures exactly -corresponding to our definitions, though such do not really exist. -With those who take this view, however, it is always understood that -the definitions represent ideas, though not ideas to which real -objects can be found exactly answering. Perhaps, if pressed about -their distinction between idea and reality, they might find it hard -consistently to maintain it, but it is by this practically that they -keep their theory afloat. Hume can admit no such distinction. The -real with him is the impression, and the idea the fainter impression. -There can be no idea of a straight line, a curve, a circle, a right -angle, a plane, other than the impression, other than the ‘appearance -to the eye,’ and there are no appearances exactly answering to the -mathematical definitions. If they do not _exactly_ answer, they might -as well for the purposes of mathematical demonstration not answer -at all. The Geometrician, having found that the angles at the base -of _this_ isosceles triangle are equal to each other, at once takes -the equality to be true of all isosceles triangles, as being exactly -like the original one, and on the strength of this establishes many -other propositions. But, according to Hume, no idea that we could -have would be one of which the sides were precisely equal. The Fifth -Proposition of Euclid then is not precisely true of the particular -idea that we have before us when we follow the demonstration. Much -less can it be true of the ideas, _i.e._ the several appearances -of colour, indefinitely varying from this, which we have before us -when we follow the other demonstrations in which the equality of the -angles at the base of an isosceles is taken for granted. - -The admission that no relations of quantity are data of sense removes -difficulty as to general propositions about them. - -276. Here, as elsewhere, what we have to lament is not that Hume -‘pushed his doctrine too far,’ so far as to exclude ideas of those -exact proportions in space with which geometry purports to deal, -but that he did not carry it far enough to see that it excluded all -ideas of quantitative relations whatever. He thus pays the penalty -for his equivocation between a feeling of colour and a disposition -of coloured points. Even alongside of his admission that ‘relations -of space and time’ are independent of the nature of the ideas so -related, which amounts to the admission that of space and time there -are no ideas at all in his sense of the word, he allows himself to -treat ‘proportions between spaces’ as depending entirely on our -ideas of the spaces--depending on ideas which in the context he -by implication admits that we have not. [1] If, instead of thus -equivocating, he had asked himself how sensations of colour and touch -could be added or divided, how one could serve as a measure of the -size of another, he might have seen that only in virtue of that in -the ‘general appearance’ of objects which, in his own language, is -‘independent of the nature of the ideas themselves’--_i.e._ which -does not belong to them as feelings, but is added by the comparing -and combining thought--are the proportions of greater, less, and -equal predicable of them at all; that what thought has thus added, -viz. limitation by mutual externality, it can abstract; and that by -such abstraction of the limit it obtains those several terminations, -as Hume well calls them--the surface terminating bodies, the line -terminating surfaces, the point terminating lines--from which it -constructs the world of pure space: that thus the same action of -thought in sense, which alone renders appearances measurable, gives -an object matter which, because the pure construction of thought, we -can measure exactly and with the certainty that the judgment based on -a comparison of magnitudes in a single case is true of all possible -cases, because in none of these can any other conditions be present -than those which we have consciously put there. - -[1] Part III. § 1, sub init. - -Hume does virtually admit this in regard to numbers. - -277. To have arrived at this conclusion Hume had only to extend to -proportions in space the principle upon which the impossibility of -sensualizing arithmetic compels him to deal with proportions in -number. ‘We are possessed,’ he says, ‘of a precise standard by which -we can judge of the equality and proportion of numbers; and according -as they correspond or not to that standard we determine their -relations without any possibility of error. When two numbers are so -combined, as that the one has always an unite answering to every -unite of the other, we pronounce them equal’. [1] Now what are the -unites here spoken of? If they were those single impressions which he -elsewhere [2] seems to regard as alone properly unites, the point of -the passage would be gone, for combinations of such unites could at -any rate only yield those ‘general appearances’ of whose proportions -we have been previously told there can be no precise standard. They -can be no other than those unites which, not being impressions, he -has to call ‘fictitious denominations’--unites which are nothing -except in relation to each other and of which each, being in turn -divisible, is itself a true number. We can easily retort upon Hume, -then, when he argues that the supposition of infinite divisibility -is incompatible with any comparison of quantities because with any -unite of measurement, that, according to his own virtual admission, -in the only case where such comparison is exact the ultimate unite -of measurement is still itself divisible; which, indeed, is no -more than saying that whatever measures quantity must itself be a -quantity, and that therefore quantity is infinitely divisible. If -Hume, instead of slurring over this characteristic of the science of -number, had set himself to explain it, he would have found that the -only possible explanation of it was one equally applicable to the -science of space--that what is true of the unite, as the abstraction -of distinctness, is true also of the abstraction of externality. As -the unite, because constituted by relation to other unites, so soon -as considered breaks into multiplicity, and only for that reason is -a quantity by which other quantities can be measured; so is it also -with the limit in whatever form abstracted, whether as point, line, -or surface. If the fact that number can have no least part since each -part is itself a number or nothing, so far from being incompatible -with the finiteness of number, is the consequence of that finiteness, -neither can the like attribute in spaces be incompatible with their -being definite magnitudes, that can be compared with and measured -by each other. The real difference, which is also the rationale of -Hume’s different procedure in the two cases, is that the conception -of space is more easily confused than that of number with the -feelings to which it is applied, and which through such application -become sensible spaces. Hence the liability to the supposition, -which is at bottom Hume’s, that the last feeling in the process of -diminution before such sensible space disappears (being the ‘minimum -visibile’) is the least possible portion of space. - -[1] P. 374. [Book I, part III., sec. I.] - -[2] Above, par. 258. - -With Hume idea of vacuum impossible, but logically not more so than -that of space. - -278. Just as that reduction of consciousness to feeling, which -really excludes the idea of quantity altogether, is by Hume only -recognised as incompatible with its infinite divisibility, so it is -not recognised as extinguishing space altogether, but only space as -a vacuum. If it be true, he says, ‘that the idea of space is nothing -but the idea of visible or tangible points distributed in a certain -order, it follows that we can form no idea of vacuum, or space where -there is nothing visible or tangible’. [1] Here as elsewhere the -acceptability of his statement lies in its being taken in a sense -which according to his principles cannot properly belong to it. It -is one doctrine that the ideas of space and body are essentially -correlative, and quite another that the idea of space is equivalent -to a feeling of sight or touch. It is of the latter doctrine that -Hume’s denial of a vacuum is the corollary; but it is the former -that gains acceptance for this denial in the mind of his reader. -Space we have already spoken of as the relation of externality. If, -abstracting this relation from the world of which it is the uniform -but most elementary determination, we regard it as a relation between -objects having no other determination, these become spaces and -nothing but spaces--space pure and simple, _vacuum_. But we have -known the world in confused fulness before we detach its constituent -relations in the clearness of unreal abstraction. We have known -bodies συγκεχυμένος [2], before we think their limits apart and out -of these construct a world of pure space. It is thus in a sense true -that in the development of our consciousness an idea of body precedes -that of space, though the _abstraction_ of space--the detachment of -the relation so-called from the real complex of relations--precedes -that of body; and it is this fact that, in the face of geometry, -strengthens common sense in its position that an idea of vacuum is -impossible. It is not, however, the inseparability of space from body -whether in reality or for our consciousness, but its identity with a -certain sort of feeling, that is implied in Hume’s exclusion of the -idea of vacuum. ‘Body,’ as other than feeling, is with him as much a -fiction as vacuum. That there can be no idea of vacuum, is thus in -fact merely his negative way of putting that proposition of which the -positive form is, that space is a compound impression of sight and -touch. Having examined that proposition in the positive, we need not -examine it again in the negative form. It will be more to the purpose -to enquire whether the ‘tendency to suppose’ or ‘propensity to feign’ -by which, in the absence of any such idea, our language about ‘pure -space’ has to be accounted for, does not according to Hume’s own -showing presuppose such an idea. - -[1] P. 358. [Book I, part II., sec. V.] - -[2] [Greek συγκεχυμένος (synkechymenos) = confused or jumbled-up. Tr.] - -How it is that we talk as if we had idea of vacuum according to Hume. - -279. By vacuum he understands invisible and intangible extension. -If an idea of vacuum, then, is possible at all, he argues, it must -be possible for darkness and mere motion to convey it. That they -cannot do so _alone_ is clear from the consideration that darkness -is ‘no positive idea’ and that an ‘invariable motion,’ such as that -of a ‘man supported in the air and softly conveyed along by some -invisible power,’ gives no idea at all. Neither can they do so when -‘attended with visible and tangible objects.’ ‘When two bodies -present themselves where there was formerly an entire darkness, the -only change that is discoverable is in the appearance of these two -objects: all the rest continues to be, as before, a perfect negation -of light and of every coloured or tangible object’. [1] ‘Such dark -and indistinguishable distance between two bodies can never produce -the idea of extension,’ any more than blindness can. Neither can a -like ‘imaginary distance between tangible and solid bodies.’ ‘Suppose -two cases, viz. that of a man supported in the air, and moving his -limbs to and fro without meeting anything tangible; and that of a -man who, feeling something tangible, leaves it, and after a motion -of which he is sensible perceives another tangible object. Wherein -consists the difference between these two cases? No one will scruple -to affirm that it consists merely in the perceiving those objects, -and that the sensation which arises from the motion is in both cases -the same; and as that sensation is not capable of conveying to us an -idea of extension, when unaccompanied with some other perception, -it can no more give us that idea, when mixed with the impressions -of tangible objects, since that mixture produces no alteration upon -it’. [2] But though a ‘distance not filled with any coloured or -solid object’ cannot give us an idea of vacuum, it is the cause why -we falsely imagine that we can form such an idea. There are ‘three -relations’--_natural_ relations according to Hume’s phraseology -[3]--between it and that distance which really ‘conveys the idea -of extension.’ ‘The distant objects affect the senses in the same -manner, whether separated by the one distance or the other; the -former species of distance is found capable of receiving the latter; -and they both equally diminish the force of every quality. These -relations betwixt the two kinds of distance will afford us an easy -reason why the one has so often been taken for the other, and why we -imagine we have an idea of extension without the idea of any object -either of the sight or feeling’. [4] - -[1] P. 362. [Book I, part II., sec. V.] - -[2] P. 363. [Book I, part II., sec. V.] - -[3] Above, § 206. - -[4] P. 364. [Book I, part II., sec. V.] - -His explanation implies that we have an idea virtually the same. - -280. It appears then that we have an idea of ‘distance unfilled -with any coloured or solid object.’ To speak of this distance as -‘imaginary’ or fictitious can according to Hume’s principles make no -difference, so long as he admits, which he is obliged to do, that we -actually have an idea of it; for every idea, being derived from an -impression, is as much or as little imaginary as every other. And -not only have we such an idea, but Hume’s account of the ‘relations’ -between it and the idea of extension implies that, _as ideas of -distance_, they do not differ at all. But the idea of ‘distance -unfilled with any coloured or solid object’ _is_ the idea of vacuum. -It follows that the idea of extension does not differ from that of -vacuum, except so far as it is other than the idea of distance. But -it is from the consideration of distance that Hume himself expressly -derives it; [1] and so derived, it can no more differ from distance -than an idea from a corresponding impression. Thus, after all, he has -to all intents and purposes to admit the idea of vacuum, but saves -appearances by refusing to call it extension--the sole reason for -such refusal being the supposition that every idea, and therefore the -idea of extension, must be a datum of sense, which the admission of -an idea of ‘invisible and intangible distance’ already contradicts. - -[1] Part II. § 3, sub. inst. - -By a like device that he is able to explain the appearance of our -having such ideas as Causation and Identity. - -281. We now know the nature of that preliminary manipulation which -‘impressions and ideas’ have to undergo, if their association is to -yield the result which Hume requires--if through it the succession -of feelings is to become a knowledge of things and their relations. -Such a result was required as the only means of maintaining together -the two characteristic positions of Locke’s philosophy; that, -namely, the only world we can know is the world of ‘ideas,’ and -that thought cannot originate ideas. Those relations, which Locke -had inconsistently treated at once as intellectual superinductions -and as ultimate conditions of reality, must be dealt with by one -of two methods. They must be reduced to impressions where that -could plausibly be done: where it could not, it must be admitted -that we have no ideas of them, but only ‘tendencies to suppose’ -that we have such, arising from the association, through ‘natural -relations,’ of the ideas that we have. So dexterously does Hume work -the former method that, of all the ‘philosophical relations’ which -he recognizes, only Identity and Causation remain to be disposed of -by the latter; and if the other relations--resemblance, time and -space, proportion in quantity and degree in quality--could really -be admitted as data of sense, there would at least be a possible -basis for those ‘tendencies to suppose’ which, in the absence of any -corresponding ideas, the terms ‘Identity’ and ‘Causation’ must be -taken to represent. But, as we have shown, they can only be claimed -for sense, if sense is so far one with thought--one not by conversion -of thought into sense but by taking of sense into thought--as that -Hume’s favourite appeals to sense against the reality of intelligible -relations become unmeaning. They may be ‘impressions,’ there may -be ‘impressions of them,’ but only if we deny of the impression -what Hume asserts of it, and assert of it what he denies--only -if we understand by ‘impression’ not an ‘internal and perishing -existence;’ not that which, if other than taste, colour, sound, smell -or touch, must be a ‘passion or emotion ‘; _not_ that which carries -no reference to an object other than itself, and which must _either_ -be single _or_ compound; but something permanent and constituted -by permanently coexisting parts; something that may ‘be conjoined -with’ any feeling, because it is none; that always carries with it a -reference to a subject which it is not but of which it is a quality; -and that is both many and one, since ‘in its simplicity it contains -many different resemblances and relations.’ - -282. In the account just adduced of vacuum, the effect of that double -dealing with ‘impressions,’ which we shall have to trace at large in -Hume’s explanation of our language about Causation and Identity, is -already exhibited in little. Just as, after the idea of pure space -has been excluded because not a copy of any possible impression, we -yet find an ‘idea,’ only differing from it in name, introduced as -the basis of that tendency to suppose which is to take the place of -the excluded idea, so we shall find ideas of relation in the way -of Identity and Causation--ideas which according to Hume we have -not--presupposed as the source of those ‘propensities to feign’ which -he accounts for the appearance of our having them. - -Knowledge of relation in way of Identity and Causation excluded by -Locke’s definition of knowledge. - -283. The primary characteristic of these relations according to Hume, -which they share with those of space and time, and which in fact -vitiates that definition of ‘philosophical relation,’ as depending -on comparison, which he adopts, is that they ‘depend not on the -ideas compared together, but may be changed without any change in -the ideas’. [1] It follows that they are not objects of knowledge, -according to the definition of knowledge which Hume inherited, -as ‘the perception of agreement or disagreement between ideas.’ -A partial recognition of this consequence in regard to cause and -effect we found in Locke’s suspicion that a science of nature was -impossible--impossible because, however often a certain ‘idea of -quality and substance’ may have followed or accompanied another, such -sequence or accompaniment never amounts to agreement or ‘necessary -connexion’ between the ideas, and therefore never can warrant a -general assertion, but only the particular one, that the ideas in -question have so many times occurred in such an order. ‘Matters of -fact,’ however, which no more consist in agreement of ideas than -does causation, are by Locke treated without scruple as matter of -knowledge when they can be regarded as relations between present -sensations. Thus the ‘particular experiment’ in Physics constitutes -knowledge--the knowledge, for instance, that a piece of gold is now -dissolved in aqua regia; and when ‘I myself see a man walk on the -ice, it is knowledge.’ In such cases it does not occur to him to ask, -either what are the ideas that agree or how much of the experiment is -a present sensation. [2] Nor does Hume commonly carry his analysis -further. After admitting that the relations called ‘identity and -situation in time and place’ do not depend on the nature of the -ideas related, he proceeds: ‘When both the objects are present to -the senses along with the relation, we call _this_ perception rather -than reasoning; nor is there in this case any exercise of the thought -or any action, properly speaking, but a mere passive admission of -the impressions through the organs of sensation. According to this -way of thinking, we ought not to receive as reasoning any of the -observations we may make concerning _identity_ and the _relations_ of -_time_ and _place_; since in none of them the mind can go beyond what -is immediately present to the senses, either to discover the real -existence or the relations of objects’. [3] - -[1] P. 372. [Book I, part III., sec. I.] - -[2] Above, §§ 122 & 123. - -[3] P. 376. [Book I, part III., sec. II.] - -Inference a transition from an object perceived or remembered to one -that is not so. - -284. This passage points out the way which Hume’s doctrine of -causation was to follow. That in any case ‘the mind should go beyond -a present feeling, either to discover the real existence or the -relations of objects’ other than present feelings, was what he could -not consistently admit. In the judgment of causation, however, it -seems to do so. ‘From the existence or action of one object,’ seen -or remembered, it seems to be assured of the existence or action -of another, not seen or remembered, on the ground of a necessary -connection between the two. [1] It is such assurance that is reckoned -to constitute reasoning in the distinctive sense of the term, as -different at once from the analysis of complex ideas and the simple -succession of ideas--such reasoning as, in the language of a later -philosophy, can yield synthetic propositions. What Hume has to do, -then, is to explain this ‘assurance’ away by showing that it is -not essentially different from that judgment of relation in time -and place which, because the related objects are ‘present to the -senses along with the relation,’ is called ‘perception rather than -reasoning,’ and to which no ‘exercise of the thought’ is necessary, -but a ‘mere passive admission of impressions through the organs of -sensation.’ Nor, for the assimilation of reasoning to perception, -is anything further needed than a reference to the connection -of ideas with impressions and of the ideas of imagination with -those of memory, as originally stated by Hume. When both of the -objects compared are present to the senses, we call the comparison -perception; when neither, or only one, is so present, we call it -reasoning. But the difference between the object that is present -to sense, and that which is not, is merely the difference between -impression and idea, which again is merely the difference between -the more and the less lively feeling. [2] To feeling, whether with -more or with less vivacity, every object, whether of perception -or reasoning, must alike be present. Is it then a sufficient -account of the matter, according to Hume, to say that when we are -conscious of contiguity and succession between objects of which -both are impressions we call it perception; but that when both -objects are ideas, or one an impression and the other an idea, we -call it reasoning? Not quite so. Suppose that I ‘have seen that -species of object we call flame, and have afterwards felt that -species of sensation we call heat.’ If I afterwards remembered the -succession of the feeling upon the sight, both objects (according -to Hume’s original usage of terms [3]) would be ideas as distinct -from the impressions; or, if upon seeing the flame I remembered the -previous experience of heat, one object would be an idea; but we -should not reckon it a case of reasoning. ‘In all cases wherein we -reason concerning objects, there is only one either perceived or -_remembered_, and the other is supplied in conformity to our past -experience’--supplied by the only other faculty than memory that can -‘supply an idea,’ viz. imagination. [4] - -[1] Pp. 376, 384. [Book I, part III., secs. II. and IV.] - -[2] Pp. 327, 375. [Book I, part I., sec. VII. and part III., sec. -III.] - -[3] Above, par. 195. - -[4] Pp. 384, 388. [Book I, part III., secs. IV. and V.] - -Relation of cause and effect the same as this transition. - -285. This being the only account of ‘inference from the known to -the unknown,’ which Hume could consistently admit, his view of the -relation of cause and effect must be adjusted to it. It could not -be other than a relation either between impression and impression, -or between impression and idea, or between idea and idea; and all -these relations are equally between feelings that we experience. -Thus, instead of being the ‘objective basis’ on which inference from -the known to the unknown rests, it is itself the inference; or, more -properly, it and the inference alike disappear into a particular -sort of transition from feeling to feeling. The problem, then, is to -account for its seeming to be other than this. ‘There is nothing in -any objects to persuade us that they are always _remote_ or always -_contiguous_; and when from experience and observation we discover -that the relation in this particular is invariable, we always -conclude that there is some secret _cause_ which separates or unites -them’. [1] It would seem, then, that the relation of cause and effect -is something which we infer from experience, from the connection of -impressions and ideas, but which is not itself impression or idea. -And it would _seem_ further, that, as we infer such an unexperienced -relation, so likewise we make inferences from it. In regard to -identity ‘we readily suppose an object may continue individually the -same, though several times absent from and present to the senses; -and ascribe to it an identity, notwithstanding the interruption of -the perception, whenever we conclude that if we had kept our hand -or eye constantly upon it, it would have conveyed an invariable and -uninterrupted perception. But this conclusion beyond the impressions -of our senses can be founded only on the connection of _cause and -effect_; nor can we otherwise have any security that the object is -not changed upon us, however much the new object may resemble that -which was formerly present to the senses.’ - -[1] P. 376. [Book I, part III., sec. II.] - -Yet seems other than this. How this appearance is to be explained. - -286. This relation which, going beyond our actual experience, we seem -to infer as the explanation of invariable contiguity in place or time -of certain impressions, and from which again we seem to infer the -identity of an object of which the perception has been interrupted, -is what we call necessary connection. It is their supposed necessary -connection which distinguishes objects related as cause and effect -from those related merely in the way of contiguity and succession, -[1] and it is a like supposition that leads us to infer what we do -not see or remember from what we do. If then the reduction of thought -and the intelligible world to feeling was to be made good, this -supposition, not being an impression of sense or a copy of such, must -be shown to be an ‘impression of reflection,’ according to Hume’s -sense of the term, _i.e._ a tendency of the soul, analogous to desire -and aversion, hope and fear, derived from impressions of sense but -not copied from them; [2] and the inference which it determines -must be shown to be the work of imagination, as affected by such -impression of reflection. This in brief is the purport of Hume’s -doctrine of causation. - -[1] P. 376. [Book I, part III., sec. II.] - -[2] Above, par. 195. - -Inference, resting on supposition of necessary connection, to be -explained before that connection. - -287. After his manner, however, he will go about with his reader. The -supposed ‘objective basis’ of knowledge is to be made to disappear, -but in such a way that no one shall miss it. So dexterously, indeed, -is this done, that perhaps to this day the ordinary student of Hume -is scarcely conscious of the disappearance. Hume merely announces to -begin with that he will ‘postpone the direct survey of this question -concerning the nature of necessary connection,’ and deal first with -these other two questions, viz. (1) ‘For what reason we pronounce it -_necessary_ that everything whose existence has a beginning, should -also have a cause?’ and (2) ‘Why we conclude that such particular -causes must _necessarily_ have such particular effects; and what is -the nature of that _inference_ we draw from the one to the other, and -of the _belief_ we repose in it?’ That is to say, he will consider -the inference from cause or effect, before he considers cause and -effect as a relation between objects, on which the inference is -supposed to depend. Meanwhile necessary connection, as a relation -between objects, is naturally supposed in some sense or other to -survive. In _what_ sense, the reader expects to find when these two -preliminary questions have been answered. But when they have been -answered, necessary connection, as a relation between objects, turns -out to have vanished. - -Account of the inference given by Locke and Clarke rejected. - -288. With the first of the above questions Hume only concerns -himself so far as to show that we cannot know either intuitively or -demonstratively, in Locke’s sense of the words, that ‘everything -whose existence has a beginning also has a cause.’ Locke’s own -argument for the necessity of causation--that ‘something cannot be -produced by nothing’--as well as Clarke’s--that ‘if anything wanted a -cause it would produce itself, _i.e._ exist before it existed’--are -merely different ways, as Hume shows, of assuming the point in -question. ‘If everything must have a cause, it follows that upon -exclusion of other causes we must accept of the object itself, or -of nothing, as causes. But ’tis the very point in question, whether -everything must have a cause or not’. [1] On that point, according -to Locke’s own showing, there can be no certainty, intuitive or -demonstrative; for between the idea of beginning to exist and the -idea of cause there is clearly no agreement, mediate or immediate. -They are not similar feelings, they are not quantities that can be -measured against each other, and to these alone can the definition -of knowledge and reasoning, which Hume retained, apply. There thus -disappears that last remnant of ‘knowledge’ in regard to nature which -Locke had allowed to survive--the knowledge that there is a necessary -connection, though one which we cannot find out. [2] - -[1] P. 382. [Book I, part III., sec. III.] - -[2] cf. Locke IV. 3, 29, and Introduc, par. 121. - -Three points to be explained in the inference according to Hume. - -289. Having thus shown, as he conceives, what the true answer to the -first of the above questions is not, Hume proceeds to show what it -is by answering the second. ‘Since it is not from knowledge or any -scientific reasoning that we derive the opinion of the necessity -of a cause to every new production,’ it must be from experience; -[1] and every general opinion derived from experience is merely the -summary of a multitude of particular ones. Accordingly when it has -been explained why we infer particular causes from particular effects -(and _vice versâ_), the inference from every event to a cause will -have explained itself. Now ‘all our arguments concerning causes -and effects consist both of an impression of the memory or senses, -and of the idea of that existence which produces the object of the -impression or is produced by it. Here, therefore, we have three -things to explain, viz. _first_, the original impression; _secondly_, -the transition to the idea of the connected cause or effect; -_thirdly_, the nature and qualities of that idea.’ [2] - -[1] P. 383. [Book I, part III., sec. III.] - -[2] P. 385. [Book I, part III., sec. V.] - -_a_. The original impression from which the transition is made, and -_b_. The transition to inferred idea - -290. As to the original impression we must notice that there is a -certain inconsistency with Hume’s previous usage of terms in speaking -of an _impression_ of memory at all. [1] This, however, will be -excused when we reflect that according to him impression and idea -only differ in liveliness, and that he is consistent in claiming for -the ideas of memory, not indeed the maximum, but a high degree of -vivacity, superior to that which belongs to ideas of imagination. All -that can be said, then, of that ‘original impression,’ whether of the -memory or senses, which is necessary to any ‘reasoning from cause or -effect,’ is that it is highly vivacious. That the transition from it -to the ‘idea of the connected cause or effect’ is not determined by -reason, has already been settled. It could only be so determined, -according to the received account of reason, if there were some -agreement in respect of quantity or quality between the idea of cause -and that of the effect, to be ascertained by the interposition of -other ideas. [2] But when we examine any particular objects that we -hold to be related as cause and effect, _e.g._ the sight of flame and -the feeling of heat, we find no such agreement. What we _do_ find -is their ‘constant conjunction’ in experience, and ‘conjunction’ is -equivalent to that ‘contiguity in time and place,’ which has already -been pointed out as one of those ‘natural relations’ which act as -‘principles of union’ between ideas. [3] Because the impression of -flame has always been found to be followed by the impression of heat, -the idea of flame always suggests the idea of heat. It is simple -custom then that determines the transition from the one to the other, -or renders ‘necessary’ the connection between them. In order that the -transition, however, may constitute an inference from cause to effect -(or _vice versâ_), one of the two objects thus naturally related, -but not both, must be presented as an impression. If both were -impressions it would be a case of ‘sensation, not reasoning;’ if both -were ideas, no belief would attend the transition. This brings us to -the question as to the ‘nature and qualities’ of the inferred idea. - -[1] Above, par. 195. - -[2] Cf. Locke IV. 17, 2. - -[3] Above, par. 206. - -_c_. The qualities of this idea. - -291. ‘’Tis evident that all reasonings from causes or effects -terminate in conclusions concerning matter of fact, _i.e._ concerning -the existence of objects or of their qualities’; [1] in other words, -in belief. If this meant a new idea, an idea that we have not -previously had, it would follow that inference could really carry us -beyond sense, that there could be an idea not copied from any prior -impression. But according to Hume it does not mean this. ‘The idea -of existence is the very same with the idea of what we conceive to -be existent;’ [2] and not only so, ‘the _belief_ of existence joins -no new ideas to those which compose the idea of the object. When I -think of God, when I think of him as existent, and when I believe him -to be existent, my idea of him neither increases nor diminishes’. -[3] In what then lies the difference between incredulity and belief; -between an ‘idea assented to,’ or an object believed to exist, and -a fictitious object or idea from which we dissent? The answer is, -‘not in the parts or composition of the idea, but in the manner -of conceiving it,’ which must be understood to mean the manner of -‘feeling’ it; and this difference is further explained to lie in ‘the -superior force, or vivacity, or steadiness’ with which it is felt.’ -[4] We are thus brought to the further question, how it is that this -‘superior vivacity’ belongs to the inferred idea when we ‘reason’ -from cause to effect or from effect to cause. The answer here is -that the ‘impression of the memory or senses,’ which in virtue of -a ‘natural relation’ suggests the idea, also ‘communicates to it a -share of its force or vivacity.’ - -[1] P. 394. [Book I, part III., sec. VII.] - -[2] P. 370. [Book I, part II., sec. VI.] - -[3] P. 395. [Book I, part III., sec. II.] - -[4] P. 398 [Book I, part III., sec. VII.]. Cf. above, par. 170, for -the corresponding view in Berkeley. - -It results that necessary connection is an impression of reflection, -_i.e._, a propensity to the transition described. - -292. Thus it appears that in order to the conclusion that any -particular cause must have any particular effect, there is needed -first the presence of an impression, and secondly the joint action -of those two ‘principles of union among ideas,’ resemblance and -contiguity. In virtue of the former principle the given impression -calls up the image of a like impression previously experienced, -which again in virtue of the latter calls up the image of its usual -attendant, and the liveliness of the given impression so communicates -itself to the recalled ideas as to constitute belief in their -existence. If this is the true account of the matter, the question -as to the nature of necessary connexion has answered itself. ‘The -necessary connexion betwixt causes and effects is the foundation of -our inference from one to the other. The foundation of the inference -is the transition arising from the accustomed union. These are -therefore the same’. [1] We may thus understand how it is that there -seems to be an idea of such connexion to which no impression of the -senses, or (to use an equivalent phrase of Hume’s) no ‘quality in -objects’ corresponds. If the first presentation of two objects, of -which one is cause, the other effect, (_i.e._ of which we afterwards -come to consider one the cause, the other the effect) gives no idea -of a connexion between them, as it clearly does not, neither can -it do so however often repeated. It would not do so, unless the -repetition ‘either discovered or produced something new’ in the -objects; and it does neither. But it does ‘produce a new impression -in the mind.’ After observing a ‘constant conjunction of the objects, -and an uninterrupted resemblance of their relations of contiguity -and succession, we immediately feel a determination of the mind to -pass from one of the objects to its usual attendant, and to conceive -it in a stronger light on account of that relation.’ It is of this -‘internal impression,’ this ‘propensity which custom produces,’ that -the idea of necessary connexion is the copy. [2] - -[1] P. 460. [Book I, part III., sec. XIV.] - -[2] Pp. 457-460. [Book I, part III., sec. XIV.] - -The transition not to anything beyond sense. - -293. The sequence of ideas, which this propensity determines, clearly -does not involve any inference ‘beyond sense,’ ‘from the known to the -unknown,’ ‘from instances of which we have had experience, to those -of which we have had none,’ any more than does any other ‘recurrence -of an idea’--which, as we have seen, merely means, according to Hume, -the return of a feeling at a lower level of intensity after it has -been felt at a higher. The idea which we speak of as an inferred -cause or effect is only an ‘instance of which we have no experience’ -in the sense of being _numerically different_ from the similar -ideas, whose previous constant association with an impression like -the given one, determines the ‘inference;’ but in the same sense -the ‘impression’ which I now feel on putting my hand to the fire -is different from the impressions previously felt under the same -circumstances, and I do not for that reason speak of this impression -as an instance of which I have had no experience. Thus Hume, though -retaining the received phraseology in reference to the ‘conclusion -from any particular cause to any particular effect’--phraseology -which implies that prior to the inference the object inferred is in -some sense unknown or unexperienced--yet deprives it of meaning by a -doctrine which makes inference, as he himself puts it, ‘a species of -sensation,’ ‘an unintelligible instinct of our souls,’ ‘more properly -an act of the sensitive than of the cogitative part of our natures’ -[1]--which in fact leaves no ‘part of our natures’ to be cogitative -at all. - -[1] Pp. 404, 475, and 471. [Book I, part III., sec. VIII., part IV. -sec. I. and part III., sec. XVI.] - -Nor determined by any objective relation. - -294. We are not entitled then, it would seem, to say that any -inference to matter of fact, any proof of an ‘instructive -proposition,’--as distinct from the conclusion of a syllogism, -which is simply derived from the analysis of a proposition already -conceded,--rests on the relation of cause and effect. Such language -implies that the relation is other than the inference, whereas, in -fact, they are one and the same, each being merely a particular -sort of sequence of feeling upon feeling--that sort of which the -characteristic is that, when the former feeling only has the maximum -of vivacity, it still, owing to the frequency with which it has been -attended by the other, imparts to it a large, though less, amount of -vivacity. This is the naked result to which Hume’s doctrine leads--a -result which, thus put, might have set men upon reconsidering the -first principles of the Lockeian philosophy. But he wished to find -acceptance, and would not so put it. A consideration of the points -in which he had to sacrifice consistency to plausibility--since he -was always consistent where he decently could be--will lead us to the -true αἴτιον τοῦ ψευδοῦς [1], the impossibility on his principles of -explaining the world of knowledge. - -[1] [Greek αἴτιον τοῦ ψευδοῦς (aition tou pseudous) = the cause of -the error. Tr.] - -Definitions of cause: a. As a ‘philosophical’ relation. - -295. As the outcome of his doctrine, he submits two definitions -of the relation of cause and effect. Considering it as ‘a -_philosophical_ relation or comparison of two ideas, we may define a -cause to be an object precedent and contiguous to another, and where -all objects resembling the former are placed in like relations of -precedency and contiguity to those objects that resemble the latter.’ -Considering the relation as ‘a _natural_ one, or as an association -between ideas,’ we may say that ‘a _cause_ is an object precedent and -contiguous to another, and so united with it that the idea of one -determines the mind to form the idea of the other, and the impression -of the one to form a more lively idea of the other’. [1] - -[1] P. 464. [Book I, part III., sec. XIV.] - -Is Hume entitled to retain ‘philosophical’ relations as distinct from -‘natural’? - -296. Our first enquiry must be how far these definitions are really -consistent with the theory from which they are derived. At the -outset, it is a surprise to find that the ‘philosophical relation’ -of cause and effect, as distinct from the natural one, should still -appear to survive. Such a distinction has no meaning unless it -implies a conceived relation of objects other than the _de facto_ -sequence of feelings, of which one ‘naturally’ introduces the other. -It is the characteristic of Locke’s doctrine of knowledge that in it -this distinction is still latent. His language constantly implies -that knowledge, as a perception of relations, is other than the -sequence of feelings; but by confining his view chiefly to relation -in the way of likeness and unlikeness--a relation that exists -between feelings merely as felt, or as they are for the feeling -consciousness--he avoids the necessity of deciding what the ‘ideas’ -are in the connection of which knowledge and reasoning consist, -whether objects constituted by conceived relations or feelings -suggestive of each other. But when once attention had been fixed, as -it was by Hume, on an ostensible relation between objects, like that -of cause and effect, which, if it exist at all, is clearly not one in -the way of resemblance between feelings, the distinction spoken of -becomes patent. If the colour red had not the likeness and unlikeness -which it has to the colour blue, the colours would be different -feelings from what they are; but if the flame of fire and its heat -were not regarded severally as cause and effect, it would make no -difference to them as feelings; or, to put it conversely, it is not -upon any comparison of two feelings with each other that we regard -them as related in the way of cause and effect. In what sense then -can the relation between flame and heat be a philosophical relation, -as defined by Hume--a relation in virtue of which we compare objects, -or an idea that we acquire upon comparison? - -Examination of Hume’s language about them. - -297. This definition, indeed, is not stated so exactly or so -uniformly as might be wished. In different passages ‘philosophical -relation’ appears as that in respect of which we compare any two -ideas; as that of which we acquire the idea by comparing objects, [1] -and finally (in the context of the passage last quoted) as itself -the comparison. [2] The real source of this ambiguity lies in that -impossibility of regarding an object as anything apart from its -relations, which compels any theory that does not recognize it to be -inconsistent with itself. It is Locke’s cardinal doctrine that real -‘objects’ are first given as simple ideas, and that their relations, -unreal in contrast with the simple ideas, are superinduced by the -mind--a doctrine which Hume completes by excluding all ideas that are -not either copies of simple feelings or compounds of these, and by -consequence ideas of relation altogether. The three statements of the -nature of philosophical relation, given above, mark three stages of -departure from, or approach to, consistency with this doctrine. The -first, implying as it does that relation is not merely a subjective -result in our minds from the comparison of ideas, but belongs to the -ideas themselves, is most obviously inconsistent with it according to -the form in which it is presented by Locke; but the second is equally -incompatible with Hume’s completion of the doctrine, for it implies -that we so compare ideas as to acquire an idea of relation other than -the ideas put together--an idea at once open to Hume’s own challenge, -‘Is it a colour, sound, smell, &c.; or is it a passion or emotion?’ - -[1] Cf. Part I. 5. - -[2] P. 464. [Book I, part III., sec. XIV.] - -Philosophical relation consists in a comparison, but no comparison -between cause and effect. - -298. We are thus brought to the third statement, according to which -philosophical relation, instead of being an idea acquired upon -comparison, is itself the comparison. A comparison of ideas may seem -not far removed from the simple sequence of resembling ideas; but -if we examine the definition of cause, as stated above, which with -Hume corresponds to the view of the relation of cause and effect as -a ‘_philosophical_’ one, we find that the relation in question is -neither a comparison of the related objects nor an idea which arises -upon such comparison. According to his statement a comparison is -indeed necessary to give us an idea of the relation--a comparison, -however, not of the objects which we reckon severally cause and -effect with each other, but _(a)_ of each of the two objects with -other like objects, and _(b)_ of the relation of precedency and -contiguity between the two objects with that previously observed -between the like objects. Now, unless the idea of relation between -objects in the way of cause and effect is one that consists in, or -is acquired by, comparison _of those objects_, the fact that another -sort of comparison is necessary to constitute it does not touch the -question of its possibility. However we come to have it, however -reducible to impressions the objects may be, it is not only other -than the idea of either object taken singly; it is not, as an idea -of resemblance might be supposed to be, constituted by the joint -presence or immediate sequence upon each other of the objects. Here, -then, is an idea which is not taken either from an impression or from -a compound of impressions (if such composition be possible), and this -idea is ‘the source of all our reasonings concerning matters of fact.’ - -The comparison is between present and past experience of succession -of objects. - -299. The modern followers of Hume may perhaps seek refuge in the -consideration that though the relation of cause and effect between -objects is not one in the way of resemblance or one of which the -idea is given by comparison of the objects, it yet results from -comparisons, which may be supposed to act like chemical substances -whose combination produces a substance with properties quite -different from those of the combined substances, whether taken -separately or together. Some anticipation of such a solution, -it may be said, we find in Hume himself, who is aware that from -the repetition of impressions of sense and their ideas new, -heterogeneous, impressions--those of ‘reflection’--are formed. Of -this more will be said when we come to Hume’s treatment of cause -and effect as a ‘natural relation.’ For the present we have to -enquire what exactly is implied in the comparisons from which this -heterogeneous idea of relation is derived. If we look closely we -shall find that they presuppose a consciousness of relations as -little reducible to resemblance, _i.e._ as little the result of -comparison, as that of cause and effect itself. It has been already -noticed how Hume treats the judgment of proportion between figures -as a mere affair of sense, because such relation depends entirely -on the ideas compared, without reflecting that the existence of the -figures presupposes those relations of space to which, because (as -he admits) they do not depend on the comparison of ideas, the only -excuse for reckoning any relation sensible does not apply. In the -same way he contents himself with the fact that the judgment of cause -and effect implies a comparison of present with past experience, and -may thus be brought under his definition of ‘philosophical relation,’ -without observing that the experiences compared are themselves by -no means reducible to comparison. We judge that an object, which we -now find to be precedent and contiguous to another, is its cause -when, comparing present experience with past, we find that it always -has been so. That in effect is Hume’s account of the relation, -‘considered as a philosophical one:’ and it implies that the -constitution of the several experiences compared involves two sorts -of relation which Hume admits not to be derived from comparison, -_(a)_ relation in time and place, _(b)_ relation in the way of -identity. - -Observation of succession already goes beyond sense. - -300. As to relations in time and space, we have already traced out -the inconsistencies which attend Hume’s attempt to represent them -as compound ideas. The statement at the beginning of Part III., -that they are relations not dependent on the nature of compared -ideas, is itself a confession that such representation is erroneous. -If the difficulty about the synthesis of successive feelings in -a consciousness that consists merely of the succession could be -overcome, we might admit that the putting together of ideas might -constitute such an idea of relation as depends on the nature of the -combined ideas. But no combination of ideas can yield a relation -which remains the same while the ideas change, and changes while -they remain the same. Thus, when Hume tells us that ‘in none of the -observations we may make concerning relations of time and place can -the mind go beyond what is immediately present to the senses, to -discover the relations of objects’ [1] the statement contradicts -itself. Either we can make no observation concerning relation in -time and place at all, or in making it we already ‘go beyond what -is immediately present to the senses,’ since we observe what is -neither a feeling nor several feelings put together. If then Hume -had succeeded in his reduction of reasoning from cause or effect to -observation of this kind, as modified in a certain way by habit, -the purpose for which the reduction is attempted would not have -been attained. The separation between perception and inference, -between ‘intuition’ and ‘discourse,’ would have been got rid of, -but inference and discourse would not therefore have been brought -nearer to the mere succession of feelings, for the separation between -feeling and perception would remain complete; and that being so, the -question would inevitably recur--If the ‘observation’ of objects -as related in space and time already involves a transition from -the felt to the unfelt, what greater difficulty is there about the -interpretation of a feeling as a change to be accounted for (which is -what is meant by inference to a cause), that we should do violence to -the sciences by reducing it to repeated observation lest it should -seem that in it we ‘go beyond’ present feeling? - -[1] P. 376. [Book I, part III., sec. II.] - -As also does the ‘observation concerning identity,’ which the -comparison involves. - -301. Relation in the way of identity is treated by Hume in the third -part of the Treatise [1] pretty much as he treats contiguity and -distance. He admits that it does not depend on the nature of any -ideas so related--in other words, that it is not constituted by -feelings as they would be for a merely feeling consciousness--yet -he denies that the mind ‘in any observations we may make concerning -it’ can go beyond what is immediately present to the senses. -Directly afterwards, however, we find that there _is_ a judgment of -identity which involves a ‘conclusion beyond the impressions of our -senses’--the judgment, namely, that an object of which the perception -is interrupted continues individually the same notwithstanding the -interruption. Such a judgment, we are told, is a supposition founded -only on the connection of cause and effect. How any ‘observation -concerning identity’ can be made without it is not there explained, -and, pending such explanation, observations concerning identity -are freely taken for granted as elements given by sense in the -experience from which the judgment of cause and effect is derived. -In the second chapter of Part IV., however, where ‘belief in an -external world’ first comes to be explicitly discussed by Hume, we -find that ‘propensities to feign’ are as necessary to account for -the judgment of identity as for that of necessary connection. If -that chapter had preceded, instead of following, the theory of cause -and effect as given in Part III., the latter would have seemed much -less plain sailing than to most readers it has done. It is probably -because nothing corresponding to it appears in that later redaction -of his theory by which Hume sought popular acceptance, that the true -suggestiveness of his speculation was ignored, and the scepticism, -which awakened Kant, reduced to the commonplaces of inductive logic. -To examine its purport is the next step to be taken in the process -of testing the possibility of a ‘natural history’ of knowledge. Its -bearing on the doctrine of cause will appear as we proceed. - -[1] P. 376. [Book I, part III., sec. II.] - -Identity of objects an unavoidable crux for Hume. His account of it. - -302. The problem of identity necessarily arises from the fusion of -reality and feeling. We must once again recall the propositions in -which Hume represents this fusion--that ‘everything which enters -the mind is both in reality and appearance as the perception;’ -that ‘so far as the senses are judges, all perceptions are the -same in the manner of their existence;’ that ‘perceptions’ are -either impressions, or ideas which are ‘fainter impressions;’ and -‘impressions are internal and perishing existences, and appear -as such.’ If these propositions are true--and the ‘new way of -ideas’ inevitably leads to them--how is it that we _believe_ in ‘a -_continued_ existence of objects even when they are not present -to the senses,’ and an existence ‘distinct from the mind and -perception’? They are the same questions from which Berkeley derived -his demonstration of an eternal mind--a demonstration premature -because, till the doctrine of ‘ideas,’ and of mind as their subject, -had been definitely altered in a way that Berkeley did not attempt, -it was explaining a belief difficult to account for by one wholly -unaccountable. Before Theism could be exhibited with the necessity -which Locke claimed for it, it was requisite to try what could be -done with association of ideas and ‘propensities to feign’ in the -way of accounting for the world of knowledge, in order that upon -their failure another point of departure than Locke’s might be found -necessary. The experiment was made by Hume. He has the merit, to -begin with, of stating the nature of identity with a precision which -we found wanting in Locke. ‘In that proposition, _an object is the -same with itself_, if the idea expressed by the word _object_ were -no ways distinguished from that meant by _itself_, we really should -mean nothing.’ ‘On the other hand, a multiplicity of objects can -never convey the idea of identity, however resembling they may be -supposed. ... Since then both number and unity are incompatible with -the relation of identity, it must lie in something that is neither -of them. But at first sight this seems impossible.’ The explanation -is that when ‘we say that an object is the same with itself, we mean -that the object existent at one time is the same with itself existent -at another. By this means we make a difference betwixt the idea meant -by the word _object_ and that meant by _itself_ without going the -length of number, and at the same time without restraining ourselves -to a strict and absolute unity.’ In other words, identity means the -unity of a thing through a multiplicity of times; or, as Hume puts -it, ‘the invariableness and uninterruptedness of any object through a -supposed variation of time’. [1] - -[1] Pp. 489, 490. [Book I, part IV., sec. II.] - -Properly with him it is a fiction, in the sense that we have no -such idea. Yet he implies that we have such idea, in saying that we -mistake something else for it. - -303. Now that ‘an object exists’ can with Hume mean no more than -that an ‘impression’ is felt, and without succession of feelings -according to him there is no time. [1] It follows that unity in the -existence of the object, being incompatible with _succession_ of -feelings, is incompatible also with existence in time. Either then -the unity of the object or its existence at manifold times--both -being involved in the conception of identity--must be a fiction; and -since ‘all impressions are perishing existences,’ perishing with a -turn of the head or the eyes, it cannot be doubted which it is that -is the fiction. That the existence of an object, which we call the -same with itself, is broken by as many intervals of time as there are -successive and different, however resembling, ‘perceptions,’ must be -the fact; that it should yet be one throughout the intervals is a -fiction to be accounted for, Hume accounts for it by supposing that -when the separate ‘perceptions’ have a strong ‘natural relation’ to -each other in the way of resemblance, the transition from one to -the other is so ‘smooth and easy’ that we are apt to take it for -the ‘same disposition of mind with which we consider one constant -and uninterrupted perception;’ and that, as a consequence of this -mistake, we make the further one of taking the successive resembling -perceptions for an identical, _i.e._ uninterrupted as well as -invariable object. [2] But we cannot mistake one object for another -unless we have an idea of that other object. If then we ‘mistake the -succession of our interrupted perceptions for an identical object,’ -it follows that we have an idea of such an object--of a thing one -with itself throughout the succession of impressions--an idea which -can be a copy neither of any one of the impressions nor, even if -successive impressions could put themselves together, of all so -put together. Such an idea being according to Hume’s principles -impossible, the appearance of our having it was the fiction he had -to account for; and he accounts for it, as we find, by a ‘habit of -mind’ which already presupposes it. His procedure here is just the -same as in dealing with the idea of vacuum. In that case, as we saw, -having to account for the appearance of there being the impossible -idea of pure space, he does so by showing, that having ‘an idea of -distance not filled with any coloured or tangible object,’ we mistake -this for an idea of extension, and hence suppose that the latter -may be invisible and intangible. He thus admits an idea, virtually -the same with the one excluded, as the source of the ‘tendency to -suppose’ which is to replace the excluded idea. So in his account of -identity. Either the habit, in virtue of which we convert resembling -perceptions into an identical object, is what Hume admits to be a -contradiction, ‘a habit acquired by what was never present to the -mind’; [3] or the idea of identity must be present to the mind in -order to render the habit possible. - -[1] ‘Wherever we have no successive perceptions, we have no notion of -time.’ (p. 342) [Book I, part II., sec. III.]. - -[2] P. 492. [Book I, part IV., sec. II.] - -[3] P. 487. [Book I, part IV., sec. II.] - -Succession of like feelings mistaken for an identical object: but the -feelings, as described, are already such objects. - -304. The device by which this _petitio principii_ is covered is one -already familiar to us in Hume. In this case it is so palpable that -it is difficult to believe he was unconscious of it. As he has ‘to -account for the belief of the vulgar with regard to the existence -of body,’ he will ‘entirely conform himself to their manner of -thinking and expressing themselves;’ in other words, he will assume -the fiction in question as the beginning of a process by which its -formation is to be accounted for. The vulgar make no distinction -between thing and appearance. ‘Those very sensations which enter by -the eye or ear are with them the true objects, nor can they readily -conceive that this pen or this paper, which is immediately perceived, -represents another which is different from, but resembling it. In -order therefore to accommodate myself to their notions, I shall at -first suppose that there is only a single existence, which I shall -call indifferently _object_ and _perception_, according as it shall -seem best to suit my purpose, understanding by both of them what -any common man may mean by a hat, or shoe, or stone, or any other -impression conveyed to him by his senses’. [1] Now it is of course -true that the vulgar are innocent of the doctrine of representative -ideas. They do not suppose that this pen or this paper, which is -immediately perceived, represents another which is different from, -but resembling, it; but neither do they suppose that this pen or -this paper is a sensation. It is the intellectual transition from -this, that, and the other successive sensations to this pen or -this paper, as the identical object to which the sensations are -referred as qualities, that is unaccountable if, according to Hume’s -doctrine, the succession of feelings constitutes our consciousness. -In the passage quoted he quietly ignores it, covering his own -reduction of felt thing to feeling under the popular identification -of the real thing with the perceived. With ‘the vulgar’ that which -is ‘immediately perceived’ is the real thing, just because it is -not the mere feeling which with Hume it is. But under pretence of -provisionally adopting the vulgar view, he entitles himself to treat -the mere feeling, because according to him it is that which is -immediately perceived, as if it were the permanent identical thing, -which according to the vulgar is what is immediately perceived. - -[1] P. 491. [Book I, part IV., sec. II.] - -Fiction of identity thus implied as source of the propensity which is -to account for it. - -305. Thus without professedly admitting into consciousness anything -but the succession of feelings he gets such individual objects as -Locke would have called objects of ‘actual present sensation.’ When -‘I survey the furniture of my chamber,’ according to him, I see -sundry ‘identical objects’--this chair, this table, this inkstand, -&c. [1] So far there is no fiction to be accounted for. It is only -when, having left my chamber for an interval and returned to it, I -suppose the objects which I see to be identical with those I saw -before, that the ‘propensity to feign’ comes into play, which has -to be explained as above. But in fact the original ‘survey’ during -which, seeing the objects, I suppose them to continue the same with -themselves, involves precisely the same fiction. In that case, says -Hume, I ‘suppose the change’ (which is necessary to constitute the -idea of identity) ‘to lie only in the time.’ But without ‘succession -of perceptions,’ different however resembling, there could according -to him be no change of time. The continuous survey of this table, or -this chair, then, involves the notion of its remaining the same with -itself throughout a succession of different perceptions--_i.e._ the -full-grown fiction of identity--just as much as does the supposition -that the table I see now is identical with the one I saw before. The -‘reality,’ confusion with which of ‘a smooth passage along resembling -ideas’ is supposed to constitute the ‘fiction,’ is already itself -the fiction--the fiction of an object which must be other than our -feelings, since it is permanent while they are successive, yet so -related to them that in virtue of reference to it, instead of being -merely different from each other, they become changes of a thing. - -[1] P. 493. [Book I, part IV., sec. II.] - -With Hume continued existence of perceptions a fiction different from -their identity. Can perceptions exist when not perceived? - -306. Having thus in effect imported all three ‘fictions of -imagination’--identity, continued existence, and existence distinct -from perception--into the original ‘perception,’ Hume, we may think, -might have saved himself the trouble of treating them as separate and -successive formations. Unless he had so treated them, however, his -‘natural history’ of consciousness would have been far less imposing -than it is. The device, by which he represents the ‘vulgar’ belief in -the reality of the felt thing as a belief that the mere feeling is -the real object, enables him also to represent the identity, which -a smooth transition along closely resembling sensations leads us -to suppose, as still merely identity of a _perception_. ‘The very -image which is present to the senses is with us the real body; and -’tis to these interrupted images we ascribe a perfect identity’. -[1] The identity lying thus in the images or appearances, not in -anything to which they are referred, a further fiction seems to be -required by which we may overcome the contradiction between the -interruption of the appearances and their identity--the fiction -of ‘a continued being which may fill the intervals’ between the -appearances. [2] That a ‘propension’ towards such a fiction would -naturally arise from the uneasiness caused by such a contradiction, -we may readily admit. The question is how the propension can be -satisfied by a supposition which is merely another expression for -one of the contradictory beliefs. What difference is there between -the appearance of a perception and its existence, that interruption -of the perception, though incompatible with uninterruptedness in its -appearance, should not be so with uninterruptedness in its existence? -It may be answered that there is just the difference between relation -to a feeling subject and relation to a thinking one--between relation -to a consciousness which is in time, or successive, and relation to -a thinking subject which, not being itself in time, is the source of -that determination by permanent conditions, which is what is meant by -the real existence of a perceived thing. But to Hume, who expressly -excludes such a subject--with whom ‘it exists’ = ‘it is felt’--such -an answer is inadmissible. He can, in fact, only meet the difficulty -by supposing the existence of unfelt feelings, of unperceived -perceptions. The appearance of a perception is its presence to -‘what we call a mind,’ which ‘is nothing but a heap or collection -of different perceptions, united together by certain relations, and -supposed, though falsely, to be endowed with a perfect simplicity -and identity’. [3] To consider a perception, then, as existing -though not appearing is merely to consider it as detached from -this ‘heap’ of other perceptions, which, on Hume’s principle that -whatever is distinguishable is separable, is no more impossible than -to distinguish one perception from all others. [4] In fact, however, -it is obvious that the supposed detachment is the very opposite of -such distinction. A perception distinguished from all others is -determined by that distinction in the fullest possible measure. A -perception _detached_ from all others, left out of the ‘heap which -we call a mind,’ being out of all relation, has no qualities--is -simply nothing. We can no more ‘consider’ it than we can see vacancy. -Yet it is by the consideration of such nonentity, by supposing a -world of unperceived perceptions, of ‘existences’ without relation -or quality, that the mind, according to Hume--itself only ‘a heap of -perceptions’--arrives at that fiction of a continued being which, -as involved in the supposition of identity, is the condition of our -believing in a world of real things at all. - -[1] P. 493. [Book I, part IV., sec. II.] - -[2] Pp. 494, 495. [Book I, part IV., sec. II.] - -[3] P. 495. [Book I, part IV., sec. II.] - -[4] Ibid. - -Existence of objects, distinct from perceptions, a further fiction -still. - -307. It is implied, then, in the process by which, according to -Hume, the fiction of a continued being is arrived at, that this -being is supposed to be not only continued but ‘distinct from the -mind’ and ‘independent’ of it. With Hume, however, the supposition -of a distinct and ‘independent’ existence of the _perception_ is -quite different from that of a distinct and independent object -other than the perception. The former is the ‘vulgar hypothesis,’ -and though a fiction, it is also a universal belief: the latter -is the ‘philosophical hypothesis,’ which, if it has a tendency to -obtain belief at all, at any rate derives that tendency, in other -words ‘acquires all its influence over the imagination,’ from the -vulgar one. [1] Just as the belief in the independent and continued -existence of perceptions results from an instinctive effort to escape -the uneasiness, caused by the contradiction between the interruption -of resembling perceptions and their imagined identity, so the -contradiction between this belief and the evident dependence of all -perceptions ‘on our organs and the disposition of our nerves and -animal spirits’ leads to the doctrine of representative ideas or ‘the -double existence of perceptions and objects.’ ‘This philosophical -system, therefore, is the monstrous offspring of two principles -which are contrary to each other, which are both at once embraced by -the mind and which are unable mutually to destroy each other. The -imagination tells us that our resembling perceptions have a continued -and uninterrupted existence, and are not annihilated by their -absence. Reflection tells us that even our resembling perceptions -are interrupted in their existence and different from each other. -The contradiction betwixt these opinions we elude by a new fiction -which is conformable to the hypotheses both of reflection and fancy, -by ascribing these contrary qualities to different existences; the -interruption to _perceptions_, and the continuance to _objects_’. [2] - -[1] P. 500. [Book I, part IV., sec. II.] - -[2] P. 502. [Book I, part IV., sec. II.] - -Are these several ‘fictions’ really different from each other? - -308. Here, again, we find that the contradictory announcements, -which it is the object of this new fiction to elude, are virtually -the same as those implied in that judgment of identity which is -necessary to the ‘perception’ of this pen or this paper. That -‘interruption of our resembling perceptions,’ of which ‘reflection’ -(in the immediate context ‘Reason’) is here said to ‘tell us,’ is -merely that difference in time, or succession, which Hume everywhere -else treats as a datum of sense, and which, as he points out, is as -necessary a factor in the idea of identity, as is the imagination -of an existence continued throughout the succession. Thus the -contradiction, which suggests this philosophical fiction of double -existence, has been already present and overcome in every perception -of a qualified object. Nor does the fiction itself, by which the -contradiction is eluded, differ except verbally from that suggested -by the contradiction between the interruption and the identity of -perceptions. What power is there in the word ‘object’ that the -supposition of an unperceived existence of perceptions, continued -while their appearance is broken, should be an unavoidable fiction of -the imagination, while that of ‘the double existence of perceptions -and objects’ is a gratuitous fiction of philosophers, of which -‘vulgar’ thinking is entirely innocent? - -Are they not all involved in the simplest perception? - -309. That it is gratuitous we may readily admit, but only because a -recognition of the function of the Ego in the primary constitution -of the qualified individual object--this pen or this paper--renders -it superfluous. To the philosophy, however, in which Hume was -bred, the perception of a qualified object was simply a feeling. -No intellectual synthesis of successive feelings was recognized as -involved in it. It was only so far as the dependence of the feeling -on our organs, in the absence of any clear distinction between -feeling and felt thing, seemed to imply a dependent and broken -existence of the thing, that any difficulty arose--a difficulty met -by the supposition that the felt thing, whose existence was thus -broken and dependent, represented an unfelt and permanent thing of -which it is a copy or effect. To the Berkeleian objections, already -fatal to this supposition, Hume has his own to add, viz. that we can -have no idea of relation in the way of cause and effect except as -between objects which we have observed, and therefore can have no -idea of it as existing between a perception and an object of which -we can only say that it is not a perception. Is all existence then -‘broken and dependent’? That is the ‘sceptical’ conclusion which -Hume professes to adopt--subject, however, to the condition of -accounting for the contrary supposition (without which, as he has to -admit, we could not think or speak, and which alone gives a meaning -to his own phraseology about impressions and ideas) as a fiction of -the imagination. He does this, as we have seen, by tracing a series -of contradictions, with corresponding hypotheses invented, either -instinctively or upon reflection, in order to escape the uneasiness -which they cause, all ultimately due to our mistaking similar -successive feelings for an identical object. Of such an object, then, -we must have an idea to begin with, and it is an object permanent -throughout a variation of time, which means a succession of feelings; -in other words, it is a felt thing, as distinct from feelings but to -which feelings are referred as its qualities. Thus the most primary -perception--that in default of which Hume would have no reality -to oppose to fiction, nor any point of departure for the supposed -construction of fictions--already implies that transformation of -feelings into changing relations of a thing which, preventing any -incompatibility between the perpetual brokenness of the feeling -and the permanence of the thing, ‘eludes’ by anticipation all the -contradictions which, according to Hume, we only ‘elude’ by speaking -as if we had ideas that we have not. - -Yet they are not possible ideas, because copied from no impressions. - -310. ‘Ideas that we _have not_;’ for no one of the fictions by -which we elude the contradictions, nor indeed any one of the -contradictory judgments themselves, can be taken to represent an -‘idea’ according to Hume’s account of ideas. He allows himself indeed -to speak of our having ideas of identical objects, such as _this -table while I see or touch it_--though in this case, as has been -shown, either the object is not identical or the idea of it cannot -be copied from an impression--and of our transferring this idea to -resembling but interrupted perceptions. But the supposition to which -the contradiction involved in this transference gives rise--the -supposition that the perception continues to exist when it is not -perceived--is shown by the very statement of it to be no possible -copy of an impression. Yet according to Hume it is a ‘belief,’ and -a belief is ‘a lively idea associated with a present impression.’ -What then is the impression and what the associated idea? ‘As the -propensity to feign the continued existence of sensible objects -arises from some lively impressions of the memory, it bestows a -vivacity on that fiction; or, in other words, makes us believe the -continued existence of body’. [1] Well and good: but this only -answers the first part of our question. It tells us what are the -impressions in the supposed case of belief, but not what is the -associated idea to which their liveliness is communicated. To say -that it arises from a propensity to feign, strong in proportion to -the liveliness of the supposed impressions of memory, does not tell -us of what impression it is a copy. Such a propensity indeed would be -an ‘impression of reflection,’ but the fiction itself is neither the -propensity nor a copy of it. The only possible supposition left for -Hume would be that it is a ‘compound idea;’ but what combination of -‘perceptions’ can amount to the existence of perceptions when they -are not perceived? - -[1] P. 496. [Book I, part IV., sec. II.] - -Comparison of present experience with past, which yields relation of -cause and effect, pre-supposes judgment of identity; - -311. From this long excursion into Hume’s doctrine of relation in the -way of identity--having found him admitting explicitly that it is -only by a ‘fiction of the imagination’ that we identify this table -as now seen with this table as seen an hour ago, and implicitly that -the same fiction is involved in the perception of this table as an -identical object even when hand or eye is kept upon it, while yet -he says not a word to vindicate the possibility of such a fiction -for a faculty which can merely reproduce and combine ‘perishing -impressions’--we return to consider its bearing upon his doctrine of -relation in the way of cause and effect. According to him, as we saw, -[1] that relation, ‘considered as a philosophical’ one, is founded -on a comparison of present experience with past, in the sense that -we regard an object, precedent and contiguous to another, as its -cause when all like objects have been found similarly related. The -question then arises whether the experiences compared--the present -and the past alike--do not involve the fiction of identity along with -the whole family of other fictions which Hume affiliates to it? Does -the relation of precedence and sequence, which, if constant, amounts -to that of cause and effect, merely mean precedence and sequence -of two feelings, indefinitely like an indefinite number of other -feelings that have thus the one preceded and the other followed; -or is it a relation between one qualified thing or definite fact -always the same with itself, and another such thing or fact always -the same with itself? The question carries its own answer. If in the -definition quoted Hume used the phrase ‘all like objects’ instead of -the ‘same object,’ in order to avoid the appearance of introducing -the ‘fiction’ of identity into the definition of cause, the device -does not avail him much. The effect of the ‘like’ is neutralized by -the ‘all.’ A _uniform_ relation is impossible except between objects -of which each has a definite identity. - -[1] Above, pars. 298 and 299. - -... without which there could be no recognition of an object as one -observed before. - -312. When Hume has to describe the experience which gives the -idea of cause and effect, he virtually admits this. ‘The nature -of experience,’ he tells us, ‘is this. We remember to have had -frequent instances of the existence of one species of objects, and -also remember that the individuals of another species of objects -have always attended them, and have existed in a regular order of -contiguity and succession with regard to them. Thus we remember -to have seen that species of object we call _flame_, and to have -felt that species of sensation we call _heat_. We likewise call to -mind their constant conjunction in all past instances. Without any -farther ceremony we call the one cause, and the other effect, and -infer the existence of the one from the other’. [1] It appears, then, -that upon experiencing certain sensations of sight and touch, we -recognize each as ‘one of a species of objects’ which we remember to -have observed in certain constant relations before. In virtue of the -recognition the sensations become severally this _flame_ and this -_heat_; and in virtue of the remembrance the objects thus recognized -are held to be related in the way of cause and effect. Now it is -clear that though the recognition takes place upon occasion of a -feeling, the object recognized--this flame or this heat--is by no -means the feeling as a ‘perishing existence.’ Unless the feeling -were taken to represent a thing, conceived as permanently existing -under certain relations and attributes--in other words, unless it -were _identified_ by thought--it would be no definite object, not -this _flame_ or this _heat_, at all. The moment it is named, it -has ceased to be a feeling and become a felt thing, or, in Hume’s -language, an ‘individual of _a species of objects_.’ And just as -the present ‘perception’ is the recognition of such an individual, -so the remembrance which determines the recognition is one wholly -different from the return with lessened liveliness of a feeling more -strongly felt before. According to Hume’s own statement, it consists -in recalling ‘frequent instances of the existence of _a species of -objects_.’ It is remembrance of an experience in which every feeling, -that has been attended to, has been interpreted as a fresh appearance -of some qualified object that ‘exists’ throughout its appearances--an -experience which for that reason forms a connected whole. If it were -not so, there could be no such comparison of the relations in which -two objects are now presented with those in which they have always -been presented, as that which according to Hume determines us to -regard them as cause and effect. The condition of our so regarding -them is that we suppose the objects now presented to be _the same_ -with those of which we have had previous experience. It is only on -supposition that a certain sensation of sight is not merely like a -multitude of others, but represents the same object as that which I -have previously known as flame, that I infer the sequence of heat -and, when it does follow, regard it as an effect. If I thought that -the sensation of sight, however like those previously referred to -flame, did not represent the same object, I should not infer heat -as effect; and conversely, if, having identified the sensation -of sight as representative of flame, I found that the inferred -heat was not actually felt, I should judge that I was mistaken in -the identification. It follows that it is only an experience of -identical, and by consequence related and qualified, objects, of -which the memory can so determine a sequence of feelings as to -constitute it an experience of cause and effect. Thus the perception -and remembrance upon which, according to Hume, we judge one object to -be the cause of another, alike rest on the ‘fictions of identity and -continued existence.’ Without these no present experience would, in -his language, be an instance of an individual of a certain species -existing in a certain relation, nor would there be a past experience -of individuals of the same species, by comparison with which the -constancy of the relation might be ascertained. - -[1] P. 388. [Book I, part III., sec. VI.] - -Hume makes conceptions of identity and cause each come before the -other. Their true correlativity. - -313. Against this derivation of the conception of cause and effect, -as implying that of identity, may be urged the fact that when -we would ascertain the truth of any identification we do so by -reference to causes and effects. As Hume himself puts it at the -outset of his discussion of causation, an inference of identity -‘beyond the impressions of our senses can be founded only on the -connexion of cause and effect.’ ... ‘Whenever we discover a perfect -resemblance between a new object and one which was formerly present -to the senses, we consider whether it be common in that species of -objects; whether possibly or probably any cause could operate in -producing the change and resemblance; and according as we determine -concerning these causes and effects, we form our judgment concerning -the identity of the object’. [1] This admission, it may be said, -though it tells against Hume’s own subsequent explanation of identity -as a fiction of the imagination, is equally inconsistent with any -doctrine that would treat identity as the presupposition of inference -to cause or effect. Now undoubtedly if the identity of interrupted -perceptions is one fiction of the imagination and the relation of -cause and effect another, each resulting from ‘custom,’ to say with -Hume, that we must have the idea of cause in order to arrive at the -supposition of identity, is logically to exclude any derivation -of that idea from an experience which involves the supposition of -identity. The ‘custom’ which generates the idea of cause must have -done its work before that which generates the supposition of identity -can begin. Hume therefore, after the admission just quoted, was -not entitled to treat the inference to cause or effect as a habit -derived from experience of identical things. But it is otherwise -if the conceptions of causation and identity are correlative--not -results of experience of which one must be formed before the -other, but co-ordinate expressions of one and the same synthetic -principle, which renders experience possible. And this is the real -state of the case. It is true, as Hume points out, that when we -want to know whether a certain sensation, precisely resembling one -that we have previously experienced, represents the same object, -we do so by asking how otherwise it can be accounted for. If no -difference appears in its antecedents or sequents, we identify -it--refer it to the same thing--as that previously experienced; for -its relations (which, since it is an event in time, take the form -of antecedence and sequence) _are_ the thing. The conceptions of -identity and of relation in the way of cause and effect are thus as -strictly correlative and inseparable as those of the thing and of -its relations. Without the conception of identity experience would -want a centre, without that of cause and effect it would want a -circumference. Without the supposition of objects which ‘existing at -one time are the same with themselves as existing at other times’--a -supposition which at last, when through acquaintance with the -endlessness of orderly change we have learnt that there is but one -object for which such identity can be claimed without qualification, -becomes the conception of nature as a uniform whole--there could -be no such comparison of the relations in which an object is now -presented with those in which it has been before presented, as -determines us to reckon it the cause or effect of another; but it is -equally true that it is only by such comparison of relations that the -identity of any particular object can be ascertained. - -[1] P. 376. [Book I, part III., sec. II.] - -Hume quite right in saying that we do not go _more_ beyond sense in -reasoning than in perception. - -314. Thus, though we may concede to Hume that neither in the -inference to the relation of cause and effect nor in the conclusions -we draw from it do we go ‘beyond experience,’ [1] this will merely -be, if his account of it as a ‘philosophical relation’ be true, -because in experience we already go beyond sense. ‘There is nothing,’ -says Hume, ‘in any object considered in itself that can afford -us a reason for drawing a conclusion beyond it’ [2]--a statement -which to him means that, if the mind really passes from it to -another, this is only because as a matter of fact another feeling -follows on the first. But, in truth, if each feeling were merely -‘considered in itself,’ the fact that one follows on another would -be no fact _for the subject of the feelings_, no starting-point of -intelligent experience at all; for the fact is the relation between -the feelings--a relation which only exists for a subject that -considers neither feeling ‘in itself,’ as a ‘separate and perishing -existence,’ but finds a reality in the determination of each by the -other which, as it is not either or both of them, so survives, while -they pass, as a permanent factor of experience. Thus in order that -any definite ‘object’ of experience may exist for us, our feelings -must have ceased to be what according to Hume they are in themselves. -They cease to be so in virtue of the presence to them of the Ego, -in common relation to which they become related to each other as -mutually qualified members of a permanent system--a system which at -first for the individual consciousness exists only as a forecast -or in outline, and is gradually realized and filled up with the -accession of experience. It is quite true that nothing more than -the reference to such a system, already necessary to constitute the -simplest object of experience, is involved in that interpretation -of every event as a changed appearance of an unchanging order, -and therefore to be accounted for, which we call inference to a -cause or the inference of necessary connection; or, again, in the -identification of the event, the determination of its particular -nature by the discovery of its particular cause. - -[1] Above, pars. 285 & 286. - -[2] P. 436 and elsewhere. [Book I, part III., sec. XII.] - -How his doctrine might have been developed. Its actual outcome. - -315. The supposed difference then between immediate and mediate -cognition is no absolute difference. It is not a difference between -experience and a process that goes beyond experience, or between an -experience unregulated by a conception of a permanent system and -one that is so regulated. It lies merely in the degree of fullness -and articulation which that conception has attained. If this had -been what Hume meant to convey in his assimilation of inference to -perception, he would have gone far to anticipate the result of the -enquiry which Kant started. And this is what he might have come -to mean if, instead of playing fast and loose with ‘impression’ -and ‘object,’ using each as plausibility required on the principle -of accommodation to the ‘vulgar,’ he had faced the consequence of -his own implicit admission, that every perception of an object as -identical is a ‘fiction’ in which we go beyond present feeling. As -it is, his ‘scepticism with regard to the senses’ goes far enough -to empty their ‘reports’ of the content which the ‘vulgar’ ascribe -to them, and thus to put a breach between sense and the processes -of knowledge, but not far enough to replace the ‘sensible thing’ by -a function of reason. In default of such replacement, there was no -way of filling the breach but to bring back the vulgar theory under -the cover of habits and ‘tendencies to feign,’ which all suppose a -ready-made knowledge of the sensible thing as their starting-point. -Hence the constant contradiction, which it is our thankless task -to trace, between his solution of the real world into a succession -of feelings and the devices by which he sought to make room in his -system for the actual procedure of the physical sciences. Conspicuous -among these is his allowance of that view of relation in the way of -cause and effect as an objective reality, which is represented by his -definition of it as a ‘philosophical relation.’ It is in the sense -represented by that definition that his doctrine has been understood -and retained by subsequent formulators of inductive logic; but on -examining it in the light of his own statements we have found that -the relation, as thus defined, is not that which his theory required, -and as which to represent it is the whole motive of his disquisition -on the subject. It is not a sequence of impression upon impression, -distinguished merely by its constancy; nor a sequence of idea upon -impression, distinguished merely by that transfer of liveliness to -the idea which arises from the constancy of its sequence upon the -impression. It is a relation between ‘objects’ of which each is what -it is only as ‘an instance of a species’ that exists continuously, -and therefore in distinction from our ‘perishing impressions,’ -according to a regular order of ‘contiguity and succession.’ As -such existence and order are by Hume’s own showing no possible -impressions, and by consequence no possible ideas, so neither are the -‘objects’ which derive their whole character from them. - -No philosophical relation admissible with Hume that is not derived -from a natural one. - -316. It may be said, however, that wherever Hume admits a definition -purporting to be of a ‘philosophical relation,’ he does so only as -an accommodation, and under warning that every such relation is -‘fictitious’ except so far as it is equivalent to a natural one; that -according to his express statement ‘it is only so far as causation -is a _natural_ relation, and produces an union among our ideas, that -we are able to reason upon it or draw any inference from it’; [1] -and that therefore it is only by his definition of it as a ‘natural -relation’ that he is to be judged. Such a vindication of Hume would -be more true than effective. That with him the ‘philosophical’ -relation of cause and effect is ‘fictitious,’ with all the -fictitiousness of a ‘continued existence distinct from perceptions,’ -is what it has been the object of the preceding paragraphs to show. -But the fictitiousness of a relation can with him mean nothing else -than that, instead of having an idea of it, we have only a ‘tendency -to suppose’ that we have such an idea. Thus the designation of the -philosophical relation of cause and effect carries with it two -conditions, one negative, the other positive, on the observance of -which the logical value of the designation depends. The ‘tendency -to suppose’ must _not_ after all be itself translated into the idea -which it is to replace; and it _must_ be accounted for as derived -from a ‘natural relation’ which is not fictitious. That the negative -condition is violated by Hume, we have sufficiently seen. He treats -the ‘philosophical relation’ of cause and effect, in spite of the -‘fictions’ which it involves, not as a name for a tendency to suppose -that we have an idea which we have not, but as itself a definite -idea on which he founds various ‘rules for judging what objects are -really so related and what are not’. [2] That the positive condition -is violated also--that the ‘natural relation’ of cause and effect, -according to the sense in which his definition of it is meant to be -understood, already itself involves ‘fictions,’ and only for that -reason is a possible source of the ‘philosophical’--is what we have -next to show. - -[1] P. 394. [Book I, part III., sec. VII.] - -[2] Part III. § 15. - -Examination of his account of cause and effect as ‘natural relation’. - -317. That definition, it will be remembered, runs as follows: ‘A -cause is an object precedent and contiguous to another, and so united -with it in the imagination that the idea of the one determines the -mind to form the idea of the other, and the impression of the one to -form a more lively idea of the other.’ Now, as has been sufficiently -shown, the object of an idea with Hume can properly mean nothing but -the impression from which the idea is derived, which again is only -the livelier idea, even as the idea is the fainter impression. The -idea and the object of it, then, only differ as different stages -in the vivacity of a feeling. [1] It must be remembered, further, -in regard to the ‘determination of the mind’ spoken of in the -definition, that the ‘mind’ according to Hume is merely a succession -of impressions and ideas, and that its ‘determination’ means no more -than a certain habitualness in this succession. Deprived of the -benefit of ambiguous phraseology, then, the definition would run -thus: ‘A cause is a lively feeling immediately precedent to another, -[2] and so united with it that when either of the two more faintly -recurs, the other follows with like faintness, and when either occurs -with the maximum of liveliness the other follows with less, but still -great, liveliness.’ Thus stated, the definition would correspond -well enough to the process by which Hume arrives at it, of which the -whole drift, as we have seen, is to merge the so-called objective -relation of cause and effect, with the so-called inference from it, -in the mere habitual transition from one feeling to another. But it -is only because not thus stated, and because the actual statement -is understood to carry a meaning of which Hume’s doctrine does not -consistently admit, that it has a chance of finding acceptance. Its -plausibility depends on ‘object’ and ‘mind’ and ‘determination’ being -understood precisely in the sense in which, according to Hume, they -ought not to be understood, so that it shall express not a sequence -of feeling upon feeling, as this might be for a merely feeling -subject, but that permanent relation or law of nature which to a -subject that thinks upon its feelings, and only to such a subject, -their sequence constitutes or on which it depends. - -[1] See above, paragraphs 195 and 208. Cf. also, among other -passages, one in the chapter now under consideration (p. 451) [Book -I, part III., sec. XIV.]--‘Ideas always represent their _objects or -impressions_.’ - -[2] The phrase ‘immediately precedent’ would seem to convey Hume’s -meaning better than his own phrase ‘precedent and contiguous.’ -Contiguity _in space_ (which is what we naturally understand by -‘contiguity,’ when used absolutely) he could not have deliberately -taken to be necessary to constitute the relation of cause and effect, -since the impressions so related, as he elsewhere shows, may often -not be in space at all. - -Double meaning of natural relation. How Hume turns it to account. - -318. It is this essential distinction between the sequence of -feeling upon feeling for a sentient subject and the relation which -to a thinking subject this sequence constitutes--a distinction not -less essential than that between the conditions, through which a -man passes in sleep, as they are for the sleeping subject himself, -and as they are for another thinking upon them--which it is the -characteristic of Hume’s doctrine of natural relation in all its -forms to disguise. Only in virtue of the presence to feelings of -a subject, which distinguishes itself from them, do they become -related objects. Thus, with Hume’s exclusion of such a subject, -with his reduction of mind and world alike to the succession of -feelings, relations and ideas of relation logically disappear. But -by help of the phrase ‘natural relation,’ covering, as it does, two -wholly different things--the involuntary sequence of one feeling -upon another, and that determination of each by the other which can -only take place for a synthetic self-consciousness--he is able on -the one hand to deny that the relations which form the framework -of knowledge are more than sequences of feeling, and on the other -to clothe them with so much of the real character of relations as -qualifies them for ‘principles of union among ideas.’ Thus the mere -occurrence of similar feelings is with him already that relation in -the way of resemblance, which in truth only exists for a subject -that can contemplate them as permanent objects. In like manner the -succession of feelings, which can only constitute time for a subject -that contrasts the succession with its own unity, and which, if ideas -were feelings, would exclude the possibility of an idea of time, is -yet with him indifferently time and the idea of time, though ideas -are feelings and there is no ‘mind’ but their succession. - -If an effect is merely a constantly observed sequence, how can an -event be an effect the first time it is observed? Hume evades this -question; - -319. The fallacy of Hume’s doctrine of causation is merely an -aggravated form of that which has generally passed muster in his -doctrine of time. If time, because a relation between feelings, can -be supposed to survive the exclusion of a thinking self and the -reduction of the world and mind to a succession of feelings, the -relation of cause and effect has only to be assimilated to that of -time in order that its incompatibility with the desired reduction -may disappear, The great obstacle to such assimilation lies in that -opposition to the mere sequence of feelings which causation as -‘matter of fact’--as that in discovering which we ‘discover the real -existence and relations of objects’--purports to carry with it. Why -do we set aside our usual experience as delusive in contrast with the -exceptional experience of the laboratory--why do we decide that an -event which has seemed to happen cannot really have happened, because -under the given conditions no adequate cause of it could have been -operative--if the relation of cause and effect is itself merely a -succession of seemings, repeated so often as to leave behind it a -lively expectation of its recurrence? This question, once fairly put, -cannot be answered: it can only be evaded. It is Hume’s method of -evasion that we have now more particularly to notice. - -Still, he is a long way off the Inductive Logic, which supposes an -objective sequence. - -320. In its detailed statement it is very different from the method -adopted in those modern treatises of Logic which, beginning with -the doctrine that facts are merely feelings in the constitution -of which thought has no share, still contrive to make free use in -their logical canon of the antithesis between the real and apparent. -The key to this modern method is to be found in its ambiguous use -of the term ‘phenomenon,’ alike for the feeling as it is felt, -‘perishing’ when it ceases to be felt, and for the feeling as it -is for a thinking subject--a qualifying and qualified element in a -permanent world. Only if facts were ‘phenomena’ in the former sense -would the antithesis between facts and conceptions be valid; only if -‘phenomena’ are understood in the latter sense can causation be said -to be a law of phenomena. So strong, however, is the charm which this -ambiguous term has exercised, that to the ordinary modern logician -the question above put may probably seem unmeaning. ‘The appearance,’ -he will say, ‘which we set aside as delusive does not consist in any -of the reports of the senses--these are always true--but in some -false supposition in regard to them due to an insufficient analysis -of experience, in some reference of an actual sensation to a group -of supposed possibilities of sensation, called a “thing,” which -are either unreal or with which it is not really connected. The -correction of the false appearance by a discovery of causation is -the replacement of a false supposition, as to the possibility of the -antecedence or sequence of one feeling to another, by the discovery, -through analysis of experience, of what feelings do actually precede -and follow each other. It implies no transition from feelings to -things, but only from a supposed sequence of feelings to the actual -one. Science in its farthest range leaves us among appearances still. -It only teaches us what really appears.’ - -Can the principle of uniformity of nature be derived from sequence of -feelings? - -321. Now the presupposition of this answer is the existence of just -that necessary connexion as between appearances, just that objective -order, for which, because it is not a possible ‘impression or idea,’ -Hume has to substitute a blind propensity produced by habit. Those -who make it, indeed, would repel the imputation of believing in any -‘necessary connexion,’ which to them represents that ‘mysterious -tie’ in which they vaguely suppose ‘metaphysicians’ to believe. They -would say that necessary connexion is no more than uniformity of -sequence. But sequence of what? Not of feelings as the individual -feels them, for then there would be no perfect uniformities, but -only various degrees of approximation to uniformity, and the -measure of approximation in each case would be the amount of the -individual’s experience in that particular direction. The procedure -of the inductive logician shows that his belief in the uniformity -of a sequence is irrespective of the number of instances in which -it has been experienced. A single instance in which one feeling is -felt after another, if it satisfy the requirements of the ‘method -of difference,’ _i.e._ if it show exactly what it is that precedes -and what it is that follows in that instance, suffices to establish -a uniformity of sequence, on the principle that what is fact once -is fact always. Now a uniformity that can be thus established is in -the proper sense necessary. Its existence is not contingent on its -being felt by anyone or everyone. It does not come into being with -the experiment that shows it. It is felt because it is real, not real -because it is felt. It may be objected indeed that the principle of -the ‘uniformity of nature,’ the principle that what is fact once is -fact always, itself gradually results from the observation of facts -which are feelings, and that thus the principle which enables us to -dispense with the repetition of a sensible experience is itself due -to such repetition. The answer is, that feelings which are conceived -as facts are already conceived as constituents of a nature. The same -presence of the thinking subject to, and distinction of itself from, -the feelings, which renders them knowable _facts_, renders them -members of a world which is one throughout its changes. In other -words, the presence of facts from which the uniformity of nature, as -an abstract rule, is to be inferred, is already the consciousness of -that uniformity _in concreto_. - -With Hume the only uniformity is in expectation, as determined by -habit; but strength of such expectation must vary indefinitely. - -322. Hume himself makes a much more thorough attempt to avoid -that pre-determination of feelings by the conception of a world, -of things and relations, which is implied in the view of them as -permanent facts. He will not, if he can help it, so openly depart -from the original doctrine that thought is merely weaker sense. Such -conceptions as those of the uniformity of nature and of reality, -being no possible ‘impressions or ideas,’ he only professes to admit -in a character wholly different from that in which they actually -govern inductive philosophy. Just as by reality he understands not -something to which liveliness of feeling may be an index, but simply -that liveliness itself, and by an inferred or believed reality a -feeling to which this liveliness has been communicated from one that -already has it; so he is careful to tell us ‘that the supposition -that the future resembles the past is derived entirely from habit, -by which we are determined to expect for the future the same train -of objects to which we have been accustomed’. [1] The supposition -then _is_ this ‘determination,’ this ‘propensity,’ to expect. Any -‘idea’ derived from the propensity can only be the propensity itself -at a fainter stage; and between such a propensity and the conception -of ‘nature,’ whether as uniform or otherwise, there is a difference -which only the most hasty reader can be liable to ignore. But if -by any confusion an expectation of future feelings, determined by -the remembrance of past feelings, could be made equivalent to any -conception of nature, it would not be of nature as uniform. As is -the ‘habit’ which determines the expectation, such must be the -expectation itself; and as have been the sequences of feeling in -each man’s past, such must be the habit which results from them. Now -no one’s feelings have always occurred to him in the same relative -order. There may be some pairs of feelings of which one has always -been felt before the other and never after it, and between which -there has never been an intervention of a third--although (to take -Hume’s favourite instance) even the feeling of heat may sometimes -precede the sight of the flame--and in these cases upon occurrence of -one there will be nothing to qualify the expectation of the other. -But just so far as there are exceptions in our past experience to -the immediate sequence of one feeling upon another, must there be a -qualification of our expectation of the future, if it be undetermined -by extraneous conceptions, with reference to those particular -feelings. - -[1] P. 431. [Book I, part III., sec. XII.] - -It could not serve the same purpose as the conception of uniformity -of nature. - -323. Thus the expectation that ‘the future will resemble the past,’ -if the past means to each man (and Hume could not allow of its -meaning more) merely the succession of his own feelings, must be made -up of a multitude of different expectations--some few of these being -of that absolute and unqualified sort which alone, it would seem, -can regulate the transition that we are pleased to call ‘necessary -connexion;’ the rest as various in their strength and liveliness -as there are possible differences between cases where the chances -are evenly balanced and where they are all on one side. From Hume’s -point of view, as he himself says, ‘every past experiment,’ _i.e._ -every instance in which feeling _(a)_ has been found to follow -feeling _(b)_, ‘may be considered a kind of chance’. [1] As are the -instances of this kind to the instances in which some other feeling -has followed _(b)_, such are the chances or ‘probability’ that _(a)_ -will follow _(b)_ again, and such upon the occurrence of _(b)_ will -be that liveliness in the expectation of _(a)_, which alone with Hume -is the reality of the connexion between them. In such an expectation, -in an expectation made up of such expectations, there would be -nothing to serve the purpose which the conception of the uniformity -of nature actually serves in inductive science. It could never make -us believe that a feeling felt before another--as when the motion -of a bell is seen before the sound of it has been heard--represents -the real antecedent. It could never set us upon that analysis of our -experience by which we seek to get beyond sequences that are merely -usual, and admit of indefinite exceptions, to such as are invariable; -upon that ‘interrogation of nature’ by which, on the faith that -there is a uniformity if only we could find it out, we wrest from -her that confession of a law which she does not spontaneously offer. -The fact that some sequences of feeling have been so uniform as to -result in unqualified expectations (if it be so) could of itself -afford no motive for trying to compass other expectations of a like -character which do not naturally present themselves. Nor could there -be anything in the appearance of an exception to a sequence, hitherto -found uniform, to lead us to change our previous expectation for -one which shall not be liable to such modification. The previous -expectation would be so far weakened, but there is nothing in the -mere weakening of our expectations that should lead to the effort -to place them beyond the possibility of being weakened. Much less -could the bundle of expectations come to conceive themselves as one -system so as that, through the interpretation of each exception to -a supposed uniformity of sequence as an instance of a real one, the -changes of the parts should prove the unchangeableness of the whole. - -[1] P. 433. [Book I, part III., sec. XII.] - -Hume changes the meaning of this expectation by his account of -the ‘remembrance’ which determines it. Bearing of his doctrine -of necessary connexion upon his argument against miracles. This -remembrance, as he describes it, supposes conception of a system of -nature. - -324. That a doctrine which reduces the order of nature to strength -of expectation, and exactly reverses the positions severally given -to belief and reality in the actual procedure of science, [1] should -have been ostensibly adopted by scientific men as their own--with -every allowance for Hume’s literary skill and for the charm which the -prospect of overcoming the separation between reason and instinct -exercises over naturalists--would have been unaccountable if the -doctrine had been thus nakedly put or consistently maintained. -But it was not so. Hume’s sense of consistency was satisfied when -expectation determined by remembrance had been put in the place -of necessary connexion, as the basis of ‘inference to matters of -fact.’ It does not lead him to adjust his view of the fact inferred -to his view of the basis on which the inference rests. Expectation -is an ‘impression of reflection,’ and if the relation of cause and -effect is no more than expectation, that which seemed most strongly -to resist reduction to feeling has yet been so reduced. But if the -expectation is to be no more than an impression of reflection, the -object expected must itself be no more than an impression of some -kind or other. The expectation must be expectation of a feeling, -pure and simple. Nor does Hume in so many words allow that it is -otherwise, but meanwhile though the expectation itself is not openly -tampered with, the remembrance that determines it is so. This is -being taken to be that, which it cannot be unless ideas unborrowed -from impressions are operative in and upon it. It is being regarded, -not as the recurrence of a multitude of feelings with a liveliness -indefinitely less than that in virtue of which they are called -impressions of sense, and indefinitely greater than that in virtue of -which they are called ideas of imagination, but as the recognition -of a world of experience, one, real and abiding. An expectation -determined by such remembrance is governed by the same ‘fictions’ of -identity and continued existence which are the formative conditions -of the remembrance. Expectation and remembrance, in fact, are one and -the same intellectual act, one and the same reference of feelings, -given in time, to an order that is not in time, distinguished -according to the two faces which, its ‘matter’ being in time, it -has to present severally to past and future. The remembrance is the -measure of the expectation, but as the remembrance carries with it -the notion of a world whose existence does not depend on its being -remembered, and whose laws do not vary according to the regularity -or looseness with which our ideas are associated, so too does the -expectation, and only as so doing becomes the mover and regulator of -‘inference from the known to the unknown.’ - -[1] It is by a curious fate that Hume should have been remembered, -at any rate in the ‘religious’ world, chiefly by the argument -against miracles which appears in the ‘Essays’--an argument which, -however irrefragable in itself, turns wholly upon that conception of -nature as other than our instinctive expectations and imaginations, -which has no proper place in his system (see Vol. IV. page 89). If -‘necessary connexion’ were really no more than the transition of -imagination, as determined by constant association, from an idea to -its usual attendant--if there were no conception of an objective -order to determine belief other than the belief itself--the fact that -such an event, as the revival of one four-days-dead at the command of -a person, had been believed, since it would show that the imagination -was at liberty to pass from the idea of the revival to that of the -command (or _vice versa_) with that liveliness which constitutes -reality, would show also that no necessary connexion, no law of -nature in the only sense in which Hume entitles himself to speak of -such, was violated by the sequence of the revival on the command. -At the same time there would be nothing ‘miraculous,’ according to -his definition of the miraculous as distinct from the extraordinary, -in the case. Taken strictly, indeed, his doctrine implies that a -belief in a miracle is a contradiction in terms. An event is not -regarded as miraculous unless it is regarded as a ‘transgression -of a law of nature by a particular volition of the Deity or by -the interposition of some invisible agent’ (page 93, note 1); but -it could not transgress a law of nature in Hume’s sense unless it -were so inconsistent with the habitual association of ideas as that -it could not be believed. Hume’s only consistent way of attacking -miracles, then, would have been to show that the events in question, -as _miraculous_, had never been believed. Having been obliged to -recognize the belief in their having happened, he is open to the -retort ‘ad hominem’ that according to his own showing the belief -in the events constitutes their reality. Such a retort, however, -would be of no avail in the theological interest, which requires not -merely that the events should have happened but that they should have -been _miraculous_, _i.e._ ‘transgressions of a law of nature by a -particular volition of the Deity.’ - -325. In the passage already quoted, where Hume is speaking of the -expectation in question as depending simply on habit, he yet speaks -of it as an expectation ‘of the _same train of objects_ to which -we have been accustomed.’ These words in effect imply that it is -_not_ habit, as constituted simply by the repetition of separate -sequences of feelings, that governs the expectation--in which case, -as we have seen, the expectation would be made up of expectations -as many and as various in strength as have been the sequences and -their several degrees of regularity--but, if habit in any sense, -habit as itself governed by conceptions of ‘identity and distinct -continued existence,’ in virtue of which, as past experience is -not an indefinite series of perishing impressions of separate men -but represents one world, so all fresh experience becomes part ‘of -the same train of objects;’ part of a system of which, as a whole, -‘the change lies only in the time’. [1] If now we look back to the -account given of the relation of memory to belief we shall find that -it is just so far as, without distinct avowal, and in violation of -his principles, he makes ‘impressions of memory’ carry with them the -conception of a real system, other than the consciousness of their -own liveliness, that he gains a meaning for belief which makes it in -any respect equivalent to the judgment, based on inference, of actual -science. - -[1] P. 492. [Book I, part IV., sec. II.] - -This explains his occasional inconsistent ascription of an objective -character to causation. - -326. Any one who has carefully read the chapters on inference and -belief will have found himself frequently doubting whether he has -caught the author’s meaning correctly. A clear line of thought may -be traced throughout, as we have already tried to trace it [1]--one -perfectly consistent with itself and leading properly to the -conclusion that ‘all reasonings are nothing but the effect of custom, -and that custom has no influence but by enlivening the imagination’ -[2]--but its even tenour is disturbed by the exigency of showing -that proven fact, after turning out to be no more than enlivened -imagination, is still what common sense and physical science take it -to be. According to the consistent theory, ideas of memory are needed -for inference to cause or effect, simply because they are lively. -Such inference is inference to a ‘real existence,’ that is to an -‘idea assented to,’ that is to a feeling having such liveliness as, -not being itself one of sense or memory, it can only derive from one -of sense or memory through association with it. That the inferred -idea is a cause or effect and, as such, has ‘real existence,’ merely -means that it has this derived liveliness or is believed; just as -the reality ascribed to the impression of memory lies merely in its -having this abundant liveliness from which to communicate to its -‘usual attendant.’ But while the title of an idea to be reckoned a -cause or effect is thus made to depend on its having the derived -liveliness which constitutes belief, [3] on the other hand we find -Hume from time to time making belief depend on causation, as on a -relation of objects distinct from the lively suggestion of one by -the others. ‘Belief arises only from causation, and we can draw no -inference from one object to another except they be connected by -this relation.’ ‘The relation of cause and effect is requisite to -persuade us of any real existence’. [4] In the context of these -disturbing admissions we find a reconsideration of the doctrine of -memory which explains them, but only throws back on that doctrine the -inconsistency which they exhibit in the doctrine of belief. - -[1] Above, paragraphs 289 and ff. - -[2] P. 445. [Book I, part III., sec. XIII.] - -[3] It may be as well here to point out the inconsistency in Hume’s -use of ‘belief.’ At the end of sec. 5 (Part III.) the term is -extended to ‘impressions of the senses and memory.’ We are said to -believe when ‘we feel an _immediate impression_ of the senses, or a -repetition of that impression in the memory. But in the following -section the characteristic of belief is placed in the _derived_ -liveliness of an _idea_ as distinct from the immediate liveliness of -impression. - -[4] Pp. 407 & 409. [Book I, part III., sec. IX.] - -Reality of remembered ‘system’ transferred to ‘system of judgment’. - -327. This reconsideration arises out of an objection to his doctrine -which Hume anticipates, to the effect that since, according to it, -belief is a lively idea associated ‘to a present impression,’ any -suggestion of an idea by a resembling or contiguous impression -should constitute belief. How is it then that ‘belief arises only -from causation’? His answer, which must be quoted at length, is as -follows:--‘’Tis evident that whatever is present to the memory, -striking upon the mind with a vivacity which resembles an immediate -impression, must become of considerable moment in all the operations -of the mind and must easily distinguish itself above the mere -fictions of the imagination. Of these impressions or ideas of the -memory we form a kind of system, comprehending whatever we remember -to have been present either to our internal perception or senses, and -every particular of that system, joined to the present impressions, -we are pleased to call a _reality_. But the mind stops not here. -For finding that with this system of perceptions there is another -connected by custom or, if you will, by the relation of cause and -effect, it proceeds to the consideration of their ideas; and as it -feels that ’tis in a manner necessarily determined to view these -particular ideas, and that the custom or relation by which it is -determined admits not of the least change, it forms them into a new -system, which it likewise dignifies with the title of _realities_. -The first of these systems is the object of the memory and senses; -the second of the judgment. ’Tis this latter principle which peoples -the world, and brings us acquainted which such existences as, by -their removal in time and place, lie beyond the reach of the senses -and memory’. [1] - -[1] P. 408. [Book I, part III., sec. IX.] - -Reality of the former ‘system’ other than vivacity of impressions. - -328. From this it appears that ‘what we are pleased to call -reality’ belongs, not merely to a ‘present impression,’ but to -‘every particular of a system joined to the present impression’ and -‘comprehending whatever we remember to have been present either -to our internal perception or senses.’ This admission already -amounts to an abandonment of the doctrine that reality consists in -liveliness of feeling. It cannot be that every particular of the -system comprehending all remembered facts, which is joined with the -present impression, can have the vivacity of that impression either -along with it or by successive communication. We can only feel one -thing at a time, and by the time the vivacity had spread far from the -present impression along the particulars of the system, it must have -declined from that indefinite degree which marks an impression of -sense. It is not, then, the derivation of vivacity from the present -impression, to which it is joined, that renders the ‘remembered -system’ real; and what other vivacity can it be? It may be said -indeed that each particular of the system had once the required -vivacity, was once a present impression; but if in ceasing to be so, -it did not cease to be real--if, on the contrary, it could not become -a ‘particular of the system,’ counted real, without becoming other -than the ‘perishing existence’ which an impression is--it is clear -that there is a reality which lively feeling does not constitute -and which involves the ‘fiction’ of an existence continued in the -absence, not only of lively feeling, but of all feelings whatsoever. -So soon, in short, as reality is ascribed to a system, which cannot -be an ‘impression’ and of which consequently there cannot be an -‘idea,’ the first principle of Hume’s speculation is abandoned. The -truth is implicitly recognized that the reality of an individual -object consists in that system of its relations which only exists for -a conceiving, as distinct from a feeling, subject, even as the unreal -has no meaning except as a confused or inadequate conception of such -relations; and that thus the ‘present impression’ is neither real -nor unreal in itself, but may be equally one or the other according -as the relations, under which it is conceived by the subject of -it, correspond to those by which it is determined for a perfect -intelligence. [1] - -[1] See above, paragraphs 184 & 183. - -It is constituted by relations, which are not impressions at all; -and in this lies explanation of the inference from it to ‘system of -judgment’. - -329. A clear recognition of this truth can alone explain the nature -of belief as a result of inference from the known to the unknown, -which is, at the same time, inference to a matter of fact. The -popular notion, of course, is that certain facts are given by feeling -without inference and then other facts inferred from them. But what -is ‘fact’ taken to mean? If a feeling, then an inferred fact is a -contradiction, for it is an unfelt feeling. If (as should be the -case) it is taken to mean the relation of a feeling to something, -then it already involves inference--the interpretation of the feeling -by means of the conception of a universal, self or world, brought -to it--an inference which is all inference _in posse_, for it -implies that a universe of relations is there, which I must know if -I would know the full reality of the individual object: so that no -fact can be even partially known without compelling an inference to -the unknown, nor can there be any inference to the unknown without -modification of what already purports to be known. Hume, trying to -carry out the equivalence of fact and feeling, and having clearer -sight than his masters, finds himself in the presence of this -difficulty about inference. Unless the inferred object is other than -one of sense (outer or inner) or of memory, there is no reasoning, -but only perception; [1] but if it is other, how can it be real -or even an object of consciousness at all, since consciousness is -only of impressions, stronger or fainter? The only consistent way -out of the difficulty, as we have seen, is to explain inference as -the expectation of the recurrence of a feeling felt before, through -which the unknown becomes known merely in the sense that from the -repetition of the recurrence the expectation has come to amount -to the fullest assurance. But according to this explanation the -difference between the inferences of the savage and those of the man -of science will lie, not in the objects inferred, but in the strength -of the expectation that constitutes the inference. Meanwhile, if a -semblance of explanation has been given for the inference from cause -to effect, that from effect to cause remains quite in the dark. How -can there be inference from a given feeling to that felt immediately -before it? - -[1] Pp. 376 & 388. [Book I, part III., secs. II. and VI.] - -Not seeing this, Hume has to explain inference to latter system as -something forced upon us by habit. - -330. From the avowal of such paradoxical results, Hume only saved -himself by reverting, as in the passage before us, to the popular -view--to the distinction between two ‘systems of reality,’ one -perceived, the other inferred; one ‘the object of the senses and -memory,’ the other ‘of the judgment.’ He sees that if the educated -man erased from his knowledge upon us by of the world all ‘facts’ but -those for which he has ‘the evidence of his senses and memory,’ his -world would be unpeopled; but he has not the key to the true identity -between the two systems. Not recognizing the inference already -involved in a fact of sense or memory, he does not see that it is -only a further articulation of this inference which gives the fact of -judgment; that as the simplest fact for which we have the ‘evidence -of sense’ is already not a feeling but an explanation of a feeling, -which connects it by relations, that are not feelings, with an unfelt -universe, so inferred causes and effects are explanations of these -explanations, by which they are connected as mutually determinant -in the one world whose presence the simplest fact, the most primary -explanation of feeling, supposes no less than the most complete. Not -seeing this, what is he to make of the system of merely inferred -realities? He will represent the relation of cause and effect, which -connects it with the ‘system of memory,’ as a habit derived from the -constant _de facto_ sequence of this or that ‘inferred’ upon this -or that remembered idea. The mind, ‘feeling’ the unchangeableness -of this habit, regards the idea, which in virtue of it follows upon -the impression of memory, as equally real with that impression. -In this he finds an answer to the two questions which he himself -raises: _(a)_ ‘Why is it that we draw no inference from one object -to another, except they be connected by the relation of cause and -effect;’ or (which is the same, since inference to an object implies -the ascription of reality to it), ‘Why is this relation requisite to -persuade us of any real existence?’ and _(b)_, ‘How is it that the -relations of resemblance and contiguity have not the same effect?’ -The answer to the first is, that we do not ascribe reality to an -idea recalled by an impression, unless we find that, owing to its -customary sequence upon the impression, we cannot help passing from -the one to the other. The answer to the second corresponds. The -contiguity of an idea to an impression, if it has been repeated -often enough and without any ‘arbitrary’ action on our part, is -the relation of cause and effect, and thus does ‘persuade us of -real existence.’ A ‘feigned’ contiguity, on the other hand, because -we are conscious that it is ‘of our mere good-will and pleasure’ -that we give the idea that relation to the impression, can produce -no belief. ‘There is no reason why, upon the return of the same -impression, we should be determined to place the same object in the -same relation to it’. [1] In like manner we must suppose (though this -is not so clearly stated) that when an impression--such as the sight -of a picture--calls up a resembling idea (that of the man depicted) -with much vivacity, it does not ‘persuade us of his real existence’ -because we are conscious that it is by the ‘mere good-will and -pleasure’ of some one that the likeness has been produced. - -[1] P. 409. [Book I, part III., sec. IX.] - -But if so, ‘system of judgment’ must consist of feelings constantly -experienced; - -331. Now this account has the fault of being inconsistent with Hume’s -primary doctrine, inasmuch as it makes the real an object of thought -in distinction from feeling, without the merit of explaining the -extension of knowledge beyond the objects of sense and memory. It -turns upon a conception of the real, as the unchangeable, which the -succession of feelings, in endless variety, neither is nor could -suggest. It implies that not in themselves, but as representing -such an unchangeable, are the feelings which ‘return on us whether -we will or no,’ regarded as real. The peculiar sequence of one idea -on another, which is supposed to constitute the relation of cause -and effect, is not, according to this description of it, a sequence -of feelings simply; it is a sequence reflected on, found to be -unchangeable, and thus to entitle the sequent idea to the prerogative -of reality previously awarded (but only by the admission as real -of the ‘fiction’ of distinct continued existence) to the system of -memory. But while the identification of the real with feeling is -thus in effect abandoned, in saving the appearance of retaining it, -Hume makes his explanation of the ‘system of judgment’ futile for -its purpose. He saves the appearance by intimating that the relation -of cause and effect, by which the inferred idea is connected with -the idea of memory and derives reality from it, is only the repeated -sequence of the one idea upon the other, of the less lively feelings -upon the more lively, or a habit that results from such repetition. -But if the sequence of the inferred idea upon the other must have -been so often repeated in order to the existence of the relation -which renders the inference possible, the inferred idea can be no -new one, but must itself be an idea of memory, and the question, how -any one’s knowledge comes to extend beyond the range of his memory, -remains unanswered. - -... which only differ from remembered feelings inasmuch as their -liveliness has faded. But how can it have faded, if they have been -constantly repeated? - -332. What Hume himself seems to mean us to understand is, that the -inferred idea is one of imagination, as distinct from memory; and -that the characteristic of the relation of cause and effect is that -through it ideas of imagination acquire the reality that would -otherwise be confined to impressions of sense and memory. But, -according to him, ideas of imagination only differ from those of -memory in respect of their less liveliness, and of the freedom with -which we can combine ideas in imagination that have not been given -together as impressions. [1] Now the latter difference is in this -case out of the question. A compound idea of imagination, in which -simple ideas are put together that have never been felt together, can -clearly never be connected with an impression of sense or memory by -a relation derived from constant experience of the sequence of one -upon the other, and specially opposed to the creations of ‘caprice’. -[2] We are left, then, to the supposition that the inferred idea, -as idea of imagination, is one originally given as an impression -of sense, but of which the liveliness has faded and requires to be -revived by association in the way of cause and effect with one that -has retained the liveliness proper to an idea of memory. Then the -question recurs, how the restoration of its liveliness by association -with an impression, on which it must have been constantly sequent in -order that the association may be possible, is compatible with the -fact that its liveliness has faded. And however this question may be -dealt with, if the relation of cause and effect is merely custom, the -extension of knowledge by means of it remains unaccounted for; the -breach between the expectation of the recurrence of familiar feelings -and inductive science remains unfilled; Locke’s ‘suspicion’ that -‘a science of nature is impossible,’ instead of being overcome, is -elaborated into a system. - -[1] Part I., sec. 3; cf. note on p. 416 [Book I, part III., sec. IX.]. - -[2] P. 409. [Book I, part III., sec. IX.] - -Inference then can give no new knowledge. - -333. Thus inference, according to Hume’s account of it as originating -in habit, suffers from a weakness quite as fatal as that which he -supposes to attach to it if accounted for as the work of reason. -‘The work of reason’ to a follower of Locke meant either the mediate -perception of likeness between ideas, which the discovery of cause or -effect cannot be; or else syllogism, of which Locke had shown once -for all that it could yield no ‘instructive propositions.’ But if an -idea arrived at by that process could be neither new nor real--not -new, because we must have been familiar with it before we put it -into the compound idea from which we ‘deduce’ it; not real, because -it has not the liveliness either of sensation or of memory--the -idea inferred according to Hume’s process, however real with the -reality of liveliness, is certainly not new. ‘If this means’ (the -modern logician may perhaps reply), ‘that according to Hume no new -phenomenon can be given by inference, he was quite right in thinking -so. If the object of inference were a separate phenomenon, it would -be quite true that it must have been repeatedly perceived before it -could be inferred, and that thus inference would be nugatory. But -inference is in fact not to such an object, but to a uniform relation -of certain phenomena in the way of co-existence and sequence; and -what Hume may be presumed to mean is not that every such relation -must have been perceived before it can be inferred, much less that -it must have been perceived so constantly that an appearance of the -one phenomenon causes instinctive expectation of the other, but _(a)_ -that the phenomena themselves must have been given by immediate -perception, and _(b)_ that the conception of a law of causation, in -virtue of which a uniformity of relation between them is inferred -from a single instance of it, is itself the result of an “inductio -per enumerationem simplicem,” of the accumulated experience of -generations that the same sequents follow the same antecedents.’ - -Nor does this merely mean that it cannot constitute new phenomena, -while it can prove relations, previously unknown, between phenomena. -Such a distinction inadmissible with Hume. - -334. At the point which our discussion has reached, few words should -be wanted to show that thus to interpret Hume is to read into him -an essentially alien theory, which has doubtless grown out of his, -but only by a process of adaptation which it needs a principle the -opposite of his to justify. Hume, according to his own profession, -knows of no objects but impressions and ideas--feelings stronger or -more faint--of no reality which it needs thought, as distinct from -feeling, to constitute. But a uniform relation between phenomena -is neither impression nor idea, and can only exist for thought. -He could not therefore admit inference to such relation as to a -real existence, without a double contradiction, nor does he ever -explicitly do so. He never allows that inference is other than a -transition to a certain sort of feeling, or that it is other than -the work of imagination, the weakened sense, as enlivened by custom -to a degree that puts it _almost_ on a level with sense; which -implies that in every case of inference the inferred object is -_not_ a uniform relation--for how can there be an image of uniform -relation?--and that it _is_ something which has been repeatedly -and without exception perceived to follow another before it can be -inferred. Even when in violation of his principle he has admitted -a ‘system of memory’--a system of things which have been felt, but -which are not feelings, stronger or fainter, and which are what they -are only through relation--he still in effect, as we have seen, makes -the ‘system of judgment,’ which he speaks of as inferred from it, -only the double of it. To suppose that, on the strength of a general -inference, itself the result of habit, in regard to the uniformity -of nature, particular inferences may be made which shall be other -than repetitions of a sequence already habitually repeated, is, if -there can be degrees of contradiction, even more incompatible with -Hume’s principles than to suppose such inferences without it. If -a uniformity of relation between particular phenomena is neither -impression nor idea, even less so is the system of all relations. - -His distinction of probability of causes from that of chances might -seem to imply conception of nature, as determining inference. - -335. There is language, however, in the chapters on ‘Probability of -Chances and of Causes,’ which at first sight might seem to warrant -the ascription of such a supposition to Hume. According to the -distinction which he inherited from Locke all inference to or from -causes or effects, since it does not consist in any comparison of the -related ideas, should be merely probable. And as such he often speaks -of it. His originality lies in his effort to explain what Locke had -named; in his treating that ‘something not joined on both sides -to, and so not showing the agreement or disagreement of, the ideas -under consideration’ which yet ‘makes me believe’, [1] definitely -as Habit. But ‘in common discourse,’ as he remarks, ‘we readily -affirm that many arguments from causation exceed probability’; [2] -the explanation being that in these cases the habit which determines -the transition from impression to idea is ‘full and perfect.’ There -has been enough past experience of the immediate sequence of the -one ‘perception’ on the other to form the habit, and there has been -no exception to it. In these cases the ‘assurance,’ though distinct -from knowledge, may be fitly styled ‘proof,’ the term ‘probability’ -being confined to those in which the assurance is not complete. Hume -thus comes to use ‘probability’ as equivalent to incompleteness of -assurance, and in this sense speaks of it as ‘derived either from -imperfect experience, or from contrary causes, or from analogy’. -[3] It is derived from analogy when the present impression, which -is needed to give vivacity to the ‘related idea,’ is not perfectly -like the impressions with which the idea has been previously found -united; ‘from contrary causes,’ when there have been exceptions to -the immediate sequence or antecedence of the one perception to the -other; ‘from imperfect experience’ when, though there have been no -exceptions, there has not been enough experience of the sequence to -form a ‘full and perfect habit of transition.’ Of this last ‘species -of probability,’ Hume says that it is a kind which, ‘though it -naturally takes place before any entire proof can exist, yet no one -who is arrived at the age of maturity can any longer be acquainted -with. ’Tis true, nothing is more common than for people of the most -advanced knowledge to have attained only an imperfect experience of -many particular events; which naturally produces only an imperfect -habit and transition; but then we must consider that the mind, having -formed another observation concerning the connexion of causes and -effects, gives new force to its reasoning from that observation; -and by means of it can build an argument on one single experiment, -when duly prepared and examined. What we have found once to follow -from any object we conclude will for ever follow from it; and if -this maxim be not always built upon as certain, ’tis not for want of -a sufficient number of experiments, but because we frequently meet -with instances to the contrary’--which give rise to the other sort of -weakened assurance or probability, that from ‘contrary causes’. [4] - -[1] Locke, 4, 15, 3. - -[2] P. 423. [Book I, part III., sec. XI.] - -[3] P. 439. [Book I, part III., sec. XIII.] - -[4] Pp. 429 & 430. [Book I, part III., sec. XII.] - -But this distinction he only professes to adopt in order to explain -it away. - -336. There is a great difference between the meaning which the above -passage conveys when read in the light of the accepted logic of -science, and that which it conveys when interpreted consistently with -the theory in the statement of which it occurs. Whether Hume, in -writing as he does of that conclusion from a single experiment, which -our observation concerning the connexion of cause and effect enables -us to draw, understood himself to be expressing his own theory or -merely using the received language provisionally, one cannot be -sure; but it is certain that such language can only be justified by -those ‘maxims of philosophers’ which it is the purpose or effect of -his doctrine to explain away--in particular the maxims that ‘the -connexion between all causes and effects is equally necessary and -that its seeming uncertainty in some instances proceeds from the -secret opposition of contrary causes;’ and that ‘what the vulgar -call chance is but a concealed cause’. [1] These maxims represent -the notion that the law of causation is objective and universal; -that all seeming limitations to it, all ‘probable and contingent -matter,’ are the reflections of our ignorance, and exist merely _ex -parte nostrâ_. In other words, they represent the notion of that -‘continued existence distinct from our perceptions,’ which with Hume -is a phrase generated by ‘propensities to feign.’ Yet he does not -profess to reject them; nay, he handles them as if they were his own, -but after a very little of his manipulation they are so ‘translated’ -that they would not know themselves. Because philosophers ‘allow -that what the vulgar call chance is nothing but a concealed cause,’ -‘probability of causes’ and ‘probability of chances’ may be taken as -equivalent. But chance, as ‘merely negation of a cause,’ has been -previously explained, on the supposition that causation means a -‘perfect habit of imagination,’ to be the absence of such habit--the -state in which imagination is perfectly indifferent in regard to the -transition from a given impression to an idea, because the transition -has not been repeated often enough to form even the beginning of a -habit. Such being mere chance, ‘probability of chances’ means a state -of imagination between the perfect indifference and that perfect -habit of transition, which is ‘necessary connexion.’ ‘Probability -of causes’ is the same thing. Its strength or weakness depends -simply on the proportion between the number of experiments (‘each -experiment being a kind of chance’) in which A has been found to -immediately follow B, and the number of those in which it has not. -[2] Mere chance, probability, and causation then are equally states -of imagination. The ‘equal necessity of the connexion between all -causes and effects’ means not that any ‘law of causation pervades -the universe,’ but that, unless the habit of transition between any -feelings is ‘full and perfect,’ we do not speak of these feelings as -related in the way of cause and effect. - -[1] Pp. 429 & 430. [Book I, part III., sec. XII.] - -[2] Pp. 424-428, 432-434. [Book I, part III., secs. XI. and XII.] - -Laws of nature are unqualified habits of expectation. - -337. Interpreted consistently with this doctrine, the passage quoted -in the last paragraph but one can only mean that, when a man has -arrived at maturity, his experience of the sequence of feelings -cannot fail in quantity. He must have had experience _enough_ to form -not only a perfect habit of transition from any impression to the -idea of its usual attendant, but a habit which would act upon us even -in the case of novel events, and lead us after a single experiment -or a sequence confidently to expect its recurrence, if only the -experience had been _uniform_. It is because it has not been so, -that in many cases the habit of transition is still imperfect, and -the sequence of A on B not ‘proven,’ but ‘probable.’ The probability -then which affects the imagination of the matured man is of the sort -that arises from ‘contrary causes,’ as distinct from ‘imperfect -experience.’ This is all that the passage in question can fairly -mean. Such ‘probability’ cannot become ‘proof,’ or the ‘imperfect -habit,’ perfect, by _discovery_ of any necessary connexion or law -of causation, for the perfect habit of transition, the imagination -enlivened to the maximum by custom, _is_ the law of causation. The -formation of the habit constitutes the law: to discover it would be -to discover what does not yet exist. The incompleteness of the habit -in certain directions, the limitation of our assurance to certain -sequences as distinct from others, must be equally a limitation -to the universality of the law. It is impossible then that on the -faith of the universality of the law we should seek to extend the -range of that assurance which is identical with it. Our ‘observation -concerning the connexion of causes and effects’ merely means the sum -of our assured expectations, founded on habit, at any given time, -and that on the strength of this we should ‘prepare an experiment,’ -with a view to assuring ourselves of a universal sequence from a -single instance, is as unaccountable as that, given the instance, the -assurance should follow. - -Experience, according to his account of it, cannot be a parent of -knowledge. - -338. The case then stands thus. In order to make the required -distinction between inference to real existence and the lively -suggestion of an idea, Hume has to graft on his theory the alien -notion of an objective system, an order of nature, represented by -ideas of memory, and on the strength of such a notion to interpret -a transition from these ideas to others, because we cannot help -making it, as an objective necessity. Of such alien notion and -interpretation he avails himself in his definition (understood as he -means it to be understood) of cause as a ‘natural relation’. [1] But -he had not the boldness of his later disciples. Though he could be -inconsistent so far, he could not be inconsistent far enough to make -his theory of inference fit the practice of natural philosophers. -Bound by his doctrine of ideas as copied from impressions, he can -give no account of inferred ideas that shall explain the extension -of knowledge beyond the expectation that we shall feel again what we -have felt already. It was not till another theory of experience was -forthcoming than that given by the philosophers who were most fond of -declaring their devotion to it, that the procedure of science could -be justified. The old philosophy, we are often truly told, had been -barren for want of contact with fact. It sought truth by a process -which really consisted in evolving the ‘connotation’ of general -names. The new birth came when the mind had learnt to leave the idols -of the tribe and cave, and to cleave solely to experience. If the -old philosophy, however, was superseded by science, science itself -required a new philosophy to answer the question. What constitutes -experience? It was in effect to answer this question that Locke -and Hume wrote, and it is the condemnation of their doctrine that, -according to it, experience is not a possible parent of science. It -is not those, we know, who cry ‘Lord, Lord!’ the loudest, that enter -into the kingdom of heaven, nor does the strongest assertion of our -dependence on experience imply a true insight into its nature. Hume -has found acceptance with men of science as the great exponent of the -doctrine that there can be no new knowledge without new experience. -It has not been noticed that with him such ‘new experience’ could -only mean a further repetition of familiar feelings, and that if it -means more to his followers, it is only because they have been less -faithful than he was to that antithesis between thought and reality -which they are not less loud in asserting. - -[1] See above, paragraph 317. - -His attitude towards doctrine of thinking substance. - -339. From the point that our enquiry has reached, we can anticipate -the line which Hume could not but take in regard to Self and God. -His scepticism lay ready to his hand in the incompatibility between -the principles of Locke and that doctrine of ‘thinking substance,’ -which Locke and Berkeley alike maintained. If the reader will revert -to the previous part of this introduction, in which that doctrine -was discussed, [1] he will find it equally a commentary upon -those sections of the ‘Treatise on Human Nature’ which deal with -‘immateriality of the soul’ and ‘personal identity.’ Substance, we -saw, alike as ‘extended’ and as ‘thinking,’ was a ‘creation of the -mind,’ yet real; something of which there was an ‘idea,’ but of which -nothing could be said but that it was not an ‘idea.’ The ‘thinking’ -substance, moreover, was at a special disadvantage in contrast with -the ‘extended,’ because, in the first place, it could not, like body, -be represented as given to consciousness in the feeling of solidity, -and secondly it was not wanted. It was a mere double of the extended -substance to which, as the ‘something wherein they do subsist and -from which they do result’ our ideas had already been referred. -Having no conception, then, of Spirit or Self before him but that -of the thinking substance, of which Berkeley had confessed that -it was not a possible idea or object of an idea, Hume had only to -apply the method, by which Berkeley himself had disposed of extended -substance, to get rid of Spirit likewise. This could be done in a -sentence, [2] but having done it, Hume is at further pains to show -that immateriality, simplicity, and identity cannot be ascribed to -the soul; as if there were a soul left to which anything could be -ascribed. - -[1] Above, paragraphs 127-135, 144-146, & 192. - -[2] P. 517. [Book I, part IV., sec. V.] - -As to Immateriality of the Soul, he plays off Locke and Berkeley -against each other, and proves Berkeley a Spinozist. - -340. There were two ways of conceiving the soul as immaterial, of -which Hume was cognizant. One, current among the theologians and -ordinary Cartesians and adopted by Locke, distinguishing extension -and thought as severally divisible and indivisible, supposed -separate substances--matter and the soul--to which these attributes, -incapable of ‘local conjunction,’ severally belonged. The other, -Berkeley’s, having ostensibly reduced extended matter to a succession -of feelings, took the exclusion of all ‘matter’ to which thought -could be ‘joined’ as a proof that the soul was immaterial. Hume, -with cool ingenuity, turns each doctrine to account against the -other. From Berkeley he accepts the reduction of sensible things to -sensations. Our feelings do not represent extended objects other -than themselves; but we cannot admit this without acknowledging the -consequence, as Berkeley himself implicitly did, [1] that certain of -our impressions--those of sight and touch--are themselves extended. -What then becomes of the doctrine, that the soul must be immaterial -because thought is not extended, and cannot be joined to what is -so? Thought means the succession of impressions. Of these some, -though the smaller number, are actually extended; and those that -are not so are united to those that are by the ‘natural relations’ -of resemblance and of contiguity in time of appearance, and by the -consequent relation of cause and effect. [2] The relation of local -conjunction, it is true, can only obtain between impressions which -are alike extended. The ascription of it to such as are unextended -arises from the ‘propensity in human nature, when objects are united -by any relation, to add some new relation in order to complete the -union’. [3] This admission, however, can yield no triumph to those -who hold that thought can only be joined to a ‘simple and indivisible -substance.’ If the existence of unextended impressions requires the -supposition of a thinking substance ‘simple and indivisible,’ the -existence of extended ones must equally imply a thinking substance -that has all the properties of extended objects. If it is absurd -to suppose that perceptions which are unextended can belong to a -substance which is extended, it is equally absurd to suppose that -perceptions which are extended can belong to a substance that is -not so. Thus Berkeley’s criticism has indeed prevailed against the -vulgar notion of a material substance as opposed to a thinking one, -but meanwhile he is himself ‘hoist with his own petard.’ If that -thinking substance, the survival of which was the condition of his -theory serving its theological purpose, [4] is to survive at all, -it can only be as equivalent to Spinoza’s substance, in which ‘both -matter and thought were supposed to inhere.’ The universe of our -experience--‘the sun, moon, and stars; the earth, seas, plants, -animals, men, ships, houses, and other productions, either of art -or nature’--is the same universe when it is called ‘the universe of -objects or of body,’ and when it is called ‘the universe of thought, -or of impressions and ideas;’ but to hold, according to Spinoza’s -‘hideous hypothesis,’ that ‘the universe of objects or of body’ -inheres in one simple uncompounded substance, is to rouse ‘a hundred -voices of scorn and detestation;’ while the same hypothesis in regard -to the ‘universe of impressions and ideas’ is treated ‘with applause -and veneration.’ It was to save God and Immortality that the ‘great -philosopher,’ who had found the true way out of the scholastic -absurdity of abstract ideas, [5] had yet clung to the ‘unintelligible -chimaera’ of thinking substance; and after all, in doing so, he fell -into a ‘true atheism,’ indistinguishable from that which had rendered -the unbelieving Jew ‘so universally infamous’. [6] - -[1] See above, par. 177. - -[2] Pp. 520-521. [Book I, part IV., sec. V.] - -[3] P. 521. [Book I, part IV., sec. V.] - -[4] See page 325. [Book I, part I., sec. VII.] - -[5] See above, paragraphs 191 and foll. - -[6] Pp. 523-526. [Book I, part IV., sec. V.] - -Causality of spirit treated in the same way. - -341. The supposition of spiritual substance being thus at once -absurd, and of a tendency the very opposite of the purpose it was -meant to serve, can anything better be said for the supposition of -a spiritual cause? It was to the representation of spirit as cause -rather than as substance, it will be remembered, that both Locke -and Berkeley trusted for the establishment of a Theism which should -not be Pantheism. [1] Locke, in his demonstration of the being of -God, trusted for proof of a first cause to the inference from that -which begins to exist to something having power to produce it, and -to the principle of necessary connexion--connexion in the way of -agreement of ideas--between cause and effect for proof that this -first cause must be immaterial, even as its effect, viz. our thought, -is. Hume’s doctrine of causation, of course, renders both sides of -the demonstration unmeaning. Inference being only the suggestion by -a feeling of the image of its ‘usual attendant,’ there can be no -inference to that which is not a possible image of an impression. -Nor, since causation merely means the constant conjunction of -impressions, and there is no such contrariety between the impression -we call ‘motion of matter’ and that we call ‘thought,’ anymore than -between any other impressions, [2] as is incompatible with their -constant conjunction, is there any reason why we should set aside the -hourly experience, which tells us that bodily motions are the cause -of thoughts and sentiments. If, however, there were that necessary -connexion between effect and cause, by which Locke sought to show the -spirituality of the first cause, it would really go to show just the -reverse of infinite power in such cause. It is from our impressions -and ideas that we are supposed to infer this cause; but in these--as -Berkeley had shown, and shown as his way of proving the existence of -God--there is no efficacy whatever. They are ‘inert.’ If then the -cause must agree with the effect, the Supreme Being, as the cause -of our impressions and ideas, must be ‘inert’ likewise. If, on the -other hand, with Berkeley we cling to the notion that there must be -efficient power somewhere, and having excluded it from the relation -of ideas to each other or of matter to ideas, find it in the direct -relation of God to ideas, we fall ‘into the grossest impieties;’ -for it will follow that God ‘is the author of all our volitions and -impressions.’ [3] - -[1] See above, §§ 147, 171, 193. - -[2] There is no contrariety, according to Hume, except between -existence and non-existence (p. 323) [Book I, part I., sec. V.] and -as all impressions and ideas equally exist (p. 394) [Book I, part -III., sec. VII.], there can be no contrariety between any of them. -He does indeed in certain leading passages allow himself to speak -of contrariety between ideas (_e.g._ pp. 494 and 535 [Book I, part -IV., secs. II. and VI.]), which is incidental evidence that the ideas -there treated of are not so, according to his account of ideas, at -all. - -[3] Pp. 529-531 [Book I, part IV., sec. V.], a commentary on the -argument here given has been in effect supplied in paragraphs -148-152, and 194. - -Disposes of ‘personal’ identity by showing contradictions in Locke’s -account of it. - -342. Against the doctrine of a real ‘identity of the self or person’ -Hume had merely to exhibit the contradictions which Locke’s own -statement of it involves. [1] To have transferred this identity -definitely from ‘matter’ to consciousness was in itself a great -merit, but, so transferred, in the absence of any other theory of -consciousness than Locke’s, it only becomes more obviously a fiction. -If there is nothing real but the succession of feelings, identity of -body, it is true, disappears as inevitably as identity of mind; and -so we have already found it to do in Hume. [2] But whereas the notion -of a unity of body throughout the succession of perceptions only -becomes contradictory through the medium of a reduction of body to -a succession of perceptions, the identity of a mind, which has been -already defined as a succession of perceptions, is a contradiction -in terms. There can be ‘properly no simplicity in it at one time, -nor identity at different; it is a kind of theatre where several -perceptions successively make their appearance.’ But this comparison -must not mislead us. ‘They are the successive perceptions only, that -constitute the mind; nor have we the most distant notion of the place -where these scenes are represented, or of the materials of which it -is composed.’ The problem for Hume then in regard to personal, as -it had been in regard to bodily, identity is to account for that -‘natural propension to imagine’ it which language implies. - -[1] See above, §§ 134 and foll. - -[2] See above, §§ 306 and foll. - -Yet can only account for it as a ‘fiction’ by supposing ideas which -with him are impossible. - -343. The method of explanation in each case is the same. He starts -with two suppositions, to neither of which he is logically entitled. -One is that we have a ‘distinct idea of identity or sameness,’ _i.e._ -of an object that remains invariable and uninterrupted through a -supposed variation of time’--a supposition which, as we have seen, -upon his principles must mean that a feeling, which is one in a -succession of feelings, is yet all the successive feelings at once. -The other is that we have an idea ‘of several different objects -existing in succession, and connected together by a close’ (natural) -‘relation’--which in like manner implies that a feeling, which is one -among a succession of feelings, is at the same time a consciousness -of these feelings as successive and under that qualification by -mutual relation which implies their equal presence to it. These -two ideas, which in truth are ‘distinct and even contrary’ [1] we -yet come to confuse with each other, because ‘that action of the -imagination, by which we consider the uninterrupted and invisible -object, and that by which we reflect on the succession of related -objects, are almost the same to the feeling.’ Thus, though what we -call our mind is really a ‘succession of related objects,’ we have a -strong propensity to mistake it for an ‘invariable and uninterrupted -object.’ To this propensity we at last so far yield as to assert our -successive perceptions to be in effect the same, however interrupted -and variable; and then, by way of ‘justifying to ourselves this -absurdity, feign the continued existence of the perceptions of our -senses, to remove the interruption; and run into the notion of a -_soul_ and _self_, and _substance_, to disguise the variation’. [2] - -[1] See note to § 341. - -[2] Pp. 535-536. [Book I, part IV., sec. VI.]. - -In origin this ‘fiction’ the same as that of ‘Body’. - -344. It will be seen that the theory, which we have just summarised, -would merely be a briefer version of that given in the section -on ‘Scepticism with regard to the Senses,’ if in the sentence, -which states its conclusion, for ‘the notion of a soul and self -and substance’ were written ‘the notion of a double existence of -perceptions and objects’. [1] To a reader who has not thoroughly -entered into the fusion of being and feeling, which belongs to the -‘new way of ideas,’ it may seem strange that one and the same process -of so-called confusion has to account for such apparently disparate -results, as the notion of a permanently identical self and that of -the distinct existence of body. If he bears in mind, however, that -with Hume the universe of our experience is the same when it is -called ‘the universe of objects or of body’ and when it is called -the ‘universe of thought or my impressions and ideas’, [2] he will -see that on the score of consistency Hume is to be blamed, not for -applying the same method to account for the fictions of material -and spiritual identity, but for allowing himself, in his preference -for physical, as against theological, pretension, to write as if -the supposition of spiritual were really distinct from that of -material identity, and might be more contemptuously disposed of. The -original ‘mistake,’ out of which according to him the two fictitious -suppositions arise, is one and the same; and though it is a ‘mistake’ -without which, as we have found [3] from Hume’s own admissions, we -could not speak even in singular propositions of the most ordinary -‘objects of sense’--this pen, this table, this chair--it is yet one -that on his principles is logically impossible, since it consists -in a confusion between ideas that we cannot have. Of this original -‘mistake’ the fictions of body and of its ‘continued and distinct -existence’ are but altered expressions. They represent in truth the -same logical category of substance and relation. And of the Self -according to Locke’s notion of it [4] (which was the only one that -Hume had in view), as a ‘thinking thing’ within each man among a -multitude of other thinking things, the same would have to be said. -But in order to account for the ‘mistake,’ of which the suppositions -of thinking and material substance are the correlative expressions, -and which it is the net result of Hume’s speculation to exhibit at -once as necessary and as impossible, we have found another notion -of the self forced upon us--not as a double of body, but as the -source of that ‘familiar theory’ which body in truth is, and without -which there would be no universe of objects, whether ‘bodies’ or -‘impressions and ideas,’ at all. - -[1] Above, §§ 306-310. - -[2] Above, § 340. - -[3] Above, §§ 303 & 304. - -[4] Above, §§ 129-132. - -Possibility of such fictitious ideas implies refutation of Hume’s -doctrine. - -345. Thus the more strongly Hume insists that ‘the identity which -we ascribe to the mind of man is only a fictitious one’, [1] the -more completely does his doctrine refute itself. If he had really -succeeded in reducing those ‘invented’ relations, which Locke had -implicitly recognised as the framework of the universe, to what -he calls ‘natural’ ones--to mere sequences of feeling--the case -would have been different. With the disappearance of the conception -of the world as a system of related elements, the necessity of a -thinking subject, without whose presence to feelings they could -not become such elements, would have disappeared likewise. But he -cannot so reduce them. In all his attempts to do so we find that -the relation, which has to be explained away, is pre-supposed under -some other expression, and that it is ‘fictitious’ not in the sense -which Hume’s theory requires--the sense, namely, that there is no -such thing either really or in imagination, either as impression or -idea--but in the sense that it would not exist if we did not think -about our feelings. Thus, whereas identity ought for Hume’s purpose -to be either a ‘natural relation,’ or a propensity arising from -such relation, or nothing, we find that according to his account, -though neither natural relation nor propensity, it yet exists both as -idea and as reality. He saves appearances indeed by saying [2] that -natural relations of ideas ‘produce it,’ but they do so, according -to his detailed account of the matter, in the sense that, the idea -of an identical object being given, we mistake our successive and -resembling feelings for such an object. In other words, the existence -of numerically identical things is a ‘fiction,’ not as if there -were no such things, but because it implies a certain operation of -thought upon our feelings, a certain interpretation of impressions -under direction of an idea not derived from impressions. By a -like equivocal use of ‘fiction’ Hume covers the admission of real -identity in its more complex forms--the identity of a mass, whose -parts undergo perpetual change of distribution; of a body whose form -survives not merely the redistribution of its materials, but the -substitution of others; of animals and vegetables, in which nothing -but the ‘common end’ of the changing members remains the same. The -reality of such identity of mass, of form, of organism, he quietly -takes for granted. [3] He calls it ‘fictitious’ indeed, but only -either in the sense above given or in the sense that it is mistaken -for mere numerical identity. - -[1] P. 540. [Book I, part IV., sec. VI.] - -[2] P. 543 [Book I, part IV., sec. VI.]. ‘Identity depends on the -relations of ideas; and these relations produce identity by means -of that easy transition they occasion.’ Strictly it should be ‘that -easy transition in which they consist;’ since, according to Hume, the -‘easiness of transition’ is not an effect of natural relation, but -constitutes it. Cf. pp. 322 & 497 [Book I, part I., sec. V. and part -IV., sec. II.], and above, § 318. - -[3] Pp. 536-538. [Book I, part IV., sec. VI.] - -346. After he has thus admitted, as constituents of the ‘universe -of objects,’ a whole hierarchy of ideas of which the simplest must -vanish before the demand to ‘point out the impression from which -it is derived,’ we are the less surprised to find him pronouncing -in conclusion ‘that the true idea of the human mind is to consider -it as a system of different perceptions or different existences, -which are linked together by the relation of cause and effect, and -mutually produce, destroy, influence and modify each other’. [1] A -better definition than this, as a _definition of nature_, or one more -charged with ‘fictions of thought,’ could scarcely be desired. If -the idea of such a system is a true idea at all, which we are only -wrong in confusing with mere numerical identity, we need be the less -concerned that it should be adduced as the true idea not of nature -but of the ‘human mind.’ Having learnt, through the discipline which -Hume himself furnishes, that the recognition of a system of nature -logically carries with it that of a self-conscious subject, in -relation to which alone ‘different perceptions’ become a system of -nature, we know that we cannot naturalise the ‘human mind’ without -presupposing that which is neither nature nor natural, though apart -from it nature would not be--that of which the designation as ‘mind,’ -as ‘human,’ as ‘personal,’ is of secondary importance, but which is -eternal, self-determined, and thinks. - -[1] P. 541. [Book I, part IV., sec. VI.] - -T.H. Green - - - - -GENERAL INTRODUCTION TO VOL. II. - -Hume’s doctrine of morals parallel to his doctrine of nature. - -1. In his speculation on morals, no less than on knowledge, Hume -follows the lines laid down by Locke. With each there is a precise -correspondence between the doctrine of nature and the doctrine of -the good. Each gives an account of reason consistent at least in -this that, as it allows reason no place in the constitution of real -objects, so it allows it none in the constitution of objects that -determine desire and, through it, the will. With each, consequently, -the ‘moral faculty,’ whether regarded as the source of the judgments -‘ought and ought not,’ or of acts to which these judgments are -appropriate, can only be a certain faculty of feeling, a particular -susceptibility of pleasure and pain. The originality of Hume lies in -his systematic effort to account for those objects, apparently other -than pleasure and pain, which determine desire, and which Locke had -taken for granted without troubling himself about their adjustment to -his theory, as resulting from the modification of primary feelings -by ‘associated ideas.’ ‘Natural relation,’ the close and uniform -sequence of certain impressions and ideas upon each other, is the -solvent by which in the moral world, as in the world of knowledge, he -disposes of those ostensibly necessary ideas that seem to regulate -impressions without being copied from them; and in regard to the one -application of it as much as to the other, the question is whether -the efficiency of the solvent does not depend on its secretly -including the very ideas of which it seems to get rid. - -Its relation to Locke: Locke’s account of freedom, will, and desire. - -2. The place held by the ‘Essay concerning Human Understanding,’ as -a sort of philosopher’s Bible in the last century, is strikingly -illustrated by the effect of doctrines that only appear in it -incidentally. It does not profess to be ethical treatise at all, yet -the moral psychology contained in the chapter ‘of Power’ (II. 21), -and the account of moral good and evil contained In the chapter ‘of -other Relations’ (II. 28) furnished the text for most of the ethical -speculation that prevailed in England, France, and Scotland for a -century later. If Locke’s theory was essentially a reproduction of -Hobbes’, it was yet in the form he gave it that it survived while -Hobbes was decried and forgotten. The chapter on Power is in effect -an account of determination by motives. More, perhaps, than any other -part of the essay it bears the marks of having been written ‘currente -calamo.’ In the second edition a summary was annexed which differs -somewhat in the use of terms, but not otherwise, from the original -draught. The main course of thought, however, is clear throughout. -Will and freedom are at first defined in all but identical terms -as each a ‘power to begin or forbear action barely by a preference -of the mind’ (§§ 5, 8, 71). Nor is this identification departed -from, except that the term ‘will’ is afterwards restricted to the -‘preference’ or ‘power of preference,’ while freedom is confined to -the power of acting upon preference; in which sense it is pointed -out that though there cannot be freedom without will, there may be -will without freedom, as when, through the breaking of a bridge, a -man cannot help falling into the water, though he prefers not to do -so. ‘Freedom’ and ‘will’ being thus alike powers, if not the same -power, it is as improper to ask whether the will is free as whether -one power has another power. The proper question is whether man is -free (§§ 14, 21), and the answer to this question, according to -Locke, is that within certain limits he is free to act, but that he -is not free to will. When in any case he has the option of acting -or forbearing to act, he cannot help preferring, _i.e._ willing, -one or other alternative. If it is further asked, What determines -the will or preference? the answer is that ‘nothing sets us upon -any new action but some uneasiness’ (§ 29), viz., the ‘most urgent -uneasiness we at any time feel’ (§ 40), which again is always ‘the -uneasiness of desire fixed on some absent good, either negative, as -indolence to one in pain, or positive, as enjoyment of pleasure.’ In -one sense, indeed, it may be said that the will often runs counter -to desire, but this merely means that we ‘being in this world beset -with sundry uneasinesses, distressed with different desires,’ the -determination of the will by the most pressing desire often implies -the counteraction of other desires which would, indeed, under other -circumstances, be the most pressing, but at the particular time of -the supposed action are not so. - -Two questions: Does man always act from the strongest motive? and, -What constitutes his motive? The latter the important question: -Distinction between desires that are, and those that are not, -determined by the conception of self. - -3. So far Locke’s doctrine amounts to no more than this, that action -is always determined by the strongest motive; and only those who -strangely hold that human freedom is to be vindicated by disputing -that truism will care to question it. To admit that the strongest -desire always moves action (there being, in fact, no test of its -strength but its effect on action) and that, since every desire -causes uneasiness till it is satisfied, the strongest desire is -also the most pressing uneasiness, [1] is compatible with the most -opposite views as to the constitution of the objects which determine -desire. To understand that it is this constitution of the desired -object, not any possible intervention of unmotived willing between -the presentation of a strongest motive and action, which forms the -central question of ethics, is the condition of all clear thinking -on the subject. It is a question, however, which Locke ignores, and -popular philosophy, to its great confusion, has not only continued -to do the same, but would probably resent as pedantic any attempt -at more accurate analysis. When we hear of the strongest ‘desire’ -being the uniform motive to action, we have to ask, in the first -place, whether the term is confined to impulses determined by a prior -consciousness, or is taken to include those impulses, commonly called -‘mere appetites,’ which are not so determined, but depend directly -and solely on the ‘constitution of our bodily organs.’ The _appetite_ -of hunger is obviously quite independent of any remembrance of the -pleasure of eating, yet nothing is commoner than to identify with -such simple appetite the desire determined by consciousness of some -sort, as when we say of a drunkard, who never drinks merely because -he is thirsty, that he is governed by his appetite. Upon this -distinction, however, since it is recognised by current psychology, -it is less important to insist than on that between the kinds of -prior consciousness which may determine desire proper. Does this -prior consciousness consist simply in the return of an image of -past pleasure with consequent hope of its renewal, or is it a -conception--the thought of an object under relations to self or of -self in relation to certain objects--in a word, self-consciousness as -distinct from simple feeling? - -[1] Locke’s language in regard to ‘the most pressing uneasiness’ -will not be found uniformly consistent. His usual doctrine is that -the strength of a desire, as evinced by the resulting action, and -the uneasiness which it causes are in exact proportion to each -other. According to this view, desire for future happiness can only -become a prevalent motive when the uneasiness which it causes has -come to outweigh every other (Cf. Chap, xxi., Secs. 43 and 45). On -the other hand, he sometimes seems to distinguish the desire for -future pleasure from present uneasiness, while at the same time -implying that it may be a strongest motive (Cf. sec. 65). But if so, -it follows that there may be a strongest desire which is not the -most pressing uneasiness. (See below, sec. 13.) Hume, distinguishing -strong from violent desires, and restricting ‘uneasiness’ to the -latter, is able to hold that it is not alone the present uneasiness -which determines action. (Book II., part 3, sec. 3, sub fin.) - -Effect of this conception on the objects of human desire. - -4. Of desire determined in the former way we have experience, if at -all, in those motives which actuate us, as we say, ‘unconsciously’; -which means, without our attending to them--feelings which we do -not fix even momentarily by reference to self or to a thing. As we -cannot set ourselves to recall such feelings without thinking them, -without determining them by that reference to self which we suppose -them to exclude, they cannot be described; but some of our actions -(such as the instinctive recurrence to a sweet smell), seem only to -be thus accounted for, and probably those actions of animals which -do not proceed from appetite proper are to be accounted for in the -same way. But whether such actions are facts in human experience or -no, those which make us what we are as men are not so determined. -The man whom we call the slave of his appetite, the enlightened -pleasure-hunter, the man who lives for his family, the artist, the -enthusiast for humanity, are alike in this, that the desire which -moves their action is itself determined not by the recurring image -of a past pleasure, but by the conception of self. The self may be -conceived of simply as a subject to be pleased, or may be a subject -of interests, which, indeed, when gratified, produce pleasure but -are not produced by it--interests in persons, in beautiful things, -in the order of nature and society--but self is still not less the -‘punctum stans’ whose presence to each passing pleasure renders it -a constituent of a happiness which is to be permanently pursued, -than it is the focus in which the influences of that world which -only self-conscious reason could constitute--the world of science, -of art, of human society--must be regathered in order to become the -personal interests which move the actions of individuals. It is in -this self-consciousness involved in our motives, in that conversion -into a conception by reference to self, which the image even of the -merest animal pleasure must undergo before it can become an element -in the formation of character, that the possibility of freedom lies. -Without it we should be as sinless and as unprogressive, as free from -remorse and aspiration, as incapable of selfishness and self-denial -as the animals. Each pleasure would be taken as it came. We should -have ‘the greatest happiness of which our nature is capable,’ without -possibility of asking ourselves whether we might not have had more. -It is only the conception of himself as a permanent subject to be -pleased that can set man upon the invention of new pleasures, and -then, making each pleasure a disappointment when it comes, produce -the ‘vicious’ temper; only this that can suggest the reflection -how much more pleasure he might have had than he has had, and thus -produce what the moralists know as ‘cool selfishness’; only this, -on the other hand, which, as ‘enlightened self-love,’ perpetually -balances the attraction of imagined pleasure by the calculation -whether it will be good for one as a whole. Nor less is it the -conception of self, with a ‘matter’ more adequate to its ‘form,’ -taking its content not from imagined pleasure, but from the work of -reason in the world of nature and humanity, which determines that -personal devotion to a work or a cause, to a state, a church, or -mankind, which we call self-sacrifice. - -Objects so constituted Locke should consistently exclude: But he -finds room for them by treating every desire for an object, of which -the attainment gives pleasure, as a desire for pleasure. - -5. If, now, we ask ourselves whether Locke recognised this function -of reason, as self-consciousness, in the determination of the will, -the answer must be yes and no. His cardinal doctrine, as we have -sufficiently seen, forbade him to admit that reason or thought could -originate an object. The only possible objects with him are either -simple ideas or resoluble into these, and the simple idea, as that -which we receive in pure passivity, is virtually feeling. Now no -combination of feelings (supposing it possible [1]) can yield the -conception of self as a permanent subject even of pleasure, much -less as a subject of social claims. It cannot, therefore, yield the -objects, ranging from sensual happiness to the moral law, humanity, -and God, of which this conception is the correlative condition. -Thus, strictly taken, Locke’s doctrine excludes every motive to -action, but appetite proper and such desire as is determined by the -imagination of animal pleasure or pain, and in doing so renders vice -as well as virtue unaccountable--the excessive pursuit of pleasure as -well as that dissatisfaction with it which affords the possibility -of ordinary reform. On the other hand, the same happy intellectual -unscrupulousness, which we have traced in his theory of knowledge, -attends him also here. Just as he is ready on occasion to treat -any conceived object that determines sense as if it were itself a -sensation, so he is ready to treat any object that determines desire, -without reference to the work of thought in its construction, as if -it were itself the feeling of pleasure, or of uneasiness removed, -which arises upon satisfaction of the desire. In this way, without -professedly admitting any motive but remembered pleasure--a motive -which, if it were our only one, would leave ‘man’s life as cheap as -beasts’’--he can take for granted any objects of recognised interest -as accounting for the movement of human life, and as constituents of -an utmost possible pleasure which it is his own fault if every one -does not pursue. - -[1] Cf. Introduction to Vol. I., §§ 215 and 247. - -Confusion covered by calling ‘happiness’ the general object of desire. - -6. The term ‘happiness’ is the familiar cover for confusion between -the animal imagination of pleasure and the conception of personal -well-being. It is so when--having raised the question. What moves -desire?--Locke answers, ‘happiness, and that alone.’ What, then, -is happiness? ‘Good and evil are nothing but pleasure and pain,’ -and ‘happiness in its full extent is the utmost pleasure we are -capable of.’ [1] This is ‘the proper object of desire in general,’ -but Locke is careful to explain that the happiness which ‘moves -every particular man’s desire’ is not the full extent of it, but -’so much of it as is considered and taken to make a necessary part -of his happiness.’ It is that ‘wherewith he in his present thoughts -can satisfy himself.’ Happiness in this sense ‘every one constantly -pursues,’ and without possibility of error; for ‘as to present -pleasure the mind never mistakes that which is really good or -evil.’ Every one ‘knows what best pleases him, and that he actually -prefers.’ That which is the greater pleasure or the greater pain -is really just as it appears (Ibid. §§ 43, 58, 63). Now in these -statements, if we look closely, we shall find that four different -meanings of happiness are mixed up, which we will take leave to -distinguish by letters--_(a)_ happiness as an abstract conception, -the sum of possible pleasure; _(b)_ happiness as equivalent to the -pleasure which at any time survives most strongly in imagination; -_(c)_ happiness as the object of the self-conscious pleasure-seeker; -_(d)_ happiness as equivalent to any object at any time most -strongly desired, not really a pleasure, but by Locke identified -with happiness in sense _(b)_ through the fallacy of supposing that -the pleasure which arises on satisfaction of any desire, great in -proportion to the strength of the desire, is itself the object which -excites desire. - -[1] Ibid., sec. 42, and cap. 28, sec. 5. - -‘Greatest sum of pleasure’ and ‘Pleasure in general’ unmeaning -expressions. - -7. Happiness ‘in its full extent,’ as ‘the utmost pleasure we are -capable of,’ is an unreal abstraction if ever there was one. It -is curious that those who are most forward to deny the reality of -universals, in that sense in which they are the condition of all -reality, viz., as relations, should yet, having pronounced these -to be mere names, be found ascribing reality to a universal, which -cannot without contradiction be supposed more than a name. Does -this ‘happiness in its full extent’ mean the ‘aggregate of possible -enjoyments,’ of which modern utilitarians tell us? Such a phrase -simply represents the vain attempt to get a definite by addition -of indefinites. It has no more meaning than ‘the greatest possible -quantity of time’ would have. Pleasant feelings are not quantities -that can be added. Each is over before the next begins, and the man -who has been pleased a million times is not really better off--has -no more of the supposed chief good in possession--than the man who -has only been pleased a thousand times. When we speak of pleasures, -then, as forming a possible whole, we cannot mean pleasures as -feelings, and what else do we mean? Are we, then, by the ‘happiness’ -in question to understand pleasure _in general_, as might be inferred -from Locke’s speaking of it as the ‘object of desire _in general_’? -But it is in its mere particularity that each pleasure has its being. -It is a simple idea, and therefore, as Locke and Hume have themselves -taught us, momentary, indefinable, in ‘perpetual flux,’ changing -every moment upon us. Pleasure _in general_, therefore, is not -pleasure, and it is nothing else. It is not a conceived reality, as a -relation, or a thing determined by relations, is, since pleasure as -feeling, in distinction from its conditions which are not feelings, -for the same reason that it cannot be defined, cannot be conceived. -It is a mere name which utilitarian philosophy has mistaken for -a thing; but for which--since no one, whatever his theory of the -desirable, can actually desire either the abstraction of pleasure -in general or the aggregate of possible pleasures--a practical -substitute is apt to be found in any lust of the flesh that may for -the time be the strongest. - -In what sense of happiness is it true that it ‘is really just as it -appears?’ In what sense that it is every one’s object? - -8. Having begun by making this fiction ‘the proper object of -desire in general,’ Locke saves the appearance of consistency by -representing the particular pleasure or removal of uneasiness, which -he in fact believed to be the object of every desire, as if it were a -certain part of the ‘full extent of happiness’ which the individual, -having this full extent before him, picked out as being what ‘in -his present thoughts would satisfy him.’ Nor does he ever give up -the notion of a ‘happiness in general,’ in distinction from the -happiness of each man’s actual choice, as a possible motive, which -a man who finds himself wretched in consequence of his actions may -be told that he ought to have adopted. His real notion, however, of -the happiness which is motive to action is a confused result of the -three other notions of happiness, distinguished above as _(b)_, _(c)_ -and _(d)_. As that about which no one can be mistaken, ‘happiness’ -can only be so in sense _(b)_, as the ‘pleasure which survives most -strongly in imagination.’ Of this it can be said truly, and of this -only, that ‘it really is just as it appears,’ and that ‘a man never -chooses amiss’ since he must ‘know what best pleases him.’ But with -this, almost in the same breath, Locke confuses ‘happiness’ in senses -_(c)_ and _(d)_. So soon as it is said of an object that it is -‘taken by the individual to make a necessary part of his happiness,’ -it is implied that it is determined by his conception of self. It -is something which, as the result of the action of this conception -on his past experience, he has come to present to himself as a -constituent of his personal good. Unless he were conscious of himself -as a permanent subject, he could have no conception of happiness as a -whole from relation to which each present object takes its character -as a part. Nor of the objects determined by this relation is it true, -as Locke says, that they are always pleasures, or that they ‘are -really just as they appear.’ Our readiness to accept his statements -to this effect, is at bottom due to a confusion between the pleasure, -or removal of uneasiness, incidental to the satisfaction of a desire -and the object which excites the desire. If having explained desire, -as Locke does, by reference to the good, we then allow ourselves to -explain the good by reference to desire, it will indeed be true that -no man can be mistaken as to his present good, but only in the sense -of the identical proposition that every man most desires what he does -most desire; and true also, that every attained good is pleasure, -but only in the sense that what satisfies desire does satisfy it. -The man of whom it could be truly said, in any other sense than -that of the above identical proposition, that his only objects of -desire--the only objects which he ‘takes to make a necessary part -of his happiness’--were pleasures, would be a man, as we say, of no -interests. He would be a man who either lived simply for pleasures -incidental to the satisfaction of animal appetite, or one who, having -been interested in certain objects in which reason alone enables us -to be interested--_e.g._, persons, pursuits, or works of art--and -having found consequent pleasure, afterwards vainly tries to get the -pleasure without the interests. To the former type of character, of -course, the approximations are numerous enough, though it may be -doubted whether such an ideal of sensuality is often fully realised. -The latter in its completeness, which would mean a perfect misery -that could only issue in suicide, would seem to be an impossibility, -though it is constantly being approached in proportion to the -unworthiness and fleetingness of the interests by which men allow -themselves to be governed, and which, after stimulating an indefinite -hunger for good, leave it without an object to satisfy it; in -proportion, too, to the modern habit of hugging and poring over the -pleasures which our higher interests cause us till these interests -are vitiated, and we find ourselves in restless and hopeless pursuit -of the pleasure when the interest which might alone produce it is -gone. - -No real object of human desire can ever be just as it appears. - -9. Just as it is untrue, then, of the object of desire, as ‘taken -to be part of one’s happiness’ or determined by the conception of -self, that it is always a pleasure, so it is untrue that it is always -really just as it appears, except in the trifling sense that what -is most strongly desired is most strongly desired. Rather it is -never really what it appears. It is least of all so to the professed -pleasure-seeker. Obviously, to the man who seeks the pleasure -incidental to interests which he has lost, there is a contradiction -in his quest which for ever prevents what seems to him desirable -from satisfying his desire. And even the man who lives for merely -animal pleasure, just because he seeks it as part of a happiness, -never finds it to be that which he sought. There is no mistake about -the pleasure, but he seeks it as that which shall satisfy him, and -satisfy him, since he is not an animal, it cannot. Nor are our higher -objects of desire ever what they seem. That is too old a topic with -poets and moralizers to need enforcing. Each in its turn, we know, -promises happiness when it shall have been attained, but when it -is attained the happiness has not come. The craving for an object -adequate to oneself, which is the source of the desire, is still -not quenched; and because it is not, nor can be, even ‘the joy of -success’ has its own bitterness. - -Can Locke consistently allow the distinction between true happiness -and false? Or responsibility? - -10. The case, then, stands thus. Locke, having too much ‘common -sense’ to reduce all objects of desire to the pleasures incidental to -satisfactions of appetite, takes for granted any number of objects -which only reason can constitute (or, in other words, which can only -exist for a self-conscious subject) without any question as to their -origin. It is enough for him that they are not conscious inventions -of the individual, and that they are related to feeling--though -related as determining it. This being so, they are to him no more -the work of thought than are the satisfactions of appetite. The -conception of them is of a kind with the simple remembrance or -imagination of pleasures caused by such satisfactions. The question -how, if only pleasure is the object of desire, they came to be -desired before there had been experience of the pleasures incidental -to their attainment, is virtually shelved by treating these latter -pleasures as if they were themselves the objects originally desired. -So far consistency at least is saved. No object but feeling, present -or remembered, is ostensibly admitted within human experience. But -meanwhile, alongside of this view, comes the account of the strongest -motive as determined by the conception of self--as something which -a man ‘takes to be a necessary part of his happiness,’ and which he -is ‘answerable to himself’ for so taking. The inconsistency of such -language with the view that every desired object must needs be a -pleasure, would have been less noticeable if Locke himself had not -frankly admitted, as the corollary of this view that the desired good -‘is really just as it appears.’ The necessity of this admission has -always been the rock on which consistent Hedonism has broken. Locke -himself has scarcely made it when he becomes aware of its dangerous -consequences, and great part of the chapter on Power is taken up by -awkward attempts to reconcile it with the distinction between true -happiness and false, and with the existence of moral responsibility. -If greatest pleasure is the only possible object, and the production -of such pleasure the only possible criterion of action, and if ‘as -to present pleasure and pain the mind never mistakes that which is -really good or evil,’ with what propriety can any one be told that -he might or that he ought to have chosen otherwise than he has done? -‘He has missed the true good,’ we say, ‘which he might and should -have found’; but ‘good,’ according to Locke, is only pleasure, and -pleasure, as Locke in any other connexion would be eager to tell -us, must mean either some actual present pleasure or a series of -pleasures of which each in turn is present. If every one without -possibility of mistake has on each occasion chosen the greatest -present pleasure, how can the result for him at any time be other -than the true good, _i.e._, the series of greatest pleasures, each in -its turn present, that have been hitherto possible for him? - -Objections to the Utilitarian answer to these questions. - -11. A modern utilitarian, if faithful to the principle which excludes -any test of pleasure but pleasure itself, will probably answer that -every one does attain the maximum of pleasure possible for him, -his character and circumstances being what they are; but that with -a change in these his choice would be different. He would still -choose on each occasion the greatest pleasure of which he was then -capable, but this pleasure would be one ‘truer’--in the sense of -being more intense, more durable, and compatible with a greater -quantity of other pleasures--than is that which he actually chooses. -But admitting that this answer justifies us in speaking of any sort -of pleasure as ‘truer’ than that at any time chosen by any one--which -is a very large admission, for of the intensity of any pleasure we -have no test but its being actually preferred, and of durability -and compatibility with other pleasures the tests are so vague that -a healthy and unrepentant voluptuary would always have the best of -it in an attempt to strike the balance between the pleasures he has -actually chosen and any truer sort--it still only throws us back on -a further question. With a better character, it is said, such as -better education and improved circumstances might have produced, the -actually greatest happiness of the individual--_i.e._, the series of -pleasures which, because he has chosen them, we know to have been -the greatest possible for him--might have been greater or ‘truer.’ -But the man’s character is the result of his previous preferences; -and if every one has always chosen the greatest pleasure of which -he was at the time capable, and if no other motive is possible, -how could any other than his actual character have been produced? -How could that conception of a happiness truer than the actual, of -something that should be most pleasant, and therefore preferred, -though it is not--a conception which all education implies--have been -a possible motive among mankind? To say that the individual is, to -begin with, destitute of such a conception, but acquires it through -education from others, does not remove the difficulty. How do the -educators come by it? Common sense assumes them to have found out -that more happiness might have been got by another than the merely -natural course of living, and to wish to give others the benefit -of their experience. But such experience implies that each has a -conception of himself as other than the subject of a succession of -pleasures, of which each has been the greatest possible at the time -of its occurrence; and the wish to give another the benefit of the -experience implies that this conception, which is no possible image -of a feeling, can originate action. The assumption of common sense, -then, contradicts the two cardinal principles of the Hedonistic -philosophy; yet, however disguised in the terminology of development -and evolution, it, or some equivalent supposition, is involved in -every theory of the progress of mankind. - -According to Locke present pleasures may be compared with future, and -desire suspended till comparison has been made. - -12. Such difficulties do not suggest themselves to Locke, because he -is always ready to fall back on the language of common sense without -asking whether it is reconcilable with his theory. Having asserted, -without qualification, that the will in every case is determined -by the strongest desire, that the strongest desire is desire for -the greatest pleasure, and that ‘pleasure is just so great, and -no greater, than it is felt,’ he finds a place for moral freedom -and responsibility in the ‘power a man has to suspend his desires -and stop them from determining his will to any action till he has -examined whether it be really of a nature in itself and consequences -to make him happy or no.’ [1] But how does it happen that there -is any need for such suspense, if as to pleasure and pain ‘a man -never chooses amiss,’ and pleasure is the same with happiness or -the good? To this Locke answers that it is only present pleasure -which is just as it appears, and that in ‘comparing present pleasure -or pain with future we often make wrong judgments of them;’ again, -that not only present pleasure and pain, but ‘things that draw after -them pleasure and pain, are considered as good and evil,’ and that -of these consequences under the influence of present pleasure or -pain we may judge amiss. [2] By these wrong judgments, it will be -observed, Locke does not mean mistakes in discovering the proper -means to a desired end (Aristotle’s ἀγνοία ἡ καθ’ ἕκαστα) [3], which -it is agreed are not a ground for blame or punishment, but wrong -desires--desires for certain pleasures as being the greater, which -are not really the greater. Regarding such desires as involving -comparisons of one good with another, he counts them judgments, and -(the comparison being incorrectly made) _wrong_ judgments. A certain -present pleasure, and a certain future one, are compared, and though -the future would really be the greater, the present is preferred; -or a present pleasure, ‘drawing after it’ a certain amount of pain, -is compared with a less amount of present pain, drawing after it a -greater pleasure, and the present pleasure preferred. In such cases -the man ‘may justly incur punishment’ for the wrong preference, -because having ‘the power to suspend his desire’ for the present -pleasure, he has not done so, but ‘by too hasty choice of his own -making has imposed on himself wrong measures of good and evil.’ -‘When he has once chosen it,’ indeed, ‘and thereby it is become part -of his happiness, it raises desire, and that proportionately gives -him uneasiness, which determines his will.’ But the original wrong -choice, having the ‘power of suspending his desires,’ he might have -prevented. In not doing so he ‘vitiated his own palate,’ and must be -‘answerable to himself’ for the consequences. [4] - -[1] II. 21, Sec. 51 and 56. - -[2] Ibid., Sec. 61, 63, 67. - -[3] [Greek ἀγνοία ἡ καθ’ ἕκαστα (agnoia he kath’ hekasta) = -unawareness of the particular circumstances. Tr.] - -[4] Ibid., Sec. 56. - -What is meant by ‘present’ and ‘future’ pleasure? By the supposed -comparison Locke ought only to have meant the competition of -pleasures equally present in imagination ... - -13. Responsibility for evil, then (with its conditions, blame, -punishment, and remorse) supposes that a man has gone wrong in -the comparison of present with future pleasure or pain, having -had the chance of going right. Upon this we must remark that as -moving desire--and it is the determination of desire that is here -in question--NO pleasure can be present in the sense of actual -enjoyment, or (in Hume’s language) as ‘impression,’ but only in -memory or imagination, as ‘idea.’ Otherwise desire would not be -desire. It would not be that uneasiness which, according to Locke, -implies the absence of good, and alone moves action. On the other -hand, to imagination EVERY pleasure must be present that is to act as -motive at all. In whatever sense, then, pleasure, as pleasure, _i.e._ -as undetermined by conceptions, can properly be said to move desire, -every pleasure is equally present and equally future. [1] For man, if -he only felt and retained his feelings in memory, or recalled them in -imagination, the only difference among the imagined pleasures which -solicit his desires, other than difference of intensity, would lie in -the imagined pains with which each may have become associated. One -pleasure might be imagined in association with a greater amount of -the pain of waiting than another. In that sense, and only in that, -could one be distinguished from the other as a future pleasure from -a present one. According as the greater imagined intensity of the -future pleasure did or did not outweigh the imagined pain of waiting -for it, the scale of desire would turn one way or the other. Or -with one pleasure, imagined as more intense than another, might be -associated an expectation of a greater amount of pain to be ‘drawn -after it.’ Here, again, the question would be whether the greater -imagined intensity of pleasure would have the more effect in exciting -desire, or the greater amount of imagined sequent pain in quenching -it--a question only to be settled by the action which results. In -whatever sense it is true of the ‘present pleasure or pain,’ that -it is really just as it appears, it is equally true of the future. -Whenever the determination of desire is in question, the statement -that present pleasure is just as it appears must mean that the -pleasure _present in imagination_ is so, and in this sense all motive -pleasures are equally so present. Undoubtedly the pleasure associated -with the pain of prolonged expectancy might turn out greater, and -that associated with sequent pain less, than was imagined; but so -might a pleasure not thus associated. Of every pleasure alike it is -as true, that while it is imagined it is just as it is imagined, as -that while felt it is just as it is felt; and if man only felt and -imagined, there would be no more reason why he should hold himself -accountable for his imaginations than for his feelings. Whatever -pleasure was most attractive in imagination would determine desire, -and, through it, action, which would be the only measure of the -amount of the attraction. It would not indeed follow because an -action was determined by the pleasure most attractive in imagination, -that the ensuing pleasure in actual enjoyment would be greater than -might have been attained by a different action--though it would be -very hard to show the contrary--but it would follow that the man -attained the greatest pleasure of which his nature was capable. There -would be no reason why he should blame himself, or be blamed by -others, for the result. - -[1] It is noticeable that when Locke takes to distinguishing the -pleasures that move desire into present and future, he speaks as if -the future pleasure alone were an absent good, in contradiction to -his previous view that every object of desire is an absent good. (Cf. -sec. 65 with sec. 57 of cap. 21.) - -... and this could give no ground for responsibility. In order to do -so, it must be understood as implying determination by conception of -self. - -14. Thus on Locke’s supposition, that desire is only moved by -pleasure--which must mean _imagined_ pleasure, since pleasure, -determined by conceptions, is excluded by the supposition that -pleasure alone is the ultimate motive, and pleasure in actual -enjoyment is no longer desired--the ‘suspense of desire,’ that he -speaks of, can only mean an interval, during which a competition of -imagined pleasures (one associated with more, another with less, of -sequent or antecedent pain) is still going on, and none has become -finally the strongest motive. Of such suspense it is unmeaning to -say that a man has ‘the power of it,’ or that, when it terminates in -an action which does not produce so much pleasure as another might -have done, it is because the man ‘has vitiated his palate,’ and that -therefore he must be ‘answerable to himself’ for the consequences. -This language really implies that pleasures, instead of being -ultimate ends, are determined to be ends through reference to an -object beyond them which the man himself constitutes; that it is -only through his conception of self that every pleasure--not indeed -best pleases him, or is most attractive in imagination--but becomes -his personal good. It may be that he identifies his personal good -with the pleasure most attractive in imagination; but a pleasure -so identified is quite a different motive from a pleasure simply -as imagined. It is no longer mere pleasure that the man seeks, but -self-satisfaction through the pleasure. The same consciousness of -self, which sets him on the act, continues through the act and its -consequences, carrying with it the knowledge (commonly called the -‘voice of conscience’) that it is to himself, as the ultimate motive, -that the act and its consequences, whether in the shape of natural -pains or civil penalties, are due--a knowledge which breeds remorse, -and, through it, the possibility of a better mind. Thus, when Locke -finds the ground of responsibility in a man’s power of suspending -his desire till he has considered whether the act, to which it -inclines him, is of a kind to make him happy or no, the value of the -explanation lies in the distinction which it may be taken to imply, -but which Locke could not consistently admit, between the imagination -of pleasure and the conception of self as a permanent subject of -happiness, by reference to which an imagined pleasure becomes a -strongest motive. It is not really as involving a comparison between -imagined pleasures, but as involving the consideration whether the -greatest imagined pleasure will be the best for one in the long -run, that the suspense of desire establishes the responsibility of -man. Even if we admitted with Locke that nothing entered into the -consideration but an estimate of ‘future pleasures’--and Locke, it -will be observed, by supposing the estimate to include ‘pleasures -of a sort we are unacquainted with,’ [1] which is as much of a -contradiction as to suppose a man influenced by unfelt feelings, -renders this restriction unmeaning--still to be determined by the -consideration whether something is good for me on the whole is to be -determined, not by the imagination of pleasure, but by the conception -of self, though it be of self only as a subject to be pleased. - -[1] Cap. 21, sec. 65. He has specially in view the pleasures of -‘another life’, which ‘being intended for a state of happiness, 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.’ - -Locke finds moral freedom in necessity of pursuing happiness. - -15. The mischief is that, though his language implies this -distinction, he does not himself understand it. ‘The care of -ourselves,’ he tells us, ‘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, till we have examined whether it has a -tendency to, or is inconsistent with, our real happiness.’ [1] But he -does not see that the _rationale_ of the freedom, thus paradoxically, -though truly, placed in the strength of a tie, lies in that -determination by the conception of self to which the ‘unalterable -pursuit of happiness’ is really equivalent. To him it is not as one -mode among others in which that self-determination appears, but -simply in itself, that the consideration of what is for our real -happiness is the ‘foundation of our liberty,’ and the consideration -itself is no more than a comparison between imagined pleasures -and pains. Hence to a reader who refuses to read into Locke an -interpretation which he does not himself supply, the range of moral -liberty must seem as narrow as its nature is ambiguous. As to its -range, the greater part of our actions, and among them those which -we are apt to think our best, are not and could not be preceded by -any consideration whether they are for our real happiness or no. In -truth, they result from a character which the conception of self has -rendered possible, or express an interest in objects of which this -conception is the condition, and for that reason they represent a -will self-determined and free; but they do not rest on the foundation -which Locke calls ‘the necessary foundation of our liberty.’ As -to the nature of this liberty, the reader, who takes Locke at his -word, would find himself left to choose between the view of it as -the condition of a mind ‘suspended’ between rival presentations of -the pleasant, and the equally untenable view of it as that ‘liberty -of indifference,’ which Locke himself is quite ready to deride--as -consisting in a choice prior to desire, which determines what the -desire shall be. [2] - -[1] Cap. 21, sec. 51. - -[2] Cf. the passage in sec. 56: ‘When he has once chosen it, and -thereby it is become part of his happiness, it raises desire,’ &c. -(Cf. also sec. 43 sub fin.) - -If an action is moved by desire for an object, Locke asks no -questions about origin of the object: But what is to be said of -actions, which we only do because we ought? - -16. This ambiguous deliverance about moral freedom, it must be -observed, is the necessary result on a mind, having too strong a -practical hold on life to tamper with human responsibility, of -a doctrine which denies the originativeness of thought, and in -consequence cannot consistently allow any motive to desire, but the -image of a past pleasure or pain. The full logical effect of the -doctrine, however, does not appear in Locke, because, with his way -of taking any desire of which the satisfaction produces pleasure to -have pleasure for its object, he never comes in sight of the question -how the manifold objects of actual human interest are possible for -a being who only feels and retains, or combines, his feelings. An -action moved by love of country, love of fame, love of a friend, love -of the beautiful, would cause him no more difficulty than one moved -by desire for the renewal of some sensual enjoyment, or for that -maintenance of health which is the condition of such enjoyment in the -future. If pressed about them, we may suppose that--availing himself -of the language probably current in the philosophic society in which -he lived, though it first became generally current in England through -the writings of his quasi-pupil, Shaftesbury--he would have said -that he found in his breast affections for public good, as well as -for self-good, the satisfaction of which gave pleasure, and to which -his doctrine, that pleasure is the ‘object of desire in general,’ -was accordingly applicable. The question--of what feelings or -combinations of feelings are the objects which excite these several -desires copies?--it does not occur to him to ask. It is only when a -class of actions presents itself for which a motive in the way of -desire or aversion is not readily assignable that any difficulty -arises, and then it is a difficulty which the assignment of such a -motive, without any question asked as to its possibility for a merely -feeling and imagining subject, is thought sufficiently to dispose -of. Such a class of actions is that of which we say that we ‘ought’ -to do them, even when we are not compelled and had rather not. We -ought, it is generally admitted, to keep our promises, even when it -is inconvenient to us to do so and no punishment could overtake us if -we did not. We ought to be just even in ways that the law does not -prescribe, and when we are beyond its ken; and that, too, in dealing -with men towards whom we have no inclination to be generous. We ought -even--so at least Locke ‘on the authority of Revelation’ would have -said--to forgive injuries which we cannot forget, and if not ‘to love -our enemies’ in the literal sense, which may be an impossibility, yet -to act as if we did. To what motive are such actions to be assigned? - -Their object is pleasure, but pleasure given not by nature but by law. - -17. ‘To desire for pleasure or aversion from pain,’ Locke would -answer, ‘but a pleasure and pain other than the natural consequences -of acts and attached to them by some law.’ This is the result of -his enquiry into ‘Moral Relations’ (Book II., chap. 28). Good and -evil, he tells us, being ‘nothing but pleasure and pain, moral good -or evil is only the conformity or disagreement of our actions to -some law, whereby good or evil, _i.e._, pleasure or pain, is drawn -on us by the will and power of the law-maker.’ All law according -to its ‘true nature’ is a rule set to the actions of others by an -intelligent being, having ‘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.’ Of such law there are three sorts. 1. -Divine Law, ‘promulgated to men by the light of nature or voice of -revelation, by comparing their actions to which they judge whether, -as duties or sins, they are like to procure them happiness or misery -from the hands of the Almighty.’ 2. Civil Law, ‘the rule set by the -Commonwealth to the actions of those who belong to it,’ reference -to which decides ‘whether they be criminal or no.’ 3. ‘The law of -opinion or reputation,’ according to agreement or disagreement with -which actions are reckoned ‘virtues or vices.’ This law may or may -not coincide with the divine law. So far as it does, virtues and -vices are really, what they are always supposed to be, actions ‘in -their own nature ‘severally right or wrong. It is not as really right -or wrong, however, but only as esteemed so, that an act is virtuous -or vicious, and thus ‘the common measure of virtue and vice is the -approbation or dislike, praise or blame, which by a 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 -among them, according to the judgment, maxims, or fashions of the -place.’ Each sort of law has its own ‘enforcement in the way of good -and evil.’ That of the civil law is obvious. That of the Divine Law -lies in the pleasures and pains of ‘another world,’ which (we have to -suppose) render actions ‘in their own nature good and evil.’ That of -the third sort of law lies in those consequences of social reputation -and dislike which are stronger motives to most men than are the -rewards and punishments either of God or the magistrate (chap. 28, §§ -5-12). - -Conformity to law not the moral good, but a means to it. - -18. ‘Moral goodness or evil,’ Locke concludes, ‘is the conformity or -non-conformity of any action’ to one or other of the above rules (§ -14). But such conformity or non-conformity is not a feeling, pleasant -or painful, at all. If, then, the account of the good as consisting -in pleasure, of which the morally good is a particular form, is to -be adhered to, we must suppose that, when moral goodness is said -to be conformity to law, it is so called merely with reference -to the specific means of attaining that pleasure in which moral -good consists. Not the conception of conformity to law, but the -imagination of a certain pleasure, will determine the desire that -moves the moral act, as every other desire. The distinction between -the moral act and an act judiciously done for the sake, let us say, -of some pleasure of the palate, will lie only in the channel through -which comes the pleasure that each is calculated to obtain. If the -motive of an act done for the sake of the pleasure of eating differs -from the motive of an act done for the sake of sexual pleasure on -account of the difference of the channels through which the pleasures -are severally obtained, in that sense only can the motive of either -of these acts, upon Locke’s principles, be taken to differ from the -motive of an act morally done. The explanation, then, of the acts -not readily assignable to desire or aversion, of which we say that -we only do them because we ‘ought,’ has been found. They are so far -of a kind with all actions done to obtain or avoid what Locke calls -‘future’ pleasures or pains that the difficulty of assigning a motive -for them only arises from the fact that their immediate result is not -an end but a means. They differ from these, however, inasmuch as the -pleasure they draw after them is not their ‘natural consequence,’ any -more than the pain attaching to a contrary act would be, but is only -possible through the action of God, the magistrate, or society in -some of its forms. - -Hume has to derive from ‘impressions’ the objects which Locke took -for granted. - -19. After the above examination we can easily anticipate the points -on which a candid and clear-headed man, who accepted the principles -of Locke’s doctrine, would see that it needed explanation and -development. If all action is determined by impulse to remove the -most pressing uneasiness, as consisting in desire for the greatest -pleasure of which the agent is at the time capable; if this, again, -means desire for the renewal of some ‘impression’ previously -experienced, and all impressions are either those of sense or derived -from them, how are we to account for those actual objects of human -interest and pursuit which seem far removed from any combination -of animal pleasures or of the means thereto, and specially for -that class of actions determined, as Locke says, by expectation of -pain or pleasure other than the ‘natural consequence’ of the act, -to which the term ‘moral’ is properly applied? Hume, as we have -seen, [1] in accepting Locke’s principles, clothes them in a more -precise terminology, marking the distinction between the feeling as -originally felt and the same as returning in memory or imagination as -that between ‘impression and idea,’ and excluding _original_ ideas -of reflection. ‘An impression first strikes upon the senses, and -makes us perceive heat or cold, thirst or hunger, pleasure or pain, -of some kind or other. Of this impression there is a copy taken by -the mind, which remains after the impression ceases; and this we call -an idea. This idea of pleasure or pain, when it returns upon the -soul, produces the new impressions of desire and aversion, hope and -fear, which may properly be called impressions of reflection, because -derived from it’ _(a)_. ‘These, again, are copied by the memory and -imagination, and become ideas; which perhaps in their turn give rise -to other impressions’ _(b)_. Thus the impressions of reflection, -marked _(a)_, will be determined by ideas copied from impressions -of sense. If desires, they will be desires for the renewal either -of a pleasure incidental to the satisfaction of appetite, or of -a pleasant sight or sound, a sweet taste or smell. These desires -and their satisfactions will again be copied in ideas, but how can -the impressions _(b)_ to which these ideas give rise be other than -desires for the renewal of the original animal pleasures? How do they -come to be desires as unlike these as are the motives which actuate -not merely the saint or the philanthropist, but the ordinary good -neighbour or honest citizen or head of a family? - -[1] General Introd., Vol. I, par. 195 - -Questions which he found at issue, a. Is virtue interested? b. What -is conscience? - -20. During the interval between the publication of Locke’s essay -and the ‘Treatise on Human Nature’ there had been much writing on -ethical questions in English. The effect of this on Hume is plain -enough. He writes with reference to current controversy, and in -the moral part of the treatise probably had the views of Clarke, -Shaftesbury, Butler, and Hutcheson more consciously before him than -Locke’s. This does not interfere, however, with the propriety of -affiliating him in respect of his views on morals, no less than on -knowledge, directly to Locke, whose principles and method were in the -main accepted by all the moralists of that age. His characteristic -lies in his more consistent application of these, and the effect of -current controversy upon him was chiefly to show him the line which -this application must take. It was a controversy which turned almost -wholly on two points; _(a)_ the distinction between ‘interested and -disinterested,’ selfish and unselfish affections; _(b)_ the origin -and nature of that ‘law,’ relation to which, according to Locke, -constitutes our action ‘virtuous or vicious.’ In the absence of any -notion of thought but as a faculty which puts together simple ideas -into complex ones, of reason but as a faculty which calculates means -and perceives the agreement of ideas mediately, it could have but one -end. - -Hobbes’ answer to first question, - -21. By the generation in which Hume was bred the issue as to the -possible disinterestedness of action was supposed to lie between -the view of Hobbes and that of Shaftesbury. Hobbes’ moral doctrine -had not been essentially different from Locke’s, but he had been -offensively explicit on questions which Locke left open to more -genial views than his doctrine logically justified. Each started from -the position that the ultimate motive to every action can only be -the imagination of one’s own pleasure or pain, and neither properly -left room for the determination of desire by a conceived object as -distinct from remembered pleasure. But while Locke, as we have seen, -illogically took for granted desires so determined, and thus made it -possible for a disciple to admit any benevolent desires as motives -on the strength of the pleasure which they produce when satisfied, -Hobbes had been more severe in his method, and had explained every -desire, of which the direct motive could not be taken to be the -renewal of some animal pleasure, as desire either for the power -in oneself to command such pleasure at will or for the pleasure -incidental to the contemplation of the signs of such power. Hence his -peculiar treatment of compassion and the other ‘social affections,’ -which it is easier to show to be untrue to the facts of the case -than to be other than the proper consequence of principles which -Locke had rendered orthodox. [1] The counter-doctrine of Shaftesbury -holds water just so far as it involves the rejection of the doctrine -that pleasure is the sole ultimate motive. It becomes confused just -because its author had no definite theory of reason, as constitutive -of objects, that could justify this rejection. - -[1] See ‘Leviathan,’ part 1, chap. 6. - -Counter-doctrine of Shaftesbury. Vice is selfishness: But no clear -account of selfishness. - -22. He begins with a doctrine that directly contradicts Locke’s -identification of the good with pleasure, and of the morally good -with pleasure occurring in a particular way, ‘In a sensible creature -that which is not done through any affection at all makes neither -good nor ill in the nature of that creature; who then only is -supposed good, when the good or ill of the system to which he has -relation is the immediate object of some passion or affection moving -him.’ [1] This, it will be seen, as against Locke, implies that the -good of a man’s action lies not in any pleasure sequent upon it to -him, but in the nature of the affection from which it proceeds; and -that the goodness of this affection depends on its being determined -by an object wholly different from imagined pleasure--the _conceived_ -good of a system to which the man has relation, _i.e._, of human -society, which in Shaftesbury’s language is the ‘public’ as distinct -from the ‘private’ system. It is not enough that an action should -result in good to this system; it must proceed from affection for it. -‘Whatever is done which happens to be advantageous to the species -through an affection merely towards self-good does not imply any -more goodness in the creature than as the affection itself is good. -Let him in any particular act ever so well; if at the bottom it -be that selfish affection alone which moves him, he is in himself -still vicious.’ [2] Here, then, we seem to have a clear theory of -moral evil as consisting in selfish, of moral good as consisting -in unselfish affections. But what exactly constitutes a selfish -affection, according to Shaftesbury? The answer that first suggests -itself, is that as the unselfish affection is an affection for -public good, so a selfish one is an affection for ‘self-good,’ the -good of the ‘private system.’ Shaftesbury, however, does not give -this answer. ‘Affection for private good’ with him is not, as such, -selfish; it is so only when ‘excessive’ and ‘inconsistent with the -interest of the species or public.’ [3] This qualification seems -at once to efface the clear line of distinction previously drawn. -It puts ‘self-affection’ on a level with public affection which, -according to Shaftesbury, may equally err on the side of excess. It -implies that an affection for self-good, if only it be advantageous -to the species, may be good; which is just what had been previously -denied. And not only so; although, when the self-affections are under -view, they are only allowed a qualified goodness in virtue of their -indirect contribution to the good of the species, yet conversely, the -superiority of the affections, which have this latter good for their -object, is urged specially on the ground of the greater amount of -happiness or ‘self-good’ which they produce. - -[1] ‘Inquiry concerning Virtue,’ Book I. part 2, sec. 1. - -[2] Ibid., Book I., part 2, sec. 2. - -[3] Ibid., Book II., part 1, sec. 3. - -Confusion in his notions of self-good and public good: Is all living -for pleasure, or only too much of it, selfish? - -23. The truth is that the notions which Shaftesbury attached to the -terms ‘affection for self-good’ and ‘affection for public good’ were -not such as allowed of a consistent opposition between them. They can -only be so opposed if, on the one hand, self-good is identified with -pleasure; and on the other, affection for public good is carefully -distinguished from desire for that sort of pleasure of which the -gratification of others is a condition. But with Shaftesbury, -affections for self-good do not represent merely those desires for -pleasure determined by self-consciousness--for pleasure presented as -one’s personal good--which can alone be properly reckoned sources -of moral evil. They include equally mere natural appetites--hunger, -the sexual impulse, &c.--which are morally neutral, and they do not -clearly exclude any desire for an object which a man has so ‘made -his own’ as to find his happiness--‘self-enjoyment’ or ‘self-good,’ -according to Shaftesbury’s language--in attaining it, though it -be as remote from imagined pleasure as possible. [1] On the other -hand, ‘affections for public good,’ as he describes them, are not -restricted to such desires for the good of others as are irrespective -of pleasure to self. They include not only such natural instincts as -‘parental kindness and concern for the nurture and propagation of -the young,’ which, morally, at any rate, are not to be distinguished -from the appetites reckoned as affections for self-good, but also -desires for sympathetic pleasure--the pleasure to oneself which -arises on consciousness that another is pleased. Shaftesbury’s -special antipathy, indeed, is the doctrine that benevolent affections -are interested in the sense of having for their object a pleasure -to oneself, apart from and beyond the pleasure of the person whom -they move us to please; but unless he regards them as desires for -the pleasure which the subject of them experiences in the pleasure -of another, there is no purpose in enlarging, as he does with much -unction, on the special pleasantness of the pleasures which they -produce. With such vagueness in his notions of what he meant by -affections for ‘self-good’ and for ‘public good,’ it is not strange -that he should have failed to give any tenable account of the -selfishness in which he conceived moral evil to consist. He could not -apply such a term of reproach to the ‘self-affections’ in general, -without condemning as selfish the man who ‘finds his own happiness -in doing good,’ and who is in truth indistinguishable from one to -whom ‘affection for public good’ has become, as we say, the law of -his being. Nor could he identify selfishness, as he should have -done, with all living for pleasure without a more complete rupture -than he was capable of with the received doctrine of his time and -without bringing affection for public good, in the form in which it -was most generally conceived, and which was, at any rate, one of the -forms under which he presented it to himself--as desire, namely, for -sympathetic pleasure--into the same condemnation. His way out of the -difficulty is, as we have seen, in violation of his own principle -to find the characteristic of selfishness not in the motive of any -affection but in its result; not in the fact that a man’s desire -has his own good for its object, which is true of one to whom his -neighbour’s good is as his own, nor in the fact that it has pleasure -for its object, which Shaftesbury, as the child of his age, could -scarcely help thinking was the case with every desire, but in the -fact that it is stronger than is ‘consistent with the interest of the -species or public.’ - -[1] Book II., part 2, sec. 2. - -What have Butler and Hutcheson to say about it? Chiefly that -affections terminate upon their objects. But this does not exclude -the view that all desire is for pleasure. - -24. Neither Butler nor Hutcheson [1] can claim to have carried the -ethical controversy much beyond the point at which Shaftesbury left -it. Each took for granted that the object of the ‘self-affection’ was -necessarily one’s own happiness, and neither made any distinction -between living for happiness and living for pleasure. They could -not then identify selfishness with the living for pleasure without -condemning the self-affection, and with, it the best man’s pursuit -of his own highest good in the service of others, altogether as -evil. Nor in the absence of any better theory of the object of -the self-affection could the social affections, which, according -to Butler, are subject in the developed man to the direction of -self-love, escape the suggestion that they are one mode of the -general desire for pleasure. Butler and Hutcheson, indeed, are quite -clear that they are ‘disinterested’ in the sense of ‘terminating upon -their objects.’ [2] This means, what is sufficiently obvious when -once pointed out, _(a)_ that a benevolent desire is not a desire -for that particular pleasure, or rather ‘removal of uneasiness,’ -which shall ensue when it is satisfied, and _(b)_ that it cannot -originally arise from the general desire for happiness, since -this creates no pleasures but merely directs us to the pursuit of -objects found pleasant independently of it, and thus, if it directs -us to benevolent acts, presupposes a pleasure previously found in -them. This, however, as Butler points out, is equally true of all -particular desires whatever--of those styled self-regarding, no less -than of the social--and if it is not incompatible with the former -being desires for pleasure, no more is it with the latter being so. -Much confusion on the matter, it may be truly said, arises from the -loose way in which the words ‘affection’ and ‘passion’ are used by -Butler and his contemporaries, not excluding Hume himself, alike -for appetite, desire, and emotion. In every case a pleasure other -than satisfaction of desire must have been experienced before desire -can be excited by the imagination of it. A pleasure incidental to -the satisfaction of _appetite_ must have been experienced before -imagination of it could excite the _desire_ of the glutton. In like -manner, social affection, as _desire_, cannot be first excited by the -pleasure which shall arise when it is satisfied; it must previously -exist as the condition of that pleasure being experienced; but it -does not follow that it is other than a desire for an imagined -pleasure, for that sympathetic pleasure in the pleasure of another -in which the social affection as _emotion_ consists. Now though -Butler and Hutcheson sufficiently showed that it is no other pleasure -than this which is the original object of benevolent desires, they -did not attempt to show that it is not this; and failing such an -attempt, the received doctrine that the object of all desire, social -and self-regarding alike, is pleasure of one sort or another, would -naturally be taken to stand. This admitted, there can be nothing in -the fact that a certain pleasure depends on the pleasure of another, -and that a certain other does not, to entitle an action moved by -desire for the former sort of pleasure to be called unselfish in the -way of praise, and one moved by desire for the latter sort selfish -in the way of reproach. The motive--desire for his own pleasure--is -the same to the doer in both cases. The distinction between the acts -can only lie in that which Shaftesbury had said could not constitute -moral good or ill--in the consequences by which society judges of -them, but which do not form the motive of the agent. In other words, -it will be a distinction fixed by that law of opinion or reputation, -in which Locke had found the common measure of virtue and vice, -though he had not entered on the question of the considerations by -which that law is formed. - -[1] The works of Hutcheson, published before Hume’s treatise was -written, and which strongly affected it, were the ‘Enquiry into the -Original of our Ideas of Beauty and Virtue’ (1725), and the ‘Essay -on the Nature and Conduct of the Passions and Affections’ (1728). In -what follows I wrote with direct reference to his posthumous work, -not published till after Hume’s treatise, but which only reproduces -more systematically his earlier views. - -[2] See in Preface to Butler’s Sermons, the part relating to Sermon -XI., ‘Besides, the only idea of an interested pursuit’ &c.; also the -early part of Sermon XI., ‘Every man hath a general desire,’ &c. - -Of moral goodness Butler’s account circular: Hutcheson’s inconsistent -with his doctrine that reason gives no end. - -25. Such a conclusion would lie ready to hand for such a reader of -Butler and Hutcheson as we may suppose Hume to have been, but it -is needless to say that it is not that at which they themselves -arrive. Butler, indeed, distinctly refuses to identify moral good -and evil respectively with disinterested and interested action, [1] -but neither does he admit that desire for pleasure or aversion from -pain is the uniform motive of action in such a way as to compel the -conclusion that moral good and ill represent a distinction, not of -motives, but of consequences of action contemplated by the onlooker. -An act is morally good, according to him, when it is approved by the -‘reflex faculty of approbation,’ bad when it is disapproved, but -what it is that this ‘faculty’ approves he never distinctly tells -us. The good is what ‘conscience’ approves, and conscience is what -approves the good--that is the circle out of which he never escapes. -If we insist on extracting from him any more satisfactory conclusion -as to the object of moral approbation, it must be that it is the -object which ‘self-love’ pursues, _i.e._, the greatest happiness -of the individual, a conclusion which in some places he certainly -adopts. [2] Hutcheson, on the other hand, gives a plain definition of -the object which this faculty approves. It consists in ‘affections -tending to the happiness of others and the moral perfection of the -mind possessing them.’ If in this definition by ‘tending to’ may be -understood ‘of which the motive is’--an interpretation which the -general tenor of Hutcheson’s view would justify--it implies in effect -that the morally good lies in desires of which the object is not -pleasure. That desire for moral perfection, if there is such a thing, -is not desire for pleasure is obvious enough; nor could desire for -the happiness of others be taken to be so except through confusion -between determination by the conception of another’s good, to which -his apparent pleasure is rightly or wrongly taken as a guide, and -by the imagination of a pleasure to be experienced by oneself in -sympathy with the pleasure of another. Nor is it doubtful that -Hutcheson himself, though he might have hesitated to identify moral -evil, as selfishness, with the living for pleasure, yet understood -by the morally good the living for objects wholly different from -pleasure. The question is whether the recognition of such motives is -logically compatible with his doctrine that reason gives no ends, -but is only a ‘subservient power’ of calculating means. If feeling, -undetermined by thought or reason, can alone supply motives, and -of feeling, thus undetermined, nothing can be said but that it is -pleasant or painful, what motive can there be but imagination of -one’s own pleasure or pain--_one’s own_, for if imagination is -merely the return of feeling in fainter form, no one can imagine any -feeling, any more than he can originally feel it, except as his own? - -[1] See preface to Sermons (about four pages from the end in most -editions):-‘The goodness or badness of actions does not arise hence,’ -&c. The conclusion he there arrives at is that a good action is one -which ‘becomes such creatures as we are’; and this, read in the -light of the second sermon, must be understood to mean an action -‘suitable to our whole nature,’ as containing a principle of ‘reflex -approbation.’ In other words, the good action is so because approved -by conscience. - -[2] See a passage towards the end of Sermon III., ‘Reasonable -self-love and conscience are the chief,’ &c. &c.; also a passage -towards the end of Sermon XI., ‘Let it be allowed though virtue,’ &c. -&c. - -Source of the moral judgment: Received notion of reason incompatible -with true view. Shaftesbury’s doctrine of rational affection; spoilt -by doctrine of ‘moral sense’ - -26. The work of reason in constituting the moral judgment (‘I -ought’), as well as the moral motive (‘I must, because I ought’), -could not find due recognition in an age which took its notion of -reason from Locke. The only theory then known which found the source -of moral distinctions in reason was Clarke’s, and Clarke’s notion -of reason was essentially the same as that which appears in Locke’s -account of demonstrative knowledge. [1] It was in truth derived from -the procedure of mathematics, and only applicable to the comparison -of quantities. Clarke talks loftily about the Eternal Reason of -things, but by this he means nothing definite except the laws of -proportion, and when he finds the virtue of an act to consist in -conformity to this Eternal Reason, the inevitable rejoinder is the -question--Between what quantities is this virtue a proportion? [2] -In Shaftesbury first appears a doctrine of moral sense. Over and -above the social and self-regarding affections proper to a ‘sensible’ -creature, the characteristic of man is a ‘rational affection’ for -goodness as consisting in the proper adjustment of the two orders -of ‘sensible’ affection. This rational affection is not only a -possible motive to action--it is the only motive that can make that -character good of which human action is the expression; for with -Shaftesbury, though a balance of the social and self-affections -constitutes the goodness of those affections, yet the man is only -good as actuated by affection for this goodness, and ‘should the -_sensible_ affections stand ever so much amiss, yet if they prevail -not because of those other rational affections spoken of, the person -is esteemed virtuous.’ [3] Such a notion, it is clear, if it had -met with a psychology answering it, had only to be worked out in -order to become Kant’s doctrine of the rational will as determined -by reverence for law; but Shaftesbury had no such psychology, nor, -with his aristocratic indifference to completeness of system, does -he seem ever to have felt the want of it. He never asked himself -what precisely was the theory of reason implied in the admission of -an affection ‘rational’ in the sense, not that reason calculates the -means to its satisfaction, but that it is determined by an object -only possible for a rational as distinct from a ‘sensible’ creature; -and just because he did not do so, he slipped into adaptations to the -current view of the good as pleasure and of desire as determined by -the pleasure incidental to its own satisfaction. Thus, to a disciple, -who wished to extract from Shaftesbury a more definite system than -Shaftesbury had himself formed, the ‘rational affection’ would become -desire for a specific feeling of pleasure supposed to arise on the -view of good actions as exhibiting a proper balance between social -and self-regarding affections. This pleasure is the ‘moral sense,’ -[4] with which Shaftesbury’s name has become specially associated, -while the doctrine of rational affection, with which he certainly -himself connected it, but which it essentially vitiates, has been -forgotten. - -[1] See Clarke’s Boyle Lectures, Vol. II., proposition 1. The germ -of Clarke’s doctrine of morals is to be found in Locke’s occasional -assimilation of moral to mathematical truth and certainty. (Cf. -Essay, Book IV, ch. 4, sec. 7, and ch. 12, sec. 8). - -[2] Cf. Hume, Vol. II., p. 238. [Book III., part I., sec. I.] - -[3] ‘Inq. concerning Virtue,’ Book I., pt. 2. sec. 4. Cf. Sec. 3 sub -init. - -[4] In using the term ‘moral sense,’ Shaftesbury himself, no doubt, -meant to convey the notion that the moral faculty was one of -‘intuition,’ in Locke’s sense of the word, as opposed to reason, the -faculty of demonstration, rather than that it was a susceptibility of -pleasure and pain. - -Consequences of the latter. - -27. That doctrine is of value as maintaining that those actions only -are morally good of which the rational affection is the motive, in -the sense that they spring from a character which this affection has -fashioned. But if the rational affection is desire for the pleasure -of moral sense, we find ourselves in the contradiction of supposing -that the only motive which can produce good acts is one that cannot -operate till after the good acts have been done. It is desire for a -pleasure which yet can only have been experienced as a consequence of -the previous existence of the desire. Shaftesbury himself, indeed, -treats the moral sense of pleasure in the contemplation of good -actions as a pleasure in the view of the right adjustment between the -social and self-affections. If, however, on the strength of this, we -suppose that certain actions are first done, not from the rational -affection, but yet good, and that then remembrance of the pleasure -found in the view of their goodness, exciting desire, becomes motive -to another set of acts which are thus done from rational affection, -we contradict his statement that only the rational affection forms -the goodness of man, and are none the nearer to an account of what -does form it. To say that it is the ‘right adjustment’ of the two -orders of affection tells us nothing. Except as suggesting an analogy -from the world of art, really inapplicable, but by which Shaftesbury -was much influenced, this expression means no more than that goodness -is a good state of the affections. From such a circle the outlet -most consistent with the spirit of that philosophy, which had led -Shaftesbury himself to bring down the rational affection to the level -of a desire for pleasure, would lie in the notion that a state of the -affections is good in proportion as it is productive of pleasure; -which again would suggest the question whether the specific pleasure -of moral sense itself, the supposed object of rational affection, is -more than pleasure in that indefinite anticipation of pleasure which -the view of affections so ordered tends to raise in us. - -Is an act done for ‘virtue’s sake’ done for pleasure of moral sense? - -28. Here, again, neither Butler nor Hutcheson, while they avoid the -most obvious inconsistency of Shaftesbury’s doctrine, do much for its -positive development. With each the ‘moral faculty,’ though it is -said to approve and disapprove, is still a ‘sense’ or ‘sentiment,’ a -specific susceptibility of pleasure in the contemplation of goodness; -and each again recognises a ‘reflex affection’ for--a desire to -have--the goodness of which the view conveys this pleasure. But they -neither have the merit of stating so explicitly as Shaftesbury does -that this rational affection alone constitutes the goodness of man, -as man; nor, on the other hand, do they lapse, as he does, into the -representation of it as a desire for the pleasure which the view of -goodness causes. Butler, indeed, having no account to give of the -goodness which is approved or morally pleasing, but the fact that it -is so pleasing, could logically have nothing to say against the view -that this reflex affection is merely a desire for this particular -sort of pleasure; but by representing it as equivalent in its highest -form to the love of God, to the longing of the soul after Him as the -perfectly good, he in effect gives it a wholly different character. -Hutcheson, by his definition of the object of moral approbation, [1] -which is also a definition of the object of the reflex affection, is -fairly entitled to exclude, as he does, along with the notion that -the goodness which we morally approve is the quality of exciting the -pleasure of such approval, the notion that ‘affection for goodness’ -means desire for this or any other pleasure. But, in spite of his -express rejection of this view, the question will still return, how -either a faculty of consciousness of which we only know that it is ‘a -kind of taste or relish,’ or a desire from the determination of which -reason is expressly excluded, can have any other object than pleasure -or pain. - -[1] See above, sec. 25. - -Hume excludes every object of desire but pleasure. - -29. In contrast with these well-meant efforts to derive that -distinction between the selfish and unselfish, between the pleasant -and the morally good, which the Christian conscience requires, from -principles that do not admit of it, Hume’s system has the merit -of relative consistency. He sees that the two sides of Locke’s -doctrine--one that thought originates nothing, but takes its objects -as given in feeling, the other that the good which is object of -desire is pleasant feeling--are inseparable. Hence he decisively -rejects every notion of rational or unselfish affections, which -would imply that they are other than desires for pleasure; of -virtue, which would imply that it antecedently determines, rather -than is constituted by, the specific pleasure of moral sense; and -of this pleasure itself, which would imply that anything but the -view of tendencies to produce pleasure can excite it. But here -his consistency stops. The principle which forbade him to admit -any object of desire but pleasure is practically forgotten in his -account of the sources of pleasure, and its being so forgotten is -the condition of the desire for pleasure being made plausibly to -serve as a foundation for morals. It is the assumption of pleasures -determined by objects only possible for reason, made in the treatise -on the Passions, that prepares the way for the rejection of reason, -as supplying either moral motive or moral standard, in the treatise -on Morals. - -His account of ‘direct passions’: All desire is for pleasure. - -30. ‘The passions’ is Hume’s generic term for ‘impressions of -reflection’--appetites, desires, and emotions alike. He divides them -into two main orders, ‘direct and indirect,’ both ‘founded on pain -and pleasure.’ The _direct_ passions are enumerated as ‘desire and -aversion, grief and joy, hope and fear, along with volition’ or will. -These ‘arise from good and evil’ (which are the same as pleasure and -pain) ‘most naturally and with least preparation.’ ‘Desire arises -from good, aversion from evil, considered simply.’ They become will -or volition, ‘when the good may be attained or evil avoided by -any action of the mind or body’--will being simply ‘the internal -impression we feel and are conscious of when we knowingly give rise -to any new motion of our body or new perception of our mind.’ ‘When -good is certain or probable it produces joy’ (which is described -also as a pleasure produced by pleasure or by the imagination of -pleasure); ‘when it is uncertain, it gives rise to hope.’ To these -the corresponding opposites are grief and fear. We must suppose -them to be distinguished from desire and aversion as being what -he elsewhere calls ‘pure emotions’; such as do not, like desires, -‘immediately excite us to action.’ Given such an immediate impression -of pleasure or pain as excites a ‘distinct passion’ of one or other -of these kinds, and supposing it to ‘arise from an object related to -ourselves or others,’ it excites mediately, through this relation, -the new impressions of pride or humility, love or hatred--pride when -the object is related to oneself, love when it is related to another -person. These are _indirect_ passions. They do not tend to displace -the immediate impression which is the condition of their excitement, -but being themselves agreeable give it additional force. ‘Thus a -suit of fine clothes produces pleasure from their beauty; and this -pleasure produces the direct passions, or the impressions of volition -and desire. Again, when these clothes are considered as belonging to -oneself, the double relation conveys to us the sentiment of pride, -which is an indirect passion; and the pleasure which attends that -passion returns back to the direct affections, and gives new force to -our desire or volition, joy or hope.’ [1] - -[1] Vol. II., pp. 214, 215. Cf. pp. 76, 90, 153 and 203. [Book II., -part III., sec. IX.; part 1, sec. I; part I., sec. VI.; part II., -sec. VI.; part III., sec. VI.] - -Yet he admits ‘passions’ which produce pleasure, but proceed not from -it - -31. Alongside of the unqualified statement that ‘the passions, both -direct and indirect, are founded on pain and pleasure,’ and the -consequent theory of them, we find the curiously cool admission that -‘beside pain and pleasure, the direct passions frequently arise from -a natural impulse or instinct, which is perfectly unaccountable. -Of this kind is the desire of punishment to our enemies, and of -happiness to our friends; hunger and lust, and a few other bodily -appetites. These passions, properly speaking, produce good and -evil, and proceed not from them like the other affections.’ [1] In -this casual way appears the recognition of that difference of the -desire for imagined pleasure from appetite proper on the one side, -and on the other from desire determined by reason, which it is the -point of Hume’s system to ignore. The question is, how many of the -pleasures in which he finds the springs of human conduct are other -than products of a desire which is not itself moved by pleasure, or -emotions excited by objects which reason constitutes. - -[1] P. 215. [Book II., part III., sec. IX.] The passage in the -‘Dissertation on the Passions’ (Vol. IV., ‘Dissertation on the -Passions,’ sub init.), which corresponds to the one here quoted, -throws light on the relation in which Hume’s later redaction of his -theory stands to the earlier, as occasionally disguising, but never -removing, its inconsistencies. ‘Some objects, by being naturally -conformable or contrary to passion, excite an agreeable or painful -sensation, and are thence called _good_ or _evil_. The punishment -of an adversary, by gratifying revenge, is good: the sickness of a -companion, by affecting friendship, is evil.’ Here he avoids the -inconsistency of admitting in so many words a ‘desire’ which is not -for a pleasure. But the inconsistency really remains. What is the -passion, the ‘conformability’ to which of an object in the supposed -cases constitutes pleasure? Since it is neither an appetite (such -as hunger), nor an emotion (such as pride), it remains that it is a -desire, and a desire which, though the ‘gratification’ of it is a -pleasure, cannot be a desire for that or any other pleasure. - -Desire for objects, as he understands it, excluded by his theory of -impressions and ideas. - -32. In what sense, we have first to ask, do Hume’s principles justify -him in speaking of desire _for an object_ at all. ‘The appearance of -an object to the senses’ is the same thing as ‘an impression becoming -present to the mind,’ [1] and if this is true of impressions of sense -it cannot be less true of impressions of reflection. If sense ‘offers -not its object as anything distinct from itself,’ neither can desire. -Its object, according to Hume, is an idea of a past impression; but -this, if we take him at his word, can merely mean that a feeling -which, when at its liveliest, was pleasant, has passed into a fainter -stage, which, in contrast with the livelier, is pain--the pain of -want, which is also a wish for the renewal of the original pleasure. -In fact, however, when Hume or anyone else (whether he admit the -possibility of desiring an object not previously found pleasant, or -no), speaks of desire for an object, he means something different -from this. He means either desire for an object that causes pleasure, -which is impossible except so far as the original pleasure has -been--consciously to the subject feeling it--pleasure caused by an -object, _i.e._, a feeling determined by the conception of a thing -under relations to self; or else desire for pleasure as an object, -_i.e._, not merely desire for the revival of some feeling which, -having been pleasant as ‘impression,’ survives without being pleasant -as ‘idea,’ but desire determined by the consciousness of self as a -permanent subject that has been pleased, and is to be pleased again. -It is here, then, as in the case of the attempted derivation of -space, or of identity and substance, from impressions of sense. In -order to give rise to such an impression of reflection as desire for -an object is, either the original impression of sense, or the idea -of this, must be other than Hume could allow it to be. Either the -original impression must be other than a satisfaction of appetite, -other than a sight, smell, sound, &c., or the idea must be other -than a copy of the impression. One or other must be determined by -conceptions not derived from feeling, the correlative conceptions of -self and thing. Thus, in order to be able to interpret his primary -class of impressions of reflection [2] as desires for objects, or -for pleasures as good, Hume has already made the assumption that is -needed for the transition to that secondary class of impressions -through which he has to account for morality. He has assumed that -thought determines feeling, and not merely reproduces it. Even if the -materials out of which it constructs the determining object be merely -remembered pleasures, the object is no more to be identified with -these materials than the living body with its chemical constituents. - -[1] See General Introduction, paragraph 208. - -[2] See above, sec. 19. - -Pride determined by reference to self. - -33. In the account of the ‘indirect passions’ the term _object_ is no -longer applied, as in the account of the direct ones, to the pleasure -or pain which excites desire or aversion. It is expressly transferred -to the self or other person, to whom the ‘exciting causes’ of pride -and love must be severally related. ‘Pride and humility, though -directly contrary, have yet the same object,’ viz., self; but since -they are contrary, ‘’tis impossible this object can be their cause, -or sufficient alone to excite them ... We must therefore make a -distinction betwixt that idea which excites them, and that to which -they direct their view when excited.... The first idea that is -presented to the mind is that of the cause or productive principle. -This excites the passion connected with it; and that passion, when -excited, turns our view to another idea, which is that of self.... -The first idea represents the _cause_, the second the _object_ of -the passion.’ [1] Again a further distinction must be made ‘in the -causes of the passion betwixt that _quality_ which operates, and -the _subject_ on which it is placed. A man, for instance, is vain -of a beautiful house which belongs to him, or which he has himself -built or contrived. Here the object of the passion is himself, and -the cause is the beautiful house; which cause again is subdivided -into two parts, viz., the quality which operates upon the passion, -and the subject in which the quality inheres. The quality is the -beauty, and the subject is the house, considered as his property or -contrivance.’ [2] It is next found that the operative qualities which -produce pride, however various, agree in this, that they produce -pleasure--a ‘separate pleasure,’ independent of the resulting pride. -In all cases, again, ‘the subjects to which these qualities adhere -are either parts of ourselves or something nearly related to us.’ -The conclusion is that ‘the cause, which excites the passion, is -related to the object which nature has attributed to the passion; -the sensation, which the cause separately produces, is related to -the sensation of the passion: from this double relation of ideas -and impressions the passion is derived.’ [3] The ideas, it will be -observed, are severally those of the exciting ‘subject’ (in the -illustrative case quoted, the beautiful house) and of the ‘object’ -self; the impressions are severally the pleasure immediately caused -by the ‘subject’ (in the case given, the pleasure of feeling beauty) -and the pleasure of pride. The relation between the ideas may be -any of the ‘natural ones’ that regulate association. [4] In the -supposed case it is that of cause and effect, since a man’s property -‘produces effects on him and he on it.’ The relation between the -impressions must be that of resemblance--this, as we are told by the -way (somewhat strangely, if impressions are only stronger ideas), -being the only possible relation between impressions--the resemblance -of one pleasure to another. - -[1] Vol. II., pp. 77 and 78. [Book II., part I., sec. II.] - -[2] Ibid., p. 79. [Book II., part I., sec. II.] - -[3] Vol. II., pp. 84, 85. [Book II., part I., sec. V.] - -[4] Book I., part 1, secs. 4 and 5. - -This means that it takes its character from that which is not a -possible ‘impression’. - -34. Pride, then, is a special sort of pleasure excited by another -special sort of pleasure, and the distinction of the two sorts of -pleasure from each other depends on the character which each derives -from an idea--one from the idea of self, the other from the idea of -some ‘quality in a subject,’ which may be the beauty of a picture, or -the achievement of an ancestor, or any other quality as unlike these -as these are unlike each other, so long as the idea of it is capable -of association with the idea of self. Apart from such determination -by ideas, the pleasure of pride itself and the pleasure which excites -it, on the separateness of which from each other Hume insists, could -only be separate in time and degree of liveliness--a separation -which might equally obtain between successive feelings of pride. Of -neither could anything be said but that it was pleasant--more or less -pleasant than the other, before or after it, as the case might be. -Is the idea, then, that gives each impression its character, itself -an impression grown fainter? It should be so, of course, if Hume’s -theory of consciousness is to hold good, either in its general form, -or in its application to morals, according to which all actions, -those moved by pride among the rest, have pleasure for their ultimate -motive; and no doubt he would have said that it was so. The idea of -the beauty of a picture, for instance, is the original impression -which it ‘makes on the senses’ as more faintly retained by the mind. -But is the original impression _merely_ an impression--an impression -undetermined by conceptions, and of which, therefore, as it is to the -subject of it, nothing can be said, but simply that it is pleasant? -This, too, in the particular instance of beauty, Hume seems to hold; -[1] but if it is so, the idea of beauty, as determined by reference -to the impression, is determined by reference to the indeterminate, -and we know no more of the separate pleasure that excites the -pleasure of pride, when we are told that its source is an impression -of beauty, than we did before. Apart from any other reference, we -only know that pride is a pleasure excited by a pleasure which is -itself excited by a pleasure grown fainter. Of effect, proximate -cause, and ultimate cause, only one and the same thing can be said, -viz., that each feels pleasant. Meanwhile in regard to that other -relation from which the pleasure of pride, on its part, is supposed -to take its character, the same question arises. This pleasure ‘has -self for its object.’ Is self, then, an impression stronger or -fainter? Can one feeling be said without nonsense to have another -feeling for its object? If it can, what specification is gained for -a pleasure or pain by reference to an object of which, as a mere -feeling, nothing more can be said than that it is a pleasure or pain? -If, on the other hand, the idea of self, relation to which makes the -feeling of pride what it is, and through it determines action, is -not a copy of any impression of sense or reflection--not a copy of -any sight or sound, any passion or emotion [2]--how can it be true -that the ultimate determination of action in all cases arises from -pleasure or pain? - -[1] Vol. II., p. 96; IV [Book II., part I., sec. VIII.], -‘Dissertation on the Passions,’ II. 7. - -[2] Intr. to Vol. I., paragraph 208. - -Hume’s attempt to represent idea of self as derived from impression. - -35. From the pressure of such questions as these Hume offers us two -main subterfuges. One is furnished by his account of the self, as -‘that succession of related ideas and impressions of which we have -an intimate memory and consciousness’ [1]--an account which, to an -incurious reader, conveys the notion that ‘self,’ if not exactly an -impression, is something in the nature of an impression, while yet it -seems to give the required determination to the impression which has -this for its ‘object.’ It is evident, however, that its plausibility -depends entirely on the qualification of the ‘succession, &c.,’ as -that of which we have an ‘intimate consciousness.’ The succession -of impressions, simply as such, and in the absence of relation to -a single subject, is nothing intelligible at all. Hume, indeed, -elsewhere represents it as constituting time, which, as we have -previously shown, [2] by itself it could not properly be said to do; -but if it could, the characterisation of pleasure as having time -for its object would not be much to the purpose. The successive -impressions and ideas are further said to be ‘related,’ _i.e._, -_naturally_ related, according to Hume’s sense of the term; but -this we have found means no more than that when two feelings have -been often felt to be either like each other or ‘contiguous,’ the -recurrence of one is apt to be followed by the recurrence in fainter -form of the other. This characteristic of the succession brings it -no nearer to the intelligible unity which it must have, in order -to be an object of which the idea makes the pleasure of pride what -it is. The notion of its having such unity is really conveyed by -the statement that we have an ‘intimate consciousness’ of it. It is -through these words, so to speak, that we read into the definition -of self that conception of it which we carry with us, but of which -it states the reverse. Now, however difficult it may be to say what -this intimate consciousness is, it is clear that it cannot be one of -the feelings, stronger or fainter--impressions or ideas--which the -first part of the definition tells us form a succession, for this -would imply that one of them was at the same time all the rest. Nor -yet can it be a compound of them all, for the fact that they are a -succession is incompatible with their forming a compound. Here, then, -is a consciousness, which is not an impression, and which we can -only take to be derived from impressions by supposing these to be -what they first become in relation to this consciousness. In saying -that we have such a consciousness of the succession of impressions, -we say in effect that we are other than the succession. How, then, -without contradiction, can our self be said to _be_ the succession of -impressions, &c.--a succession which in the very next word has to be -qualified in a way that implies we are other than it? This question, -once put, will save us from surprise at finding that in one place, -among frequent repetitions of the account of self already given, the -‘succession &c.’ is dropped, and for it substituted ‘_the individual -person_ of whose actions and sentiments each of us is intimately -conscious.’ [3] - -[1] Vol, II., p. 77, &c. [Book II., part I., sec. II.] - -[2] Intr. to Vol. I., sec. 261. - -[3] Vol. II., p. 84. [Book II., part I., sec. V.] - -Another device is to suggest a physiological account of pride. - -36. The other way of gaining an apparent determination for the -impression, pride, without making it depend on relation to that -which is not an impression at all, corresponds to that appeal to -the ‘anatomist’ by the suggestion of which, it will be remembered, -Hume avoids the troublesome question, how the simple impressions of -sense, undetermined by relation, can have that definite character -which they must have if they are to serve as the elements of -knowledge. The question in that case being really one that concerns -the simple impression, as it is for the consciousness of the -subject of it, Hume’s answer is in effect a reference to what it -is for the physiologist. So in regard to pride; the question being -what character it can have, for the conscious subject of it, to -distinguish it from any other pleasant feeling, except such as is -derived from a conception which is not an impression, Hume is ready -on occasion to suggest that it has the distinctive character which -for the physiologist it would derive from the nerves organic to it, -if such nerves could be traced. ‘We must suppose that nature has -given to the organs of the human mind a certain disposition fitted -to produce a peculiar impression or emotion, which we call PRIDE: to -this emotion she has assigned a certain idea, viz., that of SELF, -which it never fails to produce. This contrivance of nature is easily -conceived. We have many instances of such a situation of affairs. -The nerves of the nose and palate are so disposed, as in certain -circumstances to convey such peculiar sensations to the mind; the -sensations of lust and hunger always produce in us the idea of those -peculiar objects, which are suitable to each appetite. These two -circumstances are united in pride. The organs are so disposed as to -produce the passion; and the passion, after its production, naturally -produces a certain idea.’ [1] - -[1] Vol. II., p. 85. [Book II., part I., sec. V.] - -Fallacy of this: it does not tell us what pride is to the subject of -it. - -37. Here, it will be noticed, the doctrine, that the pleasant emotion -of pride derives its specific character from relation to the idea -of self, is dropped. The emotion we call pride is supposed to be -first produced, and then, in virtue of its specific character as -pride, to _produce_ the idea of self. [1] If the idea of self, then, -does not give the pleasure its specific character, what does? ‘That -disposition fitted to produce it,’ Hume answers, which belongs to -the ‘organs of the human mind.’ Now either this is the old story of -explaining the soporific qualities of opium by its _vis soporifica_, -or it means that the distinction of the pleasure of pride from other -pleasures, like the distinction of a smell from a taste, is due to -a particular kind of nervous irritation that conditions it, and -may presumably be ascertained by the physiologist. Whether such a -physical condition of pride can be discovered or no, it is not to -the purpose to dispute. The point to observe is that, if discovered, -it would not afford an answer to the question to which an answer is -being sought--to the question, namely, what the emotion of pride is -to the conscious subject of it. If it were found to be conditioned -by as specific a nervous irritation as the sensations of smell and -taste to which Hume assimilates it, it would yet be no more the -consciousness of such irritation than is the smell of a rose to the -person smelling it. In the one case as in the other, the feeling, -as it is to the subject of it, can only be determined by relation -to other feelings or other modes of consciousness. It is by such a -relation that, according to Hume’s general account of it, pride is -determined, but the relation is to the consciousness of an object -which, not being any form of feeling, has no proper place in his -psychology. Hence in the passage before us he tries to substitute for -it a physical determination of the emotion, which for the subject -of it is no determination at all; and, having gained an apparent -specification for it in this way, to represent as its product that -idea of a distinctive object which he had previously treated as -necessary to constitute it. Pride produces the idea of self, just as -‘the sensations of hunger and lust always produce in us the idea of -those peculiar objects, which are suitable to each appetite.’ Now -it is a large assumption in regard to animals other than men, that, -because hunger and lust move them to eat and generate, they so move -them through the intervention of any ideas _of objects_ whatever--an -assumption which in the absence of language on the part of the -animals it is impossible to verify--and one still more questionable, -that the ideas of objects which these appetites (if it be so) produce -in the animals, except as determined by self-consciousness, are ideas -in the same sense as the idea of self. But at any rate, if such -feelings produce ideas of peculiar objects, it must be in virtue -of the distinctive character which, as feelings, they have for the -subjects of them. The withdrawal, however, of determination by the -idea of self from the emotion of pride, leaves it with no distinctive -character whatever, and therefore with nothing by which we may -explain its production of that idea as analogous to the production by -hunger, if we admit such to take place, of the ‘idea of the peculiar -object suited to it.’ - -[1] Cf. Vol. IV., ‘Dissertation on the Passions,’ II. 2. - -Account of love involves the same difficulties; and a further one as -to nature of sympathy. - -38. If, in Hume’s account of pride, for _pleasure_, wherever it -occurs, is substituted _pain_, it becomes his account of humility. -A criticism of one account is equally a criticism of the other; and -with him every passion that ‘has self for its object,’ according as -it is pleasant or painful, is included under one or other of these -designations. In like manner, every passion that has ‘some other -thinking being’ for its object, according as it is pleasant or -painful, is either love or hatred. To these the key is to be found in -the same ‘double relation of impressions and ideas’ by which pride -and humility are explained. If beautiful pictures, for instance, -belong not to oneself but to another person, they tend to excite -not pride but esteem, which is a form of love. The idea of them is -‘naturally related’ to the idea of the person to whom they belong, -and they cause a separate pleasure which naturally excites the -resembling impression of which this other person is the object. Write -‘other person,’ in short, where before was written ‘self,’ and the -account of pride and humility becomes the account of love and hatred. -Of this pleasure determined by the idea of another person, or of -which such a person ‘is the object,’ Hume gives no _rationale_, and, -failing this, it must be taken to imply the same power of determining -feeling on the part of a conception not derived from feeling, which -we have found to be implied in the pleasure of which self is the -object. All his pains and ingenuity in the second part of the book -‘on the Passions,’ are spent on illustrating the ‘double relation -of impressions and ideas’--on characterising the separate pleasures -which excite the pleasure of love, and showing how the idea of the -object of the exciting pleasure is related to the idea of the beloved -person. The objection to this part of his theory, which most readily -suggests itself to a reader, arises from the essential discrepancy -which in many cases seems to lie between the exciting and the excited -pleasure. The drinking of fine wine, and the feeling of love, are -doubtless ‘resembling impressions,’ so far as each is pleasant, -and from the idea of the wine the transition is natural to that of -the person who gives it; but is there really anything, it will be -asked, in my enjoyment of a rich man’s wine, that tends to make me -love him, even in the wide sense of ‘love’ which Hume admits? This -objection, it will be found, is so far anticipated by Hume, that in -most cases he treats the exciting pleasure as taking its character -from sympathy. Thus it is not chiefly the pleasure of ear, sight, -and palate, caused by the rich man’s music, and gardens, and wine, -that excites our love for him, but the pleasure we experience through -sympathy with his pleasure in them. [1] The explanation of love being -thus thrown back on sympathy (which had previously served to explain -that form of pride which is called ‘love of fame’), we have to ask -whether sympathy is any less dependent than we have found pride to be -on an originative, as distinct from a merely reproductive, reason. - -[1] Vol. II., p. 147. [Book II., part II., sec. V.] - -Hume’s account of sympathy. - -39. ‘When any affection is infused by sympathy, it is at first known -only by its effects, and by those external signs in the countenance -and conversation which convey an idea of it.’ By inference from -effect to cause, ‘we are convinced of the reality of the passion,’ -conceiving it ‘to belong to another person, as we conceive any other -matter of fact.’ This idea of another’s affection ‘is presently -converted into an impression, and acquires such a degree of force and -vivacity as to become the very passion itself, and produce an equal -emotion as any original affection.’ The conversion is not difficult -to account for when we reflect that ‘all ideas are borrowed from -impressions, and that these two kinds of perceptions differ only -in the degrees of force and vivacity with which they strike upon -the soul.... As this difference may be removed in some measure by a -relation between the impressions and ideas’--in the case before us, -the relation between the impression of one’s own person and the idea -of another’s, by which the vivacity of the former may be conveyed to -the latter--‘’tis no wonder an idea of a sentiment or passion may -by this means be so enlivened as to become the very sentiment or -passion.’ [1] - -[1] Vol. II., pp. 111-114. [Book II., part I., sec. IX.] - -It implies a self-consciousness not reducible to impressions. - -40. Upon this it must be remarked that the inference from the -external signs of an affection, according to Hume’s doctrine of -inference, can only mean that certain impressions of the other -person’s words and gestures call up the ideas of their ‘usual -attendants’; which, again, must mean either that they convey the -belief in certain exciting circumstances experienced by the other -man, and the expectation of certain acts to follow upon his words -and gestures; or else that they suggest to the spectator the memory -of certain like manifestations on his own part and through these of -the emotion which in his own case was their antecedent. Either way, -the spectator’s idea of the other person’s affection is in no sense a -copy of it, or that affection in a fainter form. If it is an idea of -an impression _of reflection_ at all, it is of such an impression as -experienced by the spectator himself, and determined, as Hume admits, -by his consciousness of himself; nor could any conveyance of vivacity -to the idea make it other than that impression. How it should -become to the spectator consciously at once another’s impression -and his own, remains unexplained. Hume only seems to explain it by -means of the equivocation lurking in the phrase, ‘idea of another’s -affection.’ The reader, not reflecting that, according to the copying -theory, so far as the idea is a copy of anything _in the other_, it -can only be a copy of certain ‘external signs, &c.,’ and so far as -it is a copy _of an affection_, only of an affection experienced by -the man who has the idea, thinks of it as being to the spectator -the other’s affection minus a certain amount of vivacity--the -restoration of which will render it an impression at once his own -and the other’s. It can in truth only be so in virtue _(a)_ of an -interpretation of words and gestures, as related to a person, which -no suggestion by impressions of their usual attendants can account -for, and in virtue _(b)_ of there being such a conceived identity, -or unity in difference, between the spectator’s own person and the -person of the other that the same impression, in being determined by -his consciousness of himself, is determined also by his consciousness -of the other as an ‘alter ego.’ Thus sympathy, according to Hume’s -account of it, so soon as that account is rationalized, is found -to involve the determination of pleasure and pain, not merely by -self-consciousness, but by a self-consciousness which is also -self-identification with another. If self-consciousness cannot in -any of its functions be reduced to an impression or succession of -impressions, least of all can it in this. On the other hand, if it -is only through its constitutive action, its reflection of itself, -upon successive impressions of sense that these become the permanent -objects which we know, we can understand how by a like action on -certain impressions of reflection, certain emotions and desires, it -constitutes those objects of interest which we love as ourselves. - -Ambiguity in his account of benevolence: It is a desire and therefore -has pleasure for its object. What pleasure? - -41. Pride, love, and sympathy, then, are the motives which Hume -must have granted him, if his moral theory is to march. Sympathy is -not only necessary to his explanation of that most important form -of pride which is the motive to a man in maintaining a character -with his neighbours when ‘nothing is to be gained by it’--nothing, -that is, beyond the immediate pleasure it gives--and of all forms -of ‘love,’ except those of which the exciting cause lies in the -pleasures of beauty and sexual appetite: he finds in it also the -ground of benevolence. Where he first treats of benevolence, indeed, -this does not appear. Unlike pride and humility, we are told, which -‘are pure emotions of the soul, unattended with any desire, and -not immediately exciting us to action, love and hatred are not -completed within themselves ... Love is always followed by a desire -of the happiness of the person beloved, and an aversion to his -misery; as hatred produces a desire of the misery, and an aversion -to the happiness, of the person hated.’ [1] This actual sequence of -‘benevolence’ and ‘anger’ severally upon love and hatred is due, it -appears, to ‘an original constitution of the mind’ which cannot be -further accounted for. That benevolence is no essential part of love -is clear from the fact that the latter passion ‘may express itself -in a hundred ways, and may subsist a considerable time, without -our reflecting on the happiness of its object.’ Doubtless, when we -do reflect on it, we desire the happiness; but, ‘if nature had so -pleased, love might have been unattended with any such desire.’ [2] -So far, the view given tallies with what we have already quoted from -the summary account of the direct and indirect passions, where the -‘desire of punishment to our enemies and happiness to our friends’ -is expressly left outside the general theory of the passions as a -‘natural impulse wholly unaccountable,’ a ‘direct passion’ which yet -does not proceed from pleasure.’ With his instinct for consistency, -however, Hume could scarcely help seeking to assimilate this alien -element to his definition of desire as universally for pleasure; -and accordingly, while the above view of benevolence is never in so -many words given up, an essentially different one appears a little -further on, which by help of the doctrine of sympathy at once makes -the connection of benevolence with love more accountable, and brings -it under the general definition of desire. ‘Benevolence,’ we are -there told, ‘is an original pleasure arising from the pleasure of -the person beloved, and a pain proceeding from his pain, from which -correspondence of impressions there arises a subsequent desire of his -pleasure and aversion to his pain.’ [3] - -[1] Vol. II., p. 153. [Book II., part II., sec. VI.] - -[2] Vol. II., p. 154. [Book II., part II., sec. VI.] - -[3] Vol. II., p. 170. [Book II., part II., sec. IX.] Compare Vol. -II., ‘Inquiry concerning the Principles of Morals,’ Appendix II., -_note_ 3, where ‘general benevolence,’ also called ‘humanity,’ is -identified with ‘sympathy.’ ‘Benevolence is naturally divided into -two kinds, the _general_ and the _particular_. The first is, where we -have no friendship, or connection, or esteem for the person, but feel -only a general sympathy with him, or a compassion for his pains, and -a congratulation with his pleasures,’ &c. &c. - -Pleasure of sympathy with the pleasure of another. - -42. Now, strictly construed, this passage seems to efface the one -clear distinction of benevolence that had been previously insisted -on--that it is a desire, namely, as opposed to a pure emotion. If -benevolence _is_ an ‘original pleasure arising from the pleasure of -the person beloved,’ it is identical with love, so far as sympathy -is an exciting cause of love, instead of being distinguished from it -as desire from emotion. We must suppose, however, that the sentence -was carelessly put together, and that Hume did not really mean to -identify benevolence with the pleasure spoken of in the former part -of it (for which his proper term is simply sympathy), but with the -desire for that pleasure, spoken of in the latter part. In that case -we find that benevolence forms no exception to the general definition -of desire. It is desire for one’s own pleasure, but for a pleasure -received through the communication by sympathy of the pleasure of -another. In like manner, the sequence of benevolence upon love, -instead of being an unaccountable ‘disposition of nature,’ would seem -explicable, as merely the ordinary sequence upon a pleasant emotion -of a desire for its renewal. Though it be not strictly the pleasant -emotion of love, but that of sympathy, for which benevolence is the -desire, yet if sympathy is necessary to the excitement of love, -it will equally follow that benevolence attends on love. Pleasure -sympathised with, we may suppose, first excites the secondary emotion -of love, and afterwards, when reflected on, that desire for its -continuance or renewal, which is benevolence. That love ‘should -express itself in a hundred ways, and subsist a considerable time’ -without any consciousness of benevolence, will merely be the natural -relation of emotion to desire. When a pleasure is in full enjoyment, -it cannot be so reflected on as to excite desire; and thus, if -benevolence is desire for that pleasure in the pleasure of another, -which is an exciting cause of love, the latter emotion must naturally -subsist and express itself for some time before it reaches the stage -in which reflection on its cause, and with it benevolent desire, -ensues. - -All ‘passions’ equally interested or disinterested: Confusion arises -from use of ‘passion’ alike for desire and emotion. Of this Hume -avails himself in his account of active pity. - -43. This _rationale_, however, of the relation between love and -benevolence is not explicitly given by Hume himself. He nowhere -expressly withdraws the exception, made in favour of benevolence, to -the rule that all desire is for pleasure--an exception which, once -admitted, undermines his whole system--or tells us in so many words -that benevolence is desire for pleasure to oneself in the pleasure -of another. In an important note to the Essays, [1] indeed, he -distinctly puts benevolence on the same footing with such desires -as avarice or ambition. ‘A man is no more interested when he seeks -his own glory, than when the happiness of his friend is the object -of his wishes; nor is he any more disinterested when he sacrifices -his own ease and quiet to public good, than when he labours for the -gratification of avarice or ambition.’ ... ‘Though the satisfaction -of these latter passions gives us enjoyment, yet the prospect of this -enjoyment is not the cause of the passion, but, on the contrary, the -passion is antecedent to the enjoyment, and without the former the -latter could not possibly exist.’ In other words, if ‘passion’ means -_desire_--and, as applied to _emotion_, the designation ‘interested’ -or ‘disinterested’ has no meaning--every passion is equally -disinterested in the sense of presupposing an ‘enjoyment’ a pleasant -emotion, antecedent to that which consists in its satisfaction; but -at the same time equally interested in the sense of being a desire -for such enjoyment. Whether from a wish to find acceptance, however, -or because forms of man’s good-will to man forced themselves on -his notice which forbade the consistent development of his theory, -Hume is always much more explicit about the disinterestedness of -benevolence in the former sense than about its interestedness in -the latter. [2] Accordingly he does not avail himself of such an -explanation of its relation to love as that above indicated, which -by avowedly reducing benevolence to a desire for pleasure, while it -simplified his system, might have revolted the ‘common sense’ even of -the eighteenth century. He prefers--as his manner is, when he comes -upon a question which he cannot face--to fall back on a ‘disposition -of nature’ as the ground of the ‘conjunction’ of benevolence with -love. There is a form of benevolence, however, which would seem as -little explicable by such natural conjunction as by reduction to a -desire for sympathetic pleasure. How is it that active good-will is -shown towards those whom, according to Hume’s theory of love, it -should be impossible to love--towards those with whom intercourse -is impossible, or from whom, if intercourse is possible, we can -derive no such pleasure as is supposed necessary to excite that -pleasant emotion, but rather such pain, in sympathy with their pain, -as according to the theory should excite hatred? To this question -Hume in effect finds an answer in the simple device of using the -same terms, ‘pity’ and ‘compassion,’ alike for the painful _emotion_ -produced by the spectacle of another’s pain and for ‘desire for the -happiness of another and aversion to his misery.’ [3] According -to the latter account of it, pity is already ‘the same desire’ -as benevolence, though ‘proceeding from a different principle,’ -and thus has a resemblance to the love with which benevolence is -conjoined--a ‘resemblance not of feeling or sentiment but of tendency -or direction.’ [4] Hence, whereas ‘pity’ in the former sense would -make us hate those whose pain gives us pain, by understanding it in -the latter sense we can explain how it leads us to love them, on the -principle that one resembling passion excites another. - -[1] ‘Inquiry concerning Human Understanding,’ note to sec. 1. In the -editions after the second, this note was omitted. - -[2] Attention should be called to a passage at the end of the account -of ‘self-love’ in the Essays, where he seems to revert to the view of -benevolence as a desire not _originally_ produced by pleasure, but -productive of it, and thus passing into a secondary stage in which -it is combined with desire for pleasure. He suggests tentatively -that ‘from the original frame of our temper we may feel a desire -for another’s happiness or good, which, by means of that affection, -becomes our own good, and is afterwards pursued from the combined -motives of benevolence and self-enjoyment.’ The passage might have -been written by Butler. (Vol. IV., ‘Inquiry concerning Principles of -Morals,’ Appendix II.) - -[3] Book II., part 2, secs. 7 and 9. Within a few lines of each -other will be found the statements _(a)_ that ‘pity is an uneasiness -arising from the misery of others,’ and _(b)_ that ‘pity is desire -for the happiness of another,’ &c. - -[4] ‘Dissertation on the Passions’ (in the Essays), sec. 3, sub-sec. -5. - -Explanation of apparent conflict between reason and passion. - -44. We are now in a position to review the possible motives of human -action according to Hume. Reason, constituting no objects, affords no -motives. ‘It is only the slave of the passions, and can never pretend -to any other office than to serve and obey them.’ [1] To any logical -thinker who accepted Locke’s doctrine of reason, as having no other -function but to ‘lay in order intermediate ideas,’ this followed of -necessity. It is the clearness with which Hume points out that, as it -cannot move, so neither can it restrain, action, that in this regard -chiefly distinguishes him from Locke. The check to any passion, he -points out, can only proceed from some counter-motive, and such -a motive reason, ‘having no original influence,’ cannot give. -Strictly speaking, then, a passion can only be called unreasonable, -as accompanied by some false judgment, which on its part must -consist in ‘disagreement of ideas, considered as copies, with those -objects which they represent;’ and ‘even then it is not the passion, -properly speaking, which is unreasonable, but the judgment.’ It is -nothing against reason--not, as Locke had inadvertently said, a -wrong judgment--‘to prefer my own acknowledged lesser good to my -greater.’ The only unreasonableness would lie in supposing that ‘my -own acknowledged lesser good,’ being preferred, could be attained by -means that would not really lead to it. Hence ‘we speak not strictly -when we talk of the combat of reason and passion.’ They can in truth -never oppose each other. The supposition. that they do so arises -from a confusion between ‘calm passions’ and reason--a confusion -founded on the fact that the former ‘produce little emotion in the -mind, while the operation of reason produces none at all.’ [2] Calm -passions, undoubtedly, do often conflict with the violent ones and -even prevail over them, and thus, as the violent passion causes most -uneasiness, it is untrue to say with Locke [3] that it is the most -pressing uneasiness which always determines action. The calmness of a -passion is not to be confounded with weakness, nor its violence with -strength. A desire may be calm either because its object is remote, -or because it is customary. In the former case, it is true, the -desire is likely to be relatively weak; but in the latter case, the -calmer the desire, the greater is likely to be its strength, since -the repetition of a desire has the twofold effect, on the one hand -of diminishing the ‘sensible emotion’ that accompanies it, on the -other hand of ‘bestowing a facility in the performance of the action’ -corresponding to the desire, which in turn creates a new inclination -or tendency that combines with the original desire. [4] - -[1] Vol. II., p. 195. [Book II., part III., sec. III.] - -[2] Vol. II., pp. 195, 196. [Book II., part III., sec. III.] - -[3] Above, sec. 3. - -[4] Vol. II. pp. 198-200. [Book II., part III., sec. IV.] It will be -found that here Hume might have stated his case much more succinctly -by avoiding the equivocal use of ‘passion’ at once for ‘desire’ and -‘emotion.’ When a ‘passion’ is designated as ‘calm’ or ‘violent,’ -‘passion’ means emotion. When the terms ‘strong’ and ‘weak’ are -applied to it, it means ‘desire.’ Since of the strength of any -desire there is in truth no test but the resulting action, and habit -facilitates action, if we will persist in asking the idle question -about the relative strength of desires, we must suppose that the most -habitual is the strongest. - -A ‘reasonable’ desire means one that excites little emotion: -Enumeration of possible motives. - -45. The distinction, then, between ‘reasonable’ and ‘unreasonable’ -desires--and it is only _desires_ that can be referred to when will, -or the determination to action, is in question--in the only sense -in which Hume can admit it, is a distinction not of objects but -of our situation in regard to them. The object of desire in every -case--whether near or remote, whether either by its novelty or by -its contrariety to other passions it excites more or less ‘sensible -emotion’--is still ‘good,’ _i.e._ pleasure. The greater the pleasure -in prospect, the stronger the desire. [1] The only proper question, -then, according to Hume, as to the pleasure which in any particular -case is an object of desire will be whether it is _(a)_ an immediate -impression of sense, or _(b)_ a pleasure of pride, or _(c)_ one -of sympathy. Under the first head, apparently, he would include -pleasures incidental to the satisfaction of appetite, and pleasures -corresponding to the several senses--not only the smells and tastes -we call ‘sweet,’ but the sights and sounds we call ‘beautiful.’ [2] -Pleasures of this sort, we must suppose, are the _ultimate_ ‘exciting -causes’ [3] of all those secondary ones, which are distinguished -from their ‘exciting causes’ as determined by the ideas either of -self or of another thinking person--the pleasures, namely, of pride -and sympathy. Sympathetic pleasure, again, will be of two kinds, -according as the pleasure in the pleasure of another does or does -not excite the further pleasure of love for the other person. If the -object desired is none of these pleasures, nor the means to them, it -only remains for the follower of Hume to suppose that it is ‘pleasure -in general’--the object of ‘self love.’ - -[1] Cf p. 198. [Book II., part III., sec. IV.] ‘The same good, when -near, will cause a violent passion, which, when remote, produces -only a calm one.’ The expression, here, is obviously inaccurate. It -cannot be the _same good_ in Hume’s sense, _i.e._ equally pleasant in -prospect, when remote as when near. - -[2] No other account of pleasure in beauty can be extracted from Hume -than this--that it is either a ‘primary impression of sense,’ so far -co-ordinate with any pleasant taste or smell that but for an accident -of language the term ‘beautiful’ might be equally applicable to -these, or else a pleasure in that indefinite anticipation of pleasure -which is called the contemplation of utility. - -[3] _Ultimate_ because according to Hume the _immediate_ exciting -cause of a pleasure of pride may be one of love, and vice versa. In -that case, however, a more remote ‘exciting cause’ of the exciting -pleasure must be found in some impressions of sense, if the doctrine -that these are the sole ‘original impressions’ is to be maintained. - -If pleasure sole motive, what is the distinction of self-love? -Its opposition to disinterested desires, as commonly understood, -disappears: it is desire for pleasure in general. - -46. Anyone reading the ‘Treatise on Human Nature’ alongside of -Shaftesbury or Butler would be surprised to find that while sympathy -and benevolence fill a very large place in it, self-love ‘eo nomine’ -has a comparatively small one. At first, perhaps, he would please -himself with thinking that he had come upon a more ‘genial’ system -of morals. The true account of the matter, however, he will find to -be that, whereas with Shaftesbury and his followers the notion of -self-love was really determined by opposition to those desires for -other objects than pleasure, in the existence of which they really -believed, however much the current psychology may have embarrassed -their belief, on the other hand with Hume’s explicit reduction of all -desire to desire for pleasure self-love loses the significance which -this opposition gave it, and can have no meaning except as desire for -‘pleasure in general’ in distinction from this or that particular -pleasure. Passages from the Essays may be adduced, it is true, -where self-love is spoken of under the same opposition under which -Shaftesbury and Hutcheson conceived of it, but in these, it will be -found, advantage is taken of the ambiguity between ‘emotion’ and -‘desire,’ covered by the term ‘passion.’ That there are sympathetic -_emotions_--pleasures occasioned by the pleasure of others--is, no -doubt, as cardinal a point in Hume’s system as that all _desire_ -is for pleasure to self; but between such emotions and self-love -there is no co-ordination. No emotion, as he points out, determines -action directly, but only by exciting desire; which with him can -only mean that the image of the pleasant emotion excites desire for -its renewal. In other words, no emotion amounts to volition or will. -Self-love, on the other hand, if it means anything, means desire -and a possibly strongest desire, or will. It can thus be no more -determined by opposition to generous or sympathetic _emotions_ than -can these by opposition to hunger and thirst. Hume, however, when -he insists on the existence of generous ‘passions’ as showing that -self-love is not our uniform motive, though he cannot consistently -mean more than that desire for ‘pleasure in general,’ or desire for -the satisfaction of desire, is not the uniform motive--which might -equally be shown (as he admits) by pointing to such self-regarding -‘passions’ as love of fame, or such appetites as hunger--is yet -apt, through the reader’s interpretation of ‘generous passions’ as -_desires_ for something other than pleasure, to gain credit for -recognising a possibility of living for others, in distinction from -living for pleasure, which was in truth as completely excluded by his -theory as by that of Hobbes. If he himself meant to convey any other -distinction between self-love and the generous passions than one -which would hold no less between it and every emotion whatever, it -was through a fresh intrusion upon him of that notion of benevolence, -as a ‘desire not founded on pleasure,’ which was in too direct -contradiction to the first principles of his theory to be acquiesced -in. [1] - -[1] Cf. II. p. 197 [Book II., part III., sec. III.], where, speaking -of ‘calm desires,’ he says they ‘are of two kinds; either certain -instincts originally implanted in our natures, such as benevolence -and resentment, the love of life, and kindness to children; or the -general appetite to good and aversion to evil, considered merely as -such.’ This seems to imply a twofold distinction of the ‘general -appetite to good’ _(a)_ from desires for particular pleasures, which -are commonly not calm, and _(b)_ from certain desires, which resemble -the ‘general appetite’ in being calm but are not for pleasure at all. -See above, sec. 31. In that section of the Essays where ‘self-love’ -is expressly treated of, there is a still clearer appearance of the -doctrine, that there are desires (in that instance called ‘mental -passions’) which have not pleasure for their object any more than -have such ‘bodily wants’ as hunger and thirst. From these self-love, -as desire for pleasure, is distinguished, though, when the pleasure -incidental to their satisfaction is discovered and reflected on, it -is supposed to combine with them. (Vol. IV. Appendix on Self-love, -near the end. See above, sec. 43 and note.) - -This amounts, in fact, to a complete withdrawal from Hume’s original -position and the adoption of one which is most clearly stated in -Hutcheson’s posthumous treatise--the position, namely, that we begin -with a multitude of ‘particular’ or ‘violent’ desires, severally -‘terminating upon objects’ which are not pleasures at all, and that, -as reason developes, these gradually blend with, or are superseded -by, the ‘calm’ desire for pleasure; so that moral growth means the -access of conscious pleasure-seeking. This in effect seems to be -Butler’s view, and Hutcheson reckons it ‘a lovely representation -of human nature,’ though he himself holds that benevolence may -exist, not merely as one of the ‘particular desires’ controlled -by self-love, but as itself a ‘calm’ and controlling principle, -co-ordinate with self-love. (‘System of Moral Philosophy,’ Vol. I. p. -51, &c.) - -How Hume gives meaning to this otherwise unmeaning definition: -‘Interest,’ like other motives described, implies determination by -reason. - -47. Such desire, then, being excluded, what other motive than -‘interest’ remains, by contrast with which the latter may be defined? -It has been explained above (§7) that since pleasure as such, or -as a feeling, does not admit of generality, ‘pleasure in general’ -is an impossible object. When the motive of an action is said to -be ‘pleasure in general,’ what is really meant is that the action -is determined by the conception of pleasure, or, more properly, -of self as a subject to be pleased. Such determination, again, is -distinguished by opposition to two other kinds--_(a)_ to that sort -of determination which is not by conception, but either by animal -want, or by the animal _imagination_ of pleasure, and _(b)_ to -determination by the conception of other objects than pleasure. -By an author, however, who expressly excluded the latter sort of -determination, and who did not recognise any distinction between the -thinking and the animal subject, the motive in question could not -thus be defined. Hence the difficulty of extracting from Hume himself -any clear and consistent account of that which he variously describes -as the ‘general appetite for good, considered merely as such,’ as -‘interest,’ and as ‘self-love.’ To say that he understood by it a -desire for pleasure which is yet not a desire for any pleasure in -particular, may seem a strange interpretation to put on one who -regarded himself as a great liberator from abstractions, but there -is no other which his statements, taken together, would justify. -This desire for nothing, however, he converts into a desire for -something by identifying it on occasion, (1) with any desire for a -pleasure of which the attainment is regarded as sufficiently remote -to allow of calmness in the desire, and (2) with desire for the means -of having all pleasures indifferently at command. It is in one or -other of these senses--either as desire for some particular pleasure -distinguished only by its calmness, or as desire for power--that he -always understands ‘interest’ or ‘self-love,’ except where he gains -a more precise meaning for it by the admission of desires, not for -pleasure at all, to which it may be opposed. Now taken in the former -sense, its difference from the desires for the several pleasures of -‘sense,’ ‘pride,’ and ‘sympathy,’ of which Hume’s account has already -been examined, cannot lie in the object, but--as he himself says of -the distinction, which he regarded as an equivalent one, between -‘reasonable and unreasonable’ desires--in our situation with regard -to it. If then the object of each of these desires, as we have shown -to be implied in Hume’s account of them, is one which only reason, -as self-consciousness, can constitute, it cannot be less so when the -desire is calm enough to be called self-love. Still more plainly is -the desire in question determined by reason--by the conception of -self as a permanent susceptibility of pleasure--if it is understood -to be desire for power. - -Thus Hume, having degraded morality for the sake of consistency, -after all is not consistent. - -48. Having now before us a complete view of the possible motives to -human action which Hume admits, we find that while he has carried to -its furthest limit, and with the least verbal inconsistency possible, -the effort to make thought deny its own originativeness in action, -he has yet not succeeded. He has made abstraction of everything in -the objects of human interest but their relation to our nervous -irritability--he has left nothing of the beautiful in nature or art -but that which it has in common with a sweetmeat, nothing of that -which is lovely and of good report to the saint or statesman but -what they share with the dandy or diner-out--yet he cannot present -even this poor residuum of an object, by which all action is to be -explained, except under the character it derives from the thinking -soul, which looks before and after, and determines everything by -relation to itself. Thus if, as he says, the distinction between -reasonable and unreasonable desires does not lie in the object, -this will not be because reason has never anything to do with the -constitution of the object, but because it has always so much to -do with it as renders selfishness--the self-conscious pursuit of -pleasure--possible. Sensuality then will have been vindicated, the -distinction between the ‘higher’ and ‘lower’ modes of life will have -been erased, and after all the theoretic consistency--for the sake -of which, and not, of course, to gratify any sinister interest, Hume -made his philosophic venture--will not have been attained. Man will -still not be ultimately passive, nor human action natural. Reason -may be the ‘slave of the passions,’ but it will be a self-imposed -subjection. - -If all good is pleasure, what is _moral_ good? Ambiguity in Locke’s -view. - -49. We have still, however, to explain how Hume himself completes the -assimilation of the moral to the natural; how, on the supposition -that the ‘good’ can only mean the ‘pleasant,’ he accounts for the -apparent distinction between moral and other good, for the intrusion -of the ‘ought and ought not’ of ethical propositions upon the -‘is and is not’ of truth concerning nature. [1] Here again he is -faithful to his _rôle_ as the expander and expurgator of Locke. With -Locke, it will be remembered, the distinction of _moral_ good lay -in the channel through which the pleasure, that constitutes it, is -derived. It was pleasure accruing through the intervention of law, -as opposed to the operation of nature: and from the pleasure thus -accruing the term ‘morally good’ was transferred to the act which, as -‘conformable to some law,’ occasions it. [2] This view Hume retains, -merely remedying Locke’s omissions and inconsistencies. Locke, as we -saw, not only neglected to derive the existence of the laws, whose -intervention he counted necessary to constitute the morally good, -from the operation of that desire for pleasure which he pronounced -the only motive of man; in speaking of moral goodness as consisting -in conformity to law, he might, if taken at his word, be held to -admit something quite different from pleasure alike as the standard -and the motive of morality. Hume then had, in the first place, to -account for the laws in question, and so account for them as to -remove that absolute opposition between them and the operation of -nature which Locke had taken for granted; secondly, to exhibit that -conformity to law, in which the moral goodness of an act was held -to consist, as itself a mode of pleasure--pleasure, namely, to the -contemplator of the act; and thirdly, to show that not the moral -goodness of the act, even thus understood, but pleasure to himself -was the motive to the doer of it. [3] - -[1] Vol. II, p. 245. [Book III., part I., sec. I.] - -[2] Above, secs. 16-18. - -[3] Of the three problems here specified, Hume’s treatment of the -_second_ is discussed in the following secs. 50-54; of the _first_ in -secs. 55-58; of the _third_ in secs. 60 to the end. - -Development of it by Clarke, which breaks down for want of true view -of reason. - -50. It was a necessary incident of this process that Locke’s notion -of a Law of God, conformity to which rendered actions ‘in their own -nature right and wrong,’ should disappear. The existence of such -a law cannot be explained as a result of any desire for pleasure, -nor conformity to it as a mode of pleasure. Locke, indeed, tries -to bring the goodness, consisting in such conformity, under his -general definition by treating it as equivalent to the production of -pleasure in another world. This, however, is to seek refuge from the -contradictory in the unmeaning. The question--Is it the pleasure it -produces, or its conformity to law, that constitutes the goodness of -an act?--remains unanswered, while the further one is suggested--What -meaning has pleasure except as the pleasure we experience? [1] -Between pleasure, then, and a ‘conformity’ irreducible to pleasure, -as the moral standard, the reader of Locke had to choose. Clarke, -supported by Locke’s occasional assimilation of moral to mathematical -truth, had elaborated the notion of conformity. To him an action -was ‘in its own nature right’ when it conformed to the ‘reason of -things’--_i.e._ to certain ‘eternal proportions,’ by which God, ‘qui -omnia numero, ordine, mensurâ posuit,’ obliges Himself to govern -the world, and of which reason in us is ‘the appearance.’ [2] Thus -reason, as an eternal ‘agreement or disagreement of ideas,’ was the -standard to which action ought to conform, and, as our consciousness -of such agreement, at once the judge of and motive to conformity. -To this Hume’s reply is in effect the challenge to instance any -act, of which the morality consists either in any of those four -relations, ‘depending on the nature of the ideas related,’ which he -regarded as alone admitting of demonstration, or in any other of -those relations (contiguity, identity, and cause and effect) which, -as ‘matters of fact,’ can be ‘discovered by the understanding.’ [3] -Such a challenge admits of no reply, and no other function but the -perception of such relations being allowed to reason or understanding -in the school of Locke, it follows that it is not this faculty which -either constitutes, or gives the consciousness of, the morally good. -Reason excluded, feeling remains. No action, then, can be called -‘right in its own nature,’ if that is taken to imply (as ‘conformity -to divine law’ must be), relation to something else than our feeling. -It could only be so called with propriety in the sense of exciting -some pleasure _immediately_, as distinct from an act which may be a -condition of the attainment of pleasure, but does not directly convey -it. - -[1] Above, sec. 14. - -[2] Boyle Lectures, Vol. II, prop. 1. secs. 1-4. - -[3] Book III. part 1, sec. 1. (Cf. Book I part 3, sec. 1, and -Introduction to Vol. I, secs. 283 and ff.) It will be observed -that throughout the polemic against Clarke and his congeners Hume -writes as if there were a difference between objects of reason and -feeling, which he could not consistently admit. He begins by putting -the question thus (page 234), ‘whether ‘tis by means of our ideas -or impressions we distinguish betwixt vice and virtue:’ but if, as -he tells us, ‘the idea is merely the weaker impression, and the -impression the stronger idea,’ such a question has no meaning. In -like manner he concludes by saying (page 245) that ‘vice and virtue -may be compared to sounds, colours, heat and cold, which are not -qualities in objects, but perceptions in the mind.’ But, since the -whole drift of Book I. is to show that all ‘objective relations’ are -such ‘perceptions’ or their succession, this still leaves us without -any distinction between science and morality that shall be tenable -according to his own doctrine. - -With Hume, moral good is pleasure excited in a particular way, viz.: -in the _spectator_ of the ‘good’ act and by the view of its tendency -to produce pleasure. - -51. So far, however, there is nothing to distinguish the moral -act either from any ‘inanimate object,’ which may equally excite -immediate pleasure, or from actions which have no character, as -virtuous or vicious, at all. Some further limitation, then, must -be found for the immediate pleasure which constitutes the goodness -called ‘moral,’ and of which praise is the expression. This Hume -finds in the exciting object which must be _(a)_ ‘considered in -general and without reference to our particular interest,’ and _(b)_ -an object so ‘related’ (in the sense above [1] explained) to oneself -or to another as that the pleasure which it excites shall cause the -further pleasure either of pride or love. [2] The precise effect of -such limitation he does not explain in detail. A man’s pictures, -gardens, and clothes, we have been told, tend to excite pride in -himself and love in others. If then we can ‘consider them in general -and without reference to our particular interest,’ and in such ‘mere -survey’ find pleasure, this pleasure, according to Hume’s showing, -will constitute them morally good. [3] He usually takes for granted, -however, a further limitation of the pleasure in question, as excited -only by ‘actions, sentiments, and characters,’ and thus finds virtue -to consist in the ‘satisfaction produced to the spectator of an -act or character by the mere view of it.’ [4] Virtues and vices -then mean, as Locke well said, the usual likes and dislikes of -society. If we choose with him to call that virtue of an act, which -really consists in the pleasure experienced by the spectator of it, -‘conformity to the law of their opinion,’ we may do so, provided we -do not suppose that there is some other law, which this imperfectly -reflects, and that the virtue is something other than the pleasure, -but to be inferred from it. ‘We do not infer a character to be -virtuous, because it pleases; but in feeling that it pleases after -such a particular manner, we in effect feel that it is virtuous.’ [5] - -[1] Sec. 33. - -[2] Vol. II. pp. 247 and 248. [Book III., part I., sec. II.] - -[3] Hume treats them as such in Book III. part 3, sec. 5. - -[4] Vol. II. p. 251. Cf. p. 225. [Book III., part I., sec. II.; Book -II., part III., sec. X.] - -[5] Vol. II. p. 247. [Book III., part I., sec. II.] - -52. Some further explanation, however, of the ‘particular manner’ -of this pleasure was clearly needed in order at once to adjust it -to the doctrine previously given of the passions (of which this, as -a pleasant emotion, must be one), and to account for our speaking -of the actions which excite it--at least of some of them--as -actions which we _ought_ to do. If we revert to the account of the -passions, we can have no difficulty in fixing on that of which this -peculiar pleasure, excited by the ‘mere survey’ of an action without -reference to the spectator’s ‘particular interest,’ must be a mode. -It must be a kind of sympathy--pleasure felt by the spectator in -the pleasure of another, as distinct from what might be felt in the -prospect of pleasure to himself. [1] On the other hand, there seem -to be certain discrepancies between pleasure and moral sentiment. -We sympathise where we neither approve nor disapprove; and, -conversely, we express approbation where it would seem there was no -pleasure to sympathise with, _e.g._, in regard to an act of simple -justice, or where the person experiencing it was one with whom we -could have no fellow-feeling--an enemy, a stranger, a character in -history--or where the experience, being one not of pleasure but of -pain (say, that of a martyr at the stake), should excite the reverse -of approbation in the spectator, if approbation means pleasure -sympathised with. Our sympathies, moreover, are highly variable, but -our moral sentiments on the whole constant. How must ‘sympathy’ be -qualified, in order that, when we identify moral sentiment with it, -these objections may be avoided? - -[1] Vol. II. pp. 335-337. [Book III., part III., sec. I.] - -Moral sense is thus sympathy with pleasure qualified by consideration -of general tendencies. - -53. Hume’s answer, in brief, is that the sympathy, which constitutes -moral sentiment, is sympathy qualified by the consideration of -‘general tendencies.’ Thus we sympathise with the pleasure arising -from any casual action, but the sympathy does not become moral -approbation unless the act is regarded as a sign of some quality -or character, generally permanently agreeable or useful (_sc._ and -productive of pleasure directly or indirectly) to the agent or -others. An act of justice may not be productive of any immediate -pleasure with which we can sympathise; nay, taken singly, it may -cause pain both in itself and in its results, as when a judge ‘takes -from the poor to give to the rich, or bestows on the dissolute the -labour of the industrious; ‘but we sympathise with the general -satisfaction resulting to society from ‘the whole scheme of law -and justice,’ to which the act in question belongs, and approve it -accordingly. The constancy which leads to a dungeon is a painful -commodity to its possessor, but sympathy with his pain need not -incapacitate a spectator for that other sympathy with the general -pleasure caused by such a character to others, which constitutes it -virtuous. Again, though remote situation or the state of one’s temper -may at any time modify or suppress sympathy with the pleasure caused -by the good qualities of any particular person, we may still apply to -him terms expressive of our liking. ‘External beauty is determined -merely by pleasure; and ‘tis evident a beautiful countenance cannot -give so much pleasure, when seen at a distance of twenty paces, as -when it is brought nearer to us. We say not, however, that it appears -to us less beautiful; because we know what effect it will have in -such a position, and by that reflection we correct its momentary -appearance.’ As with the beautiful, so with the morally good. ‘In -order to correct the continual contradictions’ in our judgment of -it, that would arise from changes in personal temper or situation, -‘we fix on some steady and general points of view, and always in -our thoughts place ourselves in them, whatever may be our present -situation.’ Such a point of view is furnished by the consideration -of ‘the interest or pleasure of the person himself whose character -is examined, and of the persons who have a connection with him,’ as -distinct from the spectator’s own. The imagination in time learns to -‘adhere to these general views, and distinguishes the feelings they -produce from those which arise from our particular and momentary -situation.’ Thus a certain constancy is introduced into sentiments of -blame and praise, and the variations, to which they continue subject, -do not appear in language, which ‘experience teaches us to correct, -even where our sentiments are more stubborn and unalterable.’ [1] - -[1] Book III. Vol. II. part 3, sec. 1. Specially pp. 339, 342, 346, -349. - -In order to account for the facts it has to become sympathy with -unfelt feelings. - -54. It thus appears that though the virtue of an act means the -pleasure which it causes to a spectator, and though this again arises -from sympathy with imagined pleasure of the doer or others, yet -the former may be a pleasure which no particular spectator at any -given time does actually feel--he need only know that under other -conditions on his part he would feel it--and the latter pleasure -may be one either not felt at all by any existing person, or only -felt as the opposite of the uneasiness with which society witnesses -a departure from its general rules. Of the essential distinction -between a feeling of pleasure or pain and a knowledge of the -conditions under which a pleasure or pain is generally felt, Hume -shows no suspicion; nor, while he admits that without substitution -of the knowledge for the feeling there could be no general standard -of praise or blame, does he ask himself what the quest for such a -standard implies. As little does he trouble himself to explain how -there can be such sympathy with an unfelt feeling--with a pleasure -which no one actually feels but which is possible for posterity--as -will explain our approval of the virtue which defies the world, -and which is only assumed, for the credit of a theory, to bring -pleasure to its possessor, because it certainly brings pleasure -to no one else. For the ‘artificial’ virtue, however, of acts -done in conformity with the ‘general scheme of justice,’ or other -social conventions, he accounts at length in part II. of his Second -Book--that entitled ‘Of Justice and Injustice.’ - -Can the distinction between the ‘moral’ and ‘natural’ be maintained -by Hume? What is ‘artificial virtue’? - -55. To a generation which has sufficiently freed itself from all -‘mystical’ views of law--which is aware that ‘natural right,’ if it -means a right that existed in a ‘state of nature,’ is a contradiction -in terms; that, since contracts could not be made, or property -exist apart from social convention, any question about a primitive -obligation to respect them is unmeaning--the negative side of this -part of the treatise can have little interest. That all rights and -obligations are in some sense ‘artificial,’ we are as much agreed as -that without experience there can be no knowledge. The question is, -how the artifice, which constitutes them, is to be understood, and -what are its conditions. If we ask what Hume understood by it, we can -get no other answer than that the artificial is the opposite of the -natural. If we go on to ask for the meaning of the natural, we only -learn that we must distinguish the senses in which it is opposed to -the miraculous and to the unusual from that in which it is opposed -to the artificial, [1] but not what the latter sense is. The truth -is that, if the first book of Hume’s treatise has fulfilled its -purpose, the only conception of the natural, which can give meaning -to the doctrine that the obligation to observe contracts and respect -property is artificial, must disappear. There are, we shall find, -two different negations which in different contexts this doctrine -conveys. Sometimes it means that such an obligation did not exist -for man in a ‘state of nature,’ _i.e._, as man was to begin with. -But in that sense the law of cause and effect, without which there -would be no nature at all, is, according to Hume, not natural, for -it--not merely our recognition of it, but the law itself--is a habit -of imagination, gradually formed. Sometimes it conveys an opposition -to Clarke’s doctrine of obligation as constituted by certain ‘eternal -relations and proportions,’ which also form the order of nature, and -are other than, though regulative of, the succession of our feelings. -Nature, however, having been reduced by Hume to the succession of -our feelings, the ‘artifice,’ by which he supposes obligations to -be formed, cannot be determined by opposition to it, unless the -operation of motives, which explains the artifice, is something else -than a succession of feelings. But that it is nothing else is just -what it is one great object of the moral part of his treatise to show. - -[1] Book II. part 1, sec. 2. - -No ground for such distinction in relation between motive and act. - -56. He is nowhere more happy than in exposing the fallacies by -which ‘liberty of indifferency’--the liberty supposed to consist -in a possibility of unmotived action--was defended. [1] Every act, -he shows, is determined by a strongest motive, and the relation -between motive and act is no other than that between any cause and -effect in nature. In one case, as in the other, ‘necessity’ lies -not in an ‘esse’ but in a ‘percipi.’ It is the ‘determination of -the thought of any intelligent being, who considers ‘an act or -event,’ to infer its existence from some preceding objects;’ [2] -and such determination is a habit formed by, and having a strength -proportionate to, the frequency with which certain phenomena--actions -or events--have followed certain others. The weakness in this part of -Hume’s doctrine lies, not in the assumption of an equal uniformity -in the sequence of act upon motive with that which obtains in -nature, but in his inability consistently to justify the assumption -of an absolute uniformity in either case. When there is an apparent -irregularity in the consequences of a given motive--when according to -one ‘experiment’ action _(a)_ follows upon it, according to another -action _(b)_, and so on--although ‘these contrary experiments are -entirely equal, we remove not the notion of causes and necessity; -but, supposing that the usual contrariety proceeds from the operation -of contrary and concealed causes, we conclude that the chance or -indifference lies only in our judgment on account of our imperfect -knowledge, not in the things themselves, which are in every case -equally necessary, though to appearance not equally constant or -uniform.’ [3] But we have already seen that, if necessary connection -were in truth only a habit arising from the frequency with which -certain phenomena follow certain others, the cases of exception to a -usual sequence, or in which the balance of chances did not incline -one way more than another, could only so far weaken the habit. The -explanation of them by the ‘operation of concealed causes’ implies, -as he here says, an opposition of real necessity to apparent -inconstancy, which, if necessity were such a habit as he says it is, -would be impossible. [4] This difficulty, however, applying equally -to moral and natural sequences, can constitute no difference between -them. It cannot therefore be in the relation between motive and act -that the followers of Hume can find any ground for a distinction -between the process by which the conventions of society are formed, -and that succession of feelings which he calls nature. May he -then find it in the character of the motive itself by which the -‘invention’ of justice is to be accounted for? Is this other than a -feeling determined by a previous, and determining a sequent, one? -Not, we must answer, as Hume himself understood his own account of -it, which is as follows:- - -[1] Book II. part 3, secs. 1 and 2. - -[2] Vol. II. p, 189. [Book II., part III., sec. II.] - -[3] Ibid., p. 185. [Book II., part III., sec. I.] - -[4] See Introduction to Vol. I. secs. 323 and 336. - -Motive to artificial virtues. - -57. He will examine, he says, ‘two questions, viz., concerning the -manner in which the rules of justice are established by the artifice -of men; and concerning the reasons which determine us to attribute -to the observance or neglect of these rules a moral beauty and -deformity.’ [1] Of the motives which he recognises (§ 45) it is -clear that only two--‘benevolence’ and ‘interest’--can be thought of -in this connection, and a little reflection suffices to show that -benevolence cannot account for the artifice in question. Benevolence -with Hume means either sympathy with pleasure--and this (though Hume -could forget it on occasion) [2] must be a particular pleasure of -some particular person--or desire for the pleasure of such sympathy. -Even if a benevolence may be admitted, which is not a desire for -pleasure at all but an impulse to please, still this can only be an -impulse to please some particular person, and the only effect of -thought upon it, which Hume recognises, is not to widen its object -but to render it ‘interested.’ [3] ‘There is no such passion in -human minds as the love of mankind, merely as such, independent of -personal qualities, of services, or of relation to ourself.’ [4] The -motive, then, to the institution of rules of justice cannot be found -in general benevolence. [5] As little can it be found in private -benevolence, for the person to whom I am obliged to be just may be -an object of merited hatred. It is true that, ‘though it be rare -to meet with one who loves any single person better than himself, -yet ‘tis as rare to meet with one in whom all the kind affections, -taken together, do not overbalance all the selfish’; but they are -affections to his kinsfolk and acquaintance, and the generosity which -they prompt will constantly conflict with justice. [6] ‘Interest,’ -then, must be the motive we are in quest of. Of the ‘three species of -goods which we are possessed of--the satisfaction of our minds, the -advantages of our body, and the enjoyment of such possessions as we -have acquired by our industry and good fortune’--the last only ‘may -be transferred without suffering any loss or alteration; while at the -same time there is not sufficient quantity of them to supply every -one’s desires and necessities.’ Hence a special instability in their -possession. Reflection on the general loss caused by such instability -leads to a ‘tacit convention, entered into by all the members of a -society, to abstain from each other’s possessions;’ and thereupon -‘immediately arise the ideas of justice and injustice; as also those -of property, right, and obligation.’ It is not to be supposed, -however, that the ‘convention’ is of the nature of a promise, for -all promises presuppose it. ‘It is only a general sense of common -interest; which sense all the members of the society express to -one another, and which induces them to regulate their conduct by -certain rules;’ and this ‘general sense of common interest,’ it need -scarcely be said, is every man’s sense of his own interest, as in -fact coinciding with that of his neighbours. In short, ‘’tis only -from the selfishness and confined generosity of man, along with the -scanty provision nature has made for his wants, that justice derives -its origin.’ [7] - -[1] Book III. part 2, sec. 2. - -[2] Cf. sec. 54. - -[3] Cf. secs. 42, 43, and 46. - -[4] Vol. II. p. 255. [Book III., part II., sec. I.] - -[5] For the sense in which Hume did admit a ‘general benevolence,’ -see sec. 41, note. - -[6] Vol. II. pp. 256 and 260. [Book III., part II., sec. II.] - -[7] Vol. II. pp. 261, 263, 268. [Book III., part II., sec. II.] - -How artificial virtues become moral. - -58. Thus the origin of rules of justice is explained, but the -obligation to observe them so far appears only as ‘interested,’ not -as ‘moral.’ In order that it may become ‘moral,’ a pleasure must be -generally experienced in the spectacle of their observance, and a -pain in that of their breach, apart from reference to any gain or -loss likely to arise to the spectator himself from that observance -or breach. In accounting for this experience Hume answers the second -of the questions, proposed above. ‘To the imposition and observance -of these rules, both in general and in every particular instance, -men are at first induced only by a regard to interest; and this -motive, on the first formation of society, is sufficiently strong and -forcible. But when society has become numerous, and has increased -to a tribe or nation, this interest is more remote; nor do men so -readily perceive that disorder and confusion follow upon each breach -of these rules, as in a more narrow and contracted society. But -though, in our own actions, we may frequently lose sight of that -interest which we have in maintaining order, and may follow a lesser -and more present interest, we never fail to observe the prejudice -we receive, either mediately or immediately, from the injustice of -others.... Nay, when the injustice is so distant from us, as no way -to affect our interest, it still displeases us, because we consider -it as prejudicial to human society, and pernicious to every one that -approaches the person guilty of it. We partake of their uneasiness -by _sympathy_; and as everything which gives uneasiness in human -actions, upon the general survey, is called vice, and whatever -produces satisfaction, in the same manner, denominated virtue, this -is the reason why the sense of moral good and evil follows upon -justice and injustice. And though this sense, in the present case, be -derived only from contemplating the actions of others, yet we fail -not to extend it even to our own actions. The _general rule_ reaches -beyond those instances from which it arose, while at the same time we -naturally _sympathise_ with others in the sentiments they entertain -of us.’ [1] - -[1] Vol. II. p. 271. [Book III., part II., sec. II.] - -Interest and sympathy account for all obligations civil and moral. - -59. To this account of the process by which rules of justice have not -only come into being, but come to bind our ‘conscience’ as they do, -the modern critic will be prompt to object that it is still affected -by the ‘unhistorical’ delusions of the systems against which it was -directed. In expression, at any rate, it bears the marks of descent -from Hobbes, and, if read without due allowance, might convey the -notion that society first existed without any sort of justice, and -that afterwards its members, finding universal war inconvenient, -said to themselves, ‘Go to; let us abstain from each other’s goods.’ -It would be hard, however, to expect from Hume the full-blown -terminology of development. He would probably have been the first to -admit that rules of justice, as well as our feelings towards them, -were not made but grew; and in his view of the ‘passions’ whose -operation this growth exhibits, he does not seriously differ from -the ordinary exponents of the ‘natural history’ of ethics. These -passions, we have seen, are ‘Interest’ and ‘Sympathy,’ which with -Hume only differ from the pleasures and desires we call ‘animal’ as -any one of these differs from another--the pleasure of eating, for -instance, from that of drinking, or desire for the former pleasure -from desire for the latter. Nor do their effects in the regulation of -society, and in the growth of ‘artificial’ virtues and vices, differ -according to his account of them from sentiments which, because they -‘occur to us whether we will or no,’ he reckons purely natural, save -in respect of the further extent to which the modifying influence of -imagination--itself reacted on by language--must have been carried -in order to their existence; and since this in his view is a merely -‘natural’ influence, there can only be a relative difference between -the ‘artificiality’ of its more complex, and the ‘naturalness’ of -its simpler, products. Locke’s opposition, then, of ‘moral’ to -other good, on the ground that other than natural instrumentality -is implied in its attainment, will not hold even in regard to that -good which, it is admitted, would not be what it is, _i.e._, not a -pleasure, but for the intervention of civil law. - -What is meant by an action which _ought_ to be done. - -60. The doctrine, which we have now traversed, of ‘interested’ -and ‘moral’ obligation, implicitly answers the question as to the -origin and significance of the ethical copula ‘ought.’ It originally -expresses, we must suppose, obligation by positive law, or rather -by that authoritative custom in which (as Hume would probably have -been ready to admit) the ‘general sense of common interest’ first -embodies itself. In this primitive meaning it already implies an -opposition between the ‘interest which each man has in maintaining -order’ and his ‘lesser and more present interests.’ Its meaning will -be modified in proportion as the direct interest in maintaining order -is reinforced or superseded by sympathy with the general uneasiness -which any departure from the rules of justice causes. And as this -uneasiness is not confined to cases where the law is directly or -in the letter violated, the judgment, that an act _ought_ to be -done, not only need not imply a belief that the person, so judging, -will himself gain anything by its being done or lose anything by -its omission; it need not imply that any positive law requires it. -Whether it is applicable to every act ‘causing pleasure on the mere -survey’--whether the range of ‘imperfect obligation’ is as wide -as that of moral sentiment--Hume does not make clear. That every -action representing a quality ‘fitted to give immediate pleasure to -its possessor’ should be virtuous--as according to Hume’s account -of the exciting cause of moral sentiment it must be--seems strange -enough, but it would be stranger that we should judge of it as an -act which _ought_ to be done. It is less difficult, for instance, to -suppose that it is virtuous to be witty, than that one ought to be -so. Perhaps it would be open to a disciple of Hume to hold that as, -according to his master’s showing, an opposition between permanent -and present interest is implied in the judgment of obligation as -at first formed, so it is when the pleasure to be produced by an -act, which gratifies moral sense, is remote rather than near, and a -pleasure to others rather than to the doer, that the term ‘ought’ is -appropriate to it. - -Sense of morality no motive: When it seems so the motive is really -pride. - -61. But though Hume leaves some doubt on this point, he leaves none -in regard to the sense in which alone any one can be said to do an -action _because he ought_. This must mean that he does it to avoid -either a legal penalty or that pain of shame which would arise upon -the communication through sympathy of such uneasiness as a contrary -act would excite in others upon the survey. So far from its being -true that an act, in order to be thoroughly virtuous, must be done -for virtue’s sake, ‘no action can be virtuous or morally good unless -there is some motive to produce it, distinct from the sense of its -morality.’ [1] An act is virtuous on account of the pleasure which -supervenes when it is contemplated as proceeding from a motive fitted -to produce pleasure to the agent or to others. The presence of this -motive, then, being the antecedent condition of the act’s being -regarded as virtuous, the motive cannot itself have been a regard -to the virtue. It may be replied, indeed, that though this shows -‘regard to virtue’ or ‘sense of morality’ to be not the primary or -only virtuous motive, it does not follow that it cannot be a motive -at all. An action cannot be prompted for the first time by desire -for a pleasure which can only be felt as a consequence of the action -having been done, but it may be repeated, after experience of this -pleasure, from desire for its renewal. In like manner, since with -Hume the ‘sense of morality’ is not a desire at all but an emotion, -and an emotion which cannot be felt till an act of a certain kind -has been done, it cannot be the original motive to such an action; -but why may not desire for so pleasant an emotion, when once it has -been experienced, lead to a repetition of the act? The answer to this -question is that the pleasure of moral sentiment, as Hume thinks of -it, is essentially a pleasure experienced by a spectator of an act -who is other than the doer of it. If the doer and spectator were -regarded as one person, there would be no meaning in the rule that -the tendency to produce pleasure, which excites the sentiment of -approbation, must be a tendency to produce it to the doer himself or -others, as distinct from the spectator himself. Thus pleasure, in -the specific form in which Hume would call it ‘moral sentiment,’ is -not what any one could attain by his own action, and consequently -cannot be a motive to action. Transferred by sympathy to the -consciousness of the man whose act is approved, ‘moral sentiment’ -becomes ‘pride,’ and desire for the pleasure of pride--otherwise -called ‘love of fame’--is one of the ‘virtuous’ motives on which -Hume dwells most. When an action, however, is done for the sake of -any such positive pleasure, he would not allow apparently that the -agent does it ‘from a sense of duty’ or ‘because he ought.’ He would -confine this description to cases where the object was rather the -avoidance of humiliation. ‘I ought’ means ‘it is expected of me.’ -‘When any virtuous motive or principle is common in human nature, a -person who feels his heart devoid of that motive may hate himself’ -(strictly, according to Hume’s usage of terms, ‘despise himself’) ‘on -that account, and may perform the action without the motive from a -certain sense of duty, in order to acquire by practice that virtuous -principle, or at least to disguise to himself as much as possible his -want of it.’ [2] - -[1] Vol. II., p. 253. [Book III., part II., sec. I.] - -[2] Vol. II., p. 253. [Book III., part II., sec. I.] - -Distinction between virtuous and vicious motive does not exist for -person moved. - -62. What difference, then, we have finally to ask, does Hume leave -between one motive and another, which can give any significance -to the assertion that an act, to be virtuous, must proceed from a -virtuous motive? When a writer has so far distinguished between -motive and action as to tell us that the moral value of an action -depends on its motive--which is what Hume is on occasion ready to -tell us--we naturally suppose that any predicate, which he proceeds -to apply to the motive, is meant to represent what it is in relation -to the subject of it. It cannot be so, however, when Hume calls a -motive virtuous. This predicate, as he explains, refers not to an -‘esse’ but to a ‘percipi;’ which means that it does not represent -what the motive is to the person whom it moves, but a pleasant -feeling excited in the spectator of the act. To the excitement of -this feeling it is necessary that the action should not merely from -some temporary combination of circumstances produce pleasure for -that time and turn, but that the desire, to which the spectator -ascribes it, should be one according to his expectation ‘fitted to -produce pleasure to the agent or to others.’ In this sense only can -Hume consistently mean that virtue in the motive is the condition -of virtue in the act, and in this sense the qualification has not -much significance for the spectator of the act, and none at all in -relation to the doer. It has not much for the spectator, because, -according to it, no supposed desire will excite his displeasure and -consequently be vicious unless in its general operation it produces -a distinct overbalance of pain to the subject of it _and_ to others; -[1] and by this test it would be more difficult to show that an -unseasonable passion for reforming mankind was _not_ vicious than -that moderate lechery was so. It has no significance at all for the -person to whom vice or virtue is imputed, because a difference in -the results, which others anticipate from any desire that moves him -to action, makes no difference in that desire, as he feels and is -moved by it. To him, according to Hume, it is simply desire for the -pleasure of which the idea is for the time most lively, and, being -most lively, cannot but excite the strongest desire. In this--in the -character which they severally bear for the subjects of them--the -virtuous motive and the vicious are alike. Hume, it is true, allows -that the subject of a vicious desire may become conscious through -sympathy of the uneasiness which the contemplation of it causes to -others, but if this sympathy were strong enough to neutralize the -imagination which excites the desire, the desire would not move him -to act. That predominance of anticipated pain over pleasure in the -effects of a motive, which renders it vicious to the spectator, -cannot be transferred to the imagination of the subject of it without -making it cease to be his motive because no longer his strongest -desire. A vicious motive, in short, would be a contradiction in -terms, if that productivity of pain, which belongs to the motive -in the imagination of the spectator, belonged to it also in the -imagination of the agent. - -[1] I write ‘AND to others,’ not ‘OR,’ because according to Hume the -production of pleasure to the agent alone is enough to render an -action virtuous, if it proceeds from some permanent quality. Thus an -action could not be unmistakably vicious unless it tended to produce -pain _both_ to the doer and to others. If, though tending to bring -pain to others, it had a contrary tendency for the agent himself, -there would be nothing to decide whether the viciousness of the -former tendency was, or was not, balanced by the virtuousness of the -latter. - -‘Consciousness of sin’ disappears. - -63. Thus the consequence, which we found to be involved in Locke’s -doctrine of motives, is virtually admitted by its most logical -exponent. Locke’s confusions began when he tried to reconcile his -doctrine with the fact of self-condemnation, with the individual’s -consciousness of vice as a condition of himself; or, in his own -words, to explain how the vicious man could be ‘answerable to -himself’ for his vice. Consciousness of vice could only mean -consciousness of pleasure wilfully foregone, and since pleasure could -not be wilfully foregone, there could be no such consciousness. Hume, -as we have seen, cuts the knot by disposing of the consciousness -of vice, as a relation in which the individual stands to himself, -altogether. A man’s vice is someone else’s displeasure with him, and, -if we wish to be precise, we must not speak of self-condemnation -or desire for excellence as influencing human conduct, but of -aversion from the pain of humiliation and desire for the pleasure -of pride--humiliation and pride of that sort of which each man’s -sympathy with the feeling of others about him is the condition. - -Only respectability remains; and even this not consistently accounted -for. - -64. That such a doctrine leaves large fields of human experience -unexplained, few will now dispute. Wesley, Wordsworth, Fichte, -Mazzini, and the German theologians, lie between us and the -generation in which, to so healthy a nature as Hume’s, and in so -explicit a form, it could be possible. Enthusiasm--religious, -political, and poetic--if it has not attained higher forms, has been -forced to understand itself better since the time when Shaftesbury’s -thin and stilted rhapsody was its most intelligent expression. -It is now generally agreed that the saint is not explained by -being called a fanatic, that there is a patriotism which is not -‘the last refuge of a scoundrel,’ and that we know no more about -the poet, when we have been told that he seeks the beautiful, -and that what is beautiful is pleasant, than we did before. This -admitted, Hume’s Hedonism needs only to be clearly stated to be -found ‘unsatisfactory.’ If it ever tends to find acceptance with -serious people, it is through confusion with that hybrid, though -beneficent, utilitarianism which finds the moral good in the -‘greatest happiness of the greatest number’ without reflecting that -desire for such an object, not being for a feeling of pleasure to be -experienced by the subject of the desire, is with Hume impossible. -Understood as he himself understood his doctrine, it is only -‘respectability’--the temper of the man who ‘naturally,’ _i.e._, -without definite expectation of ulterior gain, seeks to stand well -with his neighbours--that it will explain; and this it can only -treat as a fixed quantity. Taking for granted the heroic virtue, -for which it cannot account, it still must leave it a mystery how -the heroic virtue of an earlier age can become the respectability -of a later one. Recent literary fashion has led us perhaps unduly -to depreciate respectability, but the avowed insufficiency of a -moral theory to explain anything beyond it may fairly entitle us -to enquire whether it can consistently explain even that. The -reason, as we have sufficiently seen, why Hume’s ethical speculation -has such an issue is that he does not recognize the constitutive -action of self-conscious thought. Misunderstanding our passivity in -experience--unaware that it has no meaning except in relation to -an object which thought itself projects, yet too clear-sighted to -acquiesce in the vulgar notion of either laws of matter or laws of -action, as simply thrust upon us from an unaccountable without--he -seeks in the mere abstraction of passivity, of feeling which is -a feeling of nothing, the explanation of the natural and moral -world. Nature is a sequence of sensations, morality a succession of -pleasures and pains. It is under the pressure of this abstraction -that he so empties morality of its actual content as to leave only -the residuum we have described. Yet to account even for this he -has to admit such motives as ‘pride,’ ‘love,’ and ‘interest;’ and -each of these, as we have shown, implies that very constitutive -action of reason, by ignoring which he compels himself to reduce all -morality to that of the average man in his least exalted moments. -The formative power of thought, as exhibited in such motives, only -differs in respect of the lower degree, to which it has fashioned -its matter, from the same power as the source of the ‘desire for -excellence,’ of the will autonomous in the service of mankind, of -the forever (to us) unfilled ideal of a perfect society. It is -because Hume de-rationalizes respectability, that he can find no -_rationale_, and therefore no room, for the higher morality. This -might warn us that an ‘ideal’ theory of ethics tampers with its only -sure foundation when it depreciates respectability; and if it were -our business to extract a practical lesson from him, it would be that -there is no other genuine ‘enthusiasm of humanity’ than one which -has travelled the common highway of reason--the life of the good -neighbour and honest citizen--and can never forget that it is still -only on a further stage of the same journey. Our business, however, -has not been to moralise, but to show that the philosophy based on -the abstraction of feeling, in regard to morals no less than to -nature, was with Hume played out, and that the next step forward in -speculation could only be an effort to re-think the process of nature -and human action from its true beginning in thought. If this object -has been in any way attained, so that the attention of Englishmen -‘under five-and-twenty’ may be diverted from the anachronistic -systems hitherto prevalent among us to the study of Kant and Hegel, -an irksome labour will not have been in vain. - -T. H. 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