REID'S ESSAYS INTELLECTUAL POWERS OF MAN. FROM HIS COLLECTED WRITINGS «OT9«flM SIR WILLIAM HAMILTON, BART. AND WITH THE FOOT NOTES THE EDITOR. EDINBURGH: MACLACHLAN AND STEWART. LONDON: LONGMANS AND COMPANY. MDCCCLIII. \ <& / s~*7 CONTENTS. $>?> ESSAYS ON THE INTELLECTUAL POWERS OF MAN. Dedication, ...... 215 Preface, ...... 216 ESSAY I. — Preliminary. . Chapter I. Explication of Words, .• ."" ' . . 219 II. Principles taken for granted, . . . 230 III. Of Hypotheses, ' . ' . . . 234 IV. Of Analogy, ... . 236 V. Of the proper means of Knowing the operations of the Mind, 238 VI. Of the difficulty of Attending to the operations of our own Minds, 240 V "II. Division of the powers of the Mind, . . . 242 VIII. Of Social [and Solitary] operations of Mind. . 244 ESSAY II. — Of the Powers we have by means of our External Senses. Chapter I. Of the Organs of Sense, .... 245 II. Of the Impressions on the Organs, Nerves, and Brain, 247 III. Hypothesis concerning the Nerves and Brain, . 248 IV. False Conclusions drawn from the impressions before mentioned, 253 V. Of Perception, . . . .258 VI. What it is to Account for a Phenomenon in Nature, 260 VII. Sentiments of Philosophers about the Perceptions of External objects ; and first, of the theory of Father Malebranche 262 VIII. Of the Common Theory of Perception ; and of the sentiments of the Peripatetics, and of Des Cartes, . . 267 IX. The sentiments of Mr Locke, . . . 275 X. The sentiments of Bishop Berkeley, . . . 280 XI. Bishop Berkeley's sentiments of the nature of Ideas, 287 XII. The sentiments of Mr Hume, . . . 292 XIII. The sentiments of Anthony Arnauld, . . 295 XIV. Reflections on the Common Theory of Ideas, . . 298 XV. Account of the system of Leibnitz, " . ' . 306 XVI. Of Sensation, . . . . ■ . 310 XVII. Of the Objects of Perception ; and first, of Primary and Second- ary Qualities, .... 313 XVIII. Of other objects of Perception, . . . 319 XIX. Of Matter and of Space, .... 322 XX. Of the Evidence of Sense, and of Belief in general, . 326* XXI. Of the Improvement of the Senses, . . . 330 XXII. Of the Fallacy of the Senses, ... 334 VI CONTENTS. Page ESSAY III.— Op Memory. Chapter I. Things obvious and certain with regard to Memory, . 339 II. Memory an original faculty, . . . 340 III. OfJ>uration, ..... 342 IV. Of Identity, ..... 344 V. Mr Locke's account of the Origin of our Ideas, and particularly of the idea of Duration, .... 346 VI. Mr Locke's account of our Personal Identity, . 350 VII. Theories concerning Memory, , . . 353 ESSAY IV Of Conception. Chapter I. Of Conception, or Simple Apprehension in general, . 360 II. Theories concerning Conception, . . 368 III. Mistakes concerning Conception, *. . . 375 IV. Of the Train of Thought in the mind, . . 379 ESSAY V.— Of Abstraction. Chapter I. Of General Words, .... 389 II. Of General Conceptions, . . . 391 III. Of general conceptions formed by Analysing objects, . 394 IV. Of general conceptions formed by Combination, . 398 V. Observations concerning the Names given to our general notions, 403 VI. Opinion of philosophers about Universals, . . 405 ESSAY VI.— Of Judgment. Chapter I. Of Judgment in general, .... 413 •II. Of Common Sense, .... 421 III. Sentiments of philosophers concerning Judgment, . 426 IV. Of First Principles in general, • • . 434 V. The first principles of Contingent Truths. [ On Consciousness, ~\ 441 VI. First principles of Necessary Truths, . . 452 VII. Opinions, ancient and modern, about First Principles, . 462 VIII. Of Prejudices, the causes of error, . . 468 ESSAY VII.— Of Reasoning. Chapter I. Of Reasoning in general, and of Demonstration, • 475 II. Whether Morality be capable of demonstration, . 478 ■wJJI. Of Probable Reasoning, .... 481 IV. Of Mr Hume's Scepticism with regard to Reason, . 484 ESSAY VIII.— Of Taste. Chapter I. Of Taste in general, .... 490 II. Of the Objects of taste, and first of Novelty, . 493 [II. Of Grandeur, .... 494 IV. Of Beauty, ..... 498 ESSAYS ON THK INTELLECTUAL POWERS OF MAN, By THOMAS REID, D.D., F.R.S.E., PROFESSOR OF MORAL PHILOSOPHY IN THE UNIVERSITY OF GLASGOW, " Who bath put wisdom in the inward part* ?*— Job. fcf" This impression of the " Essays on the Intellectual Powers," is made from the only authentic edition — that of 1785, in 4to. For the convenience of reference the pages of that edition are distinguished in the present ; and by these pages I shall always, in the notes, prospectively, quote. They will be found marked both in the text and on the lower margin — H. DEDICATION MR DUGALD STEWART, LATELY PROFESSOR OF MATHEMATICS, NOW PROFESSOR OF MORAL PHILOSOPHY, AND DR JAMES GREGORY, PROFESSOR OF THE THEORY OF PHYSIC IN THE UNIVERSITY OF EDINBURGH.* My. Dear Friends, — I know not to whom I can address these Essays with more propriety than to you ; not only on account of a friendship begun in early life on your part, though in old age on mine, and in one of you I may say hereditary ; nor yet on account of that correspondence in our literary pursuits and amusements, which has always given me so great plea- sure ; but because, if these Essays have any merit, you have a considerable share in it, having not only encouraged me to hope that [iv.] they may be useful, but favoured me with your observations on every part of them, both before they were sent to the press, and while they were under it. I have availed myself of your observa- tions, so as to correct many faults that might otherwise have escaped me ; and I have a very grateful sense of your friend- ship, in giving this aid to one who stood much in need of it ; having no shame, but much pleasure, in being instructed by those who formerly were my pupils, as one of you was. It would be ingratitude to a man whose memory I most highly respect, not to men- tion my obligations to the late Lord Karnes, for the concern he was pleased to take in this "Work. Having seen a small part of it, he urged me to carry it on ; took acount of my progress from time to time ; revised it more than once, as far as it was carried, before his death ; and gave me his observa- tions on it, both with respect to the matter and the expression. On some points we • See above, in " Correspondence," p. 65, a.— H. [iii.-vi.l differed in opinion, and debated them keenly, both in conversation and by many letters, without any abatement of his affec- tion, or of his zeal for the work's being carried on and published : for he had too much liberality of mind not to allow to [v.] others the same liberty in judging which he claimed to himself. It is difficult to say whether that worthy man was more eminent in active life or in speculation. Very rare, surely, have been the instances where the talents for both were united in so eminent a degree. His genius and industry, in many differ- ent branches of literature, will, by his works, be known to posterity : his private virtues and public spirit, his assiduity, through a long and laborious life, in many honourable public offices with which he was entrusted, and his zeal to encourage and promote everything that tended to the improvement of his country in laws, litera- ture, commerce, manufactures, and agricul- ture, are best known to his friends and contemporaries. The favourable opinion which he, and you my friends, were pleased to express of this work, has been my chief encourage- ment to lay it before the public ; and per- haps, without that encouragement, it had never seen the light : for I have always found, that, without social intercourse, even a favourite speculation languishes; and that we cannot help thinking the better of our own opinions [vi.] when they are approved by those whom we esteem good judges. You know that the substance of these Essays was delivered annually, for more 21(5 PREFACE. than twenty years, in Lectures to a large body of the more advanced students in this University, and for several years before, in another University. Those who heard me with attention, of whom I presume there are some hundreds alive, will recognise the doctrine which they heard, some of them thirty years ago, delivered to them more diffusely, and with the repetitions and illus- trations proper for such audiences. I am afraid, indeed, that the more intel- ligent reader, who is conversant in such abstract subjects, may think that there are repetitions still left, which might be spared. Such, I hope, will consider, that what to one reader is a superfluous repetition, to the greater part, less conversant in such subjects, may be very useful. If this apo- logy be deemed insufficient, and be thought to be the dictate of laziness, I claim some indulgence even for that laziness, at my period of life, [vii ] You who are in the prime of life, with the vigour which it inspires, will, I hope, make more happy advances in this or in any other branch of science to which your talents may be applied. Tho. Reid. Glasgow College, June I, 1785. PREFACE. Human knowledge may be reduced to two general heads, according as it relates to body or to mind ; to things material or to things intellectual.* The whole system of bodies in the uni- verse, of which we know but a very small part, may be called the Material World ; the whole system of minds, from the infinite Creator to the meanest creature endowed with thought, may be called the Intellectual World. These are the two great kingdoms of nature-|* that fall within our notice ; and about the one, or the other, or things pertaining to them, every art, every science, and every human thought is employed ; nor can the boldest flight of imagination carry us beyond their limits. Many things there are, indeed, regarding the nature and the structure both of body and of mind, which our faculties cannot reach ; many difficulties which the ablest philosopher cannot resolve : but of other * See Stewan 's " Life and Writings of Reid," supra, p. 14 ; and his " Elements," vol. I., introduc- tion ; Jouffroy, in the preface to his " Oeuvres de Reid," t. i., pp. 23-53. This important Preface will soon be made generally accessibleto the British pub- lic by a highly competent translator. — H. t The term Natwe is used sometimes in a wider, sometimes in a narrower extension. When employed in its most extensive meaning, it embraces the two worlds of mind and matter. When employed in its more restricted signification, it is a synonyme for the latter only, and is then used in contradistinction to the former. In the Greek philosophy, the word Quo-i; was general in its meaning ; and the great branch of philosophy styled " physical or physiolo- gical," included under it not only the sciences of matter, but also th< se of mind. With us, the term Nature is mo e vaguely extensive than the terms, physics, ; h si a!, physiology, physiological, or even tnan the adjective natural ; whereas, in the philo- sophy of Germany, Natur, and its correlatives, whether of Greek or Latin derivation, are, in general, exprcssive-of the woild of matter in contrast to the world ol- intelligence. — H. [vii -2] natures, if any other there be, we have no knowledge, no conception at all. That everything that exists must be either corporeal or incorporeal is evident. But it is not so evident that every thing [2] that exists must either be corporeal or endowed with thought. Whether there be in the universe beings which are neither extended, solid, and inert, like body, nor active and intelligent, like mind, seems to be beyond the reach of our knowledge. There appears to be a vast interval between body and mind ; and whether there be any interme- diate nature that connects them together, we know not. We have no reason to ascribe intelli- gence, or even sensation, to plants ; yet there appears in them an active force and energy, which cannot be the result of any arrangement or combination of inert matter. The same thing may be said of those powers by which animals are nourished and grow, by which matter gravitates, by which mag- netical and electrical bodies attract and repel each other, and by which the parts of solid bodies cohere. Some have conjectured that the pheno- mena of the material world which require active force, are produced by the continual operation of intelligent beings : others have conjectured that there may be in the uni- verse, beings that are active, without in- telligence, which, as a kind of incorporeal machinery, contrived by the supreme wis- dom, perform their destined task without any knowledge or intention.* But, laying aside conjecture, and all pretences to deter- mine in things beyond our reach, we must * Like the tripods of Vulcan— "O^jat it ituToptxroi Btioi hvrxictr' ikyuutt-— H. PREFACE. 217 rest in this, that body and mind are the 01 ih kinds of being of which we can have any knowledge, or can form any concep- tion. If there are other kinds, they are not discoverable by the faculties which God hath given us ; and, with regard to us, are as if they were not. [3] As, therefore, all our knowledge is con- fined to body and mind, or things belonging to them, there are two great branches of philosophy, one relating to body, the other to mind. The properties of body, and the laws that obtain in the material system, are the objects of natural philosophy, as that word is now used- The branch which treats of the nature and operations of minds has, by some, been called Pneumatology.* And to the oneor the otherof these branches, the principles of all the sciences belong. What variety there may be of minds or thinking beings, throughout this vast uni- verse, we cannot pretend to say. We dwell in a little corner of God's dominion, dis- joined from the rest of it. The globe which we inhabit is but one of seven planets that encircle our sun. What various orders of beings may inhabit the other six, their secondaries, and the comets belonging to our system, and how many other suns may be encircled with like systems, are things altogether hid from us. Although human reason and industry have discovered, with great accuracy, the order and distances of the planets, and the laws of their motion, we have no means of corresponding with them. That they may be the habitation of animated beings, is very probable ; but of the nature or powers of their inhabitants, we are perfectly ignorant. Every man is conscious of a thinking principle, or mind, in himself ; and we have sufficient evidence of a like principle in other men. The actions of brute animals shew that they have some thinking principle, though of a nature far inferior to the human mind. And everything about us may convince us of the existence of a supreme mind, the Maker and Governor of the universe. These are all the minds of which reason can give us any certain knowledge. [4] The mind of man is the noblest work of God which reason discovers to us, and, therefore, on account of its dignity, deserves our study, "t* It must, indeed, be acknow- ledged, that, although it is of all objects the nearest to us, and seems the most within our reach, it is very difficult to attend to its operations so as to form a distinct notion • Now properly superseded by the term Psychol- ogy ; to which no competent objection can be made, and which affords us — what the various clumsy peri, phrases in ue do not — a convenient adjective, psycho- logical.— H. t " On earth," says a forgotten philosopher, " there is nothing great but Man ; in man there is nothing great but Mind."— H. [3—5] of them ; and on that account there is no branch of knowledge in which the ingenious and speculative have fallen into so great errors, and even absurdities. These errors and absurdities have given rise to a general prejudice against all inquiries of this nature. Because ingenious men have, for many ages, given different and contradictory accounts of the powers of the mind, it is concluded that all speculations concerning them are chimerical and visionary. But whatever effect this prejudice may have with superficial thinkers, the judicious will not be apt to be carried away with it. About two hundred years ago, the opinions of men in natural philosophy were as various and as contradictory as they are now con- cerning the powers of the mind. Galileo, Torricelli, Kepler, Bacon, and Newton, had the same discouragement in their attempts to throw light upon the material system, as we have with regard to the in- tellectual. If they had been deterred by such prejudices, we should never have reaped the benefit of their discoveries, which do honour to human nature, and will make their names immortal. The motto which Lord Bacon prefixed to some of his writings was worthy of his genius, Inveniam viam aut faciam.* There is a natural order in the progress of the sciences, and good reasons may be assigned why the philosophy of body should [5] be elder sisler to that of mind, and of a quicker growth ; but the last hath the prin- ciple of life no less than the first, and will grow up, though slowly, to maturity. The remains of ancient philosophy upon this subject, are venerable ruins, carrying the marks of genius and industry, sufficient to inflame, but not to satisfy our curiosity. In later ages, Des Cartes was the first that pointed out the road we ought to take in those dark regions. Malebranche, Arnauld, Locke, Berkeley, Buffier, Hutcheson, Butler, Hume, Price, Lord Karnes, have laboured to make discoveries — nor have they laboured in vain; for, however different and contrary their conclusions are, how- ever sceptical some of them, they have all given new light, and cleared the way to those who shall come after them. We ought never to despair of human genius, but rather to hope that, in time, it may produce a system of the powers and operations of the human mind, no less cer- tain than those of optics or astronomy. This is the more devoutly to be wished, that a distinct knowledge of the powers of the mind would undoubtedly give great light to many other branches of science. Mr Hume hath justly observed, that " all the • See Mr Stewart's " Philosophical Essays," Pre- liminary Disseitation, ch. ii 218 PREFACE. sciences have a relation to human nature ; and, however wide any of them may seem to run from it, they still return hack hy one passage or another. This is the centre and capital of the sciences,* which, being once masters of, we may easily extend our con- quests everywhere." The faculties of our minds are the tools and engines we must use in every disquisi- tion ; and the better we understand their [6] nature and force, the more successfully we shall he able to apply them. Mr Locke gives this account of the occasion of his entering upon his essay concerning human understanding : — " Five or six friends," says he, " meeting at my chamber, and dis- coursing on a subject very remote from this, found themselves quickly at a stand by the difficulties that rose on every side. After we had for a while puzzled ourselves, without coming any nearer to a resolution of those doubts that perplexed us, it came into my thoughts that we took a wrong course ; and that, before we set ourselves upon inquiries of that nature, it was neces- sary to examine our own abilities, and see what objects our understandings were fitted or not fitted to deal with. This I proposed to the company, who all readily assented ; and thereupon it was agreed that this should be our first enquiry.'' If this be commonly the cause of perplexity in those disquisi- tions which have least relation to the mind, it must be so much more in those that have an immediate connection with it. The sciences may be distinguished into two classes, according as they pertain to the material or to the intellectual world. The various parts of natural philosophy, the mechanical arts, chemistry, medicine, and agriculture, belong to the first ; but, to the last, belong grammar, logic, rhetoric, na- * Hume probably had the siying of Poljrbius in his eye, who calls History the mother city (/j^rtirt' Xis ) of Philosophy.— H. tural theology, morals, jurisprudence, law. politics, and the fine arts. The know- ledge of the human mind is the root from which these grow, and draw their nourish- ment.* Whether, therefore, we consider the dignity of this subject, or its subser- viency to science in general, and to the noblest branches of science in particular, it highly deserves to be cultivated. [7] A very elegant writer, on the sublime and beautiful ,-f- concludes his account of the passions thus : — " The variety of the pas- sions is great, and worthy, in every branch of that variety, of the most diligent inves- tigation. The more accurately we search into the human mind, the stronger traces we everywhere find of His wisdom who made it. If a discourse on the use of the parts of the body may be considered as a hymn to the Creator, X the use of the passions, which are the organs of the mind, cannot be barren of praise to Him, nor unproductive to ourselves of that noble and uncommon union of science and admiration, which a contemplation of the works of infinite Wis- dom alone can afford to a rational mind ; whilst referring to Him whatever we find of right, or good, or fair, in ourselves, dis- covering His strength and wisdom even in our own weakness and imperfection, honouring them where we discover them clearly, and adoring their profundity where we are lost in our search, we may be inquisitive with- out impertinence, and elevated without pride ; we may be admitted, if I may dare to say so, into the counsels of the Almighty, by a consideration of his works. This ele- vation of the mind ought to be the principal end of all our studies, which, if they do not in some measure effect, they are of very little service to us." * It is justly observed by M. Jouffroy, that the division here enounced is not in principle identical with that previrusly propounded. — H. f Burke.— H. J Galen is referred to — H. i.r] ESSAYS ON THB INTELLECTUAL POWERS OF MAN. ESSAY I. PRELIMINARY CHAPTER I. EXPLICATION OP WORDS. There is no greater impediment to the advancement of knowledge than the ambi- guity of words. To this chiefly it is owing that we find sects and parties in most branches of science ; and disputes which are carried on from age f o age, without being brought to an issue. Sophistry has been more effectually ex- cluded from mathematics and natural philosophy than from other sciences. In mathematics it had no place from the begin- ning ; mathematicians having had the wis- dom to define accurately the terms they use, and to lay down, as axioms, the first prin- ciples on which their reasoning is grounded. Accordingly, we find no parties among ma- thematicians, and hardly any disputes.* [10] In natural philosophy, there was no less sophistry, no less dispute and uncertainty, than in other sciences, until, about a cen- tury and a half ago, this science began to be built upon the foundation of clear defini- tions and self-evident axioms. Since that time, the science, as if watered with the dew of Heaven, hath grown apace ; dis- putes have ceased, truth hath prevailed, and the science hath received greater in- crease in two centuries than in two thous- and years before. It were to be wished that this method, which hath been so successful in those branches of science, were attempted in others ; for definitions and axioms are the foundations of all science. But that defini- tions may not be sought where no defini- tion can be given, nor logical definitions be attempted where the subject does not admit of them, it may be proper to lay down some general principles concerning definition, for * It was not the superior wisdom of mathema- ticians, but the simple and palpable character of their object-matter, which determined the difference.— H. [9-11] the sake of those who are less conversant in this branch of logic. When one undertakes to explain any art or science, he will have occasion to use many words that are common to all who use the same language, and some that are peculiar to that art or science. Words of the last kind are called terms of the art, and ought to be distinctly explained, that their meaning may be understood. A definition* is nothing else but an ex- plication of the meaning of a word, by words whose meaning is already known. Hence it is evident that every word cannot be defined ; for the definition must consist of words ; and there could be no definition, if there were not words previously understood without definition. Common words, there- fore, ought to be used in their common acceptation ; and, when they have different acceptations in common language, these, when it is necessary, ought to be distin- guished. But they require no definition. It is sufficient to define words that are un- common, or that are used in an uncommon meaning. It may farther be observed, that there are many words, which, though they may need explication, cannot be logically defined. A [ 1 1 ] logical definition — that is, a strict and proper definition — must express the kind [genus] of the thing defined, and the spe- cific difference by which the species defined is distinguished from every other species belonging to that kind. It is natural to the mind of man to class things under various kinds, and again to subdivide every kind into its various species. A species may often be subdivided into subordinate species, and then it is considered as a kind. From what has been said of logical defi- nition, it is evident, that no word can be logically defined which does not denote a * In what follows, there is a confusion of defini- tions verbal and real, which should have been care- fully distinguished. — H. 220 ON THE INTELLECTUAL POWERS. £eS8AY I. species ; because such things only can have a specific difference ; and a specific differ- ence is essential to a logical definition. On this account there can be no logical definition of individual things, such as London or Paris. Individuals are distin- guished either by proper names, or by acci- dental circumstances of time or place ; but they have no specific difference ; and, there- fore, though they may be known by pro- per names, or may be described by circum- stances or relations, they cannot be defined. * It is no less evident that the most general words cannot be logically defined, because there is not a more general term, of which they are a species. Nay, we cannot define every species of things, because it happens sometimes that we have not words to express the specific difference. Thus, a scarlet colour is, no doubt, a species of colour ; but how shall we express the specific difference by which scarlet is distinguished from green or blue ? The difference of them is immediately per- ceived by the eye ; but we have not words to express it. These things we are taught by logic. Without having recourse to the prin- ciples of logic, we may easily be satisfied that words cannot be defined, which signify things perfectly simple, and void of all com- position. This observation, I think, was first made by Des Cartes, and afterwards more fully illustrated by Locke, -j- And, however obvious it appears to be, many in- stances may be given of great philosophers who have perplexed [12] and darkened the subjects they have treated, by not knowing, or not attending to it. When men attempt to define things which cannot be defined, their definitions will always be either obscure or false. It was one of the capital defects of Aristotle's phi- losophy, that he pretended to define the simplest things, which neither can be, nor need to be defined — such as time and mo- tivn.% Among modern philosophers, I * It is well said by the old logicians, Omnis in- tuitiva notitia est definition — that is, a view of the thinj. itself is its best definition. \\\i *his is true, both of the objects of sense, and of the objects of self- consciousness. — H. t This is incorrect. Des Cartes has little, and Locke no title to praise for this observation. It had been made by Aristotle, and alter him by many others; while, subsequent to Des Cartes, and pre- viovs to Locke, Pascal and the Poit- Royal Logicians, to say nothing of a paper of Leibnitz, in 1684, had re- duced it to a matter of commonplace. In this instance, Locke can, indeed, be proved a borrower. Mr Stewart (" Philosophical Essays," Note A) is wrong in think- ing that, after Des Cartes, Lord Stair is the earliest philosopher by whom this logical principle was enounced ; for Stair, as a writer, is subsequent to the authors adduced. — H. % There is not a little, however, to be said in vin- dication of Aristotle's definitions. Leibnitz is not the only modern philosopher who has applauded that of Motion, which requires, however, some ilh s- tration of the special significance of its terms — H. ri2, is] know none that has abused definition so much as Carolus [Christianus] Wolfius, the famous German philosopher, who, in a work on the human mind, called a Psycho- logia Empirica," consisting of many hun- dred propositions, fortified by demon- strations, with a proportional accompani- ment of definitions, corollaries, and scholia, has given so many definitions of things which cannot be defined, and so many de- monstrations of things self-evident, that the greatest part of the work consists of tautology, and ringing changes upon words.* There is no subject in which there is more frequent occasion to use words tha; cannot be logically defined, than in treating of the powers and operations of the mind. The simplest operations of our minds must all be expressed by words of this kind. No man can explain, by a logical definition, what it is to think, to apprehend, to believe, to will, to desire. Every man who under- stands the language, has some notion of the meaning of those words ; and every man who is capable of reflection may, by attend- ing to the operations of his own mind, which are signified by them, form a clear and distinct notion of them ; but they can- not be logically defined. Since, therefore, it is often impossible to define words which we must use on this subject, we must as much as possible use common words, in their common accepta- tion, pointing out their various senses where they are ambiguous ; and, when we are obliged to use words less common, we must endeavour to explain them [13] as well as we can, without affecting to give logical de- finitions, when the nature of the thing does not allow it. The following observations on the mean- ing of certain words are intended to supply, as far as we can, the want of definitions, by preventing ambiguity or obscurity in the use of them. 1. By the mind of a man, we understand that in him which thinks, remembers, rea- sons, wills.-)- The essence both of body and of mind is unknown to us. We know cer- tain properties of the first, and certain oper- ations of the last, and by these only we can define or describe them. We define body to be that which is extended, solid, move- able, divisible. In like manner, we define mind to be that which thinks. We are con- cious that we think, and that we have a variety of thoughts of different kinds — such as seeing, hearing, remembering, delibe- rating, resolving, loving, hating, and many * This judgment is not false ; but it is exaggerated — H. t This corresponds to Aristotle's second definition of the soul, or that a posteriori. Vide supra, p. 203 a, note « — H. CHAP. I.] EXPLICATION OF WORDS. 221 other kinds of thought — all which we are taught by nature to attribute to one internal principle ; and this principle of thought we call the mind or soul of a man. 2. By the operations* of the mind, we un- derstand every mode of thinking of which we are conscious. It deserves our notice, that the various modes of thinking have always, and in all languages, as far as we know, been called by the name of operations of the mind, or by names of the same import. To body we ascribe various properties, but not oper- ations, properly so called : it is extended, divisible, moveable, inert ; it continues in any state in which it is put ; every change of its state is the effect of some force im- pressed upon it, and is exactly proportional to the force impressed, and in the precise direction of that force. These are the ge- neral properties of matter, and these are not operations ; on the contrary, they all imply its being a dead, inactive thing, which moves only as it is moved, and acts only by being acted upon.-t* [14] But the mind is, from its very nature, a living and active being. Everything we know of it implies life and active energy ; and the reason why all its modes of thinking are called its operations, is, that in all, or in most of them, it is not merely passive, as body is, but is really and properly active. In all ages, and in all languages, ancient and modern, the various modes of thinking have been expressed by words of active signification, such as seeing, hearing, reason- ing, willing, and the like. It seems, there- fore, to be the natural judgment of man- kind, that the mind is active in its various ways of thinking : and, for this reason, they are called its operations, and are expressed by active verbs. It may be made a question, What regard is to be paid to this natural judgment ? May it not be a vulgar error ? Philosophers who think so have, no doubt, a right to be heard. But, until it is proved that the mind is not active in thinking, but merely passive, the common language with regard to its operations ought to be used, and ought not to give place to a phraseology invented by philosophers, which implies its being merely passive. 3. The words power and faculty, which are often used in speaking of the mind, need little explication. Every operation supposes a power in the being that oper- rates ; for to suppose anything to operate, which has no power to operate, is mani- festly absurd. But, on the other hand, * Operation, Act, Energy, are nearly convertible terms ; and are opposed to Faculty, (of which anon,) as the actual to the potential — H. f " Materiae datum est cogi, sed cogere Memi." Maniuus.— H. [14. 15] there is no absurdity in supposing a being to have power to operate, when it does not operate. Thus I may have power to walk, when I sit ; or to speak, when I am silent. Every operation, therefore, implies power ; but the power does not imply the operation. The faculties of the mind, and its powers, are often used as synonymous expressions. But, as most synonymes have some minute distinction that deserves notice, I apprehend that the word faculty [15] is most properly applied to those powers of the mind which are original and natural, and which make a part of the constitution of the mind. There are other powers, which are acquired by use, exercise, or study, which are not called faculties, but habits. There must be some- thing in the constitution of the mind neces- sary to our being able to acquire habits — and this is commonly called capacity.* 4. We frequently meet with a distinction in writers upon this subject, between things in the mind, and things external to the mind. The powers, faculties, and operations of the mind, are things in the mind. Everything is said to be in the mind, of which the mind is the subject. It is self-evident that there are some things which cannot exist without a subject to which they belong, and of which they are attributes. Thus, colour must be in something coloured ; figure in something figured ; thought can only be in something that thinks ; wisdom and virtue cannot exist but in some being that is wise and virtuous. When, therefore, we speak of things in the mind, we understand by this, things of which the mind is the subject. Excepting the mind itself, and things in the mind, all other things are said to be external. It ought therefore to be remembered, that this dis- tinction between things in the mind and things external, is not meant to signify the place of the things we speak of, but their subject. •{* There is a figurative sense in which things are said to be in the mind, which it is suf- ficient barely to mention. We say such a thing was not in my mind ; meaning no more than that I had not the least thought of it. By a figure, we put thething for the thought * These terms properly stand in the following re- lations : — Powers are active and passive, natural and acquired. Powers, natural ar d active„are railed Faculties : Powers, natural and passive, Capacities or Receptivities : Powers acquired are Habits, and habit is used both in an active and in a passive^ense; the Power, again, of acquiring a habit, is called a Disposition.— On the meaning of the term Power, see further, under the first Essay on the Active Powers, chap, iii., p 23— H •f- Subject and Object are correlative terms. The former is properly id in quo : the latter, id circa quod. Hence, in psychological language, the subject, absolutely, is the mind that knows or thinks—* e., the mind considered as the -subject r.f knowledge or thought ; the object, that which is known, orthought abo'.it. The adjectives subjective and objective are I convenient, if not indispensable, expressions. — H. *! AC 222 ON THE INTELLECTUAL POWERS. Qessay I. of it. In this sense external things are in the mind as often as they are the objects of our thought. 5. Thinking is a very general word, which includes all the operations of our minds, and is so well understood as to need no defi- nition." [16] To perceive, to remember, to he conscious, .and to conceive or imagine, are words com- mon to philosophers and to the vulgar. They signify different operations of the mind, which are distinguished in all lan- guages, and by all men that think. I shall endeavour to use them in their most com- mon and proper acceptation, and I think they are hardly capable of strict definition. But, as some philosophers, in treating of the mind, have taken the liberty to use them very improperly, so as to corrupt the Eng- lish language, and to confound things which the common understanding of man- kind hath always led them to distinguish, I shall make some observations on the mean- ing of them, that may prevent ambiguity or confusion in the use of them. 6. First, We are never said to perceive things, of the existence of which we have not a full conviction. I may conceive or imagine a mountain of gold, or a winged horse ; but no man says that he perceives such a creature of imagination. Thus per- ception is distinguished from conception or imagination. Secondly, Perception is ap- plied only to external objects, not to those that are in the mind itself. When I am pained, I do not say that I perceive pain, but that I feel it, or that I am conscious of it. Thus, perception is distinguished from consciousness. Thirdly, The immediate object of perception must be something pre- sent, and not what is past. We may re- member what is past, but do not perceive it. I may say, I perceive such a person has had the small-pox ; but this phrase is figurative, although the figure is so familiar that it is not observed. The meaning of it is, that I perceive the pits in his face, which are certain signs of his having had the small pox. We say we perceive the thing signi- fied, when we only perceive the sign. But when the word perception is used properly, and without any figure, it is never applied to things past. And thus it is distinguished from remembrance. In a word, perception is most properly applied to the evidence which we have of external objects by our senses. But, as this is a [17] very clear and cogent kind of evidence, the word is often applied by ana- logy to the evidence of reason or of testi- • Thought and thinking are used in a more, and in a less, restricted signification. In the former mean, ing they are limited to the discursive energies alone ; in the latter, they are co-extensive with conscious, ness.— H. ri6-18"l mony, when it is clear and cogent. The perception of external objects by our senses, is an operation of the mind of a peculiar nature, and ought to have a name appro- priated to it. It has so in all languages. And, in English, I know no word more proper to express this act of the mind than perception. Seeing, hearing, smelling, tasting, and touching or feeling, are words that express the operations proper to each sense; perceiving expresses that which is common to them all. The observations made on this word would have been unnecessary, if it had not been so much abused in philosophical writings upon the mind ; for, in other writ- ings, it bas no obscurity. Although this abuse is not chargeable on Mr Hume only, yet I think he has carried it to the highest pitch. The first sentence of his " Treatise of Human Nature" runs thus : — " All the perceptions of the human mind resolve themselves into two distinct heads, which I shall call impressions and ideas." He adds, a little after, that, under the name of impressions, he comprehends all our sensations, passions, and emotions. Here we learn that our passions and emotions are perceptions. I believe, no English writer before him ever gave the name of a perception to any passion or emotion. When a man is angry, we must say that he has the perception of anger. When he is in love, that he has the perception of love. He speaks often of the perceptions of me- mory, and of the perceptions of imagina- tion; and he might as well speak of the hearing of sight, or of the smelling of touch ; for, surely, hearing is not more different from sight, or smelling from touch, than perceiving is from remembering or imagin- ing.* 7. Consciousness is a word used by philosophers, to signify that immediate knowledge which we have of our present thoughts and purposes, and, in general, of all the present operations of our minds. Whence we may observe, that conscious- ness is only of things present. To apply consciousness to things past, which some- times [18] is done in popular discourse, is to confound consciousness with memory ; and all such confusion of words ought to be avoided in philosophical discourse. It is likewise to be observed, that consciousness • In the Cartesian and Lockian philosophies, the term Perception was used almost convertibly with Consciousness : whatever we could be said to be conscious of, that we could be said to perceive. And there is nothing in the etymology of the word, or in its use by ancient writers, that renders this unexclu. sive application of it abusive. In the Leibnitzian philosophy, perception and apperception were dis- tinguished in a peculiar manner — of which again. Reid is right in his own restriction of the term; liut he is not warranted in blaming Hume for having used it in the wider signification ot his predecessors — H. EXPLICATION OF WORDS. 223 is only of things in the mind, and not of external things. It is improper to say, I am conscious of the table which is before me. I perceive it, I see it ; but do not say I am conscious of it. As that consciousness by which we have a knowledge of the opera- tions of our own minds, is a different power from that by which we perceive external objects, and as these different powers have different names in our language, and, I believe, in all languages, a philosopher ought carefully to preserve this distinction, and never to confound things so different in their nature.* 8. Conceiving, imagining, and appre- hending, are commonly used as synony- mous in our language, and signify the same thing which the logicians call simple appre- hension. This is an operation of the mind different from all those we have mentioned. Whatever we perceive, whatever we re- member, whatever we are conscious of, we have a full persuasion or conviction of its existence. But we may conceive or imagine what has no existence, and what we firmly believe to have no existence. What never had an existence cannot be remembered ; what has no existence at present cannot be the object of perception or of conscious- ness ; but what never had, nor has any existence, may be conceived. Every man knows that if is as easy to conceive a winged horse, or a centaur, as it is to conceive a horse or a man. Let it be observed, therefore, that to conceive, to imagine, to apprehend, when taken in the proper sense, signify an act of the mind which implies no belief or judg- ment at all.+ It is an act of the mind by which nothing is affirmed or denied, and which, therefore, can neither be true nor false. But there is another and a very different meaning of those words, so common and so well authorized in language that it cannot easily be avoided ; and on that account we ought to be the more on our guard, that we be not misled by the ambiguity. Po- ateness and [19] good-breeding lead men, on most occasions, to express their opinions with modesty, especially when they differ from others whom they ought to respect. Therefore, when we would express our opinion modestly, instead of saying, " This is my opinion," or, " This is my judgment," which has the air of dogmaticalness, we say, " I conceive it to be thus — I imagine, or ap- prehend it to be thus ;" which is understood as a modest declaration of our judgment. In like manner, when anything is said which we take to be impossible, we say, "We can- * Reid's degradation of Consciousness into a special faculty, (in which he seems to follow Hut- cheson, in opposition to other philosophers,) is, in every point of view, obnoxious to every possible ob- jection. See note H. — H t Except of its own ideal reality. — H. f 19,201 not conceive it ;" meaning that we cannot believe it. Thus we see that the words conceive, imagine, apprehend, have two meanings, and are used to express two operations of the mind, which ought never to be con- founded. Sometimes they express simple apprehension, which implies no judgment at all ; sometimes they express judgment or opinion. This ambiguity ought to be at- tended to, that we may not impose upon ourselves or others in the use of them. The ambiguity is indeed remedied, in a great measure, by their construction. When they are used to express simple apprehen* sion, they are followed by a noun in the accusative case, which signifies the object conceived ; but, when they are used to ex- press opinion or judgment, they are com- monly followed by a verb, in the infinitive mood. " I conceive an Egyptian pyramid." This implies no judgment. " I conceive the Egyptian pyramids to be the most an- cient monuments of human art." This implies judgment. When the words are used in the last sense, the thing conceived must be a proposition, because judgment cannot be expressed but by a proposition. When they are used in the first sense, the thing conceived may be no proposition, but a simple term only — as a pyramid, an obe- lisk. Yet it may be observed, that even a proposition may be simply apprehended, without forming any judgment of its truth or falsehood : for it is one thing to conceive the meaning of a proposition ; it is another thing to judge it to be true or false. [20] Although the distinction between simple apprehension, and every degree of assent or judgment, be perfectly evident to every man who reflects attentively on what passes in his own mind— although it is very neces- sary, in treating of the powers of the mind, to attend carefully to this distinction — yet, in the affairs of common life, it is seldom neoessary to observe it accurately. On this account we shall find, in all common languages, the words which express one oi those operations frequently applied to the other. To think, to suppose, to imagine, to conceive, to apprehend, are the words we use to express simple apprehension ; but they are all frequently used to express judgment. Their ambiguity seldom occa- sions any inconvenience in the common affairs of life, for which language is framed. But it has perplexed philosophers, in treat- ing of the operations of the mind, and will always perplex them, if they do not attend accurately to the different meanings which are put upon those words on different oc- casions. 9. Most of the operations of the mind, from their very nature, must have objects to which they are directed, and about which 224 ON THE INTELLECTUAL POWERS. [essay I. they are employed. He that perceives, must perceive something ; and that which he perceives is called the object of his per- ception. To perceive, without having any object of perception, is impossible. The miud that perceives, the object perceived, und the operation of perceiving that object, are distinct things, and are distinguished in the structure of all languages. In this sentence, " I see, or perceive the moon," / is the person or mind, the active verb see denotes the operation of that mind, and the moon denotes the object. What we have said of perceiving, is equally applicable to most operations of the mind. Such opera- tions are, in all languages, expressed by active transitive verbs ; and we know that, in all languages, such verbs require a thing or person, which is the agent, and a noun following in an oblique case, which is the object. Whence it is evident, that all mankind, both those who have contrived language, and those who use it with under- standing, have distinguished these three things as different — to wit, the operations of the mind, which [21] are expressed by active verbs ; the mind itself, which is the nomin- ative to those verbs ; and the object, which is, in the oblique case, governed by them. It would have been unnecessary to ex- plain so obvious a distinction, if some sys- tems of philosophy had not confounded it. Mr Hume's system, in particular, confounds all distinction between the operations of the mind and their objects. When he speaks of the ideas of memory, the ideas of imagin- ation, and the ideas of sense, it is often im- possible, from the tenor of his discourse, to know whether, by those ideas, he means the operations of the mind, or the objects about which they are employed. And, indeed, according to his system, there is no distinction between the one and the other. A philosopher is, no doubt, entitled to examine even those distinctions that are to be found in the structure of all languages ; and, if he is able to shew that there is no foundation for them in the nature of the things distinguished — if he can point out some prejudice common to mankind which has led them to distinguish things that are not really different — in that case, such a distinction may be imputed to a vulgar error, which ought to be corrected in philo- sophy. But when, in his first setting out, he takes it for granted, without proof, that distinctions found in the structure of all languages, have no foundation in nature, this, surely, is too fastidious a way of treating the common sense of mankind. When we come to be instructed by philo- sophers, we must bring the old light of common sense along with us, and by it judge of the new light which the philo- [21 23] sopher communicates to us. But when we are required to put out the old light alto- gether, that we may follow the new, we have reason to be on our guard. There may be distinctions that have a real foun- dation, and which may be necessary in philosophy, which are not made in common language, because not necessary in the com- mon business of life. But I believe [22] no instance will be found of a distinction made in all languages, which has not a just found- ation in nature. 10. The word idea* occurs so frequently in modern philosophical writings upon the mind, and is so ambiguous in its meaning, that it is"necessary to make some observa- tions upon it. There are chiefly two mean- ings of this word in modern authors — a popular and a philosophical. First, In popular language, idea signi- fies the same thing as conception, appre- hension, notion. To have an idea of any- thing, is to conceive it. To have a distinct idea, is to conceive it distinctly. To have no idea of it, is not to conceive it at all. It was before observed, that conceiving or apprehending has always been considered by all men as an act or operation of the mind, and, on that account, has been ex- pressed in all languages by an active verb. When, therefore, we use the phrase of having ideas, in .the popular sense, we ought to attend to this, that it signifies precisely the same thing which we com- monly express by the active verbs, conceiv- ing or apprehending. When the word idea is taken in this po- pular sense, no man can possibly doubt whether he has ideas. For he that doubts must think, and to think is to have ideas. Sometimes, in popular language, a man's ideas signify his opinions. The ideas of Aristotle, or of Epicurus, signify the opinions of these philosophers. What was formerly said of the words imagine, conceive, apprehend, that they are sometimes used to express judgment, is no less true of the word idea. This signification of the word seems indeed more common in the French language than in English. But it is found in this sense in good English authors, and even in Mr Locke. Thus we see, that having ideas, taken in the popular sense, has precisely the same meaning with conceiv- ing, imagining, apprehending, and has like- wise [23] the same ambiguity. It may, there- fore, be doubted, whether the introduction of this word into popular discourse, to signify the operation of conceiving or apprehending, was at all necessary. For, first, We have, as has been shewn, several words which are either originally English, or have been long naturalized, that express the same thing ; • On the history of the term Idea, see NorefJ. CHAP. I.] EXPLICATION OF WORDS. 225 why, therefore, should we adopt a Greek word, in place of these, any more than a French or a German word ? Besides, the words of our own lauguage are less ambi- guous. For the word idea has, for many ages, been used by philosophers as a term of art ; and in the different systems of phi- losophers means very different things. Secondly, According to the philosophi- cal meaning of the word idea, it does not signify that act of the mind which we call thought or conception, but some object of thought. Ideas, according to Mr Locke, (whose very frequent use of this word has probably been the occasion of its being adopted into common language,) " are nothing but the immediate objects of the mind in thinking." But of those objects of thought called ideas, different sects of phi- losophers have given a very different ac- count. Bruckerus, a learned German, wrote a whole book, giving the history of ideas. The most ancient system we have con- cerning ideas, is that which is explained in several dialogues of Plato, and which many ancient, as Avell as modern writers, have ascribed to Plato, as the inventor. But it is certain that Plato had his doctrine upon this subject, as well as the name idea, from the school of Pythagoras. We have still extant, a tract of Timaeus, the Locrian, a Pythagorean philosopher, concerning the soul of the world, in which we find the sub- stance of Plato's doctrine concerning ideas.* They were held to be eternal, uncreated, and immutable forms, or models, according to which the Deity made every species of things that exists, of an eternal matter. Those philosophers held, that there are three first principles of all things : First, An eternal matter, of which all things were made ; Secondly, Eternal and immaterial forms, or ideas, according to which they were made; and, [24] Thirdly, An efficient cause, the Deity who made them.-j- The mind of man, in order to its being fitted for the con- templation of these eternal ideas, must un- dergo a certain purification, and be weaned from sensible things. The eternal ideas are the only object of science; because the ob- jects of sense, being in a perpetual flux, there can be no real knowledge with regard to them. The philosophers of the Alexandrian school, commonly called the latter Plalo- nisls, made some change upon the system of the ancient Platonists with respect to the eternal ideas. They held them not to be a principle distinct from the Deity, but to be the conceptions of things in the divine un- The whole series of Pythagorean treatises and I fragments in the Doric dialect, ill which the doc- itrines and phraseology of Plato-and Aristotle are so i marvellously anticipated, are now proved to be com. paratively recent forgeries. Of these, the treatise under the name of Timaeus, is one. — H. t See above, p. 204, a, note * — H. |;[24, 25] derstanding ; the natures and essences of all things being perfectly known to him from eternity. It ought to be observed that the Pythago- reans, and the Platonists, whether elder or latter, made the eternal'ideas to be objects of science only, and of abstract contempla- tion, not the objects of sense.* And in this, the ancient system of eternal ideas differs from the modern one of Father Ma- lebranche. He held, in common with other modern philosophers, that no external thing is perceived by us immediately, but only by ideas. But he thought that the ideas, by which we perceive an external world, are the ideas of the Deity himself, in whose mind the ideas of all things, past, present, and future, must have been from eternity; for the Deity being intimately present to our minds at all times, may dis- cover to us as much of his ideas as he sees proper, according to certain established laws of nature ; and in his ideas, as in a mirror, we perceive whatever we do per- ceive of the external world. Thus we have three systems, which main- tain that the ideas which ai*e the imme- diate objects of human knowledge, are eternal and immutable, and existed before the things which they represent. There are other systems, according to which the ideas which are the immediate objects of all our thoughts, are posterior to the things which they represent, and derived from them, We shall [25] give some account of these ; but, as they have gradually sprung out of the ancient Peripatetic system, it is necessary to begin with some account of it. Aristotle taught that all the objects of our thought enter at first by the senses ; and, since the sense cannot receive external material objects themselves, it receives their species — that is, their images or forms, without the matter ; as wax receives the form of the seal without any of the matter of it. These images or forms, impressed upon the senses, are called sensible species, and are the objects only of the sensitive part of the mind ; but, by various internal powers, they are retained, refined, and spiritualized, so as to become objects of memory and imagina- tion, and, at last, of pure intellection. When they are objects of memory and of imagination, they get the name-of phantasms. When, by farther refinement, and being stripped of their particularities, they become objects of science, they are called intelli- gible species : so that every immediate * Reid, in common with our philosophers in general, had no knowledge of the Platonic theory of sensible perceiilion; and yet the gnostic forms, the cognitive reasons of the Platonists, held a far more proximate relation to ideas in the modern acceptation, than the Platon c ideas themselves. These, in fact, as to all that relates to the c'octrine of perception and ima- gination, may be thrown wholly out of account. See below, under p. Ufi.— H. Q 226 ON THE INTELLECTUAL POWERS. [essay I. object, whether of sense, of memory, of imagination, or of reasoning, must he some phantasm or species in the mind itself.* The followers of Aristotle, especially the schoolmen, made great additions to this theory, which the author himself mentions very briefly, and with an appearance of reserve. They entered into large disquisi- tions with regard to the sensible species : what kind of things they are ; how they are sent forth by the object, and enter by the organs of the senses ; how they are preserved and refined by various agents, called internal senses, concerning the num- ber and offices of which they had many controversies. But we shall not enter into a detail of these matters. The reason of giving this brief account of the theory of the Peripatetics, with regard to the immediate objects of our thoughts, is, because the doctrine of modern philoso- phers concerning ideas is built upon it. Mr Locke, who uses this word so very fre- quently, tells us, that he means the same thing by it as is commonly [26] meant by species or phantasm. Gassendi, from whom Locke borrowed more than from any other author, says the same. The words species and phantasm, are terms of art in the Peripa- tetic system, and the meaning of them is to be learned from it.-f- The theory of Democritus and Epicurus, on this subject, was not very unlike to that of the Peripatetics. They held that all bodies continually send forth slender films or spectres from their surface, of such extreme subtilty that they easily penetrate our gross bodies, or enter by the organs of sense, and stamp their image upon the mind. The sensible species of Aristotle were mere forms without matter. The spectres of Epicurus were composed of a very subtile matter. Modern philosophers, as well as the Peri- patetics and Epicureans of old, have con- ceived that external objects cannot be the immediate objects of our thought ; that there must be some image of them in the mind itself, in which, as in a mirror, they are seen. And the name idea, in the philo- sophical sense of it, is given to those inter- nal and immediate objects of our thoughts. The external thing is the remote or mediate object ; but the idea, or image of that object in the mind, is the immediate object, without * This is a tolerable account of the doctrine vulgarly attributed to Aristotle.— H. * If by this it be meant that the terms of species and phantasm, as occasionally employed by Gassendi and Locke, are used by them in the common mean- ing attache I to them in the Schools, Reid is wrong. Gassendi, no more than Des Cartes, In adopting these terms of the I'eripatetics, adopted them in their Peripatetic signification. Both these philoso- phers are explicit ;n declaring the contrary ; and what these terms as employed by them denote, they have clearly stated. Locke is less precise. — H. which we could have no perception, no re- membrance, no conception of the mediate object.* When, therefore, in common language, we speak of having an idea of anything, we mean no more by that expression, but thinking of it. The vulgar allow that this expression implies a mind that thinks, an act of that mind which we call thinking, and an object about which we think. But, besides these three, the philosopher con- ceives that there is a fourth — to wit, the idea, which is the immediate object. The idea is in the mind itself, and can have no existence but in a mind that thinks ; but the remote or mediate object may be something external, as the sun or moon ; it may be something past or future ; it may be some- thing which never existed. [27] This is the philosophical meaning of the word idea ; and we may observe that this meaning of that word is built upon a philosophical opinion : for, if philosophers had not be- lieved that there are such immediate objects of all our thoughts in the mind, they would never have used the word idea to express them. I shall only add, on this article, that, al- though I may have occasion to use the word idea in this philosophical sense in explaining the opinions of others, I shall have no occa- sion to use it in expressing my own, because I believe ideas, taken in this sense, to be a mere fiction of philosophers. And, in the popular meaning of the word, there is the less occasion to use it, because the English words thought, notion, apprehension, answer the purpose as well as the Greek word idea; with this advantage, that they are less ambiguous. There is, indeed, a mean- ing of the word idea, which I think most agreeable to its use in ancient philosophy, and which I would willingly adopt, if use, the arbiter of language, did permit. But this will come to be explained afterwards. 11. The word impression is used by Mr Hume, in speaking of the operations of the mind, almost as often as the word idea is by Mr Locke. "What the latter calls ideas, the former divides into two classes ; one of which he calls impressions, the other ideas. I shall make some observations upon Mr Hume's explication of that word, and then consider the proper meaning of it in the English language. " We may divide," (says Mr Hume, K Essays," vol. II., p. 18,-f) " all the percep- tions of the human mind into two classes or species, which are distinguished by their * On Reid's ambiguous employment of the ex. pressions mediate and immediate ohject, see No'e B ■ and, on Ms confusion of the two hypotheses of representation, Note C — H. t " Enquiry concerning Human Understanding, *" $ 2. The quotation has been filled up by the origi- nal. — H. [26, 2?1 CHAP. I.] EXPLICATION OF WORDS. 22' differeut degrees of force and vivacity. The less lively and forcible are commonly deno- minated thoughts or ideas. The other species want a name in our language, and in most others ; [I suppose because it was not requisite for any but philosophical pur- poses to rank them under a general term or appellation.] Let us, therefore, use a little freedom, and call them impressions ; [employing that word in a sense somewhat different from the usual.] By the term impression, then, I mean all our more lively perceptions, when we hear, or see, or feel, or love, or hate, or desire, or will. [And impressions are distinguished from] ideas [which] are the [28] less lively perceptions, of which we are conscious, when we reflect on any of those sensations or movements above mentioned." This is the explication Mr Hume hath given in his " Essays" of the term impres- sions, when applied to the mind: and his explication of it, in his " Treatise of Human Nature," is to the same purpose. [Vol. I. p. 11.] Disputes about words belong rather to grammarians than to philosophers ; but philosophers ought not to escape censure when they corrupt a language, by using words in a way which the purity of the lan- guage will not admit. I find fault with Mr Hume's phraseology in the words I have quoted — First, Because he gives the name of per- ceptions to every operation of the mind. Love is a perception, hatred a perception ; desire is a perception, will is a perception ; and, by the same rule, a doubt, a question, a command, is a perception. This is an intolerable abuse of language, which no phi- losopher has authority to introduce.* Secondly, When Mr Hume says, that we may divide all the perceptions of the human mind into two classes or species, which are distinguished ly their degrees of force and vivacity, the manner of expression is loose and unphilosophical. To differ in species is one thing; to differ in degree is an- other. Things which differ in degree only must be of the same species. It is a maxim of common sense, admitted by all men, that greater and less do not make a change of species.-]- The same man may differ in the degree of his force and vivacity, in the morning and at night, in health and in sickness ; but this is so far from making him a different species, that it does not so much as make him a dif- ferent individual. To say, therefore, that two different classes, or species of percep- * Hume did not introduce it The teim Percep- tion was so used by Des Can es and many others ; and, asdesires, feelings, &c. exist only as known, so are they all, in a certain sense, cognitions (perceptions.)— H. t " Rlagis et minus non variant speciem."— H. [2$, 29] tions, are distinguished by the degrees of their force and vivacity, is to confound a difference of degree with a difference of species, which every man of understanding knows how to distinguish.* [29] Thirdly, We may observe, that this author, having given the general name of perception to all the operations of the mind,-j- and distinguished them into two classes or species, which differ only in de- gree of force and vivacity, tells us/that he gives the name of impressions to all our more lively perceptions— to wit, when Ave hear, or see, or feel, or love, or hate, or desire, or will. There is great confusion in this account of the meaning of the word impression. When I see, this is an im- piessun. But why has not the author told us whether he gives the name of im- pression to the object seen, or to that act of my mind by which I see it ? When I see the full moon, the full moon is one thing, my perceiving it is another thing. Which of these two things does he call an impres- sion ? We are left to guess this ; nor does all that this author writes about impressions clear this point. Everything he says tends to darken it, and to lead us to think that the full moon which I see, and my seeing it, are not two things, but one and the same thing.J The same observation may be applied to every other instance the author gives to illustrate the meaning of the word impres- sion. " When we hear, when we feel, when we love, when Ave hate, Avhen Ave de- sire, when we will." In all these acts of the mind there must be an object, which is heard, or felt, or loved, or hated, or desired, or Avilled. Thus, for instance, I love my country. This, says Mr Hume, is an im- pression. But Avhat is the impression f Is it my country, or is it the affection I bear to it ? I ask the philosopher this question ; but I find no ansAver to it. And when I read all * This objection reaches far more extensively than to Hume ; in fact, to all who do not allow an imme- diate knowledge or consciousness of the t.on-ego in perception. Where are the philosophers who lo? — Aristotle and Hobbes call imagination a dying sense; and Des Cartes is equally explicit. — H. t As others previously had done.— H. % This objection is easily answered. The thing, (Hume would say,) as unknown, as unperceived, as beyond the sphere of my consciousness, is to me as zero; to that, therefore, I could not refer, Asper- ceived, as known, it mu>t be within the sphere oj my consciousness ; but, as philosophers concur in main- taining that 1 can only be conscious of my mind and its contents, the object, as perceived, mu*t be either a mode of, or something contained within my mind, and to that internal object, as perceived, 1 give the name of impression. — Nor can the act of perception (he would add) be really distinguished from the ob- ject perceived. Both are only relatives, mutually constituent of the same indivisible relation of know- ledge ; and to that relation and these relatives- 1 give the name of impression, precisely as, in different points cf view, the term perception is applied to the mind perceiving, to the object perceived, and. to the act of which these are the ii. separable constituents. — T his likewise has reference to what follows.— H. 228 ON- THE INTELLECTUAL POWERS. [essay I- that he has written on this subject, I find this word impression sometimes used to sig- nify an operation of the mind, sometimes the object of the operation ; but, for the most part, it is a vague and indetermined word that signifies both. I know not whether it may be considered as an apology for such abuse of words, in an author who understood the language so well, and used it with so great propriety in writ- ing on other subjects, [30] that Mr Hume's system, with regard to the mind, required a language of a different structure from the common : or, if expressed in plain English, would have been too shocking to the com- mon sense of mankind. To give an instance or two of this. If a man receives a present on which he puts a high value, if he see and handle it, and put it in his pocket, this, says Mr Hume, is an impression. If the man only dream that he received such a present, this is an idea. Wherein lies the difference between this impression and this idea — between the dream and the reality ? They are different classes or species, says Mr Hume : so far all men will agree with him. But he adds, that they are distinguished only by different degrees of force and viva- city. Here he insinuates a tenet of his own, in contradiction to the commonsense of mankind. Common sense convinces every man, that a lively dream is no nearer to a reality than a faint one ; and that, if a man should dream that he had all the wealth of Croesus, it would not put one farthing in his pocket. It is impossible to fabricate ar- guments against such undeniable principles, without confounding the meaning of words. In like manner, if a man would persuade me that the moon which I see, and my see- ing it, are not two things, but one and the same thing, he will answer his purpose less by arguing this point in plain English, than by confounding the two under one name — such as that of an impression. For such is the power of words, that, if we can be brought to the habit of calling two things that are connected by the same name, we are the more easily led to believe them to be one and the same thing. Let us next consider the proper meaning of the word impression* in English, that we may see how far it is fit to express either the operations of the mind or their objects. When a figure is stamped upon a body by pressure, that figure is called an impression, as the impression of a seal on wax, of [31] printing-types, or of a copperplate on paper- This seems now to be the literal sense of the word ; the effect borrowing its name from the cause. But, by metaphor or ana- logy, like most other words, its meaning is extended, so as to signify any change pro- *• See below, under' p. 338.— H. duced in a body by the operation of some external cause. A blow of the hand makes no impression on a stone wall ; but a bat- tery of cannon may. The moon raises a tide in the ocean, but makes no impression on rivers and lakes. When we speak of making an impression on the mind, the word is carried still farther from its literal meaning ; use, however, which is the arbiter of language, authorizes this application of it — as when we say that admonition and reproof make little impres- sion on those who are confirmed in bad habits. The same discourse delivered in one way makes a strong impression on the hearers ; delivered in another way, it makes no impression at all. It may be observed that, in such ex- amples, an impression made on the mind always implies some change of purpose or will ; some new habit produced, or some former habit weakened ; some passion raised or allayed. When such changes are pro- duced by persuasion, example, or any ex- ternal cause, we say that such causes make an impression upon the mind ; but, when things are seen, or heard, or apprehended, without producing any passion or emotion, we say that they make no impression. In the most extensive sense, an impres- sion is a change produced in some passive subject by the operation of an external cause. If we suppose an active being to produce any change in itself by its own active power, this is never called an im- pression. It is the act or operation of the being itself, not an impression upon it. From this it appears, that to give the name of an impression to any effect produced in the mind, is to suppose that the mind does not act at all in the production of that effect. If seeing, hearing, desiring, willing, be operations of the mind, they cannot be im- pressions. If [32] they be impressions, they cannot be operations of the mind. In the structure of all languages, they are con- sidered as acts or operations of the mind it- self, and the names given them imply this. To call them impressions, therefore, is to trespass against the structure, not of a par- ticular language only, but of all languages.* If the word impression be an improper word to signify the operations of the mind, it is at least as improper to signify their objects ; for would any man be thought to speak with propriety, who should say that the sun is an impression, that the earth and the sea are impressions ? It is commonly believed, and taken for granted, that every language, if it be suffi- ciently copious in words, is equally fit to express all opinions, whether they be true h I- But see Scaligcr, " De Subtilitate," Exerc. 295, [30-32] I.] EXPLICATION OF WORDS. 229 or false. I apprehend, however, that there is an exception to this general rule, which deserves our notice. There are certain common opinions of mankind, upon which the structure and grammar of all languages are founded. While these opinions are common to all men, there will be a great similarity in all languages that are to be found on the face of the earth. Such a similarity there really is ; for we find in all languages the same parts of speech, the distinction of nouns and verbs, the distinc- tion of nouns into adjective and substan- tive, of verbs into active and passive. In verbs we find like tenses, moods, persons, and numbers. There are general rules of grammar, the same in all languages. This similarity of structure in all languages, shews an uniformity among men in those opinions upon which the structure of lan- guage is founded. If, for instance, we should suppose that there was a nation who believed that the things which we call attributes might exist without a subject, there would be in their language no distinction between adjectives and substantives, nor would it be a rule with them that an adjective has no mean- ing, unless when joined to a substantive. If there was any nation who did not dis- tinguish between [33] acting and being acted upon, there would in their language be no distinction between active and passive verbs ; nor would it be a rule that the active verb must have an agent in the nominative case, but that, in the passive verb, the agent must be in an oblique case. The structure of all languages is grounded upon common notions, which Mr Hume's philosophy opposes, and endeavours to overturn. This, no doubt, led him to warp the common language into a conformity with his principles ; but we ought not to imitate him in this, until we are satisfied that his principles are built on a solid foundation. 12. Sensation is a name given by philo- sophers to an act of mind, which may be distinguished from all others by this, that it hath no object distinct from the act itself.* Pain of every kind is an uneasy sensation. When I am pained, I cannot say that the pain I feel is one thing, and that my feeling it is another thing. They are one and the same thing, and cannot be disjoined, even in imagination. Pain, when it is not felt, has no existence. It can be neither greater nor less in degree or duration, nor anything else in kind than it is felt to be. It cannot exist by itself, nor in any subject but in a sentient being. No quality of an inanimate * But sensation, in the language of philosophers, has been generallv employed to denote the whole pro- cess of sensitive.cognition, including both perception iroper and sensation proper. On this distinction, see below, Essay II., ch. xvi., and Note D.*— H. [33, 34.] insentient being can have the least resem- blance to it. What we have said of pain may be applied to every other sensation. Some of them are agreeable, others uneasy, in various degrees. These being objects of desire or aversion, have some attention given to them ; but many are indifferent, and so little attended to that they have no name in any language. Most operations of the mind that have names in common language, are complex in their nature, and made up of various ingredients, or more simple acts ; which, though conjoined in our constitution, must be disjoined by abstraction, in order to our having a distinct and scientific notion of the complex operation. [34] In such operations, sensation, for the most part, makes an in- gredient. Those who do not attend to the complex nature of such operations, are apt to resolve them into some one of the simple acts of which they are compounded, over- looking the others. And from this cause many disputes have been raised, and many errors have been occasioned with regard to the nature of such operations. The perception of external objects' is accompanied with some sensation corre- sponding to the object perceived, and such sensations have, in many cases, in all lan- guages, the same name with the external object which they always accompany. The difficulty of disjoining, by abstraction, things thus constantly conjoined in the course of nature, and things which have one and the same name in all languages, has likewise been frequently an occasion of errors in the philosophy of the mind. To avoid such errors, nothing is of more importance than to have a distinct notion of that simple act of the mind which we call sensation, and which we have endeavoured to describe. By this means, we shall find it more easy to distinguish it from every external object that it accompanies, and from every other act of the mind that may be conjoined with it. For this purpose, it is likewise of import- ance that the name of sensation should, in philosophical writings, be appropriated to signify this simple act of the mind, without including anything more in its signification, or being applied to other purposes. I shall add an observation concerning the word fpelinp. This word has two meanings. First, it signifies the perceptions we have of external objects, by the sense of touch. When we speak of feeling a body to be hard or soft, rough or smooth, hot or cold, to feel these things is to perceive them by touch. They are external things, and that act of the mind by which we feel them is easily distinguished from the objects felt. Secondly, the word feeling is used to signify the same thing as sensation, which we have 230 ON THE INTELLECTUAL POWERS. [essay 1. just now explained ; and, in this sense, it has no object ; the feeling and the thing felt are one and the same. [35 J Perhaps betwixt feeling, taken in this last sense, and sensation, there may be this small difference, that sensation is most com- monly used to signify those feelings which we have by our external senses and bodily appetites, and all our bodily pains and pleasures. But there are feelings of a nobler nature accompanying our affections, our moral judgments, and our determina- tions in matters of taste, to which the word sensation is less properly applied. I have premised these observations on the meaning of certain words that frequently occur in treating of this subject, lor two reasons : First, That I may be the better understood when I use them; and, Secondly, That those who would make any progress in this branch of science, may accustom themselves to attend very carefully to the meaning of words that are used hi it. They may be assured of this, that the ambiguity of words, and the vague and improper appli- cation of them, have thrown more darkness upon this subject than the subtilty and intricaey of things. When we use common words, we ought to use them in the sense in which they are most commonly used by the best and purest writers in the language ; and, when we have occasion to enlarge or restrict the meaning of a common word, or give it more precision than it has in common language, the reader ought to have warning of this, otherwise we shall impose upon ourselves and upon him. A very respectable writer has given a good example of this kind, by explaining, in an Appendix to his : ' Elements of Criti- cism," the terms he has occasion to use. In that Appendix, most of the words are explained on which I have been making observations ; and the explication I have given, I think, agrees, for the most part, with his. Other words that need explication, shall be explaiued as they occur. [36] CHAPTER II. PRINCIPLES TAKEN FOR GRANTED. As there are words common to philosophers and to the vulgar, which need no explica- tion, so there are principles common to both, which need no proof, and which do not admit of direct proof. One who applies to any branch of science, must be come to years of understanding, and, consequently, must have exercised his reason, and the other powers of his mind, in various ways. He must have formed various opinions and principles, by which he conducts himself in the affairs of life. Of those principles, some are common to ail men, being evident in themselves, and so necessary in the conduct of life that a man cannot live and act according to the rules of common prudence without them. All men that have common understand- ing, agree in such principles ; and consider a man as lunatic or destitute of common sense, who denies or calls them in question. Thus, if any man were found of so strange a turn as not to believe his own eyes, to put no trust in his senses, nor have the least regard to their testimony, would any man think it worth while to reason gravely with such a person, and, by argument, to convince him of his error ? Surely no wise man would. For, before men can reason together, they must agree in first principles ; and it is impossible to reason with a man who has no principles in common with you. There are, therefore, common principles, which are the foundation of all reasoning and of all science. Such common principles seldom admit of direct proof, nor do they need it. Men need not to be taught them ; for they are such as all men of [37] com- mon understanding know; or such, at least, as they give a ready assent to, as soon as they are proposed and understood. Such principles, when we have occasion to use them in science, are called axiotns. And, although it be not absolutely neces- sary, yet it may be of great use, to point cut the principles or axioms on which a science is grounded. Thus, mathematicians, before they prove any of the propositions of mathematics, lay down certain axioms, or common princi- ples, upon which they build their reason- ings. And although those axioms be truths which every man knew before — such as, That the whole is greater than a part, That equal quantities added to equal quantities make equal sums ; yet, when we see no- thing assumed in the proof of mathematical propositions, but such self-evident axioms, the propositions appear more certain, and leave no room for doubt or dispute. In all other sciences, as well as in mathe- matics, it will be found that there are a few common principles, upon which all the reasonings in that science are grounded, and into which they may be resolved. If these were pointed out and considered, we should be bet ter able to j udge what stress may be laid upon the conclusions in that science. If the principles be certain, the conclusions justly drawn from them must be certain. If the principles be only probable, the con- clusions can only be probable. If the prin- ciples be false, dubious, or obscure, the superstructure that is built upon them must partake of the weakness of the found- ation. [33-37] CHAP. II. ] PRINCIPLES TAKEN FOR GRANTED. 231 Sir Isaac Newton, the greatest of na- tural philosophers, has given an example well worthy of imitation, by laying down the common principles or axioms, on which the reasonings in natural philosophy are built. Before this was done, the reason- ings of philosophers in that science were as vague and uncertain as they are in most others. Nothing was fixed ; all was dispute and controversy; [38] but, by this happy expedient, a solid foundation is laid in that science, and a noble super- structure is raised upon it, about which there is now no more dispute or con- troversy among men of knowledge, than there is about the conclusions of mathe- matics. It may, however be observed, that the first principles of natural philosophy are of a quite different nature from mathematical axioms : they have not the same kind of evidence, nor are they necessary truths, as mathematical axioms are. They are such as these : That similar effects proceed from the same or similar causes ; That we ought to admit of no other causes of natural effects, but such as are true, and sufficient to ac- count for the effects. These are principles which, though tbey ha ve not the same kind of evidence that mathematical axioms have ; yet have such evidence that every man of common understanding readily assents to them, and finds it absolutely necessary to conduct his actions and opinions by them, in the ordinary affairs of life. Though it has not been usual, yet I con- ceive it may be useful, to point out some of those things which I shall take for granted, as first principles, in treating of the mind and its faculties. There is the more oc- casion for this ; because very ingenious men, such as Des Cartes, Malebranche, Arnauld, Locke, and many others, have lost much labour, by not distinguishing things which require proof, from things which, though they may admit of illustra- tration, yet, being self-evident, do not admit of proof. When men attempt to deduce such self-evident principles from others more evident, they always fall into incon- clusive reasoning : and the consequence of this has been, that others, such as Berkeley and Hume, finding the arguments brought to prove such first principles to be weak and inconclusive, have been tempted first to doubt of them, and afterwards to deny them. It is so irksome to reason with those who deny first principles, that wise men com- monly decline it. Yet it is not impossible, that [39] what is only a vulgar prejudice may be mistaken for a first principle. Nor is it impossible that what is really a first principle may, by the enchantment of words, have such a mist thrown about it, as to T38-401 hide its evidence, and to make a man of candour doubt of it. Such cases happen more frequently, perhaps, in this science than in any other ; but they are not alto- gether without remedy. There are ways by which the evidence of first principles may be made more apparent when they are brought into dispute ; but they require to be handled in a way peculiar to themselves. Their evidence is not demonstrative, but intuitive. They require not proof, but to be placed in a proper point of view. This will be shewn more fully in its proper place, and applied to those very principles which we now assume. In the meantime, when they are proposed as first principles, the reader is put on his guard, and warned to consider whether they have a just claim to that character. 1. First, then, I shall take it for granted, that I think, that I remember, that I rea- son, and, in general, that I really perform all those operations of mind of which I am conscious. The operations of our minds are attended with consciousness ; and this consciousness is the evidence, the only evidence, which we have or can have of their existence. If a man should take it into his head to think or to say that his consciousness may de- ceive him, and to require proof that it can- not, I know of no proof that can be given him ; he must be left to himself, as a man that denies first principles, without which there can be no reasoning. Every man finds himself under a necessity of believing what consciousness testifies, and everything that hath this testimony is to be taken as a first principle.* 2. As by consciousness we know cer- tainly the existence of our present thoughts and passions ; so we know the past by re- membrance. + And, when they are re- cent, and the remembrance of them fresh, [40] the knowledge of them, from such distinct remembrance, is, in its certainty and evidence, next to that of conscious- ness. 3. But it is to be observed that we are conscious of many things to which we give little or no attention. We can hardly at- tend to several things at the same time ; and our attention^ is commonly employed about that which is the object of our thought, and rarely about the thought it- self. Thus, when a man is angry, his • To doubt that we are conscious of this or that, is impossible. For the doubt must at least postulate itself; but the doubt is only a datum of conscious- ness ; therefore, in postulating its own reality, it ad. mits the truth of consciousness, and consequently annihilates itself. See below, p. 579. On Con- sciousness, in the history of psychology, see Note IJ. — H. + Remembrance cannot be taken out of Con- sciousness. See Note H.— VI 232 ON THE INTELLECTUAL POWERS. [_ESSAY attention is turned to the injury done him, or the injurious person; and he gives very little attention to the passion of anger, al- though he is conscious of it. It is in our power, however, when we come to the years of understanding, to give attention to our own thoughts and passions, and the va- rious operations of our minds. And, when we make these the objects of our atten- tion, either while they are present or when they are recent and fresh in our me- mory, this act of the mind is called reflec- tion. We take it for granted, therefore, that, by attentive reflection, a man may have a clear and certain knowledge of the opera- tions of his own mind ; a knowledge no less clear and certain than that which he has of an external object when it is set before his eyes. This reflection is a kind of intuition, it gives a like conviction with regard to in- ternal objects, or things in the mind, as the faculty of seeing gives with regard to objects of sight. A man must, therefore, be convinced beyond possibility of doubt, of everything with regard to the opera- tions of his own mind, which he clearly and distinctly discerns by attentive reflec- tion.* 4. I take it for granted that all the thoughts I am conscious of, or remember, are the thoughts of one and the same thinking principle, which I call myself, or my mind. Every man has an immediate and irresistible conviction, not only of his present existence, but of his continued existence and identity, as far back as he can remember. If any man should think fit to demand [41] a proof that the thoughts he is successively conscious of, belong to one and the same thinking principle— if he should demand a proof that he is the same person to-day as he was yesterday, or a year ago — I know no proof that can be given him : he must be left to himself, either as a man that is lunatic, or as one who denies first principles, and is not to be reasoned with. Every man of a sound mind, finds him- self under a necessity of believing his own identity, and continued existence. The conviction of this is immediate and irresist- able ; and, if he should lose this conviction, it would be a certain proof of insanity, which is not to be remedied by reasoning. 5. I take it for granted, that there are some things which cannot exist by them- selves, but must be in something else to which they belong, as qualities, or attributes. Thus, motion cannot exist, but in some- * See infra, pp. 60, 105, 581 , where a similar, and pp. 324, 516, where a different extension is given to Reflection. On Attention and Reflection, in the history of psychology, see Note I.— H. thing that is moved. And to suppose that there can be motion while everything is at rest, is a gross and palpable absurdity. In like manner, hardness and softness, sweet- ness and bitterness, are things which cannot exist by themselves ; they are qualities of something which is hard or soft, sweet or bitter. That thing, whatever it be, of which they are qualities, is called their sub- ject; and such qualities necessarily suppose a subject. Things which may exist by themselves, and do not necessarily suppose the exist- ence of anything else, are called substances ; and, with relation to the qualities or attri- butes that belong to them, they are called the subjects of such qualities or attributes. All the things which we immediately per- ceive by our senses, and all the things we are conscious of, are things which must be in something else, as their subject. Thus, by my senses, I perceive figure, colour, hardness, softness, motion, resistance, and such [42] like things. But these are qualities, and must necessarily be in something that is figured, coloured, hard or soft, that moves, or resists. It is not to these qua- lities, but to that which is the subject of them, that we give the name of body. If any man should think fit to deny that these things are qualities, or that they require any subject, I leave him to enjoy his opinion as a man who denies first principles, and is not fit to be reasoned with. If he has common understanding, he will find that he cannot converse half an hour without say- ing things which imply the contrary of what he professes to believe. In like manner, the things I am conscious of, such as thought, reasoning, desire, ne- cessarily suppose something that thinks, that reasons, that desires. We do not give the name of mind to thought, reason, or desire ; but to that being which thinks, which reasons, and which desires. That every act or operation, therefore, supposes an agent, that every quality sup- poses a subject, are things which I do not attempt to prove, but take for granted. Every man of common understanding dis- cerns this immediately, and cannot enter- tain the least doubt of it. In all languages, we find certain words which, by gramma- rians, are called adjectives. Such words denote attributes, and every adjective must have a substantive to winch it belongs — that is, every attribute must have a subject. In all languages, we find active verbs which denote some action or operation ; and it is a fundamental rule in the grammar of all languages, that such a verb supposes a per- son — that is, in other words, that every action must have an agent. We take it, therefore, as a first principle, that goodness, wisdom, and virtue, can only be in some [41, 42] CHAP. I!.] PRINCIPLES TAKEN FOR GRANTED. 233 being that is good, wise, and virtuous ; that thinking supposes a being that thinks ; and that every operation we are conscious of supposes an agent that operates, which we call mind. 6. I take it for granted, that, in most operations of the mind, there [4-3] must be an object distinct from the operation itself. I cannot see, without seeing something. To see without having any object of sight is absurd. I cannot remember, without re- membering something. The thing remem- bered is past, while the remembrance of it is present ; and, therefore, the operation and the object of it must be distinct things. The operations of our mind are denoted, in all languages, by active transitive verbs, which, from their construction in grammar, require not only a person or agent, but likewise an object of the operation. Thus, the verb know, denotes an operation of mind. From the general structure of lan- guage, this verb requires a person — I know, you know, or he knows ; but it requires no less a noun in the accusative case, denoting the thing known ; for he that knows must know something ; and, to know, without having any object of knowledge, is an ab- surdity too gross to admit of reasoning.* 7. We ought likewise to take for granted, as first principles, things wherein we find an universal agreement, among the learned and unlearned, in the different nations and ages of the world, -f A consent of ages and nations, of the learned and vulgar, ought, at least, to have great authority, unless we can shew some prejudice as universal as that consent is, which might be the cause of it. Truth is one, but error is infinite. There are many truths so obvious to the human faculties, that it may be ex- pected that men should universally agree in them. And this is actually found to be the case with regard to many truths, against which we find no dissent, unless perhaps that of a few sceptical philosophers, who may justly be suspected, in such cases, to differ from the rest of mankind, through pride, obstinacy, or some favourite passion. Where there is such universal consent in things not deep nor intricate, but which lie, as it were, on the surface, there is the greatest presumption that can be, that it is the natural result of the human faculties ; and it must have great authority with every sober [44] mind that loves truth. Major enim pars eo fere deferri solet quo a natura deducitur.—Cic. de Off. I. 41. Perhaps it may be thought that it is impossible to collect the opinions of all men upon any point whatsoever ; and, there- fore, that this maxim can be of no use. But there are many cases wherein it is * See Note B. T43-451 t See Soto A.— H. otherwise. Who can doubt, for instance, whether mankind have, in all ages, believed the existence of a material world, and that those things which they see and handle are real, and not mere illusions and appari- tions ? Who can doubt whether mankind have universally believed that everything that begins to exist, and every change that happens in nature, must have a cause ? Who can doubt whether mankind have been universally persuaded that there is a right and a wrong in human conduct ? — some things which, in certain circumstan- ces, they ought to do, and other things which they ought not to do ? The univers- ality of these opinions, and of many such that might be named, is sufficiently evi- dent, from the whole tenor of men's con- duct, as far as our acquaintance reaches, and from the records of history, in all ages and nations, that are transmitted to us. There are other opinions that appear to be universal, from what is common in the structure of all languages, ancient and mo- dern, polished and barbarous. Language is the express image and picture of human thoughts ; and, from the picture, we mayoften draw very certain conclusions with regard to the original. We find in all languages the same parts of speech — nouns substantive and adjective, verbs active and passive, varied according to the tenses of past, pre- sent, and future ; we find adverbs, preposi- tions, and conjunctions. There are general rules of syntax common to all languages. This uniformity in the structure of lan- guage shews a certain degree of uniformity in those notions upon which the structure of language is grounded. We find, in the structure of all lan- guages, the distinction of [45] acting and being acted upon, the distinction of action and agent, of quality and subject, and many others of the like kind ; which shews that these distinctions are founded In the uni- versal sense of mankind. We shall have frequent occasion to argue from the sense of mankind expressed in the structure of language ; and therefore it was proper here to take notice of the force of argu- ments drawn from this topic. 8. I need hardly say that I shall also take for granted such facts as are attested to the conviction of all sober and reasonable men, either by our senses, by memory, or by human testimony. Although some wri- ters on this subject have disputed the authority of the senses, of memory, and of every human faculty, yet we find that such persons, in the conduct of life, in pursuing their ends, or in avoiding dangers, pay the same regard to the authority of their senses and other faculties, as the rest of mankind. By this they give us just ground to doubt of 234 ON THE INTELLECTUAL POWERS. [essay I. their candour in their professions of scep- ticism. This, indeed, has always heen the fate of the few that have professed scepticism, that, when they have done what they can to discredit their senses, they find themselves, after all, under a necessity of trusting to them. Mr Hume has been so candid as to acknowledge this ; and it is no less true of those who have not shewn the same can- dour ; for I never heard that any sceptic run his head against a post, or stepped into a kennel, because he did not believe his eyes. Upon the whole, I acknowledge that we ought to be cautious that we do not adopt opinions as first principles which are not entitled to that character. But there is surely the least danger of men's being im- posed upon in this way, when such prin- ciples openly lay claim to the character, and are thereby fairly exposed to the examina- tion of those who may dispute their au- thority. We do not pretend that those things that are laid down as first principles may not be examined, and that we ought not to [4G] have our ears open to what may be pleaded against their being admit- ted as such. Let us deal with them as an upright judge does with a witness who has a fair character. He pays a regard to the testimony of such a witness while his cha- racter is unimpeached ; but, if it can be shewn that he is suborned, or that he is influenced by malice or partial favour, his testimony loses all its credit, and is justly rejected. CHAPTER III. OF HYPOTHESES. Everv branch of human knowledge hath its proper principles, its proper foundation and method of reasoning ; and, if we en- deavour to build it upon any other found- ation, it will never stand firm and stable. Thus, the historian builds upon testimony, and rarely indulges conjecture ; the anti- quarian mixes conjecture with testimony, and the former often makes the larger ingredient ; the mathematician pays not the least regard either to testimony or conjec- ture, but deduces everything, by demon- strative reasoning, from his definitions and axioms. Indeed, whatever is built upon conjecture, is improperly called science ; for conjecture may beget opinion, but can- not produce knowledge. Natural philoso- phy must be built upon the phenomena of the material system, discovered by observ- ation and experiment. When men first began to philosophize — that is, to carry their thoughts beyond the objects of sense, and to inquire into the causes of things, and the secret operations of nature — it was very natural for them to indulge conjecture ; nor was it to be ex- pected that, in many ages, they should dis- cover the proper and scientific way of pro- ceeding in philosophical disquisitions. Ac- cordingly, we find that the most ancient systems in every branch of philosophy were nothing but the conjectures of men famous for their wisdom, whose fame gave author- ity to their opinions. Thus, in early ages, [47] wise men conjectured that this earth is a vast plain, surrounded on all hands by a boundless ocean ; that, from this ocean, the sun, moon, and stars emerge at their rising, and plunge into it again at their setting. With regard to the mind, men in their rudest state are apt to conjecture that the principle of life in a man is his breath ; be- cause the most obvious distinction between a living and a dead man is, that the one breathes, and the other does not. To this it is owing that, in ancient languages, the word which denotes the soul, is that which properly signifies breath or air. As men advance in knowledge, their first conjectures appear silly and childish, and give place to others, which tally better with later observations and discoveries. Thus one system of philosophy succeeds another, without any claim to superior merit, but this — that it is a more ingenious system of conjectures, and accounts better for com- mon appearances. To omit many ancient systems of this kind, Des Cartes, about the middle of the last century, dissatisfied with the materia prima, the substantial forms, and the occult qualities of the Peripatetics, conjectured boldly, that the heavenly bodies of our sys- tem are carried round by a vortex or whirl- pool of subtile matter, just as straws and chaff are carried round in a tub of water. He conjectured, that the soul is seated in a small gland in the brain, called the pineal gland ; that there, as in her chamber of presence, she receives intelligence of every- thing that affects the senses, by means of a subtile fluid contained in the nerves, called the animal spirits ; and that she dispatches these animal spirits, as her messengers, to put in motion the several muscles of the body, as there is occasion. • By such con- * It is not, however, to be supposed that Des Cartes allowed the soul to be seated by loral presence in any part of the tody ; for the smallest point of body is still extended, and mind is absolutely simple and in- capable of occnpying-place. The pineal gland, in the Cartesian drctrine, is only analogically called the seat of the soul, inasmuch as this is viewed as the cen. tral point of the corporeal organism; but while through this point the mind and body are mutually connected, that connection is not ore of a mere physical dependence, as they do not operate on each bv direct and natural causation.— H. [46, 1-7] CHAP. III.] OF HYPOTHESES. 235 jectures as these, Des Cartes could account for every phsenomenon in nature, in such a plausible manner as gave satisfaction to a great part of the learned world for more than half a century. [48] Such conjectures in philosophical matters have commonly got the name of hypotheses, or theories.* And the invention of a hypo- thesis, founded on some slight probabilities, which accounts for many appearances of nature, has been considered as the highest attainment of a philosopher. If the hypo- thesis hangs well together, is embellished by a lively imagination, and serves to ac- count for common appearances, it is con- sidered by many as having all the qualities that should recommend it to our belief, and all that ought to be required in a philo- sophical system. There is such proneness in men of genius to invent hypotheses, and in others to acquiesce in them, as the utmost which the human faculties can attain in philosophy, that it is of the last consequence to the pro- gress of real knowledge, that men should have a clear and distinct understanding of the nature of hypotheses in philosophy, and of the regard that is due to them. Although some conjectures may have a considerable degree of probability, yet it is evidently in the nature of conjecture to be uncertain. In every case the assent ought to be proportioned to the evidence ; for to believe firmly what has but a small degree of probability, is a manifest abuse of our understanding. Now, though we may, in many cases, form very probable conjectures concerning the works of men, every conjec- ture we can form with regard to the works of God has as little probability as the con- jectures of a child with regard to the works of a man. The wisdom of God exceeds that of the wisest man, more than his wisdom exceeds that of a child. If a child were to conjec- ture how an army is to be formed in the day of battle — how a city is to be fortified, or a state governed — what chance has he to guess right ? As little chance has the wisest man when he pretends to conjecture how the planets move in their courses, how the sea ebbs and flows, and how our minds act upon our bodies. [49] If a thousand of the greatest wits that ever the world produced were, without any previous knowledge in anatomy, to sit down and contrive how, and by what internal organs, the various functions of the human body are carried on, how the blood is made to circulate and the limbs to move, they would not, in a thousand years, hit upon any- thing like the truth. Of all the discoveries that have been * See above, note *, p. 97, b— H. [48-50] ! made concerning the inward structure of the human body, never one was made by conjecture. Accurate observations of ana- tomists have brought to light innumerable artifices of Nature in the contrivance of this machine of the human body, which we can- not but admire as excellently adapted to their several purposes. But the most saga- cious physiologist never dreamed of them till they were discovered. On the other hand, innumerable conjectures, formed in different ages, with regard to the structure of the body, have been confuted by obser- vation, and none ever confirmed. What we have said of the internal struc- ture of the human body, may be said, with justice, of every other part of the works of God, wherein any real discovery has been made. Such discoveries have always been made by patient observation, by accurate experiments, or by conclusions drawn by strict reasoning from observations and ex- periments ; and such discoveries have always tended to refute, but not to confirm, the theories and hypotheses which ingenious men have invented. As this is a fact confirmed by the history of philosophy in all past ages, it ought to have taught men, long ago, to treat with just contempt hypotheses in every branch of philosophy, and to despair of ever ad- vancing real knowledge in that way. The Indian philosopher, being at a loss to know how the earth was supported, invented the hypothesis of a huge elephant ; and this elephant he supposed to stand upon the back of a huge tortoise. This hypothesis, however ridiculous it appears to us, might seem very reasonable [50] toother Indians, who knew no more than the inventor of it ; and the same will be the fate of all hypo- theses invented by men to account for the works of God. They may have a decent and plausible appearance to those who are not more knowing than the inventor ; but, when men come to be more enlightened, they will always appear ridiculous and childish. This has been the case with regard to hypotheses that have been revered by the most enlightened part of mankind for hun- dreds of years ; and it will always be the case to the end of the world. For, until the wisdom of men bear some proportion to the wisdom of God, their attempts to find out the structure of his works, by the force of their wit and genius, will be vain. The finest productions of human art are immensely short of the meanest works of Nature. The nicest artist cannot make a feather or the leaf of a tree. Human workmanship will never bear a comparison with divine. Conjectures and hypotheses are the invention and the workmanship of men, and must bear proportion to the capa- 236 OX THE INTELLECTUAL POWERS. [essay I. city and skill of the inventor ; .and, there- fore, will always be very unlike to the works of God, which it is the business of philosophy to discover. The world has been so long befooled by hypotheses in all parts of philosophy, that it is of the utmost consequence to every man who would make any progress in real knowledge, to treat them with just con- tempt, as the reveries of vain and fanciful men,whose pride makes them conceive them- selves able to unfold the mysteries of nature by the force of their genius. A learned man, in an epistle to Des Cartes, has the follow- ing observation, which very much deserved the attention of that philosopher, and of all that come after him : — " When men, sit- ting in their closet, and consulting only their books, attempt disquisitions into nature, they may, indeed, tell how they would have made the world, if God had given them that in commission ; that is, they may describe [51] chimeras, which correspond with the imbecility of their own minds, no less than the admirable beauty of the universe cor- responds with the infinite perfection of its Creator ; but without an understanding truly divine, they can never form such an idea to themselves as the Deity had in creating things." Let us, therefore, lay down this as a fundamental principle in our inquiries into the structure of the mind and its opera- tions — that no regard is due to the conjec- tures or hypotheses of philosophers, how- ever ancient, however generally received. Let us accustom ourselves to try every opinion by the touchstone of fact and ex- perience. What can fairly be deduced from facts duly observed or sufficiently at- tested, is genuine and pure ; it is the voice of God, and no fiction of human imagina- tion. The first rule of philosophising laid down by the great Newton, is this : — Causas re- rum naturalium, non phircs admitti debere, quam qua et vera sint, et earum phceno menis explicandis svfficiant. " No more causes, nor any other causes of natural effects, ought to be admitted, but such as are both true, and are sufficient for ex- plaining their appearances." This is a golden rule ; it is the true and proper test, by which what is sound and solid in philoso- phy may be distinguished from what is hol- low and vain.* If a philosopher, therefore, pretends to shew us the cause of any natural effect, whether relating to matter or to mind, let us first consider whether there is sufficient • For this rule we are not indebted to Newton. It is only the old law of parcimony, and that ambigu- ous'y expressed. For, in their plain meaning, the words " et vcrce sint" are redundant ; or what follows is redundant, and the whole rule a barren truism. — H. evidence that the cause he assigns does really exist. If there is not, reject it with disdain, as a fiction which ought to have no place in genuine philosophy. If the cause assigned really exists, consider, in the next place, whether the effect it is brought to explain necessarily follows from it. Un- less it has these two conditions, it is good for nothing. When Newton had shewn the admirable effects of gravitation in our planetary sys- tem, he must have felt a strong desire to know [52] its cause. He could have in- vented a hypothesis for this purpose, as many had done before him. But his phi- losophy was of another complexion. Let us hear what he says : Rationem harttm gravitatis proprietatum ex phanomenis mm potui deiucere, et hypotheses non Jingo. Qulcquid enim ex -phanomenis non deduci- tur hypothesis vocanda est. Et hypotheses, seu metaphydca, aeu physica, sen qualila- tum occullarum, seu mechunica, in philoso- phia experimeniali locum non habent. CHAPTER IV. OF ANALOGY. It is natural to men to judge of things less known, by some similitude they ob- serve, or think they observe, between them and things more familiar or better known. In many cases, we have no better way of judging. And, where the things compared have really a great similitude in their na- ture, when there is reason to think that they are subject to the same laws, there may be a considerable degree of probability in con- clusions drawn from analogy. Thus, we may observe a very great si- militude between this earth which we in- habit, and the other planets, Saturn, Ju- piter, Mars, Venus, and Mercury. They all revolve round the sun, as the earth does, although at different distances and in different periods. They borrow all their light from the sun, as the earth does. Several of them are known to revolve round their axis like the earth, and, by that means, must have a like succession of day and night. Some of them have moons, that serve to give them light in the absence of the sun, as our moon does to us. They are all, in their motions, subject to the same law of gravitation, as the earth is. From all this similitude, it is not unrea- sonable to think, that those planets may, like our earth, be the habitation of va- rious [53] orders of living creatures. There is some probability in this conclusion from analogy. In medicine, physicians must, for the most part, be directed in their prescriptions [51-53] IV.] OF ANALOGY. 237 by analogy. The constitution of one human body is so like to that of another that it is reasonable to think that what is the cause of health or sickness to one, may have the same effect upon another. And this ge- nerally is found true, though not without some exceptions. In politics we reason, for the most part, from analogy. The constitution of human nature is so similar in different societies or commonwealths, that the causes of peace and war, of tranquillity and sedition, of riches and poverty, of improvement and degeneracy, are much the same in all. Analogical reasoning, therefore, is not, in all cases, to be rejected. It may afford a greater or a less degree of probability, according as the things compared are more or less similar in their nature. But it ought to be observed, that, as this kind of reasoning can afford only probable evidence at best ; so, unless great caution be used, we are apt to be led into error by it. For men are naturally disposed to conceive a greater similitude in things than there really is. To give an instance of this : Anatomists, in ancient ages, seldom dissected human bodies ; but very often the bodies of those quadrupeds whose internal structure was thought to approach nearest to that of the human body. Modern anatomists have discovered many mistakes the ancients were led into, by their conceiving a greater similitude between the structure of men and of some beasts than there is in reality. By this, and many other instances that might be given, it appears that conclusions built on analogy stand on a slippery founda- tion ; and that we ought never to rest upon evidence of this kind, when we can have more direct evidence. [54] I know no author who has made a more just and a more happy use of this mode of reasoning than Bishop Butler, in his "Ana- logy of Religion, Natural and Revealed, to the Constitution and Course of Nature." In that excellent work the author does not ground any of the truths of religion upon analogy, as their proper evidence. He only makes use of analogy to answer objec- tions against them. When objections are made against the truths of religion, which may be made with equal strength against what we know to be true in the course of nature, such objections can have no weight. Analogical reasoning, therefore, may be of excellent use in answering objections against truths which have other evidence. It may likewise give a greater or a less degree of probability in cases where we can find no other evidence. But all arguments, drawn from analogy, are still the weaker, the greater disparity there is between the T54. 55] things compared ; and, therefore, must be weakest of all when we compare body with mind, because there are no two things in nature more unlike. There is no subject in which men have always been so prone to form their notions by analogies of this kind, as in what re- lates to the mind. We form an early ac- quaintance with material things by means of our senses, and are bred up in a con- stant familiarity with them. Hence we are apt to measure all things by them ; and to ascribe to things most remote from mat- ter, the qualities that belong to material things. It is for this reason, that man- kind have, in all ages, been so prone to conceive the mind itself to be some sub- tile kind of matter : that they have been disposed to ascribe human figure and hu- man organs, not only to angels, but even to the Deity. Though we are conscious of the operations of our own minds when they are exerted, and are capable of attending to them, so as to form a distinct notion of them, this is so difficult a work to men whose attention is constantly solicited by external objects, that we give them names from things that are familiar, and which [55] are conceived to have some similitude to them ; and the notions we form of them are no less analogical than the names we give them. Almost all the words by which we express the operations of the mind, are borrowed from material objects. To un- derstand, to conceive, to imagine, to com- prehend, to deliberate, to infer, and many others, are words of this kind ; so that the very language of mankind, with regard to the operations of our minds, is analogical. Because bodies are affected only by con- tact and pressure, we are apt to conceive that what is an immediate object of thought, and affects the mind, must be in contact with it, and make some impression upon it. When we imagine anything, the very word leads us to think that there must be some image in the mind of the thing con- ceived. It is evident that these notions are drawn from some similitude conceived between body and mind, and between the properties of body and the operations of mind- To illustrate more fully that analogical reasoning from a supposed similitude of mind to body, which I conceive to be the most fruitful source of error with regard to the operations of our minds, I shall give an instance of it. When a man is urged by contrary motives — those on one hand inciting him to do some action, those on the other to forbear it — he deliberates about it, and at last resolves to do it, or not to do it. The contrary motives are here compared to the weights in the opposite scales of a balance ; and there i3 238 ON THE INTELLECTUAL POWERS. [essay I. not, perhaps, any instance that can be named of a more striking analogy between body and mind. Hence the phrases of weighing motives, of deliberating upon actions, are commoir to all languages. From this analogy, some philosophers draw very important conclusions. They say, that, as the balance cannot incline to one side more than the other when the opposite weights are equal, so a man can- not possibly determine himself if the motives on both hands are equal ; and, as the bal- ance must necessarily turn to that side [56] which has most weight, so the man must necessarily be determined to that hand where the motive is strongest. And on this foundation some of the schoolmen* maintained that, if a hungry ass were placed between two bundles of hay equally inviting, the beast must stand still and starve to death, being unable to turn to either, because there are equal motives to both. This is an instance of that analogical rea- soning which I conceive ought never to be trusted ; for the analogy between a balance and a man deliberating, though one of the strongest that can be found between matter and mind, is too weak to support any argu- ment. A piece of dead inactive matter, and an active intelligent being, are things very unlike ; and, because the one would remain at rest in a certain case, it does not follow that the other would be inactive in a case somewhat similar. The argument is no better than this — That, because a dead animal moves only as it is pushed, and, if pushed with equal force in contrary direc- tions, must remain at rest ; therefore, the same thing must happen to a living animal ; for, surely, th-e similitude between a dead animal and a living, is as great as that between a balance and a man. The conclusion I would draw from all that has been said on analogy, is, that, in our inquiries concerning the mind and its operations, we ought never to trust to rea- sonings drawn from some supposed simili- tude of body to mind ; and that we ought to be very much upon our guard that we be not imposed upon by those analogical terms and phrases, by which the operations of the mind are expressed in all languages. [57] * Ttiis illustration is specially associated with Joannes Buridanus, a celebrated Nominalist, of the 14th century, andone-of the acutest reasoners on the great question of moral liberty. The supposition of the ass, &c, is not, however, as I have ascertained, to he found in his writings. Perhaps it was orally advanced in disputation, or in lecturing, as an ex- ample in illustration of h;s Determinism ; perhaps it was employed by his opponents as an instance to reduce that doctrine to absurdity. With this latter view, a similar refutation of the principles of our modern Fatalists was, as we have s en, ingeniously essayed by Reid's friend and kinsman, Dr James Gregory.— H. CHAPTER V. OF THE PROPER MEANS OF KNOWING THE OPERATIONS OF THE MIND. Since we ought to pay no regard to hypo- theses, and to be very suspicious of analo- gical reasoning, it may be asked, From what source must the knowledge of the mind and its faculties be drawn ? I answer, the chief and proper source of this branch of knowledge is accurate reflec- tion upon the operations of our own minds. Of this source we shall speak more fully, after making some remarks upon two others that may be subservient to it. The first of them is attention to the structure of lan- guage. The language of mankind is expressive of their thoughts, and of the various opera- tions of their minds. The various opera- tions of the understanding, will, and pas- sions, which are common to mankind, have various forms of speech corresponding to them in all languages, which are the signs of them, and by which they are expressed : And a due attention to the signs may, in many cases, give considerable light to the things signified by them. There are in all languages modes of speech, by which men signify their judg- ment, or give their testimony ; by which they accept or refuse ; by which they ask information or advice ; by which they com- mand, or threaten, or supplicate ; by which they plight their faith in promises or con- tracts. If such operations were not com- mon to mankind, we should not find in all languages forms of speech, by which they are expressed. All languages, indeed, have their imper- fections — they can never be adequate to all the varieties of human thought ; and there- fore things may be really distinct in their nature, and capable of being distinguished by the human mind, which are not distin- guished [58] in common language. "We can only expect, in the structure of languages, those distinctions which all mankind in the common business of life have occasion to make. There may be peculiarities in a particular language, of the causes of which we are ignorant, and from which, therefore, we can draw no conclusion. But whatever we find common to all languages, must have a com- mon cause ; must be owing to some com- mon notion or sentiment of the human mind. We gave some examples of this before, and shall here add another. All languages have a plural number in many of their nouns ; from which wa may infer that all men have notions, not of individual things [56-5*1 CHAP. V.] OPERATIONS OF THE MIND. 239 only, but of attributes, or things which are common to many individuals ; for no indi- vidual can have a plural number. Another source of information in this subject, is a due attention to the course of human actions and conduct. The actions of men are effects ; their sentiments, their passions, and their affections, are the causes of those effects ; and we may, in many cases, form a judgment of the cause from the effect. The behaviour of parents towards their children gives sufficient evidence even to those who never had children, that the parental affection is common to mankind. It is easy to see, from the general conduct of men, what are the natural objects of their esteem, their admiration, their love, their approbation, their resentment, and of all their other original dispositions. It is obvious, from the conduct of men in all ages, that man is by his nature a social animal; that he delights to associate with his species ; to converse, and to exchange good offices with them. Not only the actions, but even the opi- nions of men may sometimes give light into the frame of the human mind. The opinions of men may be considered as the effects of their intellectual powers, [59] as their actions are the effects of their active principles. Even the prejudices and errors of mankind, when they are general, must have some cause no less general ; the dis- covery of which will throw some light upon the frame of the human understanding. I conceive this to be the principal use of the history of philosophy. When we trace the history of the various philosophical opin- ions that have sprung up among thinking men, we are led into a labyrinth of fanciful opinions, contradictions, and absurdities, intermixed with some truths ; yet we may sometimes find a clue to lead us through the several windings of this labyrinth. We may find that point of view which presented things to the author of the system, in the li^ht in which they appeared to him. This will often give a consistency to things seem- ingly contradictory, and some degree of probability to those that appeared most fanciful. * The history of philosophy, considered as a map of the intellectual operations of men of genius, must always be entertaining, and may sometimes give us views of the human understanding, which could not easily be had any other way. I return to what I mentioned as the main source of information on this subject — at- tentive reflection upon the operations of our own minds. » " Ivory error," says Bossuet, abused."— H. [69-61] All the notions we have of mind and of its operations, are, by Mr Locke, called ideas of reflection.* A man may have as distinct notions of remembrance, of judg- ment, of will, of desire, as he has of any object whatever. Such notions, as Mr Locke justly observes, are got by the power of reflection. But what is this power of reflection ? " It is," says the same author, " that power by which the mind turns its view inward, and observes its own actions and operations." He observes elsewhere, " That the understanding, like the eye, whilst it makes us see and perceive all [60] other things, takes no notice of itself; and that it requires art and pains to set it at a distance, and make it its own object." Cicero hath expressed this sentiment most beautifully. Tusc. I. 28. This power of the understanding to make its own operations its object, to attend to them, and examine them on all sides, is the power of reflection, by which alone we can have any distinct notion of the powers of our own or of other minds. This reflection ought to be distinguished from consciousness, with which it is too often confounded; even by Mr Locke. All men are conscious of the operations of their own minds, at all times, while they are awake ; but there are few who reflect upon them, or make them objects of thought. From infancy, till we come to the years of understanding, we are employed solely about external objects. And, although the mind is conscious of its operations, it does not attend to them ; its attention is turned solely to the external objects, about which those operations are employed. Thus, when a man is angry, he is conscious of his pas- sion ; but his attention is turned to the person who offended him, and the circum- stances of the offence, while the passion of anger is not in the least the object of his attention. I conceive this is sufficient to shew the difference between consciousness of the operations of our minds, and reflection upon them ; and to shew that we may have the former without any degree of the latter. The difference between consciousness and reflection, is like to the difference between a superficial view of an object which pre- sents itself to the eye while we are engaged about something else, and that attentive examination which we give to an object when we are wholly employed in surveying it. Attention is a voluntary act ; it re- quires an active exertion to begin and to continue it, and it may be continued as long as we will ; but consciousness [61] is * Locke is not (as Reid seems tn think, and as Mi Stewart expressly says) the first who introduced Re. (lection either as a ps> etiological term, or apsycholo- gical principle. See Note I. — H. 240 ON THE INTELLECTUAL POWERS. [essay i. involuntary and of no continuance, changing with every thought. The power of reflection upon the oper- ations of their own minds, does not appear at all in children. Men must be come to some ripeness of understanding before they are capable of it. Of all the powers of the human mind, it seems to be the last that unfolds itself. Most men seem incapable of acquiring it in any considerable degree. Like all our other powers, it is greatly im- proved by exercise ; and until a man has got the habit of attending to the operations of his own mind, he can never have clear and distinct notions of them, nor form any steady judgment concerning them. His opinions must be borrowed from others, his notions confused and indistinct, and he may easily be led to swallow very gross absurd- ities. To acquire this habit, is a work of time and labour, even in those who begin it early, and whose natural talents are toler- ably fitted for it ; but the difficulty will be daily diminishing, and the advantage of it is great. They will, thereby, be enabled to think with precision and accuracy on every subject, especially on those subjects that are more abstract. They will be able to judge for themselves in many important points, wherein others must blindly follow a leader. CHAPTER VI. OP THE DIFFICULTY OF ATTENDING TO THE OPERATIONS OF OUR OWN MINDS. The difficulty of attending to our mental operations, ought to be well understood, and justly estimated, by those who would make any progress in this science ; that they may neither, on the one hand, expect success without pains and application of thought ; nor, on the other, be discouraged, by con- ceiving that the obstacles that lie in the way are insuperable, and that there is no cer- tainty to be attained in it. I shall, there- fore, endeavour to point [62] out the causes of this difficulty, and the effects that have arisen from it, that we may be able to form a true judgment of both. 1. The number and quick succession of the operations of the mind, make it difficult to give due attention to them. It is well known that, if a great number of obj.cts be presented in quick succession, even to the eye, they are confounded in the memory and imagination. We retain a confused notion of the whole, and a more confused one of the several parts, especially if they are objects to which we have never before given particular attention. No succession can be more quick than that of thought. The mind is busy while we are awake, con- tinually passing from one thought and one operation to another. The scene is con- stantly shifting. Every man will be sen- sible of this, who tries but for one minute to keep the same thought in his imagination, without addition or variation. He will find it impossible to keep the scene of his imagin- ation fixed. Other objects will intrude, without being called, and all he can do is to reject these intruders as quickly as possible, and return to his principal object. 2. In this exercise, we go contrary to habits which have been early acquired, and confirmed by long unvaried practice. From infancy, we are accustomed to attend to objects of sense, and to them only ; and, when sensible objects have got such strong hold of the attention by confirmed habit, it is not easy to dispossess them. When we grow up, a variety of external objects solicits our attention, excites our curiosity, engages our affections, or touches our pas- sions ; and the constant round of employ- ment, about external objects, draws off the mind from attending to itself; so that nothing is more just than the observation of Mr Locke, before mentioned, " That the understanding, like the eye, while it sur- veys all the objects around it, commonly takes no notice of itself." 3. The operations of the mind, from their very nature, lead the mind to give its atten- tion to some other object. Our sensations, [63] as will be shewn afterwards, are natu- ral signs, and turn our attention to the things signified by them ; so much that most of them, and those the most frequent and familiar, have no name in any language. In perception, memory, judgment, imagination, and reasoning, there is an object distinct from the operation itself ; and, while we are led by a strong impulse to attend to the object, the operation escapes our notice. Our passions, affections, and all our active powers, have, in like manner, their objects which engross our attention, and divert it from the passion itself. 4. To this we may add a just observation made by Mr Hume, That, when the mind is agitated by any passion, as soon as we turn our attention from the object to the passion itself, the passion subsides or van- ishes, and, by that means, escapes our inquiry. This, indeed, is common to almost every operation of the mind. When it is exerted, we are conscious of it ; but then we do not attend to the operation, but to its object. When the mind is drawn off from the object to attend to its own opera- tion, that operation ceases, and escapes our notice. 5. As it is not sufficient to the discovery of mathematical truths, that a man be able to attend to mathematical figures, as it is necessary that he should have the ability to [62, 63] CHAP. VI.] OPERATIONS OF THE MIND. 241 distinguish accurately things that differ, and to discern clearly the various relations of the quantities he compares — an ability which, though much greater in those who have the force of genius than in others, yet, even in them, requires exercise and habit to bring it to maturity — so, in order to discover the truth in what relates to the operations of the mind, it is not enough that a man be able to give attention to them : he must have the ability to distinguish ac- curately their minute differences ; to resolve and analyse complex operations into their simple ingredients ; to unfold the ambiguity of words, which in this science is greater than in any other, and to give them the same accuracy and precision that mathematical terms have ; for, indeed, the same precision in the use of words, the same cool attention to [64] the minute differences of things, the same talent for abstraction and analys- ing, which fit a man for the study of math- ematics, are no less necessary in this. But there is thi&great difference between the two sciences — that the objects of mathematics being things external to the mind, it is much more easy to attend to them, and fix them steadily in the imagination. The difficulty attending our inquiries into the powers of the mind, serves to account for some events respecting this branch of philosophy, which deserve to be mentioned. While most branches of science have, either in ancient or in modern times, been highly cultivated, and brought to a con- siderable degree of perfection, this remains, to this day, in a very low state, and, as it were, in its infancy. Every science invented by men must have its beginning and its progress ; and, from various causes, it may happen that one science shall be brought to a great degree of maturity, while another is yet in its infancy. The maturity of a science may be judged of by this — When it contains a system of principles, and conclusions drawn from them, which are so firmly established that, among thinking and intelligent men, there remains no doubt or dispute about them ; so that those who come after may raise the superstructure higher, but shall never be able to overturn what is already built, in order to begin on a new founda- tion. Geometry seems to have been in its in- fancy about the time of Thales and Pytha- goras ; because many of the elementary propositions, on which the whole science is built, are ascribed to them as the inventors. Euclid's ' l Elements," which were written some ages after Pythagoras, exhibit a sys- tem of geometry which deserves the name of a science ; and, though great additions have been made by Apollonius, Archi- T64-66] medes, Pappus, and others among the an- cients, and still greater by the moderns ; yet what [65] was laid down in Euclid's " Elements" was never set aside. It re- mains as the firm foundation of all future superstructures in that science. Natural philosophy remained in its in- fant state near two thousand years after geometry had attained to its manly form : for natural philosophy seems not to have been built on a stable foundation, nor carried to any degree of maturity, till the last cen- tury. The system of Des Cartes, which was all hypothesis, prevailed in the most enlight- ened part of Europe till towards the end of last century. Sir Isaac Newton has the merit of giving the form of a science to this branch of philosophy ; and it need not ap- pear surprising, if the philosophy of the human mind should be a century or two later in being brought to maturity. It has received great accessions from the labours of several modern authors ; and perhaps wants little more to entitle it to the name of a science, but to be purged of cer- tain hypotheses, which have imposed on some of the most acute writers on this sub- ject, and led them into downright scepticism. What the ancients have delivered to us concerning the mind and its operations, is almost entirely drawn, not from accurate reflection, but from some conceived analogy between body and mind- And, although the modern authors I formerly named have given more attention to the operations of their own minds, and by that means have made important discoveries, yet, by re- taining some of the ancient analogical no- tions, their discoveries have been less use- ful than they might have been, and have led to scepticism. It may happen in science, as in building, that an error in the foundation shall weaken the whole ; and the farther the building is carried on, this weakness shall become the more apparent and the more threatening. Something of this kind seems to have hap- pened in our systems concerning the mind. The accession they [66] have received by modern discoveries, though very important in itself, has thrown darkness and obscurity upon the whole, and has led men rather to scepticism than to knowledge. This must be owing to some fundamental errors that have not been observed ; and when these are corrected, it is to be hoped that the im- provements that have been made will have their due effect. The last effect I observe of the difficulty of inquiries into the powers of the mind, is, that there is no other part of human know- ledge in which ingenious authors have been so apt to run into strange paradoxes, and even into gross absurdities. When we find philosophers maintaining K 242 ON THE INTELLECTUAL POWERS. £essay that there is no heat in the fire, nor colour in the rainbow ;* when we find the gravest philosophers, from Des Cartes down to Bishop Berkeley, mustering up arguments to prove the existence of a material world, and unable to find any that will bear ex- amination ; when we find Bishop Berkeley and Mr Hume, the acutest metaphysicians uf the age, maintaining that there is no such thing as matter in the universe — that sun, moon, and stars, the earth which we inhabit, our own bodies, and those of our friends, are only ideas in our minds, and have no exist- ence but in thought ; when we find the last maintaining that there is neither body nor mind — nothing in nature but ideas and impressions, without any substance on which they are impressed — that there is no cer- tainty, nor indeed probability, even in ma- thematical axioms : I say, when we consider such extravagancies of many of the most acute writers on this subject, we may be apt to think the whole to be only a dream of fanciful men, who have entangled them- selves in cobwebs spun out of their own brain. But we ought to consider that the more closely and ingeniously men reason from false principles, the more absurdities they will be led into ; and when such absur- dities help to bring to light the false prin- ciples from which they are drawn, they may be the more easily forgiven. [67] CHAPTER VII. DIVISION OF THE POWERS OF THE MIND. The powers of the mind are so many, so various, and so connected and complicated in most of its operations, that there never has been any division of them proposed which is not liable to considerable objec- tions. We shall, therefore, take that gene- ral division which is the most common, into the powers of understanding and those of wil/.-f Under the will we comprehend our active powers, and all that lead to action, or influence the mind to act — such as appe- tites, passions, affections. The understand- ing comprehends our contemplative powers ; by which w r e perceive objects ; by which we conceive or remember them ; by which we analyse or compound them ; and by which we judge and reason concerning them. * A merely verbal dispute. See before, p. 2i'5, b, note.— H. T It would be out of place to enter on the exten. give field of history and discussion relative to the distribution of our mental powers. It is sufficient to say, that the vulgar division of the faculties, adopted by Reid, into those of the Understanding and those of the Will, is to be traced to the classifi- cation, taken in the Aristotelic school, of the powers into gnostic, or cognitive, and orectic, or appetent. On this the reader may consult the admirablenntro- duction of Philoponus— or rather of Ammonius Her. mise— to the books of Aristotle upon the Soul.— H. Although this general division may be of use in order to our proceeding more metho- dically in our subject, we are not to under- stand it as if, in those operations which are ascribed to the understanding, there were no exertion of will or activity, or as if the understanding w T ere not employed in the operations ascribed to the will ; for I con- ceive there is no operation of the under- standing wherein the mind is not active in some degree. We have some command over our thoughts, and can attend to this or to that, of many objects which present themselves to our senses, to our memory, or to our imagination. We can survey an pbject on this side or that, superficially or accurately, for a longer or a shorter time ; so that our contemplative powers are under the guidance and direction of the active ; and the former never pursue their object without being led and directed, urged or restrained by the latter : and because the understanding is always more or less di- rected by the will, mankind have ascribed some degree of activity to [68] the mind in its intellectual operations, as well as in those which belong to the will, and have ex- pressed them by active verbs, such as see- ing, hearing, judging, reasoning, and the like. And as the mind exerts some degree of activity even in the operations of under- standing, so it is certain that there can be no act of will which is not accompanied with some act of understanding. The will must have an object, and that object must be apprehended or conceived in the under- standing. It is, therefore, to be remem- bered, that, in most, if not all operations of the mind, both faculties concur ; and we range the operation under that faculty which hath the largest share in it. • The intellectual powers are commonly divided into simple apprehension, judgment, and reasoning. -f As this division has in its favour the authority of antiquity, and of a very general reception, it would be im- proper to set it aside without giving any reason : I shall, therefore, explain it briefly, and give the reasons why I choose to follow another. « It should be always remembered that the various mental energies are all only possible in and through each other; and that our psychological analyses do not suppose any real distinction of the operations which we discriminate by different names. Thought and volition can no more be exerted apart, than the sides and angles of a square can exist separately from each other.— H. + This, is a singular misapprehension. The divi. sion in question, I make bold to sav, ntver was proposed by any philosopher as a psychological dis. tribution of the cognitive faculties in general : on the contrary, it is only a logical distribution of.that section of the cognitive faculties which we. denomi- nate discursive, as those alone which are proximately concerned in the process of reasoning — or thought, in its strictest signification.— H. [87, 68] chap, vii.] DIVISION OF THE POWERS OF THE iMIND. 243 It may be observed that, without appre- hension of the objects concerning which we judge, there can be no judgment; as little can there be reasoning without both apprehension and judgment : these three operations, therefore, are not independent of each other. The 1 second includes the first, and the third includes both the first and second ; but the first may be exer- cised without either of the other two.* It is on that account called simple apprehen- sion ,• that is, apprehension unaccompanied with any judgment about the object appre- hended. This simple apprehension of an object is, in common language, called having a notion, or having a conception of the ob- ject, and by late authors is called having an idea of it. In speaking, it is expressed by a word, or by a part of a proposition, without that composition and structure which makes a complete sentence; as a man, a man of fortune; Such words, taken by themselves, signify simple apprehen- sions. They neither affirm nor [69] deny; they imply no judgment or opinion of the thing signified by them ; and, therefore, cannot be said to be either true or false. The second operation in this division is judgment ; in which, say the philosophers, there must be two objects of thought com- pared, and some agreement or disagree- ment, or, in general, some relation discerned between them ; in consequence of which, there is an opinion or belief of that relation which we discern. This operation is ex- pressed in speech by a proposition, in which some relation between the things compared is affirmed or denied : as when we say, All men are fallible. Truth and falsehood are qualities which belong to judgment only ; or to proposi- tions by which judgment is expressed. Every judgment, every opinion, and every proposition, is either true or false. But words which neither affirm nor deny any- thing, can have neither of those qualities ; and the same may be said of simple appre- hensions, which are signified by such words. The third operation is reasoning ; in which, from two or more judgments, we draw a conclusion. This division of our intellectual powers corresponds perfectly with the account com- monly given by philosophers, of the suc- cessive steps by which the mind proceeds in the acquisition of its knowledge ; which are these three : First, By the senses, or by other means, it is furnished with various • This is, not correct. Apprehension is a- impos. sible without judgment, as judgment is impossible without apprehension. The apprehension of a thing or notion, is only realized in the mental affirmation that the concept ideally exists, and this affirmation is a judgment. In fact, all consciousness supposes a judgment, as all consciousness supposes a discrimina- tion.— H. [69-71] simple apprehensions, notions, or ideas. These are the materials which nature gives it to work upon ; and from the simple ideas it is furnished with by nature, it forms various others more complex. Secondly, By comparing its ideas, and by perceiving their agreements and disagreements, it forms its judgments. And, Lastly, From two or more judgments, it deduces con- clusions of reasoning. Now, if all our knowledge is got by a procedure of this kind, [70] certainly the threefold division of the powers of under- standing, into simple apprehension, judg- ment, and reasoning, is the most natural and the most proper that can be devised. This theory and that division are so closely connected that it is difficult to judge which of them has given rise to the other ; and they must stand or fall together. But, if all our knowledge is not got by a process of this kind — if there are other avenues of knowledge besides the comparing our ideas, and perceiving their agreements and disagreements — it is probable that there may be operations of the understanding which cannot be properly reduced under any of the three that have been explained. Let us consider some of the most familiar operations of our minds, and see to which of the three they belong. I begin with consciousness. I know that I think, and this of all knowledge is the most certain. Is that operation of my mind which gives me this certain knowledge, to be called simple apprehension ? No, surely. Simple apprehension neither affirms nor denies. It will not be said that it is by reason- ing that I know that I think. It re- mains, therefore, that it must be by judg- ment — that is, according to the account given of judgment, by comparing two ideas, and perceiving the agreement between them. But what are the ideas compared ? They must be the idea of myself, and the idea of thought, for they are the terms of the proposition I think. According to this account, then, first, I have the idea of my- self and the idea of thought ; then, by com- paring these two ideas, I perceive that I think. Let any man who is capable of reflection judge for himself, whether it is by an opera- tion of this land that he comes to be con- vinced that he thinks ? To me it appears evident, that the conviction I have that I think, is not got in this way ; and, therefore, I conclude, either that consciousness is not judgment, or that judgment is not rightly defined to be the perception of some agree- ment oi disagreement between two ideas. The perception of an object by my senses is another operation of [71] the understanding. 1 would know whether it be simple apprehension, or judgment, or it 2 244 ON THE INTELLECTUAL POWERS. reasoning. It is not simple apprehension, because I am persuaded of the existence of the object as much as I could be by demon- stration. It is not judgment, if by judg- ment be meant the comparing ideas, and perceiving their agreements or disagree- ments. It is not reasoning, because those who cannot reason can perceive. I find the same difficulty in classing me- mory under any of the operations men- tioned. There is not a more fruitful source of error in this branch of philosophy, than divisions of things which are taken to be complete when they are not really so. To make a perfect division of any class of things, a man ought to have the whole under his view at once. But the greatest capacity very often is not sufficient for this. Something is left out which did not come under the philosopher's view when he made his division : and to suit this to the division, it must be made what nature never made it. This has been so common a fault of philosophers, that one who would avoid error ought to be suspicious of divi- sions, though long received, and of great authority, especially when they are grounded on a theory that may be called in question. In a subject imperfectly known, we ought not to pretend to perfect divisions, but to leave room for such additions or alterations as a more perfect view of the subject may afterwards suggest. I shall not, therefore, attempt a com- plete enumeration of the powers of the hu- man understanding. I shall only mention those which I propose to explain ; and they are the following : — 1st, The powers we have by means of our external senses. 2dly, Memory. 3dly, Conception. 4thly, The powers of resolv- ing and analysing complex objects, and compounding those that are more simple. bthly, Judging. 6lhly, Reasoning. Jthly, Taste. 8thly, Moral Perception ;* and, last of all, Consciousness. + [72] CHAPTER VIII. . OF SOCIAL OPERATIONS OF MIND. There is another division of the powers of the mind, which, though it has been, ought not to be overlooked by writers on this subject, because it has a real founda- tion in nature. Some operations of our minds, from their very nature, are social, others are solitary. • Moral Perception is treated under the Active Powers, in Essay V. — H. t Consciousness obtains only an incidental consi- deration, under Judgment, in the Fifth Chapter of the Sixth Essay.— H. By the first, I understand such operations as necessarily suppose an intercourse with some other intelligent being. A man may understand and will ; he may apprehend, and judge, and reason, though he should know of no intelligent being in the universe besides himself. But, when he asks inform- ation, or receives it ; when he bears tes- timony, or receives the testimony of an- other ; when he asks a favour, or accepts one ; when he gives a command to his ser- vant, or receives one from a superior ; when he plights his faith in a promise or con- tract — these are acts of social intercourse between intelligent beings, and can have no place in solitude. They suppose under- standing and will ; but they suppose some- thing more, which is neither understanding nor will ; that is, society with other intelli-- gent beings. They may be called intellec- tual, because they can only be in intellectual beings ; but they are neither simple appre- hension, nor judgment, nor reasoning, nor are they any combination of these operations. To ask a question, is as simple an opera- tion as to judge or to reason ; yet it is neither judgment nor reasoning, nor simple apprehension, nor is it any composition of these. Testimony is neither simple appre- hension, nor judgment, nor reasoning. The same may be said of a promise, or of a con- tract. These acts of mind are perfectly understood by every man of common under- standing ; but, when philosophers attempt to bring them within the pale of their divi- sions, by analysing them, they find inex- plicable mysteries, [73] and even contradic- tions, in them. One may see an instance of this, of many that might be mentioned, in Mr Hume's " Enquiry concerning the Principles of Morals," § 3, part 2, note, near the end. The attempts of philosophers to reduce the social operations under the common philosophical divisions, resemble very much the attempts of some philosophers to re- duce all our social affections to certain modifications of self-love. The Author of our being intended us to be social beings, and has, for that end, given us social intel- lectual powers, as well as social affections.* Both are original parts of our constitution, and the exertions of both no less natural than the exertions of those powers that are solitary and selfish. Our social intellectual operations, as well as our social affections, appear very early in life, before we are capable of reasoning ; yet both suppose a conviction of the exist- ence of other intelligent beings. When a child asks a question of his nurse, this act • " Man," says Aristotle, " is, by nature, more political than any bee or ant." And, in another work, '* Man is the sweetest thing to man" — uvB^u- tiai r,$is'ov ecvQ^anro; — H. { 72, 73] chap, viii.] OF SOCIAL OPERATIONS OF MIND. 245 of his mind supposes not only a desire to know what he asks ; it supposes, likewise, a conviction that the nurse is an intelligent being, to whom he can communicate his thoughts, and who can communicate her thoughts to him. How he came by this conviction so early, is a question of some importance in the knowledge of the human mind, and, therefore, worthy of the con- sideration of philosophers. But they seem to have giv^en no attention, either to this early conviction, or to those operations of mind which suppose it. Of this we shall have occasion to treat afterwards. All languages are fitted to express the social as well as the solitary operations of the mind. It may indeed be affirmed, that, to express the former, is the primary and direct intention of language. A man who had no intercourse with any other intelli- gent being, would never think of language. He would be as mute as the beasts of the field ; even more so, because they have some degree of social intercourse with one another, and some of them [74] with man. When language is once learned, it may be useful even in our solitary meditations ; and by clothing our thoughts with words, we may have a firmer hold of them. But this was not its first intention ; and the structure of every language shews that it is not intended solely for this purpose. In every language, a question, a com- mand, a promise, which are social acts, can be expressed as easily and as properly as judgment, which is a solitary act. The ex- pression of the last has been honoured with a particular name ; it is called a proposition ; it has been an object of great attention to i philosophers ; it has been analysed into its very elements of subject predicate, and co- pula. All the various modifications of these, and of propositions which are compounded of them, have been anxiously examined in many voluminous tracts. The expression of a question, of a command, or of a pro- mise, is as capable of being analysed as a proposition is ; but we do not find that this has been attempted ; we have not so much as given them a name different from the operations which they express. Why have speculative men laboured so anxiously to analyse our solitary operations, and given so little attention to the social ? I know no other reason but this, that, in the divisions that have been made of the mind's operations, the social have been omitted, and thereby thrown behind the curtain. In all languages, the second person of verbs, the pronoun of the second person, and the vocative case in nouns, are appropriated to the expression of social operations of mind, and could never have had place in language but for this purpose : nor is it a good argument against this observation, that, by a rhetorical figure, we sometimes address persons that are absent, or even inanimated beings, in the second person. For it ought to be remembered, that all figurative ways of using words or phrases suppose a natural and literal meaning of them.* [75] * What, throughout this chapter, is implied, ought to have been explicitly stated — that language 19 natu. ral to man ; and consequently the faculty of tipeech ought to have been enumerated among the mental powers. — H. ESSAY II. OF THE POWERS WE HAVE BY MEANS OF OUR EXTERNAL SENSES. CHAPTER I. OP THE ORGANS OF SENSE. Of all the operations of our minds, the perception of external objects is the most familiar. The senses come to maturity even in infancy, when other powers have not yet sprung up. They are common to us with brute animals, and furnish us with the objects about which our other powers are the most frequently employed. We find it easy to attend to their operations ; and, because they are familiar, the names which properly belong to them are applied [74, 75] to other powers which are thought to re- semble them. For these reasons, they claim to be first considered. The perception of external objects is one main link of that mysterious chain which connects the material world with the intel- lectual. We shall find many things in this operation unaccountable ; sufficient to con- vince us that we know but little of our own frame ; and that a perfect comprehension of our mental powers, and of the manner of their operation, is beyond the reach of our understanding. In perception, there are impressions upon the organs of sense, the nerves, and brain, 246 ON THE INTELLECTUAL POWERS. [jiSSAY II, which, by the laws of our nature, are fol- lowed by certain operations of mind. These two things are apt to be confounded ; but ought most carefully to be distinguished. Some philosophers, without good reason, have concluded, that the [76] impressions made on the body are the proper efficient cause of perception. Others, with as little reason, have concluded that impressions are made on the mind similar to those made on the body. From these mistakes many others have arisen. The wrong notions men have rashly taken up with regard to the senses, have led to wrong notions with regard to other powers which are conceived to resemble them. Many important powers of mind have, especially of late, been called internal senses, from a supposed resemblance to the external — such as, the sense of beauty, the sense of harmony, the moral sense.* And it is to be apprehended that errors, with regard to the external, have, from analogy, led to similar errors with regard to the internal ; it is, therefore, of some conse- quence, even with regard to other branches of our subject, to have just notions concern- ing the external senses. In order to this, we shall begin with some observations on the organs of sense, and on the impressions which in perception are made upon them, and upon the nerves and brain. We perceive no external object but by means of certain bodily organs which God has given us for that purpose. The Su- preme Being who made us, and placed us in this world, hath given us such powers of mind as he saw to be suited to our state and rank in his creation. He has given us the power of perceiving many objects around us — the sun, moon, and stars, the earth and sea, and a variety of animals, vegetables, and inanimate bodies. But our power of perceiving these objects is limited in various ways, and particularly in this — that, with- out the organs of the several senses, we perceive no external object. We cannot see without eyes, nor hear without ears ; it is not only necessary that we should have these organs, but that they should be in a sound and natural state. There are many disorders of the eye that cause total blind- ness ; others that impair the powers of vi- sion, without destroying it altogether : and the same may be said of the organs of all the other senses. [77] All this is so well known from experience, that it needs no proof ; but it ought to be observed, that we know it from experience only. We can give no reason for it, but that such is the will of our Maker. No man can shew it to be impossible to the Supreme Being to have given us the power of * He refers to Hutcheson.— H. perceiving external objects without such or- gans.* We have reason tobelieve that, when we put off these bodies and all the organs belonging to them, our perceptive powers shall rather be improved than destroyed or impaired. We have reason to believe that the Supreme Being perceives everything in a much more perfect manner than we do, without bodily organs. We have reason to believe that there are other created beings endowed with powers of perception more perfect and more extensive than ours, with- out any such organs as we find necessary. We ought not, therefore, to conclude, that such bodily organs are, in their own nature, necessary to perception ; but rather that, by the will of God, our power of per- ceiving external objects is limited and cir- cumscribed by our organs of sense ; so that we perceive objects in a certain manner, and in certain circumstances, and in no other, -f If a man was shut up in a dark room, so that he could see nothing but through one small hole in the shutter of a window, would he conclude that the hole was the cause of his seeing, and that it is impos- sible to see any other way ? Perhaps, if he had never in his life seen but in this way, he might be apt to think so ; but the con- clusion is rash and groundless. He sees, because God has given him the power of seeing ; and he sees only through this small hole, because his power of seeing is circum- scribed by impediments on all other hands. Another necessary caution in this matter is, that we ought not to confound the or- gans of perception with the being that per- ceives. Perception must be the act of some being that perceives. The eye [78] is not that which sees ; it is only the organ by which we see.J The ear is not that which hears, but the organ by which we hear ; and so of the rest.§ A man cannot see the satellites of Jupiter but by a telescope. Does he conclude from this, that it is the telescope that sees those stars ? By no means — such a conclusion would be absurd. It is no less absurd to * However astonishing, it is now proved beyond all rational doubt, that, in certain abnormal stales of the nervous organism, perceptions are possible, through other than the ordinary channels of the senses. — H t The doctrine of Plato and of many other phi. losophers. Reid ought, however, to have said, limited to, instead of " by our organs of sense :'' for, if the body be viewed as the prison of the soul, the senses must be viewed at least as partial outlets. — H. t Aletp9ciX/jtMii,ou» o$3*.\fx.o~;. says Plato, followed by a host of philosophers, comparing the senses to windows of the mind. — H. § " '1 he mind Fees," says Epicharmus — " the mind hears, all else is deaf and blind" — a saying alluded to as proverbial b" Aristotle, in a passage to the same effect, which cannot adequately be translated :— \.4i(ic-8i7 «*■«■'{ ti^trrai to, N S r o«a, zet) tSf it » eC it- This has escaped the commentators, — H. Seep. 878, n. f76~78] chap, ii.] OF IMPRESSIONS ON THE ORGANS, &c. 247 conclude that it is the eye that sees, or the ear that hears. The telescope is an artificial organ of sight, but it sees not. The eye is a natural organ of sight, by which we see ; but the natural organ sees as little as the artificial. The eye is a machine most admirably contrived for refracting the rays of light, and forming a distinct picture of objects upon the retina ; but it sees neither the object nor the picture. It can form the picture after it is taken out of the head ; but no vision ensues. Even when it is in its proper place, and perfectly sound, it is well known that an obstruction in the optic nerve takes away vision, though the eye has performed all that belongs to ifc, If anything more were necessary to be said on a point so evident, we might ob- serve that, if the faculty of seeing were in the eye, that of hearing in the ear, and so of the other senses, the necessary conse- quence of this would be, that the thinking principle, which I call myself, is not one, but many. But this is contrary to the ir- resistible conviction of every man. When I say I see, I hear, I feel, I remember, this implies that it is one and the same self that performs all these operations ; and, as it would be absurd to say that my memory, another man's imagination, and a third man's reason, may make one individual intelligent being, it would be equally ab- surd to say that one piece of matter see- ing, another hearing, and a third feeling, may make one and the same percipient being. These sentiments are not new ; they have occurred to thinking men from early ages. Cicero, in his " Tusculan Questions," Book I., chap. 20, has expressed them very dis- tinctly. Those who choose may consult the passage.* [79] CHAPTER II. CF THE IMPRESSIONS ON THE ORGANS, NERVES, AND BRAINS. A second law of our nature regarding perception is, that we perceive no object, unless some impression is made upon the organ of sense, either by the immediate application of the object, or by some medium which passes between the object and the organ. In two of our senses — to wit, touch and taste — there must be an immediate applica- tion of the object to the organ. In the other three, the object is perceived at a dis- tance, but still by means of a medium, by * Cicero says nothing on this head that had not been said before him by the Greek philosophers.— H. which some impression is made upon the organ.* The effluvia of bodies drawn into the nostrils with the breath, are the medium of smell ; the undulations of the air are the* medium of hearing ; and the rays of ligb. passing from visible objects to the eye, ar the medium of sight. We see no object unless rays of light come from it to the eye. We hear not the sound of any body, unless the vibrations of some elastic medium, oc- casioned by the tremulous motion of the sounding body, reach our ear. We per- ceive no smell, unless the effluvia of the smelling body enter into the nostrils. We perceive no taste, unless the sapid body be applied to the tongue, or some part of the organ of taste. Nor do we perceive any tangible quality of a body, unless it touch the hands, or some part c» our bodies. These are facts known from experience to hold universally and invariably, both in men and brutes. By this law of our na- ture, our powers of perceiving external ob- jects, are farther limited and circumscribed. Nor can we give any other reason for this, than [80] that it is the will of our Maker, who knows best what powers, and what degrees of them, are suited to our state. We were once in a state, I mean in the womb, wherein our powers of perception were more limited than in -the present, and, in a future state, they may be more enlarged. It is likewise a law of our nature, that, in order to our perceiving objects, the im- pressions made upon the organs of sense must be communicated to the nerves, and by them to the brain. This is perfectly known to those who know anything of ana- tomy. The nerves are fine cords,' which pass from the brain, or from the spinal marrow, which is a production of the brain, to all parts of the body, dividing into smaller branches as they proceed, until at last they escape our eyesight : and it is found by experience, that all the voluntary and in- voluntary motions of the body are performed by their means. When the nerves that serve any limb, are cut, or tied hard, we have then no more power to move that limb than if it was no part of the body. As there are nerves that serve the mus- cular motions, so there are others that serve the several senses ; and as without the for- mer we cannot move a limb, so without the latter we can have no perception. * This distinction of a mediate and immediate ob- ject, or of an object and a medium, in perception, is inaccurate, and a source of sad confusion. We per- ceive, and can perceive, nothing but what is in rela- tion to the organ, and nothing is in relation to the organ that is not present to it. All thesenses are, in fact, modifications of touch, as Democritus of old taught. We reach the distant reality, not by sense, not by perception, but by inference. Reid, how. ever, in this only follows his predecessora — H. [79, 80] 248 ON THE INTELLECTUAL POWERS. [essay II. This train of machinery the wisdom of God has made necessary to our perceiving objects. Various parts of the body concur to it, and each has its own function. First, The object, either immediately, or by some medium, must make an impression on the organ. The organ serves only as a medium by which an impression is made on the nerve ; and the nerve serves as a medium to make an impression upon the brain. Here the material part ends ; at least we can trace it no farther ; the rest is all in- tellectual.* The proof of these impressions upon the nerves and brain in [81] perception is this, that, from many observations and experi- ments, it is found that, when the organ of any sense is perfectly sound, and has the impression made upon it by the object ever so strongly, yet, if the nerve which serves that organ be cut or tied hard, there is no perception ; and it is well known that dis- orders in the brain deprive us of the power of perception when both the organ and its nerve are sound. There is, therefore, sufficient reason to conclude that, in perception, the object pro- duces some change in the organ ; that the organ produces some change upon the nerve ; and that the nerve produces some change in the brain. And we give the name of an impression to those changes, because we have not a name more proper to express, in a general manner, any change produced in a body, by an external cause, without specifying the nature of that change. Whether it be pressure, or at- traction, or repulsion, or vibration, or some- thing unknown, for which we have no name, still it may be called an impression. But, with regard to the particular kind of this Ghange or impression, philosophers have never been able to discover anything at all. But, whatever be the nature of those im- pressions upon the organs, nerves, and brain, we perceive nothing without them. Experience informs that it is so ; but we cannot give a reason why it is so. In the constitution of man, perception, by fixed laws of nature, is connected with those im- pressions ; but we can discover no neces- sary connection. The Supreme Being has seen fit to limit our power of perception ; so that we perceive not without such impres- sions; and this is all we know of the matter. This, however, we have reason to con- * There can be no doubt that the whole organism of the sense, from periphery to centre, must co-operate simultaneously in perception ; but there is no rea- son to place the mind at the central extremity alone, and to hold that not only a certain series of organic changes, but a sensation, must precede the mental cognition. This is mere hypothesis, and opposed to the testimony of consciousness. — K. elude in general — that, as the impressions on the organs, nerves, and brain, correspond exactly to the nature aDd conditions of the objects by which they are made, so our perceptions and sensations correspond to those impressions, and vary in kind, and in degree, as they vary. [82] Without thisexact correspondence, the information we receive by our senses would not only be imperfect, as it undoubtedly is, but would be fallacious, which we have no reason to think it is. CHAPTER III. HYPOTHESES CONCERNING THE NERVES AND BRAIN. We are informed by anatomists, that, al- though the two coats which inclose a nerve, and which it derives from the coats of the brain, are tough and elastic, yet the nerve itself has a very small degree of consistence, being almost like marrow. It has, how- ever, a fibrous texture, and may be divided and subdivided, till its fibres escape our senses ; and, as we know so very little about the texture of the nerves, there is great room left for those who choose to indulge themselves in conjecture. The ancients conjectured that the ner- vous fibres are fine tubes, filled with a very subtile spirit, or vapour, which they called animal spirits ; that the brain is a gland, by which the animal spirits are secreted from the finer part of the blood, and their continual waste repaired ; and that it is by these animal spirits that the nerves perform their functions. Des Cartes has shewn how, by these animal spirits, going and re- turning in the nerves, muscular motion, perception, memory, and imagination, are effected. All this he has described as dis- tinctly as if he had been an eye-witness of all those operations. But it happens that the tubular structure of the nerves was never perceived by the human eye, nor shewn by the nicest injections ; and all that has been said about animal spirits, through more than fifteen centuries, is mere con- jecture. Dr Briggs, who was Sir Isaac Newton's master in anatomy, was the first, as far as I know, who advanced a new system concerning [83] the nerves.* He conceived them to be solid filaments of prodigious * Briggs was not the first. The Jesuit, Hoti~. ratus Fabry, had before him denied the old hypothe- sis of spirits ; and the new hypothesis of cerebral fibres, and fibrils, by which he explains the phasno- raena of sense, imagination and memory, is not only the first, but perhaps the most ingenious of the class that has been proposed. Yet the very name of Fabry is wholly unnoticed by those historians of philosophy who do not deem it sui.erflucus to dwell on the tire, some reveries of Briggs, Hartlev, ;md Bonnet. — H. [81.83] chap, in.] HYPOTHESES CONCERNING THE NERVES, &i 249 tenuity ; and this opinion, as it accords bet- ter with observation, seems to have been more generally received since his time. As to the manner of performing their office, Dr Briggs thought that, like musical cords, they have vibrations differing according to their length and tension. They seem, how- ever, very unfit for this purpose, on account of their want of tenacity, their moisture, and being through their whole length in contact with moist substances ; so that, al- though Dr Briggs wrote a book upon this system, called Nova Visionis Theoria, it seems not to have been much followed. Sir Isaac Newton, in all his philosophical writings, took great care to distinguish his doctrines, which he pretended to prove by just induction, from his conjectures, which were to stand or fall according as future experiments and observations should esta- blish or refute them. His conjectures he has put in the form of queries, that they might not be received as truths, but be inquired into, and determined according to the evidence to be found for or against them. Those who mistake his queries for a part of his doctrine, do him great injus- tice, and degrade him to the rank of the common herd of philosophers, who have in all ages adulterated philosophy, by mixing conjecture with truth, and their own fancies with the oracles of Nature. Among other queries, this truly great philosopher pro- posed this, Whether there may not be an elastic medium, or aether, immensely more rare than air, which pervades all bodies, and which is the cause of gravitation ; of the refraction and reflection of the rays of light ; of the transmission of heat, through spaces void of air ; and of many other phe- nomena ? In the 23d query subjoined to his " Optics," he puts this question with regard to the impressions made on the nerves and brain in perception, Whether vision is effected chiefly by the vibrations of this medium, excited in the bottom of the eye by the rays of light, and propagated along the solid, pellucid, and uniform capillaments of the optic nerve ? And whether hearing is effected [84] by the vibrations of this or some other medium, excited by the tremor of the air in the auditory nerves, and pro- pagated along the solid, pellucid, and uni- form capillaments of those nerves ? And so with regard to the other senses. What Newton only proposed as a matter to be inquired into, Dr Hartley conceived to have such evidence, that, in his " Ob- servations on Man," he has deduced, in a mathematical form, a very ample system concerning the faculties of the mind, from the doctrine of vibrations, joined with that of association. His notion of the vibrations excited in the nerves, is expressed in Propositions 4 [84, 85] and 5 of the first part of his " Observa- tions on Man." " Prop. 4. External objects impressed on the senses occasion, first in the nerves on which they are impressed, and then in the brain, vibrations of the small, and, as one may say, infinitesimal medullary particles. Prop. 5. The vibra- tions mentioned in the last proposition are excited, propagated, and kept up, partly by the aether — that is, by a very subtile elastic fluid ; partly by the uniformity, continuity, softness, and active powers of the medullary substance of the brain, spinal marrow, and nerves." The modesty and diffidence with which Dr Hartley offers his system to the world — by desiring his reader " to expect nothing but hints and conjectures in difficult and obscure matters, and a short detail of the principal reasons and evidences in those that are clear ; by acknowledging, that he shall not be able to execute, with any ac- curacy, the proper method of philosophising, recommended and followed by Sir Isaac Newton ; and that he will attempt a sketch only for the benefit of future enquirers"— seem to forbid any criticism upon it. One cannot, without reluctance, criticise what is proposed in such a manner, and with so good intention ; yet, as the tendency of this system of vibrations is to make all the oper- ations of the mind mere mechanism, depend- ent [85] on the laws of matter and motion, and, as it has been held forth by its vota- ries, as in a manner demonstrated, I shall make some remarks on that part of the sys- tem which relates to the impressions made on the nerves and brain in perception. It may be observed, in general, that Dr Hartley's work consists of a chain of pro- positions, with their proofs and corollaries, digested in good order, and in a scientific form. A great part of them, however, are, as he candidly acknowledges, conjectures and hints only ; yet these are mixed with the propositions legitimately proved, with- out any distinction. Corollaries are drawn from them, and other propositions grounded upon them, which, all taken together, make up a system. A system of this kind re- sembles a chain, of which some links are abundantly strong, others very weak. The strength of the chain is determined by that of the weakest links ; for, if they give way, the whole falls to pieces, and the weight supported by it falls to the ground. Philosophy has been, in all ages, adul- terated by hypotheses ; that is, by systems built partly on facts, and much upon con- jecture. It is pity that a man of Dr Hart- ley's knowledge and candour should have followed the multitude in this fallacious tract, after expressing his approbation of the proper method of philosophising, pointed out by Bacon and Newton. The last con- 250 ON THE INTELLECTUAL POWERS. £essay u, sidered it as a reproach when his system was called his hypothesis ; and says, with disdain of such imputation, Hypotheses non Jingo. And it is very strange that Dr Hartley should not only follow such a me- thod of philosophising himself, but that he should direct others in their inquiries to follow it. So he does in Proposition 87, Part I., where he deduces rules for the ascertainment of truth, from the rule of false, in arithmetic, and from the art of decyphering ; and in other places. As to the vibrations and vibratiuncles, whether of an elastic aether, or of the in- finitesimal particles of the brain and nerves, there [86] may be such things for what we know ; and men may rationally inquire whether they can find any evidence of their existence ; but, while we have no proof of their existence, to apply them to the solu- tion of phaenomena, and to build a system upon them, is what I conceive we call build- ing a castle in the air. When men pretend to account for any of the operations of Nature, the causes assigned by them ought, as Sir Isaac New- ton has taught us, to have two conditions, otherwise they are good for nothing. First, They ought to be true, to have a real exist- ence, and not to be barely conjectured to exist, without proof. Secondly, They ought to be sufficient to produce the effect. As to the existence of vibratory motions in the medullary substance of the nerves and brain, the evidence produced is this : First, It is observed that the sensations of seeing and hearing, and some sensations of touch, have some short duration and con- tinuance. Secondly, Though there be no direct evidence that the sensations of taste and smell, and the greater part of these of touch, have the like continuance, yet, says the author, analogy would incline one to believe that they must resemble the sensa- tions of sight and hearing in this particular. Thirdly, The continuance of all our sensa- tions being thus established, it follows, that external objects impress vibratory motions on the medullary substance of the nerves and brain ; because no motion, besides a vibratory one, can reside in any part for a moment of time. This is the chain of proof, in which the first link is strong, being confirmed by ex- perience ; the second is very weak ; and the third still weaker. For other kinds of mo- tion, besides that of vibration, may have some continuance — such as rotation, bending or unbending of a spring, and perhaps others which we are unacquainted with ; nor do we know whether it is motion that is pro- duced in the nerves — it may be pressure, attraction, repulsion, or something we do not know. This, indeed, is the common refuge of all hypotheses, [87] that we know no other way in which the phsenomena may be produced, and, therefore, they must be produced in this way. There is, therefore, no proof of vibrations in the infinitesimal particles of the brain and nerves. It may be thought that the existence of an elastic vibrating aether stands on a firmer foundation, having the authority of Sir Isaac Newton. But it ought to be observed that, although this great man had formed conjectures about this aether near fifty years before he died, and had it in his eye during that long space as a subject of in- quiry, yet it does not appear that he ever found any convincing proof of its existence, but considered it to the last as a question whether there be such an aether or not. In the premonition to the reader, prefixed to the second edition of his " Optics," anno 1717> he expresses himself thus with regard to it : — " Lest any one should think that I place gravity among the essential properties of bodies, I have subjoined one question concerning its cause ; a question, I say, for I do not hold it as a thing estab- lished." If, therefore, we regard the authority of Sir Isaac Newton, we ought to hold the existence of such an aether as a matter not established by proof, but to be examined into by experiments ; and I have never heard that, since his time, any new evidence has been found of its existence. " But," says Dr Hartley, " supposing the existence of the aether, and of its pro- perties, to be destitute of all direct evidence, still, if it serves to account for a great variety of phaenomena, it will have an in- direct evidence in its favour by this means." There never was an hypothesis invented by an ingenious man which has not this evi- dence in its favour. The vortices of Des Cartes, the sylphs and gnomes of Mr Pope, serve to account for a great variety of phaenomena. When a man has, with labour and in- genuity, wrought up an hypothesis into a system, he contracts a fondness for it, which is apt [88] to warp the best judgment. This, I humbly think, appears remarkably in Dr Hartley. In his preface, he declares his approbation of the method of philoso- phising recommended and followed by Sir Isaac Newton ; but, having first deviated from this method in his practice, he is brought at last to justify this deviation in theory, and to bring arguments in defence of a method diametrically opposite to it. " We admit," says he, " the key of a cypher to be a true one when it explains the cypher completely." I answer, To find the key requires an understanding equal or supe- rior to that which made the cypher. This instance, therefore, will then be"*in point, when he who attempts to decypher the works of Nature by an hypothesis, has an [86-88] chap, in.] HYPOTHESES CONCERNING THE NERVES, &c. 251 understanding equal or superior to that which made them. The votaries of hypo- theses have often been challenged to shew one useful discovery in the works of Nature that was ever made in that way. If in- stances of this kind could be produced, we ought to conclude that Lord Bacon and Sir Isaac Newton have done great disser- vice to philosophy by what they have said against hypotheses. But, if no such in- stance can be produced, we must conclude, with those great men, that every system which pretends to account for the phseno- mena of Nature by hypotheses or conjecture, is spurious and illegitimate, and serves only to flatter the pride of man with a vain con- ceit of knowledge which he has not attained. The author tells us, "that any hypo- thesis that has so much plausibility as to explain a considerable number of facts, helps us to digest these facts in proper order, to bring new ones to light, and to make eoc- perimenta cruris for the sake of future inquirers." Let hypotheses be put to any of these uses as far as they can serve. Let them suggest experiments, or direct our inquiries ; but let just induction alone govern our belief. " The rule of false affords an obvious and strong instance of the possibilityof being led, with precision and certainty, to a [89] true conclusion from a false position. And it is of the very essence of algebra to proceed in the way of supposition." This is true ; but, when brought to jus- tify the accounting for natural phsenomena by hypotheses, is foreign to the purpose. When an unknown number, or any un- known quantity, is sought, which must have certain conditions, it may be found in a scientific manner by the rule of false, or by an algebraical analysis ; and, when found, may be synthetically demonstrated to be the number or the quantity sought, by its answering all the conditions required. But it is one thing to find a quantity which shall have certain conditions ; it is a very different thing to find out the laws by which it pleases God to govern the world and produce the phsenomena which fall under our observation. And we can then only allow some weight to this argument in favour of hypotheses, when it can be shewn that the cause of any one pheenomenon in nature has been, or can be found, as an unknown quantity is, by the rule of false, or by alge- braical analysis. This, I apprehend, will never be, till the sera arrives, which Dr Hartley seems to foretell, " AVhen future generations shall put all kinds of evidences and enquiries into mathematical forms ; and, as it were, reduce Aristotle's ten Ca- tegories, and Bishop Wilkin's forty Summa Genera to the head of quantity alone, so as [89, 90] to make mathematics and logic, natural history and civil history, natural philoso- phy and philosophy of all other kinds, coincide omni ex parte." Since Sir Isaac Newton laid down the rules of philosophising in our inquiries into the works of Nature, many philosophers have deviated from them in practice ; per- haps few have paid that regard to them which they deserve. But they have met with very general approbation, as being founded in reason, and pointing out the only path to the knowledge of Nature's works. Dr Hartley is the only author I have met with who reasons against them, and has taken pains to find out arguments in defence of the exploded method of hy- pothesis. [90] Another condition which Sir Isaac New- ton requires in the causes of natural things assigned by philosophers, is, that they be sufficient to account for the phsenomena. Vibrations, and vibratiuncles of the me- dullary substance of the nerves and brain, are assigned by Dr Hartley to account for all our sensations and ideas, and, in a word, for all the operations of our minds. Let us consider very briefly how far they are sufficient for that purpose. It would be injustice to this author to conceive him a materialist. He proposes his sentiments with great candour, and they ought not to be carried beyond what his words express. He thinks it a consequence of his theory, that matter, if it can be endued with the most simple kinds of sens- ation, might arrive at all that intelligence of which the human mind is possessed. He thinks that his theory overturns all the arguments that are usually brought for the immateriality of the soul, from the subtilty of the internal senses, and of the rational faculty ; but he does not take upon him to determine whether matter can be endued with sensation or no. He even acknowledges that matter and motion, however subtilly divided and reasoned upon, yield nothing more than matter and motion still ; and therefore he would not be any way interpreted so as to oppose the imma- teriality of the soul. It would, therefore, be unreasonable to require that his theory of vibrations should, in the proper sense, account for our sensa- tions. It would, indeed, be ridiculous in any man to pretend that thought of any kind must necessarily result from motion, or that vibrations in the nerves must neces- sarily produce thought, any more than the vibrations of a pendulum. Dr Hartley disclaims this way of thinking, and there- fore it ought not to be imputed to him. All that he pretends is, that, in the human constitution, there is a certain connection between vibrations in the medullary sub- 252 ON THE INTELLECTUAL POWERS. Qeiori, from the experience of sense; and, on the other, that he viewed sense only as afford- ing to intellect the condition requisite for it to be. come actually conscious of the native and necessary notions it, a priori, virtually possessed. — H. + Reid wholly mistakes the meaning of Plato's simile of the cave. See below, under p. 1 16. — H. 199, 100] are perceived only by certain images, or shadows of them, let into the mind, as into a camera obscura.* The notions of the ancients were very various with regard to the seat of the soul Since it has been discovered, by the im- provements in anatomy, that the nerves are the instruments of perception, and of the sensations accompanying it, and that the nerves ultimately terminate in the brain,-]- it has been the general opinion of philosophers that the brain is the seat of the soul ; and that she perceives the images that are brought there, and external things, only by means of them. Des Cartes, observing that the pineal gland is the only part of the brain that is single, all the other parts being double,^: and thinking that the soul must have one seat, was determined by this [100] to make that gland the soul's habitation, to which, by means of the animal spirits, intelligence is brought of all objects that affecD the senses. § Others have not thought proper to con- fine the habitation of the soul to the pineal gland, but to the brain in general, or to some part of it, which they call the sen- sor turn. Even the great Newton favoured this opinion, though he proposes it only as a query, with that modesty which dis- tinguished him no less than his great genius. " Is not," says he, "the sensorium of animals the place where the sentient substance is present, and to which the sensible species of things are brought through the nerves and brain, that there they may be perceived by the mind present in that place ? And is there not an incorporeal, living, intelligent, and omnipresent Being, who, in infinite space, as if it were in his sensorium, inti- mately perceives things themselves, and comprehends them perfectly, as being pre- sent to them ; of which things, that prin- ciple in us, which perceives and thinks, discerns only, in its little sensorium, the images brought to it through the organs of the senses ?"|| His great friend Dr Samuel Clarke adopted the same sentiment with more con- fidence. In his papers to Leibnitz, we find the following passages : " Without being present to the images of the things percehied, it (the soul) could not possibly perceive them. A living substanee can only there perceive where it is present, either to the things themselves, (as the omnipresent God is to the whole universe,) * An error. See below, under p. 1 16.— H. + That is, since the time of Erasistratus and Galen. — H. X Which is not the case. The Hypophysis, the Vermiform process, &c, are not less single than the Conafium. — H. $ See above, p. 2:34, b, note *.— H. || Before Reid, these crude conjectures of Newton were justly censured by Genovesi, and others — .H. 256 ON THE INTELLECTUAL POWERS. [essay or to the images of things, (as the soul of man is in its proper sensory.) Nothing can any more act, or be acted upon, where it is not present, than it can be where it is not. We are sure the soul cannot perceive what it is not present to, because nothing can act, or be acted upon, where it is not." Mr Locke expresses himself so upon this point, that, for the [101] most part, one would imagine that he thought that the ideas, or images of things, which he be- lieved to be the immediate objects of per- ception, are impressions upon the mind it- self; yet, in some passages, he rather places them in the brain, and makes them to be perceived by the mind there present. " There are some ideas," says he, " which have admittance only through one sense ; and, if the organs or the nerves, which are the conduits to convey them from without to their audience in the brain, the mind's presence room, if I may so call it, are so disordered as not to perform their function, they have no postern to be admitted by. " There seems to be a constant decay of all our ideas, even of those that are struck deepest. The pictures drawn in our minds are laid in fading colours. Whether the temper of the brain makes this difference, that in some it retains the characters drawn on it like marble, in others like freestone, and in others little better than sand, I shall not enquire."* From these passages of Mr Locke, and others of a like nature, it is plain that he thought that there are images of external objects conveyed to the brain. But whether he thought with Des Cartesi" and Newton, that the images in the brain are perceived by the mind there present, or that they are imprinted on the mind itself, is not so evi- dent. Now, with regard to this hypothesis, there are three things that deserve to be considered, because the hypothesis leans upon them ; and, if any one of them fail, it must fall to the ground. The first is, That the soul has its seat, or, as Mr Locke calls it, its presence room in the brain. The second, That there are images formed in the brain of all the objects of sense. The third, That the mind or soul perceives these images in the brain ; and that it perceives not external objects immediately, b*t only perceives them by means of those images. L102] As to the first point — that the soul has its • No great stress should be laid on such figurative passages as indications of the real opinion of Locke, which, on this point, it is not easy to discover. See Note O— -H. t Des Cartes is perhaps an erratum for Dr Clarke. If not, the opinion of Des Cartes is misrepresented j for he denied to the mind a!l consciousness or imme- diate knowledge of matter and its modifications. But of this again. See Note N H. seat hi the brain — this, surely, is not so well established as that we can safely build other principles upon it. There have been various opinions and much disputation about the place of spirits : whether they have a place ? and, if they have, how they occupy that place ? After men had fought in the dark about those points for ages, the wiser part seem to have left off disputing about them, as matters beyond the reach of the human faculties. As to the second point — that images of all the objects of sense are formed in the brain — we may venture to affirm that there is no proof nor probability of this, with regard to any of the objects of sense ; and that, with regard to the greater part of them, it is words without any meaning.* We have not the least evidence that the image of any external object is formed in the brain. The brain has been dissected times innumerable by the nicest ana- tomists ; every part of it examined by the naked eye, and with the help of microscopes ; but no vestige of an image of any external object was ever found. The brain seems to be the most improper substance that can be imagined for receiving or retaining images, being a soft, moist, medullary substance. But how are these images formed ? or whence do they come ? Says Mr Locke, the organs of sense and nerves convey them from without. This is just the Aristotelian hypothesis of sensible species, which modern philosophers have been at great pains to refute, and which must be acknowledged to be one of the most unintelligible parts of the Peripatetic system. Those who con- sider species of colour, figure, sound, and smell, coming from the object, and entering by the organs of sense, as a part of the scholastic jargon long ago discarded from sound philosophy, ought. to have discarded images in the brain along with them. There never was a shadow of argument brought by any author, to shew that an [103] image of any external object ever entered by any of the organs of sense. That external objects make some impres- sion on the organs of sense, and by them on the nerves and brain, is granted ; but that those impressions resemble the objects they are made by, so as that they may be called images of the objects, is most impro- bable. Every hypothesis that has been contrived, shews that there can be no such resemblance ; for neither the motions of animal spirits, nor the vibrations of elastic chords, or of elastic aether, or of the infinites- * It "would he rash to assume that, because a phi- losopher uses the term image, ox impression, ox idea, and places what it denotes in the brain, that he therefore means that the mind was cognizant of such corporeal affection, as of its object, either in percep- tion or imagination. See > Vote A.-H. [Ill, 112] CliAP. VI. "J ACCOUNT OF A PHENOMENON. 261 Felix qui poiuit rerttm cognoscere causas, has always been a sentiment of human nature. But, as in the pursuit of other kinds of happiness men often mistake the road, so in none have they more frequently done it than in the philosophical pursuit of the causes of things. [113] It is a dictate of common sense, that the causes we assign of appearances ought to be real, and not fictions of human imagina- tion. It is likewise self-evident, that such causes ought to be adequate to the effects that are conceived to be produced by them. That those who are less accustomed to inquiries into the causes of natural appear- ances, may the better understand what it is to shew the cause of such appearances, or to account for them, I shall borrow a plain instance of a phsenomenon or appear- ance, of which a full and satisfactory ac- count has been given. The phsenomenon is this : That a stone, or any heavy body, falling from a height, continually increases its velocity as it descends ; so that, if it acquire a certain velocity in one second of time, it will have twice that A r elocity at the end of two seconds, thrice at the end of three seconds, and so on in proportion to the time. This accelerated velocity in a stone falling must have been observed from the beginning of the world ; but the first person, as far as we know, who accounted for it in a proper and philosophical manner, was the famous Galileo, after innumer- able false and fictitious accounts had been given of it. He observed, that bodies once put in motion continue that motion with the same velocity, and in the same direction, until they be stopped or retarded, or have the direction of their motion altered, by some force impressed upon them. This property of bodies is called their inertia, or inac- tivity; for it implies no more than that bodies cannot of themselves change their state from rest to motion, or from motion to rest. He observed also, that gravity acts constantly and equally upon a body, and therefore will give equal degrees of velocity to a body in equal times. From these principles, which are known from experi- ence to be fixed laws of nature, Galileo shewed that heavy bodies must descend with a velocity uniformly accelerated, as by experience they are found to do. [114] For if the body by its gravitation ac- quire a certain velocity at the end of one second, it would, though its gravitation should cease that moment, continue to go on with that velocity ; but its gravitation con- tinues, and will in another second give it an additional velocity, equal to that which it gave in the first ; so that the whole velocity at the end of two seconds, will be twice as great as at the end of one. In like manner, this fl 13-1 15"1 velocity being continued through the third second, and having the same addition by gravitation as in any of the preceding, the whole velocity at the end of the third second will be thrice as great as at the end of the first, and so on continually. We may here observe, that the causes assigned of this phsenomenon are two : First, That bodies once put in motion retain their velocity and their direction, until it is changed by some force impressed upon them. Se- condly, That the weight or gravitation of a body is always the same. These are laws of Nature, confirmed by universal experi- ence, and therefore are not feigned but true causes. Then, they are precisely adequate to the effect ascribed to them ; they must necessarily produce that very motion in descending bodies which we find to take place ; and neither more nor less. The account, therefore, given of this phsenom- non, is just and philosophical ; no other will ever be required or admitted by those who understand this. It ought likewise to be observed, that the causes assigned of this phsenomenon, are things of which we can assign no cause. Why bodies once put in motion continue to move — why bodies constantly gravitate to- wards the earth with the same force — no man has been able to shew : these are facts confirmed by universal experience, and they must no doubt have a cause ; but their cause is unknown, and we call them laws of Nature, because we know no cause of them, but the will of the Supreme Being. But may we not attempt to find the cause of gravitation, and of other phsenomena, which we call laws of Nature ? No doubt we may. [115] We know notthe limit which has been set to human knowledge, and our knowledge of the works of God can never be carried too far. But, supposing gravita- tion to be accounted for, by an sethereal elastic medium, for instance, this can only be done, first, by proving the existence and the elasticity of this medium ; and, secondly, by shewing that this medium must neces- sarily produce that gravitation which bodies are known to have. Until this be done, gravitation is not accounted for, nor is its cause known ; and when this is done, the elasticity of this medium will be consi- dered as a law of nature whose cause is unknown. The chain of natural causes has, not unfitly, been compared to a chain hang- ing down from heaven : a link that is dis- covered supports the links below it, but it must itself be supported ; and that which supports it must be supported, until we come to the first link, which is supported by the throne of the Almighty. Every na- tural cause must have a cause, until we ascend to the first cause, which is uncaused, and operates not by necessity but by wilt ON THE INTELLECTUAL POWERS. [essay II. By what has been said in this chapter, those who are but little acquainted with philosophical inquiries, may see what is meant by accounting for a phaenomenon, or shewing its cause, which ought to be well understood, in order to judge of the theories by which philosophers have attempted to account for our perception of external ob- jects by the senses. CHAPTER VII. SENTIMENTS* OP PHILOSOPHERS ABOUT THE PERCEPTION OP EXTERNAL OBJECTS ; AND, FIRST, OF THE THEORY OF FATHER MALE- BRANCHE.-j* How the correspondence is carried on between the thinking principle within us, and the material world without us, has always been found a very difficult problem to those philosophers who think themselves obliged to account for every phsenomenon in nature. [116] Many philosophers, ancient and modern, have employed their invention to discover how we are made to perceive ex- ternal objects by our senses ; and there appears to be a very great uniformity in their sentiments in the main, notwithstand- ing their variations in particular points. Plato illustrates our manner of perceiving the objects of sense, in this manner. He supposes a dark subterraneous cave, in which men He bound in such a manner that they can direct their eyes only to one part of the cave : far behind, there is a light, some rays of which come over a wall to that part of the cave which is before the eyes of our prisoners. A number of per- sons, variously employed, pass between them and the light, whose shadows are seen by the prisoners, but not the persons them- selves. In this manner, that philosopher con- ceived that, by our senses, we perceive the shadows of things only, and not things themselves. He seems to have borrowed his notions on this subject, from the Pytha- goreans, and they very probably from Py- thagoras himself. If we make allowance for Plato's allegorical genius, his sentiments on this subject, correspond very well with * Sentiment, as here and elsewhere employed by Reid, in the meaning of opinion, {sententia,) is not to be imitated. There are, undoubtedly, precedents to be found for sucli usage in English writers ; and, in the French and Italian languages, this is one of the ordinary signfications of the word. — H. t It is not easy to conceive by what principle the order of the history of opinions touching Perception, contained in the nine following chapters, is deter, mined. It is not chronological, and it is not systematic. Of these theories, there is a very able survey, by M. Rover Collard, among the fragments of his lectures, in the third volume of Jouffroy's " Oeuvres rie Reid." That distinguished philosopher has, however, placed too great a reliance upon the accuracy of Reid.— H. those of his scholar, Aristotle, and of the Peripatetics. The shadows of Plato may very well represent the species and phan- tasms of the Peripatetic school, and the ideas and impressions of modern philo- sophers.* * This interpretation of the meaning of Plato's comparison of the cave exhibits a curious mistake, in which Keid is followed by Mr Stewart and many others, and which, it is remarkable, has never yet been detected. In the similitude >n question, (which will be found in the seventh book of the Republic,) Plato is supposed to intend an illustration of the mode in which the shadows or vicarious images of external things are admitted into the mind — to typify, in short, an hypothesis of sensitive perceptien. On this supposition, the identity of the Platonic, Pythagorean, and Peripatetic theories of this pro- cess is inferred. Nothing can, however, be more groundless than the supposition ; nothing more erro. neous than the inference. By his cave, images, and shadows, Plato meant simply to illustrate the grand principle of his philosophy — that the Sensible or Ec- typal world, (phaenomenal, transitory, -yiyvi/xivov, ov xoci fiw eV,) stands to the Noetic or Archetypal, (sub- stantial, permanent, S»ro>s ov,) in the same relation of comparative unreality, in which the shadows of the images of sensible existences themselves, stand to the things of which they are the dim and distant adum- brations. In the language of an illustrious poet — " An nescis, quaecunque heic sunt, qua? hac nocte teguntur, Omnia res prorsus veras non esse, sed umbras, Aut specula, unde ad nos aliena elucet imago ? Terra quidem, et maria alta, atque his circumfluus aer, Etquas consistunt ex iis, haec omnia tenueis Sunt umbrae, humanos qua? tanquam somnia qua- dam Pertingunt animos, fallaci et imagine ludunt, Nunquam eadem, fluxu semper variata perenni. Sol autem, Lunzeque globus, fulgentiaque astra Caetera, sint quamvis meliori praedita vita, Et donata sevo immortali, heec ipsa tamen sunt iEterni specula, in quae animus, qui est inde profec- tus, Inspiciens, patria? quodam quasi tactus amore, Ardescit. Verum quoniam heic non perstat et ultra Nescio quid sequitur secum, tacitusque requirit, Nosse licet circum hsec ipsum consistere verum, Non finem : sed enim esse aliud quid, cujus imago Splendet in iis, quod per se ipsum est, et principium esse Omnibus Eeternum, ante omnem numerumque diem- que; In quo alium Solem atque aliara splendescere Lu- nam Adspicias, aliosque orbes, alia astra manere, Terramque, fiuviosque alios, atque aera, et ignem, Et nemora, atque aliis evrare animalia silvis.'* And as the comparison is misunderstood, so no- thing can be conceived more adverse to the doctrine of Plato than the theory it is supposed to elucidate. Plotinus, indeed, formally refutes, as contrary to the Platonic, the very hypothesis thus attributed to his master. (Enn. IV, 1. vi., cc. 1, 3.) The doctrineof the Platonists on this point has been almost wholly neglected; and the author among them whose work contains its most articulate developement has been so completely overlooked, both by scholars and phi- losophers, that hi; work is of the rarest, while even his name is mentioned in no history of philosophy. It is here sufficient to state, that the e'i2a?.a., the kiyoi -yvus-txo), the forms representative of external things, and corresponding to the species sensiles ex. pressce of the schoolmen, were not held by the Plato- nists to be derived from without. Prior to the act of perception, they have a latent but real existence in the soul; and, by the impassive energy of the mind itself, are elicited into consciousness, on occasion of the impression (xivri(ris,nti,8o;,".tA$a.irts) made on the exter- nal organ, and of the vital, form (tartxov tTSs?), in con- sequence thereof, sublimated in the animal life. The verses of Boethius, which have been so frequently mi understood, contain an accurate statement of the Platonic theory of perception. After refuting the M161 :i.] SENTIMENTS ABOUT PERCEPTION. 263 Two thousand years after Plato, Mr Locke, who studied the operations of the human mind so much, and with so great success, represents our manner of perceiving external objects, by a similitude very much resembling that of the cave. " Methinks," says he, "the understanding is not much unlike a closet wholly shut from light, with only some little opening left, to let in exter- nal visible resemblances or ideas of things without. Would the pictures coming into such a dark room but stay there, and lie so orderly as to be found upon occasion, it would very much resemble the under- standing of a man, in reference to all objects of sight, and the ideas of them. " [117] Plato's subterranean cave, and Mr Locke's dark closet, may be applied with ease to all the systems of perception that have been invented : for they all suppose that we perceive not external objects immediately, and that the immediate objects of percep- tion are only certain shadows of the ex- ternal objects. Those shadows or images, which we immediately perceive, were by the ancients called species, forms, phan- tasms. Since the time of Des Cartes, they have commonly been called ideas, and by Mr Hume, impressions. But all philoso- phers, from Plato to Mr Hume, agree in this, That we do not perceive external ob- jects immediately, and that the immediate object of perception must be some image present to the mind.* So far there ap- Stoical doctrine of the passivity of mind in this pro- cess, he proceeds : — " Mens est efficiens magis Longe causa potentior, Quam qua? materia? modo lmpressas patitur notas. Prcecedit tamen excitans Ac vires animi movens Vivo in corpore passio, Cum vel lux oculos ferit, Vel vox auribus instrepit: Turn mentis vigor exoitus Quas intus species tenet, Ad motus similes vocans, Notis applicat exteris, Introrsumque reconditis fi'ormis miscet imagines." I cannot now do more than indicate the contrast of this doctrine to the Peripatetic (I do not say Aris- totelian) theory, and its approximation to the Carte, iian and Leibnitzian hypoiheses; which, however, both attempt to explain, what the Platonic did not— how the mind, ex hypothesi, above all physical in. licence, is determined, on the presence of the un- known reality within the sphere of sense, to call into consciousness the representation through which that reality is made known to us. I may add, that not merely the Platonists, but some of the older Peripa- tetics held that the soul virtually contained within it- self representative forms, which were only excited by the external reality; as Theophrastus and The- mi.itius, to say nothing of the Hatonizing Porphyry, Simplicius and Ammonius Hermia? ; and the same opinion, adopted probably from the latter, by his pupil, the Arabian Adelandus, subsequently he. came even the common doctrine of the Mooiish Aristotelians. I shall afterwards have occasion to notice that Bacon has also wrested Plato's similitude of the cave from its genuine signification — H. * This is not correct. There were philosophers [117, 118] pears an unanimity, rarely to be found among philosophers on such abstruse points.* If it should be asked, Whether, accord- ing to the opinion of philosophers, we per- ceive the images or ideas only, and infer the existence and qualities of the external ob- ject from what we perceive in the image ; or, whether we really perceive the external object as well as its image ? — the answer to this question is not quite obvious, -f On the one hand, philosophers, if we ex- cept Berkeley and Hume, believe the ex- istence of external objects of sense, and call them objects of perception, though not im- mediate objects. But what they mean by a mediate object of perception I do not find clearly explained : whether they suit their language to popular opinion, and mean that we perceive external objects in that figura- tive sense in which we say that we perceive an absent friend when we look on his pic- ture ; or whether they mean that, really, and without a figure, we perceive both the external object and its idea in the mind. If the last be their meaning, it would follow that, in every instance of perception, there is a double object perceived: [118] that I perceive, for instance, one sun in the heavens, and another in my own mind.$ But I do not find that they affirm this ; and, as it contradicts the experience of all mankind, I will not impute it to them. It seems, therefore, that their opinion is, That we do not really perceive the external object, but the internal only ; and that, when they speak of perceiving external objects, they mean it only in a popular or in a figur- ative sense, as above explained. Several reasons lead me to think this to be the opinion of philosophers, beside what is mentioned above. First, If we do really perceive the external object itself, there seems to be no necessity, no use, for an image of it. Secondly, Since the time of Des Cartes, philosophers have very gene- rally thought that the existence of external objects of sense requires proof, andean only be proved from the existence of their ideas. Thirdly, The way in which philosophers speak of ideas, seems to imply that they are the only objects of perception. who held a purer and preciser doctrine of immediate perception than Reid himself contemplated. — H. * Reid him>elf, like the philos'-phers in general, really holds, that we do not perceive external things immediately, if he does not allow us a consciousness of the non-ego. It matters n.o ^a, s irivret to iv ifjbiv 0w 280 ON THE INTELLECTUAL POWERS. [essay II lesce with the thought, sometimes with the object of thought, and sometimes to have a distinct existence of their own. The same philosophical theory of ideas has led philosophers to confound the differ- ent operations of the understanding, and to call them all by the name of perception.* Mr Locke, though not free from this fault, is not so often chargeable with it as some who came after him. The vulgar give the name of perception to that immediate know- ledge of external objects which we have by our external senses. + This is its proper meaning in our language, though sometimes it may be applied to other things metaphori- cally or analogically. J When I think of anything that does not exist, as of the republic of Oceana, I do not perceive it — I only conceive or imagine it.§ When I think of what happened to me yesterday, I do not perceive but remember it. || When I am pained with the gout, it is not proper to say I perceive the pain ; I feel it, or am conscious of it : it is not an object of per- ception, but of sensation and of conscious- ness.^" So far, the vulgar distinguish very properly the different operations of the mind, and never confound the names of things so different in their nature. But the theory of ideas leads philosophers to conceive all those operations to be of one nature, and to give them one name. They are all, according to that theory, the per- ception of ideas in the mind. Perceiving, remembering, imagining, being conscious, are all perceiving ideas in the mind, and are called perceptions. Hence it is that philosophers speak of the perceptions of memory, and the perceptions of imagina- • No mere than by calling them all by the name of Cognitioi s, or Acts of Consciouness. There was no reason, either from etymology or usage, why per- ception should not signify the energy of immediately apprehending, in general; and until Reid limited the word to our apprehension of an external world, it was, in fact, employed by philosophers, as tanta- mount to an act of consciousness. We were in need of a word to express our sensitive cognitions as dis- tinct from our sensitive feelings, (for the term sens- ation involved both,) and, therefore, Reid's restric- tion, though contrary to all precedent, may be ad- mitted ; but his criticism of i.ther philosophers for their employment of the term, in a wider meaning, is wholly groundless. — H. t But not exclusively.— -H. % This is not correct — H. \ And why ? Simply because we do not, by such an act, know, or apprehend such an object to exist ; we merely represent it. But perception was only used for such an apprehension. We could say, how- ever, that we peiceived (as we could say that we were conscious of) the republic of Cceana, as imagined by us, after Harrington. — H. i| And (his, for the same reason. What is remem- bered is not and can not be immediately known ; nought but the present mental representation is so known ; and this we could properly say that we perceived. — H. If Because the feeling of pain, though only possible through consciousness, is not an act of knowledge. But it could be properly said, / perceive a feeling of pain. At any rate, theexpression 1 perceive a pain, is *s correct as J am conscious of a jain.— H. tion. They make sensation to be a percep- tion ; and everything we perceive by our senses to be an idea of sensation. Some- times they say that they are conscious of the ideas in their own minds, sometimes that they perceive them.* [156] However improbable it may appear that philosophers who have taken pains to study the operations of their own minds, should express them less properly and less dis- tinctly than the vulgar, it seems really to be the case ; and the only account that can be given of this strange phenomenon, I take to be this : that the vulgar seek no theory to account for the operations of their minds ; they know that they see, and hear, and re- member, and imagine ; and those who think distinctly will express these operations dis- tinctly, as their consciousness represents them to the mind ; but philosophers think they ought to know not only that there are such operations, but how they are per- formed ; how they see, and hear, and re- member, and imagine ; and, having invented a theory to explain these operations, by ideas or images in the mind, they suit their expressions to their theory ; and, as a false comment throws a cloud upon the text, so a false theory darkens the phenomena which it attempts to explain. We shall examine this theory afterwards. Here I would only observe that, if it is not true, it may be expected that it should lead ingenious men who adopt it to confound the operations of the mind with their objects, and with one another, even where the com- mon language of the unlearned clearly dis- tinguishes them. One that trusts to a false guide is in greater danger of being led astray, than he who trusts his own eyes, though he should be but indifferently ac- quainted with the road. CHAPTER X. OF THE SENTIMENTS OF BISHOP EERKELEY. George Berkeley, afterwards Bishop of Cloyne, published his " New Theory of Vision," in 1709; his "Treatise concern- ing the Principles of Human Knowledge," in 1710 ; and his "Dialogues between Hylas and Philonous," in 1713 ; being then a Fel- low of Trinity College, Dublin. [157] He is acknowledged universally to have great merit, as an excellent writer, and a very acute and clear reasoner on the most ab- stract subjects, not to speak of his virtues as a man, which were very conspicuous : yet the doctrine chiefly held forth in the treatises above mentioned, especially in the * The connection of the wider signification of the term perception, with the more complex theory of representation, has no foundation — H. ri56, 157"! chap, x.] OF THE SENTIMENTS OF BISHOP BERKELEY. 281 two last, has generally been thought so very absurd, that few can be brought to think that he either believed it himself, or that he seriously meant to persuade others of its truth. He maintains, and thinks he has demon- strated, by a variety of arguments, ground- ed on principles of philosophy universally received, that there is no such thing as matter in the universe ; that sun and moon, earth and sea, our own bodies, and those of our friends, are nothing but ideas in the minds of those who think of them, and that they have no existence when they are not the objects of thought ; that all that is in the universe may be reduced to two cate- gories — to wit, minds, and ideas in the mind. But, however absurd this doctrine might appear to the unlearned, who consider the existence of the objects of sense as the most evident of all truths, and what no man in his senses can doubt, the philosophers who had been accustomed to consider ideas as the immediate objects of all thought, had no title to view this doctrine of Berkeley in so unfavourable a light. They were taught by Des Cartes, and by all that came after him, that the existence of the objects of sense is not self-evident, but requires to be proved by arguments ; and, although Des Cartes, and many others, had laboured to find arguments for this purpose, there did not appear to be that force and clearness in them which might have been expected in a matter of such im- portance. Mr Norris had declared that, after all the arguments that had been offered, the existence of an external world is only probable, but by no means certain. [158] Malebranche thought it rested upon the authority of revelation, and that the argu- ments drawn from reason were not perfectly conclusive. Others thought that the argu- ment from revelation was a mere sophism, because revelation comes to us by our senses, and must rest upon their authority. Thus we see that the new philosophy had been making gradual approaches towards Berkeley's opinion ; and; whatever others might do, the philosophers had no title to look upon it as absurd, or unworthy of a fair examination. Several authors attempt- ed to answer his arguments, but with little success, and others acknowledged that they could neither answer them nor assent to them. It is probable the Bishop made but few converts to his doctrine ; but it is cer- tain he made some ; and that he himself continued, to the end of his life, firmly per- suaded, not only of its truth,* but of its • Berkeley's confidence in his idealism was, how. ever, nothing to Fichte's. This philosopher, in one of his controversial treatises, imprecates everlasting damnation on himself not only should he retract, but fl58. 159"! great importance for the improvement of human knowledge, and especially for the defence of religion. Dial. Pref. " If the principles which I here endeavour to pro- pagate, are admitted for true, the conse- quences which I think evidently flow from thence are, that atheism and scepticism will be utterly destroyed, many intricate points made plain, great difficulties solved, several useless parts of science retrenched, speculation referred to practice, and men reduced from paradoxes to common sense." In the " Theory of Vision," he goes no farther than to assert that the objects of sight are nothing but ideas in the mind, granting, or at least not denying, that there is a tangible world, which is really external, and which exists whether we perceive it or not. Whether thereason of this was, that his system had not, at that time, wholly opened to his own mind, or whether he thought it prudent to let it enter into the minds of his readers by degrees, I cannot say. I think he insinuates the last as the reason, in the " Principles of Human Knowledge." [ 159] The " Theory of Vision," however, taken by itself, and without relation to the main branch of his system, contains very important discoveries, and marks of great genius. He distinguishes more accurately than any that went before him, between the immediate objects of sight, and those of the other senses which are early associated with them. He shews that distance, of itself and imme- diately, is not seen ; but that we learn to judge of it by certain sensations and per- ceptions which are connected with it. This is a very important observation ; and, I believe, was first made by this author.* It gives much new light to the operations of our senses, and serves to account for many phsenomena in optics, of which the greatest adepts in that science had always either given a false account, or acknow- ledged that they could give none at all. We may observe, by the way, that the ingenious author seems not to have attended to a distinction by which his general asser- tion ought to have been limited. It is true that the distance of an object from the eye is not immediately seen ; but there is a certain kind of distance of one object from another which we see immediately. The author acknowledges that there is a visible exten- sion, and visible figures, which are proper objects of sight ; there must therefore be a visible distance. Astronomers call it an- gular distance ; and, although they measure should he even waver in regard to any one principle of his doctrine; a doctrine, the speculative result of which left him, as he confesses, without even a cer. tainty of his own existence. (See above, p. 129, note *.) It is Varro who speaks of the credula philosopho^um natio : but this is. to be credulous even in incredulity. — H. * This last statement is inaccurate.— H. 182 ON THE INTELLECTUAL POWERS. [essay II. it by the angle, which is made by two lines drawn from the eye to the two distant ob- jects, yet it is immediately perceived by sight, even by those who never thought of that nngle. He led the way in shewing how we learn to perceive the distance of an object from the eye, though this speculation was carried farther by others who came after him. He made the distinction between that extension and figure which we perceive by sight only, and that which we perceive by touch ; call- ing the first, visible, the last, tangible ex- tension and figure. He shewed, likewise, that tangible extension, and not visible, is the object of geometry, although mathema- ticians commonly use visible diagrams in their demonstrations.* [160] The notion of extension and figure which we get from sight only, and that which we get from touch, have been so constantly conjoined from our infancy in all the judg- ments we form of the objects of sense, that it required great abilities to distin- guish them accurately, and to assign to each sense what truly belongs to it ; " so difficult a thing it is," as Berkeley justly observes, " to dissolve an union so early begun, and confirmed by so long a habit." This point he has laboured, through the whole of the essay on vision, with that uncommon penetration and judgment which he possessed, and with as great success as could be expected in a first attempt upon so abstruse a subject. He concludes this essay, by shewing, in no less than seven sections, the notions which an intelligent being, endowed with sight, without the sense of touch, might form of the objects of sense. This specu- lation, to shallow thinkers, may appear to be egregious trifling. -|- To Bishop Ber- keley it appeared in another light, and will do so to those who are capable of entering into it, and who know the importance of it, in solving many of the phenomena of vision. He seems, indeed, to have exerted more force of genius in this than in the main branch of his system. In the new philosophy, the pillars by which the existence of a material world was supported, were so feeble that it did not re i aire the force of a Samson to brinsr them * Properly «pe.ik ng, it is neither tangible nor visible extension which is the object of geometry, but intelligible, pure, or a priori extension. — H. + This, I have no doubt, is in allusion to Priestley. That writer had, not very courteously, said, in his «« Examination of Reid's Inquiry" «« I do not re- member to have seen a more egregious piece of so- lemn trifling than the chapter which our author calls the ' Geometry of Visible*,' and his account of the • Idomenians,' as he terms tlr se imaginary beings who nad no ideas of substance but from sight. "—In a note upon that chapter of «« The Inquiry," I stated that the thought of a Geometry of Visihles was original to Berkeley, and I had then no recollection of Reid's acknowledgment in the present paragraph. — H. down ; and in this we have not so much reason to admire the strength of Berkeley's genius, as his boldness in publishing to the world an opinion which the unlearned would be apt to interpret as the sign of a crazy intellect. A man who was firmly persuaded of the doctrine universally received by phi- losophers concerning ideas, if he could but take courage to call in question the exist- ence of a material world, would easily find unanswerable arguments in that doctrine. [161] " Some truths there are," says Berke- ley, " so near and obvious to the mind, that a man need only open his eyes to see them. Such," he adds, "I take this important one to be, that all the choir of heaven, and fur- niture of the earth— in a word, all those bodies which compose the mighty frame of the world — have not any subsistence without a mind." Princ. § 6. The principle from which this important conclusion is obviously deduced, is laid down in the first sentence of his principles of knowledge, as evident ; and, indeed, it has always been acknowledged by philosophers. " It is evident," says he, " to any one who takes a survey of the objects of human knowledge, that they are either ideas ac- tually imprinted on the senses, or else such as are perceived, by attending to the pas- sions and operations of the mind ; or, lastly, ideas formed by help of memory and imagin- ation, either compounding, dividing, or barely representing those originally per- ceived in the foresaid ways." This is the foundation on which the whole system rests. If this be true, then, indeed, the existence of a material world must be a dream that has imposed upon all mankind from the beginning of the world. The foundation on which such a fabric rests ought to be very solid and well esta- blished ; yet Berkeley says nothing more for it than that it is evident. If he means that it is self-evident, this indeed might be a good reason for not offering any direct argu- ment in proof of it. But I apprehend this cannot justly be said. Self-evident propo- sitions are those which appear evident to every man of sound understanding who ap- prehends the meaning of them distinctly, and attends to them without prejudice. Can this be said of this proposition, That all the objects of our knowledge are ideas in our own minds ?* I believe that, to anv man * To the Idealist, it is of perfect indifference whether this proposition, in Reid's sense of the expression Ideas, be admitted, or whether it be held that we are conscious of nothing but of the modifications of our own minds. For, on the supposition that we can know the non-ego only in and through the ego, it follows, (since we can know nothing immediately of which we are not conscious, and it being allowed that we are conscious only of mind,) that it is con. tradicfory to suppose aught, as known, {i.e., any ob- ject of knowledge.) to be known otherwise than as it phenomenon ct mind.— H. [160/ 16T] :hap. x.J OF THE SENTIMENTS OF BISHOP BERKELEY 283 uninstracted in philosophy, this proposition will appear very improbable, if not absurd. [162] However scanty his knowledge may be, he considers the sun and moon, the earth and sea, as objects of it; and it will be difficult to persuade him that those objects of his knowledge are ideas in his own mind, and have no existence when he does not think of them. If I may presume to speak my own sentiments, I once believed this doc- trine of ideas so firmly as to embrace the whole of Berkeley's system in consequence of it ; till, finding other consequences to follow from it, which gave me more unea- siness than the want of a material world, it came into my mind, more than forty years ago, to put the question, What evi- dence have I for this doctrine, that all the objects of my knowledge are ideas in my own mind ? From that time to the pre- sent I have been candidly and impartially, as I think, seeking for the evidence of this principle, but can find none, excepting the authority of philosophers. We shall have occasion to examine its evidence afterwards. I would at present only observe, that all the arguments brought by Berkeley against the existence of a ma- terial world are grounded upon it ; and that he has not attempted to give any evidence for it, but takes it for granted, as other philosophers had done before him. But, supposing this principle to be true, Berkeley's system is impregnable. No demonstration can be more evident than his reasoning from it. Whatever is per- ceived is an idea, and an idea can only exist in a mind. It has no existence when it is not perceived ; nor can there be any- thing like an idea, but an idea. So sensible he was that it required no laborious reasoning to deduce his system from the principle laid down, that he was afraid of being thought needlessly prolix in handling the subject, and makes an apology for it. Princ. § 22. " To what purpose is it," says he, " to dilate upon that which may be demonstrated, with the utmost evi- dence, in a line or two, to any one who is capable of the least reflection?" [163] But, though his demonstration might have been comprehended in a line or two, he very pru- dently thought that an opinion which the world would be apt to look upon as a mon- ster of absurdity, would not be able to make its way at once, even by the force of a naked demonstration. He observes, justly, Dial. 2, " That, though a demonstration be never so well grounded and fairly proposed, yet if there is, withal, a strain of prejudice, or a wrong bias on the understanding, can it be expected to perceive clearly, and adhere firmly to the truth ? No ; there is need of time and pains ; the attention must be awakened and detained, by a frequent re- petition of the same thing, placed often in the same, often in different lights." It was, therefore, necessary to dwell upon it, and turn it on all sides, till it became familiar ; to consider all its consequences, and to obviate every prejudice and pre- possession that might hinder its admittance. It was even a matter of some difficulty to fit it to common language, so far as to enable men to speak and reason about it intelligibly. Those who have entered se- riously into Berkeley's system, have found, after all the assistance which his writings give, that time and practice are necessary to acquire the habit of speaking and think- ing distinctly upon it. Berkeley foresaw the opposition that would be made to his system, from two different quarters : first, from the philos- ophers ; and, secondly, from the vulgar, who are led by the plain dictates of nature. The first he had the courage to oppose openly and avowedly ; the second, he dreaded much more, and, therefore, takes a great deal of pains, and, I think, uses some art, to court into his party. This is particularly observable in his " Dia- logues." He sets out with a declaration, Dial. 1, " That, of late, he had quitted several of the sublime notions he had got in the schools of the philosophers, for vul- gar opinions," and assures Hylas, his fel- low-dialogist, " That, since this revolt from metaphysical notions to the plain dictates of nature and common sense, he found his understanding strangely enlightened ; so that he could now easily comprehend a great many things, which before were all mys- tery and riddle." [164] Pref. to Dial. " If his principles are admitted for true, men will be reduced from paradoxes to common sense." At the same time, he acknowledges, " That they carry with them a great opposi- tion to the prejudices of philosophers, which have so far prevailed against the common sense and natural notions of mankind." When Hylas objects to him, Dial. 3, " You can never persuade me, Philonous, that the denying of matter or corporeal substance is not repugnant to the universal sense of mankind" — he answers, " I wish both our opinions were fairly stated, and submitted to the judgment of men who had plain common sense, without the prejudices of a learned education. Let me be repre- sented as one who trusts his senses, who thinks he knows the things he sees and feels, and entertains no doubt of their ex- istence — If by material substance is meant only sensible body, that which is seen and felt, (and the unphilosophical part of the world, I dare say, mean no more,) then I am more certain of matter's existence than you or any other philosopher pretend to be. If there be anything which makes the 284 ON THE INTELLECTUAL POWERS. [essay II. generality of mankind averse from the notions I espouse, it is a misapprehension that I deny the reality of sensible things : but, as it is you who are guilty of that, and not I, it follows, that, in truth, their aversion is against your notions, and not mine. I am content to appeal to the common sense of the world for the truth of my notion. I am of a vulgar east, simple enough to believe my senses, and to leave things as I find them. I cannot, for my life, help thinking that snow is white and fire hot." When Hylas is at last entirely converted, he observes to Philonous, " After all, the controversy about matter, in the strict acceptation of it, lies altogether between you and the philosophers, whose principles, I acknowledge, are not near so natural, or so agreeable to the common sense of man- kind, and Holy Scripture, as yours." [165] Philonous observes, in the end, " That he does not pretend to be a setter up of new notions ; his endeavours tend only to unite, and to place in a clearer light, that truth which was before shared between the vul- gar and the philosophers ; the former being of opinion, that those things they im- mediately perceive are the real things ; and the latter, that the things immediately perceived, are ideas which exist only in the mind ; which two things put together do, in effect, constitute the substance of what lie advances." And he concludes by ob- serving, "That those principles which at first view lead to scepticism, pursued to a certain point, bring men back to common sense." These passages shew sufficiently the author's concern to reconcile his system to the plain dictates of nature and common sense, while he expresses no concern to reconcile it to the received doctrines of philosophers. He is fond to take part with the vulgar against the philosophers, and to vindicate common sense against their inno- vations. What pity is it that he did not carry this suspicion of the doctrine of philo- sophers so far as to doubt of that philoso- phical tenet on which his whole system is built — to wit, that the things immediately perceived by the senses are ideas which exist only in the mind ! After all, it seems no easy matter to make the vulgar opinion and that of Berkeley to meet. And, to accomplish this, he seems to me to draw each out of its line towards the other, not without some straining. The vulgar opinion he reduces to this, that the very things which we perceive by our senses do really exist. This he grants ;* for these things, says he, are ideas in our minds, or complexions of ideas, to which * This is one of the passages that may be brought prove that Reid did allow to the ego an imnv.'diate aid real knowledge of the non-ego. — H. we give one name, and consider as one thing ; these are the immediate objects of sense, and these do really exist. As to the notion that those things have an absolute external existence, independent of being perceived by any mind, he thinks [166] that this is no notion of the vulgar, but a refine- ment of philosophers ; and that the notion of material substance, as & substratum, or sup- port of that collection of sensible qualities to which we give the name of an apple or a melon, is likewise an invention of philoso- phers, and is not found with the vulgar till they are instructed by philosophers. The substance not being an object of sense, the vulgar never think of it ; or, if they are taught the use of the word, they mean no more by it but that collection of sensible qualities which they, from finding them con- joined in nature, have been accustomed to call by cue name, and to consider as one thing. Thus he draws the vulgar opinion near to his own ; and, that he may meet it half way, he acknowledges that material things have a real existence out of the mind of this or that person ; but the question, says he, between the materialist and me, is, Whether they have an absolute existence distinct from their being perceived by God, and exterior to all minds ? This, indeed, lie says, some heathens and philosophers have affirmed ; but whoever entertains no- tions of the Deity, suitable to the Holy Scripture, will be of another opinion. But here an objection occurs, which it required all his ingenuity to answer. It is this : The ideas in my mind cannot be the same with the ideas of any other mind ; therefore, if the objects I perceive be only ideas, it is impossible that the objects I per- ceive can exist anywhere, when I do not perceive them ; and it is impossible that two or more minds can perceive the same object. To this Berkeley answers, that this ob- jection presses no less the opinion of the materialist philosopher than his. But the difficulty is to make his opinion coincide with the notions of the vulgar, who are firmly persuaded that the very identical objects which they perceive, continue to exist when they do not perceive them ; and who are no less firmly persuaded that, when ten men look at the sun or the moon, they all see the same individual object.* [167] To reconcile this repugnancy, he observes, Dial. 3 — " That, if the term same be taken in the vulgar acceptation, it is certain (and not at all repugnant to the principles he maintains) that different persons may per- ceive the same thing ; or the same thing or idea exist in different minds. Words are • See the last note.— H. [165-167] chap, x.] OF THE SENTIMENTS OF BISHOP BERKELEY. 285 of arbitrary imposition ; and, since men are used to apply the word same, where no dis- tinction or variety is perceived, and he does not pretend to alter their perceptions, it follows that, as men have said before, several saw the same thing, so they may, upon like occasions, still continue to use the same phrase, without any deviation, either from propriety of language, or the truth of things ; but, if the term same be used in the acceptation of philosophers, who pretend to an abstracted notion of identity, then, according to their sundry definitions of this term, (for it is not yet agreed wherein that philosophic identity consists,) it may or may not be possible for divers persons to perceive the same thing ; but whether phi- losophers shall think fit to call a thing the same or no is, I conceive, of small import- ance. Men may dispute about identity and diversity, without any real difference in their thoughts and opinions, abstracted from names." Upon the whole, I apprehend that Berk- eley has carried this attempt to reconcile his system to the vulgar opinion farther than reason supports him ; and he was no doubt tempted to do so, from a just appre- hension that, in a controversy of this kind, the common sense of mankind is the most formidable antagonist. Berkeley has employed much pains and ingenuity to shew that his system, if re- ceived and believed, would not be attended with those bad consequences in the conduct of life, which superficial thinkers may be apt to impute to it. His system dees not take away or make any alteration upon our plea- sures or our pains : our sensations, whether agreeable or disagreable, are the, same upon his system as upon any other. These are real things, and the only things that interest us. [ 168] They are produced in us according to certain laws of nature, by which our con- duct will be directed in attaining the one, and avoiding the other ; and it is of no moment to us, whether they are produced immediately by the operation of some power- ful intelligent being upon our minds ; or by the mediation of some inanimate being which we call matter. The evidence of an all-governing mind, so far from being weakened, seems to appear even in a more striking light upon his hypothesis, than upon the common one. The powers which inanimate matter is. sup- posed to -possess, have always been the stronghold of atheists, to which they had recourse in defence of their system. This fortress of atheism must be most effectually overturned, if there is no such thing as matter in the universe. In all this the Bishop reasons justly and acutely. But there is one uncomfortable consequence of his system, which he seems not to have at- ["168, 169] tended to, and from which it will be found difficult, if at all possible, to guard it. The consequence I mean is this — that, although it leaves us sufficient evidence of a supreme intelligent mind, it seems to take away all the evidence we have of other intelligent beings like ourselves. What I call a father, a brother, or a friend, is only a parcel of ideas in my own mind ; and, being ideas in my mind, they cannot possibly have that relation to another mind which they have to mine, any more than the pain felt by me can be the individual pain felt by another. I can find no principle in Berkeley's system, which affords me even probable ground to conclude that there are other intelligent beings, like myself, in the relations of father, brother, friend, or fellow-citizen. I am left alone, as the only creature of God in the universe, in that forlorn state of egoism into which it is said some of the disciples of Des Cartes were brought by his philo- sophy.* [169] Of all the opinions that have ever been advanced by philosophers, this of Bishop Berkeley, that there is no material world, seems the strangest, and the most apt to bring philosophy into ridicule with plain men who are guided by the dictates of nature and common sense. And, it will not, I ap- prehend, be improper to trace this progeny of the doctrine of ideas from its origin, and to observe its gradual progress, till it acquired such strength that a pious and learned bishop had the boldness to usher it into the world, as demonstrable from the principles of philosophy universally received, and as an admirable expedient for the advance- ment of knowledge and for the defence of religion. During the reign of the Peripatetic phi- losophy, men were little disposed to doubt, and much to dogmatize. The existence of the objects of sense was held as a first prin- ciple ; and the received doctrine was, that the sensible species or idea is the very form of the external object, just separated from the matter of it, and sent into the mind that perceives it ; so that we find no appearance of scepticism about the existence of mat- ter under that philosophy. -f- Des Cartes taught men to doubt even of those things that had been taken for first principles. He rejected X the doctrine of * In which the scul, like the unhappy Dido— ^— " semperque relinqui Sola sibi, semper longam incomitata videtur Ire viam." — H. f Thi^ is not the case. It could easily be shewn that, in the schools of the middle ages, the arguments in favour of Idealism were fully understood ; and they would certainly have obtained numerous parti- sans, had it not been seen that such a philosophical opinion involved a theological heresy touching the eucharist This was even recognised by St Augus- tine— H J Alter many of the Peripatetics themselves — H. 28(5 ON THE INTELLECTUAL POWERS. JJESSAY il. species or ideas coming from objects ; but still maintained that what we immediately perceive, is not the external object, but an idea or image of it in our mind. This led some of his disciples into Egoism, and to dis- believe the existence of every creature in the universe but themselves and their own ideas. * But Des Cartes himself — either from dread of the censure of the church, which he took great care not to provoke; or to shun the ridicule of the world, which might have crushed his system at once, as it did that of the Egoists ;* or, perhaps, from inward conviction — was resolved to support the ex- istence of matter. To do this consistently with his principles, he found himself obliged to have recourse to arguments that are far- fetched, and not very cogent. Sometimes he argues that our senses are given us by God, who is no deceiver ; and, therefore, we ought to believe their testimony. [170] But this argument is weak ; because, accord- ing to his principles, our senses testify no more but that we have certain ideas : and, if we draw conclusions from this testimony, which the premises will not support, we deceive ourselves. To give more force to this weak argument, he sometimes adds, that we have by nature a strong propensity to believe that there is an external world corresponding to our ideas. + Malebranche thought that this strong propensity is not a sufficient reason for be- lieving the existence of matter ; and that it is to be received as an article of faith, not certainly discoverable by reason. He is aware that faith comes by hearing ; and that it may be said that prophets, apostles, and miracles are only ideas in our minds. But to this he answers, that, though these things are only ideas, yet faith turns them into realities ; and this answer, he hopes, will satisfy those who are not too morose. It may perhaps seem strange that Locke, who wrote so much about ideas, should not see those consequences which Berkeley thought so obviously deducible from that doctrine. Mr Locke surely was not willing that the doctrine of ideas should be thought to be loaded with such consequences. He acknowledges that the existence of a mate- rial world is not to be received as a first principle — nor is it demonstrable; but he offers the best arguments for it he can ; and supplies the weakness of his arguments by this observation — that we have such evi- * See above, p. 269, note 187.- H. and below, under p. t We are only by nature led to believe in the exist- ence of an outer world, because we are by nature led to believe that we have an immediate knowledge of it as existing. Now, Des Cartes and the philosophers in general (is Reid an exception?) hold that we are deluded in the latter belief; and yet they argue, on the authority of the former, that an external world exists. — H. dence as is sufficient to direct us in pur- suing the good and avoiding the ill we may receive from external things, beyond which we have no concern. There is, indeed, a single passage in Locke's essay, which may lead one to con- jecture that he had a glimpse of that sys- tem which Berkeley afterwards advanced, but thought proper to suppress it within his own breast. [171] The passage is in Book 4, c. 10, where, having proved the existence of an eternal intelligent mind, he comes to answer those who conceive that matter also must be eternal, because we cannot conceive how it could be made out of nothing ; and having observed that the creation of mind requires no less power than the creation of matter, he adds what fol- lows : — " Nay, possibly, if we could eman- cipate ourselves from vulgar notions, and raise our thoughts, as far as they would reach, to a closer contemplation of things, we might be able to aim at some dim and seeming conception, how matter might at first be made and begin to exist, by the power of that eternal first Being ; but to give beginning and being to a spirit, would be found a more inconceivable effect of om- nipotent power. But this being what would perhaps lead us too far from the notions on which the philosophy now in the world is built, it would not be pardonable to deviate so far from them, or to inquire, so far as grammar itself would authorize, if the com- mon settled opinion opposes it ; especially in this place, where the received doctrine serves well enough to our present purpose.* It appears from this passage — First, That Mr Locke had some system in his mind, perhaps not fully digested, to which we might be led, by raising our thoughts to a closer contemplation of things, and. emanci- pating them from vulgar notions ; Secondly, That this system would lead so far from the notions on which the philosophy now in the world is built, that he thought proper to keep it within his own breast ; Thirdly, That it might be doubted whether this sys- tem differed so far from the common settled opinion in reality, as it seemed to do in words ; Fourthly, By this system, we might possibly be enabled to aim at some dim and seeming conception how matter might at first be made and begin to exist ; but it would give no aid in conceiving how a spirit might be made. These are the cha- racteristics of that system which Mr Locke had in his mind, and thought it prudent to suppress. May they not lead to a probable conjecture, that it was the same, or some- thing similar to that of Bishop Berkeley ? * Mr Stewart plausibly supposes that this passage contains rather an anticipation of Boscovich's Theory of - Matter, than of Berkeley's Theory of Idealism. Philosophical Essays, p. 64. But see note F. — H. [170, 171] chap. x.J OF THE SENTIMENTS OF BISHOP BERKELEY. 287 According to Berkeley's system, God's creat- ing the material world at such a time, means no more but that he decreed from that time, to produce ideas in the minds of finite spirits, in that order and according to those rules which we call the laws of Nature. [172] This, indeed, removes all difficulty, in con- ceiving how matter was created ; and Berkeley does not fail to take notice of the advantage of his system on that account. But his system gives no aid in conceiving how a spirit may be made. It appears, therefore, that every particular Mr Locke has hinted, with regard to that system which he had in his mind, but thought it prudent to suppress, tallies exactly with the system of Berkeley. If we add to this, that Berkeley's system follows from Mr Locke's, by very obvious consequence, it seems rea- sonable to conjecture, from the passage now quoted, that he was not unaware of that consequence, but left it to those who should come after him to carry his principles their full length, when they should by time be better established, and able to bear the shock of their opposition to vulgar notions. Mr Norris, in his " Essay towards the Theory of the Ideal or Intelligible World," pub- lished in 1701, observes, that the material world is not an object of sense ; because sensation is within us, and has no object. Its existence, therefore, he says, is a collec- tion of reason, and not -a very evident one. From this detail we may learn that the doctrine of ideas, as it was new-modelled byT)es Cartes, looked with an unfriendly aspect upon the material world ; and, al- though philosophers were very unwilling to give up either, they found it a very difficult task to reconcile them to each other. In this state of things, Berkeley, I think, is reputed the first who had the daring reso- lution to give up the material world alto- gether, as a sacrifice to the received phi- losophy of ideas. But we ought not, in this historical sketch, to omit an author of far inferior name, Arthur Collier, Rector of Langford Magna, near Sarum. He published a book in 1713, which he calls " Clavis Universalis ; or, a New Inquiry after Truth ; being a demon- stration of the non-existence or impossibility of an external world." His arguments are the same in substance with Berkeley's ; and he appears to understand the whole strength of his cause. [173] Though he is not deficient in metaphysical acuteness, his style is dis- agreeable, being full of conceits, of new- coined words, scholastic terms, and per- plexed sentences. He appears to be well acquainted with Des Cartes, Malebranche, and Norris, as well as with Aristotle and the schoolmen. But, what is very strange, it does not appear that he had ever heard of Locke's Essay, which had been pub- [172-174] lished twenty-four years, or of Berkeley's " Principles of Knowledge," which had been published three years. He says he had been ten years firmly convinced of the non-existence of an ex- ternal world, before he ventured to publish his book. He is far from thinking, as Ber- keley does, that the vulgar are of his opi- nion. If his book should make any con- verts to his system, (of which he expresses little hope, though he has supported it by nine demonstrations,) he takes pains to shew that his disciples, notwithstanding their opinion, may, with the unenlightened, speak of material things in the common style. He himself had scruples of con- science about this for some time ; and, if he had not got over them, he must have shut his lips for ever ; but he considered that God himself has used this style in speaking to men in the Holy Scripture, and has thereby sanctified it to all the faithful ; and that to the pure all things are pure. He thinks his opinion may be of great use, especially in religion ; and applies it, in particular, to put an end to the con- troversy about Christ's presence in the sacrament. I have taken the liberty to give this short account of Collier's book, because I believe it is rare, and little known. I have only seen one copy of it, which is in the University library of Glasgow. • [174] CHAPTER XI bishop Berkeley's sentiments of the nature of ideas. I pass over the sentiments of Bishop Berkeley, with respect to abstract ideas, and with respect to space and time, as things which may more properly be consi- dered in another place. But I must take notice of one part of his system, wherein he * This work, though of extreme rarity, and long absolutely unknown to the philosophers or this coun- try, hart excited, from the first, the attention of the German metaphysicians. A long analysis of it was given in the " Acta Eruditorum ;" it is found quoted by Bilfinger, and other Lebnitzians; and was sub- sequently translated into German, with controver- sial notes by Professor Eschenbach of Rostock, in his " Collection of the principal writers who deny the Reality of their own Body and of the whole Corporeal World," 1756. The late learned Dr Parr had long the intention of publishing the work oi Collier along with some other rare metaphysical treatses. He did not, however, accomplish his purpose; which in. volved, likewu-e, an introductory disquisition by him- self ; but a complete impression ot the " Clavis Univer- salis" and four other tracts, was found, after his death ; and this having been purchased by Mr Lum- ley, has, by him, been recently published, under the title—" Metaphysical Tracts, by English Philoso- phers of the Eighteenth Century," &c. London: 1837. A very small edition of the " Clavis" had been printed in Edinburgh, by private subscription, in th« previous year. A Life of Collier has likewise re- cently appeared.— H. 288 ON THE INTELLECTUAL POWERS. [essay II. seems to have deviated from the common opinion about ideas. Though he sets out in his principles of knowledge, by telling us that it is evident the objects of human knowledge are ideas, and builds his whole system upon this prin- ciple ; yet, in the progress of it, he finds that there are certain objects of human knowledge that are not ideas, but things which have a permanent existence. The objects of knowledge, of which we have no ideas, are our own minds, and their various operations, other finite minds, and the Supreme Mind. The reason why there can be no ideas of spirits and their opera- tions, the author informs us is this, That ideas are passive, inert, unthinking beings ;* they cannot, therefore, be the image or likeness of things that have thought, and will, and active power ; we have notions of minds, and of their operations, but not ideas. We know what we mean by think- ing, willing, and perceiving ; we can rea- son about beings endowed with those powers, but we have no ideas of them. A spirit or miud is the only substance or support wherein the unthinking beings or ideas can exist ; but that this substance which supports or perceives ideas, should itself be an idea, or like an idea, is evidently absurd. He observes, farther, Princip. sect. 142, that " all relations, including an act of the mind, we cannot properly be said to have an idea, but rather a notion of the relations or habitudes between things. [175] But if, in the modern way, the word idea is extended to spirits, and relations, and acts, this is, after all, an affair of verbal con- cern ; yet it conduces to clearness and pro- priety, that we distinguish things very dif- ferent by different names." This is an important part of Berkeley's system, and deserves attention. We are led by it to divide the objects of human knowledge into two kinds. The first is ideas, which we have by our five senses ; they have no existence when they are not per- ceived, and exist only in the minds of those who perceive them. The second kind of objects comprehends spirits, their acts, and the relations and habitudes of things. Of these we have notions, but no ideas. No idea can represent them, or have any simi- litude to them : yet we understand what they mean, and we can speak with under- standing, and reason about them, without ideas. This account of ideas is very different from that which Locke has given. In his system, we have no knowledge where we have no ideas. Every thought must have • Berkeley is one of the philosophers who rea'ly held the doctrine of ideas, erroneously, by Reid, at- tributed to all— H. an idea for its immediate object. In Ber- keley's, the most important objects are known without ideas. In Locke's system, there are two sources of our ideas, sensa- tion and reflection. In Berkeley's, sensa- tion is the only source, because of the objects of reflection there can be no ideas. We know them without ideas. Locke divides our ideas into those of substances, modes, and relations. In Berkeley's system, there are no ideas of substances, or of relations ; but notions only. And even in the class of modes, the operations of our own minds are things of which we have distinct notions ; but no ideas. We ought to do the j ustice to Malebranche to acknowledge that, in this point, as well as in many others, his system comes nearer to Berkeley's than the latter seems willing to own. That author tells us that there are four different ways in which we come to the knowledge of things. To know things by their ideas, is only one of the four. [176] He affirms that we have no idea of our own mind, or any of its modifications : that we know these things by consciousness, without ideas. Whether these two acute philosophers foresaw the consequences that may be drawn from the system of ideas, taken in its full extent, and which were after- wards drawn by Mr Hume, I cannot pre- tend to say. If they did, their regard to religion was too great to permit them to ad- mit those consequences, or the principles with which they were necessarily connected. However this may be, if there be so many things that may be apprehended and known without ideas, this very naturally suggests a scruple with regard to those that are left : for it may be said, If we can apprehend and reason about the world of spirits, with- out ideas, Is it not possible that we may apprehend and reason about a material world, without ideas ? If consciousness and reflection furnish us with notions of spirits and of their attributes, without ideas, may not our senses furnish us with notions of bodies and their attributes, without ideas ? Berkeley foresaw this objection to his system, and puts it in the mouth of Hylas, in the following words : — Dial. 3, Hylas. " If you can conceive the mind of God, without having an idea of it, why may not I be allowed to conceive the existence of matter, notwithstanding that I have no idea of it ?" The answer of Philonous is — " You neither perceive matter objectively, as you do an inactive being or idea, nor know it, as you do yourself, by a reflex act, neither do you immediately apprehend it by similitude of the one or the other, nor yet collect it by reasoning from that which you know immediately ; all which makes the case of matter widely different from that of the Deity." T175, 1?6"| chap, xi.] BISHOP BERKELEY'S SENTIMENTS OF IDEAS. 289 Though Hylas declares himself satisfied with this answer, I confess I am not : be- cause, if I may trust the faculties that God has given me, I do perceive matter objec- tively — that is, something which is extended and solid, which may be measured and weighed, is the immediate object of my touch and sight.* [177] And this object I take to be matter, and not an idea. And, though I have been taught by philosophers, that what I immediately touch is an idea, and not matter ; yet I have never been able to dis- cover this by the most accurate attention to my own perceptions. It were to be wished that this ingenious author had explained what he means by ideas, as distinguished from notions. The word notion, being a word in common lan- guage, is well understood. All men mean by it, the conception, the apprehension, or thought which we have of any object of thought. A notion, therefore, is an act of the mind conceiving or thinking of some object. The object of thought may be either something that is in the mind, or something that is not in the mind. It may be something that has no existence, or something that did, or does, or shall exist. But the notion which I have of that ob- ject, i3 an act of my mind which really exists while I think of the object ; but has no existence when I do not think of it. The word idea, in popular language, has precisely the same meaning as the word notion. But philosophers have another meaning to the word idea ; and what that meaning is, I think, is very difficult to say. The whole of Bishop Berkeley's system depends upon the distinction between no- tions and ideas ; and, therefore, it is worth while to find, if we are able, what those things are which he calls ideas, as distin- guished from notions. For this purpose, we may observe, that he takes notice of two kinds of ideas — the ideas of sense, and the ideas of imagina- tion. " The ideas imprinted on the senses by the Author of Nature,'' he says, " are called real things ; and those excited in the imagination, being less regular, vivid, and constant, are more properly termed ideas, or images of things, which they copy and represent. [178] B ut then our sensations, be they never so vivid and distinct, are nevertheless ideas ; that is, they exist in the mind, or are perceived by it as truly as the ideas of its own framing. The ideas of sense are allowed to have more reality in them — that is, to be more strong, or- derly, and coherent — than the creatures of * Doe* Reidmean to surrender his doctrine, hat perception i< a conception —that exf < nsion and figure are not known by sense, hut are notions suggested on the occasion of sensation ? If he does not, his Ian. guage in the text is inaccurate. — H. [ 177-179] the mind. They are also less dependent on the spirit, or thinking substance which perceives them, in that they are excited by the will of another and more powerful spirit ; yet still they are ideas ; and cer- tainly no idea, whether faint or strong, can exist, otherwise than in a mind perceiving it." Principles, § 33. From this passage we see that, by the ideas of sense, the author means sensa- tions ;* and this, indeed, is evident from many other passages, of which I shall men- tion a few Principles, § 5. " Light and colours, heat and cold, extension and figure — in a word, the things we see and feel — what are they but so many sensations, notions, ideas, or impressions on the sense ? — and is it possible to separate, even in thought, any of these from perception ? For my part, I might as easily divide a thing from itself." § 18. "As for our senses, by them we have the knowledge only of our sensations, ideas, or those things that are immediately perceived by sense, call them what you will ; — but they do not inform us that things exist without the mind, or un- perceived, like to those which are per- ceived." § 25. " All our ideas, sensa- tions, or the things which we perceive, by whatever names they may be distinguished, are visibly inactive ; there is nothing of power or agency included in them." This, therefore, appears certain — that, by the ideas of sense, the author meant the sensations we have by means of our senses. I have endeavoured to explain the meaning of the word sensation, Essay I., chap. 1, [p. 229,] and refer to the explication there given of it, which appears to me to be per- fectly agreeable to the sense in which Bishop Berkeley uses it.* As there can be no notion or thought but in a thinking being ; so there can be no sensation but in a sentient being. [ 1 79] It is the act or feeling of a sentient being ; its very essence consists in its being felt. Nothing can resemble a sensation, but a similar sensation in the same or in some other mind. To think that any quality in a thing that is inanimate can resemble a sensation, is a great absurdity. In all this, I cannot but agree perfectly with Bishop Berkeley ; and I think his notions of sensa- * How it ran bei asserted, that by ideas of sense Berkeley meant only what Reiri did by sensations, I cannot comprehend. That the former used ideas of sense and sensations as convertible expressions, is true. But then Berkeley's sensation was equivalent to Reid's sensation plus his perception. This is mani- fest even by the passages adduced in the text. In that from § v. .of the " Principles,'' Berkeley ex. pressly calls extension and figure, sensations. But it is a fundamental principle of Reid's philosophy, not only that neither extension nor figure, but that none of the primary qualities, are sensations. To make a single quotation— "'Yhv primary qualities," he says, '* are. neither sensations, nor are they the resemblances of sensations." — Infra, p. 238. — H. U 290 ON THE INTELLECTUAL POWERS. [essay II. tion much more distinct and accurate than Locke's, who thought that the primary qualities of body are resemblances of our sensations,* but that the secondary are not. That we have many sensations by means of our external senses, there can be no doubt ; and, if he is pleased to call those ideas, there ought to be no dispute about the meaning of a word. But, says Bishop Berkeley, by our senses, we have the know- ledge, only of our sensations or ideas, call them which you will. I allow him to call them which he will ; but I would have the word orcein this sentence to be well weighed, because a great deal depends upon it. For, if it be true that, by our senses, we have the knowledge of our sensations only, then his system must be admitted, and the existence of a material world must be given up as a dream. No demonstration can be more invincible than this. If we have any knowledge of a material world, it must be by the senses : but, by the senses, we have no knowledge but of our sensations only ; and our sensations have no resemblance of anything that can be in a material world, f The only proposition in this demonstration which admits of doubt is, that, by our senses, we have the knowledge of our sensations only, and of nothing else. If there are ob- jects of the senses which are not sensations, his arguments do not touch them : they may be things which do not exist in the mind, as all sensations do ; they may be things of which, by our senses, we have notions, though no ideas ; just as, by consciousness and reflection, we have notions of spirits and of their oper- ations, without ideas or sensations.^ [180] Shall we say, then, that, by our senses, we have the knowledge of our sensations only ; and that they give us no notion of anything but of our sensations ? Perhaps this has been the doctrine of philosophers, and not of Bishop Berkeley alone, otherwise he would have supported it by arguments. Mr Locke calls all the notions we have by our senses, ideas of sensation ; and in this has been very generally followed. Hence it seems a very natural inference, that ideas * Here again we have a criticism which proceeds on. the erroneous implication, that Locke meant by sensation what ,:eid himself did. If for sensation we substitute perception, (and by sensation Locke denoted both sensation proper and perception proper,) there remains nothing to censure ; for Reid main- tains that " our senses give us a direct and a distinct notion of the primary qualities, and inform us what they are in themselves " (infra, p. 237 ;) which is only Locke's meaning in other words. 1 he same observa- tion applies to many of the following passages — H. t See the last note.— H. t But, unless that, be admitted, which the natural conviction of mankind certifies, that we have an immediate perception— a consciousness— ot external and extended existences, it makes no difference, in regaid to the conclusion of the Idealist, whether it hat we are conscious of in perception be supposed an entity in the mind, (an idea in Reids meaning,) or a modification of the mind, (a notion or concep- tion.) See above, p. 128, no.es *. — H. of sensation are sensations. But philoso- phers may err : let us hear the dictates of common sense upon this point. Suppose I am pricked with a pin, I ask, Is the pain 1 feel, a sensation ? Undoubtedly it is. There can be nothing that resembles pain in any inanimate being. But I ask again, Is the pin a sensation ? To this question I find myself under a necessity of answering, that the pin is not a sensation, nor can have the least resemblance to any sensation. The pin has length and thick- ness, and figure and weight. A sensation can have none of those qualities. I am not more certain that the pain I feel is a sensa- tion, than that the pin is not a sensation ; yet the pin is an object of sense ; and I am as certain that I perceive its figure and hardness by my senses, as that I feel pain when pricked by it.* Having said so much of the ideas of sense in Berkeley's system, we are next to con- sider the account he gives of the ideas of imagination. Of these he says, Principles, § 28 — " I find I can excite ideas in my mind at pleasure, and vary and shift the scene as oft as I think fit, 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. This making and unmaking of ideas, doth very properly denominate the mind active. Thus much is certain, and grounded on experience. Our sensations," he says, " are called real things ; the ideas of imagination are more properly termed ideas, or images of things ;''-f- that is, as I apprehend, they are the images of our sensations. [181] It might surely be expected that we should be well acquainted with the ideas of imagin- ation, as they are of our making ; yet, after all the Bishop has said about them, I am at a loss to know what they are. I would observe, in the first place, with regard to these ideas of imagination — that they are not sensations ; for surely sensation is the work of the senses, and not of imagin- ation ; and, though pain be a sensation, the thought of pain, when I am not pained, is no sensation. I observe, in the second place — that I can find no distinction between ideas of imagin- ation and notions, which the author says are not ideas. I can easily distinguish be- « This illustration is taken from Des Cartes. In this paragraph, the term sensation is again not used in the that these terms are ap- plied to denote the re-presentations, not of our visible perceptions merely, as the terms taken literally would indicate, but of our sensible perceptions in general. — H. ■} There is here a confusion between pain considered as a feeling, and as the cognition of a feeling, to which the philosophers would object — H. [182, 183] spirits, of their operations, and of the rela- tions of things — we have no ideas at all ;* we have notions of them, but not ideas ; the ideas we have are those of sense, and those of imagination. The first are the sensa- tions we have by means of our senses, whose existence no man can deny, because he is conscious of them ; and whose nature hath been explained by this author with great accuracy. As to the ideas of imagination, he hath left us much in the dark. He makes them images of our sensations ; though, according to his own doctrine, nothing can resemble a sensation but a sensation. -f- He seems to think that they differ from sensa- tions only in the degree of their regularity, vivacity, and constancy. But this cannot be reconciled to the experience of mankind; and, besides this mark, which cannot be admitted, he hath given us no other mark by which they may be distinguished from notions. Nay, it may be observed, that the very reason he gives why we can have no ideas of the acts of the mind about its ideas, nor of the relations of things, is applicable to what he calls ideas of imagination. Principles, § 142. " We may not, I think, strictly be said to have an idea of an active being, or of an action, although Ave may be said to have a notion of them. I have some knowledge or notion of my mind, and its acts about ideas, in as much as I know or understand what is meant by these words. [I will not say that the terns Idea and Notion may not be usee convertibly, if the world will have it so. But yet it conduces to clearness and propriety that we distinguish things very different by different names.] It is also to be remarked, that all relations including an act of the mind, we cannot so properly be said to have an idea, but rather a notion of the relations and habitudes be- tween things. " From this it follows, that our imaginations are not properly ideas, but no- tions, because they include an actof the mind. [ 1 83 ] For he tells us, in a passage already quoted, that they are creatures of the mind, of its own framing, and that it makes and unmakes them as it thinks fit, and from this is properly denominated active. If it be a good reason why we have not ideas, but notions only of relations, because they in- clude an act of the mind, the same reason must lead us to conclude, that our imagina- tions are notions and not ideas, since they are made and unmade by the mind as it thinks fit : and, from this, it is properly de- nominated active. £ t * That is, no images of them in the phantasy Reid h'imself would not say that such could be imagined. — H. t Berkeley does not say so in the meaning sup- posed. — H. t Imagination is an ambiguous word ; it means either the act of imagining, or the product— i. e , the image imagined. Of the mimer, Beikeley held, we can form a notion, but not an idea, in the sense ht U 2 292 ON THE INTELLECTUAL POWERS. f essay ir. When so much has been written, and so many disputes raised about ideas, it were desirable that we knew what they are, and to what category or class of beings they be- long. In this we might expect satisfaction in the writings of Bishop Berkeley, if any- where, considering his known accuracy and precision in the use of words ; and it is for this reason that I have taken so much pains to find out what he took them to be. After ali, if I understand what he calls the ideas of sense, they are the seusations which we have by means of our five senses ; but they are, he says, less properly termed ideas. I understand, likewise, what he calls notions ; but they, says he, are very differ- ent from ideas, though, in the modern, way, often called by that name. The ideas of imagination remain, which are most properly termed ideas, as he says ; and, with regard to these, I am still very much in the dark. When I imagine a lion or an elephant, the lion or elephant is the object imagined. The act of the mind, in conceiving that object, is the notion, the conception, or imagination of the object. If besides the object, and the act of the mind about it, there be something called the idea of the object, I know not what it is.* If we consult other authors who have treated of ideas, we shall find as little satis- faction with regard to the meaning of this philosophical term. [184] The vulgar have adopted it ; but they only mean by it the notion or conception we have of any object, especially our more abstract or gen- eral notions. When it is thus put to sig- nify the operation of the mind about objects, whether in conceiving, remembering, or perceiving, it is well understood. But phi- losophers will have ideas to be the objects of the mind's operations, and not the oper- ations themselves. There is, indeed, great variety of objects of thought. We can think of minds, and of their operations ; of bodies, and of their qualities and relations. If ideas are not comprehended under any of these classes, I am at a loss to comprehend what they are. In ancient philosophy, ideas were said to be immaterial forms, which, according to one system, existed from all eternity ; and, according to another, are sent forth from the objects whose form they are.+ In mo- dern philosophy, they are things in the mind, which are the immediate objects of all our thoughts, and which have no exist- ence when we do not think of them. They are called the images, the resemblances, the u>es the term ; whereas, of the latter, we can form an idea by merely repeating the imaginatory act. — H. • On Reid's misconception on this point, see Note B. — H. t Nothing by the name of idea was sent off from objects in the ancient philosophy.— ti. representatives of external objects of sense ; yet they have neither colour, nor smell, nor figure, nor motion, nor any sensible quality. I revere the authority of philosophers, espe- cially where they are so unanimous ; but until I can comprehend what they mean by ideas, I must think and speak with the vulgar. In sensation, properly so called, I can distinguish two things — the mind, or sen- tient being, and the sensation. Whether the last is to be called a feeling or an oper- ation, I dispute not ; but it has no object distinct from the sensation itself. If in sensation there be a thir< idea, I know not what it In perception, in remembrance, and in conception, or imagination, I distinguish three things — the mind that operates, the operation of the mind, and the object of that operation.* [185] That the object per- ceived is one thing, and the perception of that object another, I am as certain as I can be of anything. The same may be said of conception, of remembrance, of love and hatred, of desire and aversion. In all these, the act of the mind about its object is one thing, the object is another thing. There must be an object, real or imaginary, distinct from the operation of the mind about it-f- Now, if in these operations the idea be a fourth thing different from the three I have mentioned, I know not what it is, nor have been able to learn from all that has been written about ideas. And if the doctrine of philosophers about ideas con- founds any two of these things which I have mentioned as distinct— if, for example, it confounds the object perceived with the perception of that object, and represents them as one and the same thing— such doc- trine is altogether repugnant to all that I am able to discover of the operations of my own mind ; and it is repugnant to the common sense of mankind, expressed in the struc- ture of all languages. CHAPTER XII. OF THE SENTIMENTS OF MR HUME. Two volumes of the " Treatise of Human Nature" were published in 17^9, and the third in 1740. The doctrine contained in this Treatise was published anew in a more popular form in Mr Hume's " Philosophical Essays," of which there have been various editions. What other authors, from the « See Note B.— H. + If there be an imaginary object distinct from the act of imagination, where does it exist ? It cannot be external to the mind — for, ex hypothesi, it is ima- ginary; and, if in the mind itself, distinct from the act of imagination— why. what is this but the very crudest doctrine of species? For Reid's puzzle, see Note B. — H. [184, 185] chap, xii.] OF THE SENTIMENTS OF MR HUME. 293 time of Des Cartes, had called idea.*, this author distinguishes into two kinds — to wit, impressions &nd ideas; comprehending under the first, all our sensations, passions, and emotions ; and under the last, the faint images of these, when we remember or imagine them. [18G] He sets out with this, as a principle that needed no proof, and of which therefore he offers none — that all the perceptions of the human mind resolve themselves into these two kinds, impressions and ideas. As this proposition is the foundation upon which the whole of Mr Hume's system rests, and from which it is raised with great acuteness indeed, and ingenuity, it were to be wished that he had told us upon what authority this fundamental proposition rests. But we are left to guess, whether it is held forth as a first principle, which has its evidence in itself; or whether it is to be received upon the authority of philosophers. Mr Locke had taught us, that all the immediate objects of human knowledge are ideas in the mind. Bishop Berkeley, pro- ceeding upon this foundation, demonstrated, very easily, that there is no material world. And he thought that, for the purposes both of philosophy and religion, we should find no loss, but great benefit, in the want of it. But the Bishop, as became his order, was unwilling to give up the world of spirits. He saw very well, that ideas are as unfit to represent spirits as they are to represent bodies. Perhaps he saw that, if w e per- ceive only the ideas of spirits, we shall find the same difficulty in inferring their real existence from the existence of their ideas, as we find in inferring the existence of matter from the idea of it ; and, therefore, while he gives up the material world in favour of the system of ideas, he gives up one-half of that system in favour of the world of spirits ; and maintains that we can, without ideas, think, and speak, and reason, intelligibly about spirits, and what belongs to them. Mr Hume shews no such partiality in favour of the world of spirits. He adopts the theory of ideas in its full extent ; and, in consequence, shews that there is neither matter nor mind in the universe ; nothing but impressions and ideas. What we call a body, is only a bundle of sensations ; and what we call the mind is only a bundle of thoughts, passions, and emotions, without any subject. [187 J Some ages hence, it will perhaps be looked upon ss a curious anecdote, that two philosophers of the eighteenth century, of very distinguished rank, were led, by a philosophical hypothesis, one, to disbelieve the existence of matter, and the other, to disbelieve the existence both of matter and of mind. Such an anecdote may not be uninstructive, if it prove a warning to [18«_188J philosophers to beware of hypotheses, espe- cially when they lead to conclusions which contradict the principles upon which all men of common sense must act in common life. The Egoists,* whom we mentioned be- fore, were left far behind by Mr Hume ; for they believed their own existence, and perhaps also the existence of a Deity. But Mr Hume's system does not even leave him a self to claim the property of his impres- sions and ideas. A system of consequences, however ab- surd, acutely and justly drawn from a few principles, in very abstract matters, is of real utility in science, and may be made subservient to real knowledge. This merit Mr Hume's metaphysical writings have in a great degree. We had occasion before to observe, that, since the time of Des Cartes, philosophers, in t: eating of the powers of the mind, have, in many instances, confounded things which the common sense of mankind has always led them to distinguish, and which have different names in all languages. Thus, in the perception of an external object, all languages distinguish three things— the mind that perceives, the operation of that mind, which is called perception, and the object perceived. -f- Nothing appears more evident to a mind untutored by philosophy, than that these three are distinct things, which, though related, ought never to be confounded. [188] The structure of all languages supposes this distinction, and is built upon it. Philosophers have intro- duced a fourth thing in this process, which they call the idea of the object, which is supposed to be an image, or representative of the object, and is said to be the imme- diate object. The vulgar know nothing about this idea ; it is a creature of philo- sophy,introduced to account for and explain the manner of our perceiving external objects. * In supplement to no'e § at p 269, supra, in re- gard to the pretended sect of Egoists, there is to be ad led the following notices, which I did not recol- lect till after that note was s«n : — Wolf, {Psychologia Rafionalis, § SS,) after dividing Idealists into Egoists and Pluralists, says, inter alia, of the former : — " Fuit paucis alhinc annis assecla quidam Malebranchii, Parisiis. qui Egoi>mum pro- fessus est (quod mirum mihi videtur) asseclas et ipso nactus est." In his Vermienftige Gedankenvon Gott, &c, c. J, ^ 2, he also mentions this allerseltsamste Secte There is also an oration by Christopher Matthaeus Pfaff, the Chancellor of Tuebingen— " Be Egoismo,nova philosophica Jiaeresi," in i72v— which I have not seen — i hus, what I formerly ha. zarded, is still farther confirmed. All is vague and contradictory hearsay in regard to the Eg<>i.-ts. The French place them in Scotland ; the Scotch in Hol- land ; the Germans in France ; and they are variously stated as the immedia e disciples of Des Cartes, Malebranche, Spinoza. There is certainly no reason why an Egoistical IdealiMB should not have been explicitly promulgated before Fichte, (whose doctrine, however, is not the same;) but I have, as yet, seen no satisfactory grounds on which it can be shewn that this had actua.ly been done — H. t See Notes B and C— H. 294 ON THE INTELLECTUAL POWERS. [essay II. It is pleasant to observe that, while philo- sophers, for more than a century, have been labouring, by means of ideas, to explain perception and the other operations of the mind, those ideas have by degrees usurped the place of perception, object, and even of the mind itself, and have supplanted those very things they were brought to explain. Des Cartes reduced all the operations of the understanding to perception ; and what can be more natural to those who believe that they are only different modes of perceiving ideas in our own minds ? Locke confounds ideas sometimes with the perception of an external object, sometimes with the external object itself. In Berkeley's system, the idea is the only object, and yet is often con- founded with the perception of it. But, in Hume's, the idea or the impression, which is only a more lively idea, is mind, percep- tion, and object, all in one : so that, by the term perception, in Mr Hume's system, we must understand the mind itself, all its operations, both of understanding and will, and all the objects of these operations. Per- ception taken in this sense he divides into our more lively perceptions, which he calls impressions,* and the less lively, which he calls ideas. To prevent repetition, I must here refer the reader to some remarks made upon this division, Essay I. chap. 1, in the explication there given of the words, per- ceive, object, impression, [pp. 222, 223,226.] Philosophers hare differed very much with regard to the origin of our ideas, or the sources whence they are derived. The Peripatetics held that all knowledge is de- rived originally from the senses ;-f and this ancient doctrine seems to be revived by some late French philosophers, and by Dr Hartley and Dr Priestley among the Brit- ish. [189] Des Cartes maintained, that many of our ideas are innate. Locke op- posed the doctrine of innate ideas with much zeal, and employs the whole first book of his Essay against it. But he ad- mits two different sources of ideas . the operations of our external senses, which he calls sensation, by which we get all our ideas of body, and its attributes ; and re- flection upon the operations of our minds, by which we get the ideas of everything be- ■ Mr Stewart {Elan. III. Addenda to vol I. p. 43) seems to think that the word impression was first introduced as a. technical term, into the philo- sophy of mind, by Hume. This is not altogether correct. For, besides the instances which Mr Stewart himself adduces, of the illustration attempted, of the phenomena of memory from the analogy of an im- press and 3 t; ace, words corresponding to impression were amoiig the ancients familiarly applied to thepro- cessescf external perception, imagination, &c.,in the Atomistic, the Platonic, the Aristotelian, and the Stoical philosophies ; while, amongmodern psycholo- gists, (as D< s Cartes and Oasserdi,; the term was like- wise in common use — H. T This is an incorrect, at least a too unqualified, statement.— H. longing to the mind. The main design of the second book of Locke's " Essay," is to shew, that all our simple ideas, without exception, are derived from the one or the other, or both of these sources. In doing this, the author h led into some paradoxes, although, in general, he is not fond of para- doxes : And had he foreseen all the con- sequences that may be drawn from his ac- count of the origin of our ideas, he would probably have examined it more carefully.* Mr Hume adopts Locke's account of the origin of our ideas ; and from that principle infers, that we have no idea of substance, corporeal or spiritual, no idea of power, no other idea of a cause, but that it is something antecedent, and constantly conjoined to that which we call its effect ; and, in a word, that we can have no idea of anything but our sensations, and the operations of mind we are conscious of. This author leaves no power to the mind in framing its ideas and impressions ; and, no wonder, since he holds that we have no idea of power ; and the mind is nothing but that succession of impressions and ideas of which we are intimately conscious. He thinks, therefore, that our impressions arise from unknown causes, and that the impressions are the causes of their corre- sponding ideas. By this he means no more but that they always go before the ideas ; for this is all that is necessary to constitute the relation of cause and effect. [190] As to the order and succession of our ideas, he holds it to be determined by three laws of attraction or association, which he takes to be original properties of the ideas, by which they attract, as it were, or asso- ciate themselves with other ideas which either resemble them, or which have been contiguous to them in time and place, or to which they have the relations of cause and effect. We may here observe, by the way, that the last of these three laws seems to be in- cluded in the second, since causation, ac- cording to him, implies no more than con- tiguity in time and place. -f- * At any rate, according to i ocke, all our know- ledge is a derivation from experience. — H. t Mr Hume says—" I do not find that any philo. sopher has attempted to enumerate or class all the principles of Association ; a subject, however, that seems to me very woithy of curiosity. To me there appears to be only three principles of connection among ideas: Resemblance — Contiguity in time or place — Cause and Effect." — Essays, vol. ii., p. 2\ — Aristoile, and, after him, many other philosophers, had, however, done this, and with even greater success than Hume himself. Aristotle's reduction is to the four following heads .- — Proximity in time— Conti- guity in place — Resemblance — Contrast. This is more correct than Hume's; for Hume's second head ought tc be divided into two ; while our connecting any particular events in the relation of cause and effect, is itself the result of their oi served proximity in time and contiguity in place ; nay, to custom and this empirical connection (as observed by Heid) does [189, 190] chap, xiii.] OF THE SENTIMENTS OF ANTHONY ARNAULD. 295 It is not my design at present to shew how Mr Hume, upon the principles he has borrowed from Locke and Berkeley, has, with great acuteness, reared a system of absolute scepticism, which leaves no rational ground to believe any one proposition, rather than its contrary : my intention in this pi ice being only to give a detail of the sentiments of philosophers concerning ideas since they became an object of speculation, and concerning the manner of our perceiv- ing external objects by their means. CHAPTER XIII. OF THE SENTIMENTS OF ANTHONY ARNAULD. In this sketch of the opinions of philoso- phers concerning ideas, we must not omit Anthony Arnauld, doctor of the Sorbonne, who, in the year 1683, published his book " Of True and False Ideas," in opposition to the system of Malebranche before men- tioned. It is only about ten years since I could find this book, and I believe it is rare." [191] Though Arnauld wrote before Locke, Berkeley, and Hume, I have reserved to the last place some account of his senti- ments, because it seems difficult to deter- mine whether he adopted the common theory of ideas, or whether he is singular in reject- ing it altogether as a fiction of philoso- phers. The controversy between Malebranche and Arnauld necessarily led them to con- sider what kind of things ideas are— a point upon which other philosophers had very generally been silent. Both of them pro- fessed the doctrine universally received : that we perceive not material things imme- diately — that it is their ideas that are the immediate objects of our thought— and that it is in the idea of everything that we per- ceive its properties. It is necessary to premise that both these authors use the word perception, as Des Cartes had done before them, to sig- nify every operation of the understand- ing.-]- " To think, to know, to perceive, are the same thing," says Mr Arnauld, chap. v. def. 2. It is likewise to be observed, that the various operations of the mind are by both called modifications of the mind. Perhaps they were led into this phrase by the Cartesian doctrine, that the essence of the mind consists in thinking, as that of body consists in extension. I apprehend, Hume himself endeavour to reduce the principle of Causality altogether— H. See Notes D* andD***. * The treatises of Arnauld in his controversy with Malebranche, are to be found in the thirty. eiahth volume of his collected works in 4to. — H. t Every apprehensive, or strictly cognitive opera- tion of the understanding. — H. [191 , 192] therefore, that, when they make sensation, perception, memory, and imagination, to be various modifications of the mind, they mean no more but that these are things which can only exist in the mind as their subject. We express the same thing, by calling them various modes of thinking, or various operations of the mind.* The things which the mind perceives, says Malebranche, are of two kinds. They are either in the mind itself, or they are external to it. The things in the mind, are all its different modifications, its sensa- tions, its imaginations, its pure intellec- tions, its passions and affections. These are immediately perceived ; we are con- scious of them, and have no need of ideas to represent them to us. [192] Things external to the mind, are either corporeal or spiritual. With regard to the last, he thinks it possible that, in another state, spirits may be an immediate object of our understandings, and so be perceived without ideas ; that there may be such an union of spirits as that they may imme- diately perceive each other, and communi- cate their thoughts mutually, without signs and without ideas. But, leaving this as a problematical point, he holds it to be undeniable, that material things cannot be perceived immediately, but only by the mediation of ideas. He thought it likewise undeniable, that the idea must be immediately present to the mind, that it must touch the soul as it were, and modify its perception of the obj< ct. From these principles we must neces- sarily conclude, either that the idea is some modification of the human mind, or that it must be an idea in the Divine Mind, which is always intimately present with our minds. The matter being brought to this alternative, Malebranche considers first all the possible ways such a modifica- tion may be produced in our mind as that we call an idea of a material object, taking it for granted always, that it must be an object perceived, and something different from the act of the mind in perceiving it. He finds insuperable objections against every hypothesis of such ideas being pro- duced in our minds; and therefore con- cludes, that the immediate objects of per- ception are the ideas of the Divine Mind. Against this system Arnauld wrote his book " Of True and False Ideas." He does not object to the alternative men- tioned by Malebranche ; but he maintains, that ideas are modifications of our minds. And, finding no other modification of the * Modes, ox modifications of mind, in the Cartesian school, mean merely what some recent philosophers express by states of mind and include .both ihe active and passive ph&nomeua of the conscious sub- ject. The terms were used by Des Cartes as well =»s by his disciples. — H. 296 ON THE INTELLECTUAL POWERS. [essay II. human mind which can be called the idea of an external object, he says it is only another word for perception. Chap, v., def. 3. [193] " I take the idea of an object, and the perception of an object, to be the same thing. I do not say whether there may be other things to which the name of idea may be given. But it is certain that there are ideas taken in this sense, and that these ideas are either attributes or modifi- cations of our minds."* This, I think, indeed, was to attack the system of Malebranche upon its weak side, and where, at the same time, an attack was least expected. Phdosophers had been so unanimous in maintaining that we do not perceive external objects immediately, f but by certain representative images of them called ideus,% that Malebranche might well think his system secure upon that quarter, and that the- only question to be determined was, in what subject those ideas are placed, whether in the human or in the divine mind ? But, says Mr Arnauld, those ideas are mere chimeras — fictions of philosophers ; there are no such beings in nature ; and, therefore, it is to no purpose to inquire whether they are in the divine or in the hu- man mind. The only true and real ideas are our perceptions, which§ are acknow- ledged by all philosophers, and by Male- branche himself, to be acts or modifications of our own minds. He does not say that the fictitious ideas were a fiction of Male- branche- He acknowledges that they had been very generally maintained by the scholastic philosophers, j| and points out, very judiciously, the prejudices that had led them into the belief of such ideas. Of all the powers of our mind, the • Arnauld did not allow that perceptions and ideas are really or numerically distinguished — i e., as one thing from another thing ; not even that tney are modally distinguished— i. e, as a thing from its mode. He maintained that they are really identical, and only rationally discriminated as viewed in dif- ferent relations ; the indivisib e mental modification being called a perception, by reference to the mind or thinking subject— an idea, by reference to the mediate object or thing thought. Arnauld everywhere avows that he denies ideas only as existences distinct Iroin the act itself of perception. — bee Oeuvres. t. xxxvni. pp. 187, 198, 199, 339.— H. f Arnauld does not assert against Malebranche " that-we perceive external objects immediately"— that is, in themselves, and as existing. He was too accu. rate for this. By an immediate cognition, Reid means merely the negation of the intermediation of any third thing between the reality perceived and the percipient mind.— H. t Idea was not the word by which representative images, distinct from the percipient act, had been commonly called ; nor were philosophers at all unani- mous in the admission of such vicarious objects. — See Notes G, L, M, N, O, &c— H. $ That is, Perceptions, (the cognitive acts,) but not hlcas, (tbe immediate objects of those acts.) The latter were not acknowledged by Malebranche and all phi- losophers to be mere acts or modifications of our own minds. — H. || But by a different name H. external senses are thought to be the best understood, and their objects are the most familiar. Hence we measure other powers by them, and transfer to other powers the language which properly be- longs to them. The objects of sense must be present to the sense, or within its sphere, in order to their being perceived. Hence, by analogy, we are led to say of everything when we think of it, that it is present to the mind, or in the mind. [194] But this presence is metaphorical, or ana- logical only ; and Arnauld calls it objec- tive presence, to distinguish it from that local presence which is required in objects that are perceived by sense. But both being called bv the same name, they are confounded together, and those things that be'.ong only to real or local presence, are attributed to the metaphorical. We are likewise accustomed to see objects by their images in a mirror, or in water ; and hence are led, by analogy, to think that objects may be presented to the memory or imagination in some similar manner, by images, which] philosopher have called ideas. By such prejudices and analogies, Arnauld conceives, men have been led to believe that the objects of memory and imagination must be presented to the mind by images or ideas ; and the philosophers have been more carried away by these prejudices than even the vulgar, because the use made of this theory was to explain and account for the various operations of the mind — a matter in which the vulgar take no concern. He thinks, however, that Des Cartes had got the better of these prejudices, and that he uses the word idea as signifying the same thing with perception,* and is, therefore, surprised that a disciple of Des Cartes, and one who was so great an admirer of him as Malebranche was, should be carrh d away by them. It is strange, indeed, that the two most eminent disciples of Des Cartes and his contemporaries should differ eo essentially with regard to his doctrine con- cerning ideas, -f- I shall not attempt to give the reader an account of the continuation of this contro- versy between those two acute philosophers, in the subsequent defences and replies ; be- cause I have not access to see them. After much reasoning, and some animosity, each * I am convinced that in this interpretation of Des Cartes' doctrine, Arnauld is right ; for Des Cartes defines mental ideas — those, to wit, of which we are conscious — to he " Coyitationcs prout sunt tanquam imagines — that is, tnoughts considered in their repre- sentative capacity ; nor is there any passage to be found in the writings ot this philosopher, which, if properly understood, warrants the conclusion, that, by ideas in the mind, he meant aught distinct from the cognitive act. The double use of the term idea by Des Cartes has, however, led Reid and others into a miscon. ception on this point. See Note N. — H. t Reid's own doctrine is far more ambiguous. — H. [193, 1.94] hap. xiii.] OF THE SENTIMENTS OF ANTHONY ARNAULD. 297 continued in his own opinion, and left his antagonist where he found him. [195] Malebran die's opinion of our seeing all things in God, soon died away of itself ; and Arnauld's notion of ideas seems to have been less regarded than it deserved, by the philosophers that came after him ;* per- haps for this reason, among others, that it seemed to be, in some sort, given up by himself, in his attempting to reconcile it to the common doctrine concerning ideas. From the account I have given, one would be apt to conclude that Arnauld totally denied the existence of ideas, in the philosophical sense of that word, and that he adopted the notion of the vulgar, who acknowledge no object of perception but the external object. But he seems very un- willing to deviate so far from the common track, and, what he had given up with one hand, he takes back with the other. For, first. Having defined ideas to be the same thing with perceptions, he adds this qualification to his definition : — " I do not here consider whether there are other things that may be called ideas ; but it is certain there are ideas taken in this sense.*}" I believe, indeed, there is no philosopher who does not, on some occasions, use the word idea in this popular sense. * The opinion of Arnauld in regard to the nature of ideas was by no means overlooked by subsequent philosophers. It is found fully detailed in almost every systematic course or compend of philosoj>hy, which appeared for a long time after its first promul. gation, and in many. of these it is the doctrine. re- commended as the true. Arnauld's was indeed the opinion which latterly prevailed in the Cartesian school. From this it passed into other schools. Leib- nitz, like Arnauld, regarded Ideas, Notions, Repre- sentations, as mere modifications of the mind, (what Ly his disciples, were called material ideas, like the cerebral ideas of Des Cartes, are out ofthe quest ion,) and no cruder opinion than this has ever subse- quently found a footing in any of the German systems, " I don't know," says Mr Stewart, " of any author who, prior to Dr Keicl, has expressed himself on this subject with so much justness and precision as Father Burner, in the following passage of his Treatise on • First Truths :*— " ' If we confine ourselves to what is intelligible in our observations on ideas, we will say, they are nn. thing»but mere modifications of the mind as a think, ing heing. They are called ideas with regard to the object represented ; and perceptions with regard to the faculty representing. It is manifest that our ideas, considered in this sense, ate not more distin- guished than motion is from a body moved.' — (P. 311, English Translation.)" — i 1< m. iii. Add. to vol. i. p. 10 In this passage, Burner only repeats thedectrine of Arnauld, in Arnauld's own words. Dr Thomas Brown, on the other hand, has en- deavoured to shew that ths doctrine, (which he identifies with Reid's,) had been long the catholic opinion ; and that Keid, in his attack on the Ide.d system, only refuted what had been already ahn< st universally exploded. In this attempt he is, how- ever, singularly unfortunate; for, with the excep- tion of Crousaz, all the examples he- adduces to evince the prevalence of Arnauld's doctrine are only so many mistakes, so many instances, in fact, which might be alleged in confirmation of the very opposite conclusion. See Edinburgh Review, vol. Iii., p. 181- iy6.-H. f See following note— H. [195, 19(3] Secondly, He supports this popular sense of the word by the authority of Des Cartes, who, in his demonstration of the existence of God, from the idea of him in our minds, defines an idea thus : — " By the word idea, I understand that form of any thought, by the immediate perception of which I am conscious of that thought ; so that I can ex- press nothing by words, with understanding, without being certain that there is in my mind the idea of that which is expressed by the words." This definition seems, indeed, to be of the same import with that which is given by Arnauld. But Des Cartes adds a qualification to it, which Arnauld, in quoting it, omits ; and which shews that Des Cartes meant to limit his definition to the idea then treated of — that is, to the idea of the Deity ; and that there are other ideas to which this definition does not apply. [ 1 96] For he adds : — " And thus I give the name of idea, not solely to the images painted in the phantasy ; nay, in this place, I do not at all give the name of ideas to those images, in so far as they are painted in the corporeal phantasy that is in some part of the brain, but only in so far as they inform the mind, turning its attention to that part of the brain."* Thirdly, Arnauld has employed the whole of his sixth chapter, to shew that these ways of speaking, common among philosophers — to wit, that we perceive not things imme- diately ; that it is their ideas that are the immediate objects of our thoughts; that it is in the idea of everything that s .we perceive i s properties — are not to be rejected, but are true when rightly understood. He labours to reconcile these expressions to his own definition of ideas, by observing, that every perception and every thought is necessarily conscious of itself, and reflects upon itself ; and that, by this consciousness and reflec- tion, it is its own immediate object. Whence he infers, that the idea — that is, the percep- tion — is the immediate object of perception. This looks like a weak attempt to recon- cile two inconsistent doctrines by one who wishes to hold both.*f- It is true, that con- sciousness always goes along with percep- tion; but they are different operations of the mind, and they have their different objects. Consciousness is not perception, nor is the object of consciousness the object of percel tion. J The same may be sa d of * Des Cartes here refers to the other meaning which he gives to the term idea — that is, to denote the material motion, the organic affection of the biain, of which the mind is not conscious. On Reid's mis- apprehension of the Cartesian doctrine touching this matter, see Note N — H -f Arnauld's attempt is ne ther weak nor inconsist. ent. He had, in tact, a clearer view of the condi- tions of the problem than Reid himself, who has, in fact, confound;, d two opposite doctrines. See Note C. — H. % On Reid's error in reducing consciousness to a fpecial faculty, see Note H H. 293 ON THE INTELLECTUAL POWERS. [_ESSAY II. every operation of mind that has an object. Thus, injury is the object of resentment. When I resent an injury, I am conscious of my resentment — that is, my resentment is the immediate and the only object of my consciousness ; but it would be absurd to infer from this, that my resentment is the immediate object of my resentment. [ 1 97 ] Upon the whole, if Arnauld — in conse- quence of his doctrine, that ideas, taken for representative images of external ob- jects, are a mere fiction of the philosophers — had rejected boldly the doctrine of Des Cartes, as well as of the other philosophers, concerning those fictitious beings, and all the ways of speaking that imply their ex- istence, I should have thought him more consistent with himself, and his doctrine concerning ideas more rational and more intelligible than that of any other author of my acquaintance who has treated of the subject.* CHAPTER XIV. REFLECTIONS ON THE COMMON THEORY OF IDEAS. After so long a detail of the sentiments of philosophers, ancient and modern, con- cerning ideas, it may seem presumptuous to call in question their existence. But no philosophical opinion, however ancient, however generally received, ought to rest upon authority. There is no presumption in requiring evidence for it, or in regulat- ing our belief by the evidence we can find. To prevent mistakes, the reader must again be reminded, that if by ideas are meant only the acts or operations of our minds in perceiving, remembering, or ima- gining objects, I am far from calling in question the existence of those acts ; we are conscious of them every day and every hour of life ; and I believe no man of a sound mind ever doubted of the real exist- ence of the operations of mind, of which he is conscious. Nor is it to be doubted that, by the faculties which God has given us, we can conceive things that are absent, as well as perceive those that are within the reach of our senses ; and that such concep- tions may be more or less distinct, and * Reid s discontent with Arnauld the doctrine which, in the for- mer work, he had rejected. With these exceptions, no principle, since the time of Empedocles, by whom it seems first to have been explicitly announced, has been more universally received, than this— that the relation of knowledge infers an analog// of existence. This analogy may be of two degrees. What knoivs, and tchat is knov:n, may be either similar or the same; and, i the principle itself be admitted, the latter alternative is the more philosophical. Without entering on details, I may here notice some of the more remarkable results of this principle, in both its degrees. The general principle, not, indeed, exclu. sively, but mainly, determined the admission of a representative perception, by disallowing the possibil- ity of any consciousness, or immediate knowledge of matter, by a nature so different from it as mind ; and, in its two degrees, it determined thevarions hy- potheses, by which it was attempted to explain the possibility of a representative or mediate perception of the external world. To this principle, in its lower potence— that what knows must be similar in nature to what is immediately known— we owe the intentional species of the Aristotelians, and the ideas of Malebrauche and Berkeley. From this principle, in its higher potence — that what knows must be identical in nature with what is immediately known — there flow the gnostic reasons of the Platonists, the pre-existing forms or species of Tbeophrastus and The. mistius, of Adelandus and Avicenna, the (mental) ideas of Des Cartes and Arnauld, the representations, sensual ideas, , whatever may be Reid's meaning, it is, at best, vague and inexpli- cit— H. 302 ON THE INTELLECTUAL POWERS. [essay II. think of an object, and to act upon it, are very different things. As we have, therefore, no evidence that, in perception, the mind acts upon the object, or the object upon the mind, but strong rea- sons to the contrary, Dr Clarke's argument against our perceiving external objects im- mediately falls to the ground. This notion, that, in perception, the object must be contiguous to the percipient, seems, with many other prejudices, to be borrowed from analogy. In all the external senses, there must, as has been before observed, be some impression made upon the organ of sense by the object, or by something coming from the object. An impression supposes contiguity. Hence we are led by analogy to conceive something similar in the opera- tions of the mind. Many philosophers re- solve almost every operation of mind into impressions and feelings, words manifestly borrowed from the sense of touch. And it is very natural to conceive contiguity neces- sary between that which makes the impres- sion, and that which receives it ; between that which feels, and that which is felt. [206] And though no philosopher will now pre- tend to justify such analogical reasoning as this, yet it has a powerful influence upon the judgment, while we contemplate the operations of our minds, only as they ap- pear through the deceitful medium of such analogical notions and expressions. * When we lay aside those analogies, and reflect attentively upon our perception of the objects of sense, we must acknowledge that, though we are conscious of perceiving objects, we are altogether ignorant how it is brought about ; and know as little how we perceive objects as how we were made. And, if we should admit an image in the mind, or contiguous to it, we know as little how perception may be produced by this image as by the most distant object. Why, therefore, should we be led, by a theory which is neither grounded on evi- dence, nor, if admitted, can explain any one phenomenon of perception, to reject the natural and immediate dictates of those perceptive powers, to which, in the conduct of life, we find a necessity of yielding im- plicit submission ? There remains only one other argument that I have been able to find urged against our perceiving external objects immediately. It is proposed by Mr Hume, who, in the essay already quoted, after acknowledging that it is an universal and primary opi- nion of all men, that we perceive external * It is self-evident that, if a thing is to be an ob- ject immediately known, it must be known as it exists. Now, a body must exist in some definite part of space — in a certain place; it cannot, there- fore, be immediately known as existing, except it be known in its place. But this supposes the mind to be immediately present to it in space.— H. objects immediately, subjoins what fol- lows : — " But this universal and primary opinion of all men is soon destroyed by the slightest philosophy, which teaches us that nothing can ever be present to the mind but an image or perception ; and that the senses are only the inlets through which these images are received, without being ever able to produce any immediate intercourse between the mind and the object. The table, which we see, seems to diminish as we remove farther from it : but the real table, which exists independent of us, suf- fers no alteration. ['207] It was, therefore, nothing but its image which was present to the mind. These are the obvious dictates of reason ; and no man who reflects ever doubted that the existences which we consider, when we say this huvse, and that tree, are nothing but perceptions in the mind, and fleeting copies and representations of other exist- ences, which remain uniform and independ- ent. So far, then, we are necessitated, by reasoning, to depart from the primary in- stincts of nature, and to embrace a new system with regard to the evidence of our senses." We have here a remarkable conflict be- tween two contradictory opinions, wherein all mankind are engaged. On the one side stand all the vulgar, who are unpractised in philosophical reseaches, and guided by the uncorrupted primary instincts of nature. On the other side stand all the philoso- phers, ancient and modern ; every man, without exception, who reflects. In this division, to my great humiliation, I find myself classed with the vulgar. The passage now quoted is all I have found in Mr Hume's writings upon this point : and, indeed, there is more reason- ing in it than I have found in any other author ; I shall, therefore, examine it min- utely. First, He tells us, that " this universal and primary opinion of all men is soon destroyed by the slightest philosophy, which teaches us that nothing can ever be pre- sent to the mind but an image or percep- tion." The phrase of being present to the mind has some obscurity ; but I conceive he means being an immediate object of thought ; an immediate object, for instance, of per- ception, of memory, or of imagination. If this be the meaning, (and it is the only pertinent one I can think of,) there is no more in this passage but an assertion of the proposition to be proved, and an assertion that philosophy teaches it. If this be so, I beg leave to dissent from philosophy till she gives me reason for what she teaches. [208] For, though common sense and my external senses demand my assent to their [-206-208] chap, xiv.] REFLECTIONS ON THE THEORY OF IDEAS. 303 dictates upon their own authority, yet phi- losophy is not entitled to this privilege. But, that I may not dissent from so grave a personage without giving a reason, I give this as the reason of my dissent : — 1 see the sun when he shines ; I remember the battle of Culloden ;* and neither of these objects is an image or perception. He tells us, in the next place, " That the senses are only the inlets through which these images are received." I know that Aristotle and the schoolmen taught that images or species flow from ob- jects, and are let in by the senses, and strike upon the mind ; but this has been so effectu- ally refuted by Des Cartes, by Malebranche, and many others, that nobody now pretends to defend it. Reasonable men consider it as one of the most unintelligible and un- meaning parts of the ancient system. To what cause is it owing that modern philo- sophers are so prone to fall back into this hypothesis, as if they really believed it ? For, of this proneness I could give many instances besides this of Mr Hume ; and I take the cause to be, that images in the mind, and images let in by the senses, are so nearly allied, and so strictly connected, that they must stand or fall together. The old system consistently maintained both : but the new system has rejected the doc- trine of images let in by the senses, hold- ing, nevertheless, that there are images in the mind ; and, having made this unnatural divorce of two doctrines which ought not to be put asunder, that which they have retained often leads them back involun- tarily to that which they have rejected. Mr Hume surely did not seriously be- lieve that an image of sound is let in by the ear, an image of smell by the nose, an image of hardness and softness, of solidity and resistance, by the touch. For, besides the absurdity of the thing, which has often been shewn, Mr Hume, and all modern philosophers, maintain that the images which are the immediate objects of perception have no existence when they are not per- ceived ; whereas, if they were let in by the senses, they must be, before they are per- ceived, and have a separate existence. [209] He tell us, farther, that philosophy teaches that the senses are unable to produce any immediate intercourse between the mind and the object. Here, I still require the reasons that philosophy gives for this ; for, to my apprehension, I immediately per- ceive external objects, and this, I conceive is the immediate intercourse here meant. Hitherto I see nothing that can be called * The sun can be no immediate object of conscious- ) ess in perception, but only certain rays in connec- tion with the eye. The battle of Culloden can be no immediate object of consciousness in recollection, but only a certain representation by the mind itself.— H. an argument. Perhaps it was intended only for illustration. The argument, the only argument, follows : — The table which we see, seems to dimin- ish as we remove farther from it ; but the real table, which exists independent of us suffers no alteration. It was, therefore, nothing but its image which was presented to the mind. These are the obvious dic- tates of reason. To judge of the strength of this argu- ment, it is necessary to attend to a distinc- tion which is familiar to those who are con- versant in the mathematical sciences — I mean the distinction between real and ap- parent magnitude. The real magnitude of a line is measured by some known measure of length — as inches, feet, or miles : the real magnitude of a surface or solid, by known measures of surface or of capacity. This magnitude is an object of touch only, and not of sight ; nor could we even have had any conception of it, without the sense of touch ; and Bishop Berkeley, on that account, calls it tangible magnitude * Apparent magnitude is measured by the angle which an object subtends at the eye. Supposing two right lines drawn from the eye to the extremities of the object making an angle, of which the object is the sub- tense, the apparent magnitude is measured by this angle. [210] This apparent mag- nitude is an object of sight, and not of touch. Bishop Berkeley calls it visible magnitude. If it is asked what is the apparent mag- nitude of the sun's diameter, the answer is, that it is about thirty-one minutes of a degree. But, if it is asked what is the real magnitude of the sun's diameter, the answer must be, so many thousand miles, or so many diameters of the earth. From which it is evident that real magnitude, and apparent magnitude, are things of a different nature, though the name of magnitude is given to both. The first has three dimen- sions, the last only two ; the first is mea- sured by a line, the last by an angle. From what has been said, it is evident that the real magnitude of a body must continue unchanged, while the body is unchanged. This we grant. But is it likewise evident, that the apparent mag- * The doctrine of Reid — that real magnitude or extension .is the object of touch, and of touch alone— is altogether untenable. For, in the first place, mag- nitude appears greater or less in proportion to the different size of the tactile organ in different subjects ; thus, an apple is larger to the hand of a child than to the hand of an adult. Touch, therefore, can, at best, afford a knowledge of the relation of magnitudes, in proportion to the organ of this or that individual. Kut, in the second place, even in the same individual, the same object appears greater or less, according as it is w.uched by one part of the body or by another. On this subject, see Weber's " Annotationes de Pulsu, Resorptione, Auditu et Tactu ;" J.eipsic, 18W.-H. [209, 210] 304 ON THE INTELLECTUAL POWERS. [essay II nitude must continue the same while the body is unchanged ? So far otherwise, that every man who knows anything of mathematics can easily demonstrate, that the same individual object, remaining in the same place, and unchanged, must neces- sarily vary in its apparent magnitude, ac- cording as the point from which it is seen is more or less distant ; and that its appa- rent length or breadth will be nearly in a reciprocal proportion to the distance of the spectator. This is as certain as the princi- ples of geometry.* We must likewise attend to this — that, though the real magnitude of a body is not originally an object of sight, but of touch, yet we learn by experience to judge of the real magnitude in many cases by sight. We learn by experience to judge of the distance of a body from the eye within cer- tain limits ; and, from its distance and ap- parent magnitude taken together, we learn to judge of its real magnitude. [211] And this kind of judgment, by being repeated every hour and almost every minute of our lives, becomes, when we are grown up, so ready and so habitual, that it very much resembles the original perceptions of our senses, and may not improperly be called acquired, pei ception. Whether we call it judgment or acquired perception is a verbal difference. But it is evident that, by means of it, we often dis- cover by one sense things which are pro- perly and naturally the objects of another. Thus I can say, without impropriety, I hear a drum, I hear a great bell, or I hear a small bell; though it is certain that the figure or size of the sounding body is not originally an object of hearing, 'in like manner, we learn by experience how a body of such a real magnitude and at such a distance appears to the eve. But neither its real magnitude, nor its distance from the eye, are properly objects of sight, any more than the form of a drum or the size of a bell, are properly objects of hearing. If these things be considered, it will ap- pear that Mr Hume's argument hath no force to support his conclusion — nay, that it leads to a contrary conclusion. The argu- ment is this : the table we see seems to di- minish as we remove farther from it ; that is, its apparent magnitude is diminished; but the real table suffers no alteration — to wit, in its real magnitude ; therefore, it is * The whole confusion and difficulty in this mar. ter arises from not determining what is the true object in visual .perception. This is not any distant thing, but merely the rays of light in immediate relation to the organ. We therefore, see a different object at every movement, by which a different complement of rays is reflected to the eye. The things from which these rays are reflected are not, in truth, perceived at all ; and to conceive tjiem as objects of perceptiou is therefore erroneous, and productive of error. — H. not the real table we see. I admit both the premises in this syllogism, but I deny the conclusion. The syllogism has what the logicians call two middle terms : apparent magnitude is the middle term in the first premise ; real magnitude in the second. Therefore, according to the rules of logic, the conclusion is not justly drawn from the premises ; but, laying aside the rules of logic, let us examine it by the light of com- mon sense. Let us suppose, for a moment, that it is the real table we. see : Must not this real table seem to diminish as we remove farther from it ? It is demonstrable that it must. How then can this apparent diminution be an argument that it is not the real table ? [212] When that which must happen to the real table, as we remove farther from it, does actually happen to the table we see, it is ab- surd to conclude from this, that it is not the real table we see.* It is evident, therefore, that this ingenious author has imposed upon himself by confounding real magnitude with apparent magnitude, and that his argument is a mere sophism. I observed that Mr Hume's argument not only has no strength to support his con- clusion, but that it leads to the contrary con- clusion — to wit, that it is the real table we see ;* for this plain reason, that the table we see has precisely that apparent magni- tude which it is demonstrable the real table must have when placed at that distance. This argument is made much stronger by considering that the real table may be placed successively at a thousand different dis- tances, and, in every distance, in a thousand different positions ; and it can be deter- mined demonstratively, by the rules of geometry and perspective, what must be its apparent magnitude and apparent figure, in each of those distances and positions. Let the table be placed successively in as many of those different distances and different po- sitions as you will, or in them all ; open your eyes and you shall see a table pre- cisely of that apparent magnitude, and that apparent figure, which the real table must have in that distance and in that position. Is not this a strong argument that it is the real table you see ?* In a word, the appearance of a visible object is infinitely diversified, according to its distance and position. The visible ap- pearances are innumerable, when we con- fine ourselves to one object, and they are multiplied according to the variety of ob- jects- Those appearances have been mat- ter of speculation to ingenious men, at least since the time of Euclid. They have ac- counted for all this variety, on the suppo- sition that the objects we see are external, See last note.— H. [211, 212] chap, xiv.] REFLECTIONS ON THE THEORY OF IDEAS. 305 and not in the mind itself. [213] The rules they have demonstrated about the various projections of the sphere, about the appear- ances of the planets in their progressions, stations, and retrogradations, and all the rules of perspective, are built on the suppo- sition that the objects of sight are external. They can each of them be tried in thousands of instances. In many arts and professions, innumerable trials are daily made ; nor were they ever found to fail in a single in- stance. Shall we say that a false supposi- tion, invented by the rude vulgar, has been so lucky in solving an infinite number of phaenomena of nature ? This, surely, would be a greater prodigy than philosophy ever exhibited : add to this, that, upon the con- trary hypothesis — to wit, that the objects of sight are internal — no account can be given of any one of those appearances, nor any physical cause assigned why a visible object should, in any one case, have one apparent figure and magnitude rather than another. Thus, I have considered every argument I have found advanced to prove the exist- ence of ideas, or images of external things, in the mind ; and, if no better arguments can be found, I cannot help thinking that the whole history of philosophy has never fur- nished an instance of an opinion so unani- mously entertained by philosophers upon so slight grounds. A third reflection I would make upon this subject is, that philosophers, notwith- standing their unanimity as to the existence of ideas,* hardly agree in any one thing else concerning them. If ideas be not a mere fiction, they must be, of all objects of human knowledge, the things we have best access to know, and to be acquainted with ; yef there is nothing about which men differ so much. Some have held them to be self-existent, others to be in the Divine mind, others in our own minds, and others in the brain or sensorium. I considered the hypothesis of images in the brain, in the fourth chapter of this essay. As to images in the mind, if anything more is meant by the image of an object in the mind than the thought of that object, I know not what it means. [214] The distinct conception of an object may, in a metaphorical or analogical sense, be called an image of it in the mind. But this image is only the conception of the object, and not the object conceived. It is an act of the mind, and not the object of that act.-f- Some philosophers will have our ideas, or a part of them, to be innate ; others will have them all to be adventitious : some de- rive them from the senses alone ; others from sensation and reflection : some think » This unanimity did, not exist.— H. t See Notes B and C — H. '213-215] they are fabricated by the mind itself; others that they are produced by externa objects ; others that they are the immediate operation of the Deity; others say, that impressions are the causes of ideas, and that the causes of impressions are unknown : some think that we have ideas only of ma- terial objects, but none of minds, of their operations, or of the relations of things ; others will have the immediate object of every thought to be "an idea : some think we have abstract ideas, and that by this chiefly we are distinguished from the brutes ; others maintain an abstract idea to be an absurdity, and that there can be no such thing : with some they are«the immediate ob- jects of thought, with others the only objects. A fourth reflection is, that ideas do not make any of the operations of the mind to be better understood, although it was pro- bably with that view that they have been first invented, and afterwards so generally received. We are at a loss to know how we per- ceive distant objects ; how we remember things past ; how we imagine things that have no existence. Ideas in the mind seem to account for all these operations : they are all by the means of ideas reduced to one operation — to a kind of feeling, or imme- diate perception of things present and in contact with the percipient ; and feeling is an operation so familiar that we think it needs no explication, but may serve to ex- plain other operations. [215] But this feeling, or immediate percep- tion, is as difficult to be comprehended as the things which we pretend to explain by it. Two things may be in contact without any feeling or perception ; there must therefore be in the percipient a power to feel or to perceive. How this power is pro- duced, and how it operates, is quite beyond the reach of our knowledge. As little can we know whether this power must be limited to things present, and in contact with us. Nor can any man pretend to prove that the Being who gave us the power to« perceive things present, may not give us the power to perceive things that are distant,* to re- member things past, and to conceive things that never existed. Some philosophers have endeavoured to make all our senses to be only different modifications of touch ;-}- a theory which serves only to confound things that are dif- ferent, and to perplex and darken things that are clear. The theory of ideas resembles this, by reducing all the operations of the * An immediate perception of things distant, is a contradiction in terms. — H. t It an immediate perception be supposed, it can only be rationally supposed of objects as in contact with the organs of sense. But, in this case, all the senses would, as Democritus held, be, in a certain sort, only modifications of touch.— H. X 306 ON THE INTELLECTUAL POWERS. [essay it. human understanding to the perception of ideas in our own minds. This power of perceiving ideas is as inexplicable as any of the powers explained by it : and the con- tiguity of the object contributes nothing at all to make it better understood ; because there appears no connection between con- tiguity and perception, but what is grounded on prejudices drawn from some imagined similitude between mind and body, and from the supposition that, in perception, the object acts upon the mind, or the mind upon the object. We have seen how this theory has led philosophers to confound those operations of mind, which experience teaches all men to be different, and teaches them to distinguish in common language ; and that it has led them to invent a lan- guage inconsistent with the principles upon which all language is grounded. The last reflection I shall make upon this theory, is — that the natural and necessary consequences of it furnish a just prejudice against it to every man who pays a due re- gard to the common sense of mankind. [216] Not to mention that it led the Pytha- goreans and Plato to imagine that we see only the shadows of external things, and not the things themselves,* and that it gave rise to the Peripatetic doctrine of sensible species, one of the greatest absurdities of that ancient system, let us only consider the fruits it has produced since it was new- modelled by Des Cartes. That great re- former in philosophy saw the absurdity of the doctrine of ideas coming from external objects, and refuted it effectually, after it had been received by philosophers forHhou- sands of years ; but he still retained ideas in the brain and in the mind.-j- Upon this foundation all our modern systems of the powers of the mind are built. And the tot- tering state of those fabrics, though built by skilful hands, may give a strong suspicion of the unsoundness of the foundation. It was this theory of ideas that led Des Cartes, and those that followed him, to think it necessary to prove, by philosophical argu- ments, the existence of material objects. And who does not see that philosophy must make a very ridiculous figure in the eyes of sensible men, while it is employed in muster- ing up metaphysical arguments, to prove that there is a sun and a moon, an earth and a sea ? Yet we find these truly great men, Des Cartes, Malebranche, Arnauld, and Locke, seriously employing themselves in this argument. % Surely their principles led them to think * See above, p. 262 col. b, note *— .H t See Note N.—H. % If Reid do not allow that we are i mmediately cognitive or conscious of the non-ego, his own doc trine of perception differs not from that of other philosophers in the necessity for this proof — H, that all men, from the beginning of the world, believed the existence of these things upon insufficient grounds, and to think that they would be able to place upon a more rational foundation this universal belief of mankind. But the misfortune is, that all the laboured arguments they have advanced, to prove the existence of those things we see and feel, are mere sophisms : Not one of them will bear examination. I might mention several paradoxes, which Mr Locke, though by no means fond of para- doxes, was led into by this theory of ideas. [217] Such as, that the secondary qualities of body are no qualities of body at all, but sensations of the mind : That the primary qualities of body are resemblances of our sensations : That we have no notion of dur- ation, but from the succession of ideas in our minds : That personal identity consists in consciousness ; so that the same indivi- dual thinking being may make two or three different persons, and several different think- ing beings make one person : That judg- ment is nothing but a perception oi the agreement or disagreement of our ideas. Most of these paradoxes I shall have oc- casion to examine. However, all these consequences of the doctrine of ideas were tolerable, compared with those which came afterwards to be dis- covered by Berkeley and Hume : — That there is no material world : No abstract ideas or notions : That the mind is only a train of related impressions and ideas, with- out any subject on which they may be im- pressed: That there is neither space nor time, body nor mind, but impressions and ideas only : And, to sum up all, That there is no probability, even in demonstration it- self, nor any one proposition more probable than its contrary. These are the noble fruits which have grown upon this theory of ideas, since it began to be cultivated by skilful hands. It is no wonder that sensible men should be disgusted at philosophy, when such wild and shocking paradoxes pass under its name. However, as these paradoxes have, with great acuteness and ingenuity, been deduced by just reasoning from the theory of ideas, they must at last bring this advantage, that positions so shocking to the common sense of mankind, and so contrary to the decisions of all our intellectual powers, will open men's eyes, and break the force of the prejudice which hath held them entangled in that theory. [218] CHAPTER XV. ACCOUNT OF THE SYSTEM OF LEIBNITZ. There is yet another system concerning perception, of which I shall give some ac- [216-218] chap, xv.] ACCOUNT OF THE SYSTEM OF LEIBNITZ. 307 count, because of the fame of its author. It is the invention of the famous German phi- losopher Leibnitz, who, while he lived, held the .first rank among the Germans in all parts of philosophy, as well as in mathe- matics, in jurisprudence, in the knowledge of antiquities, and in every branch both of science and of literature. He was highly respected by emperors, and by many kings and princes, who bestowed upon him singu- lar marks of their esteem. He was a par- ticular favourite of our Queen Caroline, consort of George II., with whom he con- tinued his correspondence by letters, after she came to the crown of Britain, till his death. The famous controversy between him and the British mathematicians, whether he or Sir Isaac Newton was the inventor of that noble improvement in mathematics, called by Newton, the method of fluxions, and by Leibnitz the differential method, engaged the attention of the mathematicians in Europe for several years. He had likewise a controversy with the learned and judicious Dr Samuel Clarke, about several points of the Newtonian philosophy which he dis- approved. The papers which gave occasion to- this controversy, with all the replies and rejoinders, had the honour to be transmitted from the one party to the other, through the hands of Queen Caroline, and were afterwards published. His authority, in all matters of philoso- phy, is still so great in most parts of Ger- many, that they are considered as bold spirits, and a kind of heretics, who dissent from him in anything. [219] Carolus - Wolfius, the most voluminous writer in philosophy of this age, is considered as the great interpreter and advocate of the Leib- nitzian system, and reveres as an oracle whatever has dropped from the pen of Leibnitz. This author proposed two great works upon the mind. The first, which I have seen, he published with the title of " Psychologia Empirica, seu Experiment- alis."-f- The other was to have the title of " Psychologia Rationalis ;" and to it he refers for his explication of the theory of Leibnitz with regard to the mind. But whether it was published I have not learn- ed.* I must, therefore, take the short account I am to give of this system from the writ- ings of Leibnitz himself, without the light which his interpreter Wolfius may have thrown upon it. i Leibnitz conceived the whole universe, * His name was Christian. — H. + This title is incorrect. It is "Psychologia Em- pirica methodo scientifica pertractata," &c The work appeared in 1732.— H. t It waspiblished-in 1734. Such careless ignorance of the most distinguished works on. the subject of an author's speculations, is peculiarly British. — H. [219,220] bodies as well as minds, to be made up of monads — that is, simple substances, each of which is, by the Creator, in the begin- ning of its existence, endowed with certain active and perceptive powers. A monad, therefore, is an active substance, simple, without parts or figure, which has within itself the power to produce all the changes it undergoes from the beginning of its ex- istence to eternity. The changes which the monad undergoes, of what kind soever, though they may seem to us the effect of causes operating from without, yet they are only the gradual and successive evolu- tions of its own internal powers, which would have produced all the same changes and motions, although there had been no other being in the universe. Every human soul is a monad joined to an organized body, which organized body consists of an infinite number of monads, each having some degree of active and of perceptive power in itself. But the whole machine of the body has a relation to that monad which we call the soul, which is, as it were, the centre of the whole. [220] As the universe is completely filled with monads, without any chasm or void, and thereby every body acts upon every other body, according to its vicinity or distance, and is mutually reacted upon by every other body, it follows, says Leibnitz, that every monad is a kind of living mirror, which re- flects the whole universe, according to its point of view, and represents the whole more or less distinctly. I cannot undertake to reconcile this part of the system with what was before men- tioned — to wit, that every change in a monad is the evolution of its own original powers, and would have happened though no other substance had been created. But, to proceed. There are different orders of monads, some higher and others lower. The higher orders he calls dominant ; such is the hu- man soul. The monads that compose the organized bodies of men, animals, and plants, are of a lower order, and subservient to the dominant monads. But every monad, of whatever order, is a complete substance in itself — indivisible, having no parts ; inde- structible, because, having no parts, it can- not perish by any kind of decomposition ; it can only perish by annihilation, and we have no reason to believe that God will ever annihilate any of the beings which he has made. The monads of a lower order may, by a regular evolution of their powers, rise to a higher order. They may successively be joined to organized bodies, of various forms and different degrees of perception ; but they never die, nor cease to be in some de- gree active and percipient. x2 303 ON THE INTELLECTUAL POWERS. £essay (I. This philosopher makes a distinction be- tween perception and what he calls apper- ception. The first is common to all monads, the last proper to the higher orders, among which are human souls. [221] By apperception he understands that de- gree of perception which reflects, as it were, upon itself; by which we are conscious of our own existence, and conscious of our perceptions ; by which we can reflect upon the operations of our own minds, and can comprehend abstract truths. The mind, in many operations, he thinks, particularly in sleep, and in many actions common to us with the brutes, has not this apperception, although it is still filled with a multitude of obscure and indistinct perceptions, of which we are not conscious. He conceives that our bodies and minds are united in such a manner that neither has any physical influence upon the other. Each performs all its operations by its own internal springs and powers ; yet the oper- ations of one correspond exactly with those of the other, by a pre-established harmony ; just as one clock may be so adjusted as to keep time with another, although each has its own moving power, and neither receives any part of its motion from the other. So that, according to this system, all our perceptions of external objects would be the same, though external things had never existed ; our perception of them would con- tinue, although, by the power of God, they should this moment be annihilated. We do not perceive external things because they exist, but because the soul was originally so constituted as to produce in itself all its successive changes, and all its successive perceptions, independently of the external objects. Every perception or apperception, every operation, in a word, of the soul, is a neces- sary consequence of the state of it imme- diately preceding that operation ; and this state is the necessary consequence of the state preceding it ; and so backwards, until you come to its first formation and consti- tution, which produces, successively and by necessary consequence, all its succes- sive states to the end of its existence ; [222] so that, in this respect, the soul, and every monad, may be compared to a watch wound up, which, having the spring of its motion in itself, by the gradual evolution of its own spring, produces all the successive motions we observe in it. In this account of Leibnitz's system con- cerning monads and the pre-established harmony, I have kept, as nearly as I could, to his own expressions, in his " New System of the Nature and Communication of Sub- stances, and of the Union of Soul and Body ;" and in the several illustrations of that new system which he afterwards pub- lished ; and in his " Principles of Nature and Grace founded in Reason." I shall now make a few remarks upon this system. 1. To pass over the irresistible necessity of all human actions, which makes a part of this system, that will be considered in an- other place, 1 observe, first, that the dis- tinction made between perception and ap- perception is obscure and unphilosophical. As far as we can discover, every operation of our mind is attended with consciousness, and particularly that which we call the per- ception of external objects ; and to speak of a perception of which we are not conscious, is to speak without any meaning. As consciousness is the only power by which we discern the operations of our own minds, or can form any notion of them, an operation of mind of which we are not con- scious, is, we know not what ; and to call such an operation by the name of perception, is an abuse of language. No man can per- ceive an object without being conscious that he perceives it. No man can think without being conscious that he thinks. What men are not conscious of, cannot therefore, with- out impropriety, be called either perception or thought of any kind. And, if we will suppose operations of mind of which we are not conscious, and give a name to such creatures of our imagination, that name must signify what we know nothing about.* [223] 2. To suppose bodies organized or un- organized, to be made up of indivisible monads which have no parts, is contrary to all that we know of body. It is essential to a body to have parts ; and every part of a body is a body, and has parts also. No number of parts, without extension or figure, not even an infinite number, if we may use ' that expression, can, by being put together, make a whole that has extension and figure, which all bodies have. 3. It is contrary to all that we know of bodies, to ascribe to the monads, of which they are supposed to be compounded, per- ception and active force. If a philosopher thinks proper to say, that a clod of earth both perceives and has active force, let him bring his proofs. But he ought not to expect that men who have understanding will so far give it up as to receive without proof whatever his imagination may sug- gest. 4. This system overturns all authority of our senses, and leaves not the least ground to believe the existence of the objects of * The .language in which Leibnitz expresses his doctrine of latent modifications of mind, which, though out of consciousness, manifest their existence in their effects, is objectionable; the doctrine itself is not only true but of the very highest importance in psychology, although it has never yet been appreci- ated or even,understood by any writer on philosophy in this island. — H. [221-223] ohap. xv.] ACCOUNT OF THE SYSTEM OF LEIBNITZ. 209 sense, or the existence of anything which depends upon the authority of our senses ; for our perception of objects, according to this system, has no dependence upon any- thing external, and would be the same as it is, supposing external objects had never existed, or that they were from this moment annihilated. It is remarkable that Leibnitz's system, that of Malebranche, and the common sys- tem of ideas or images of external objects in the mind, do all agree in overturning all the authority of our senses ; and this one thing, as long as men retain their senses, will always make all these systems trulv ridiculous. 5. The last observation I shall make upon this system, which, indeed, is equally applicable to all the systems of Perception 1 have mentioned, is, that it is all hypo- thesis, made up of conjectures and suppo- sitions, without proof. The Peripatetics supposed sensible species to be sent forth by the objects of sense. The moderns sup- pose ideas in the brain.or in the mind. [224] Malebranche supposed that we perceive the ideas of the Divine mind. Leibnitz supposed monads and a pre-established har- mony; and these monads being creatures of his own making, he is at liberty to give them what properties and powers his fancy may suggest. In like manner, the Indian philosopher supposed that the earth is sup- ported by a huge elephant, and that the elephant stands on the back of a huge tor- toise. * Such suppositions, while there is no proof of them offered, are nothing but the fictions of human fancy ; and we ought no more to believe them, than we believe Homer's fictions of Apollo's silver bow, or Minerva's shield, or Venus's girdle. Such fictions in poetry are agreeable to the rules of art : they are intended to please, not to convince. But the philosophers would ha/e us to believe their fictions, though tfie ? scoxrnt they give of the phenomena of nat ire has commonly no more probability .nan the account that Homer gives of the plague in the Grecian camp, from Apollo taking his station on a neighbouring mountain, and from his silver bow letting fly his swift arrows into the camp. Men then only begin to have a true taste in philosophy, when they have learned to hold hypotheses in just contempt ; and to consider them as the reveries of speculative men, which will never have any similitude to the works of God. * It is a disputed point whether Leibnitz were serious in his nionadology and pre established har- mony. — H. [224-226J The Supreme Being has given us some intelligence of his works, by what our senses inform us of external things, and by what our consciousness and reflection inform us concerning the operations of our own minds. Whatever can be inferred from these com- mon informations, by just and sound reason- ing, is true and legitimate philosophy : but wl/at we add to this from conjecture is all s/ urious and illegitimate. [225] After this long account of the theories idvanced by philosophers, to account for our perception of external objects, I hope it will appear, that neither Aristotle's theory of sensible species, nor Malebranche's of our seeing things in God, nor the common theory of our perceiving ideas in our own minds, nor Leibnitz's theory of monads and a pre-established harmony, give any satisfying account of this power of the mind, or make it more intelligible than it is without their aid. They are conjectures, and, if they were true, would solve no diffi- culty, but raise many new ones. It is, therefore, more agreeable to good sense and to sound philosophy, to rest satisfied with what our consciousness and attentive reflection discover to us> of the nature of perception, than, by inventing hypotheses, to attempt to explain things which are above the reach of human understanding. I believe no man is able to explain how we perceive external objects, any more than how we are conscious of those that are internal. Perception, consciousness, me- mory, and imagination, are all original and simple powers of the mind, and parts of its constitution. For this reason, though I have endeavoured to shew that the theories of philosophers on this subject are ill grounded and insufficient, I do not attempt to substitute any other theory in their place. Every man feels that perception gives him an invincible belief of the existence of that which he perceives ; and that this belief is not the effect of reasoning, but the immediate consequence of perception.* When philosophers have wearied them- selves and their readers with their specula- tions upon this subject, they can neither strengthen this belief, nor weaken it ; nor can they shew how it is produced. It puts the philosopher and the peasant upon a level ; and neither of them .can give any other reason for believing his senses, than that he finds it impossible for him to do otherwise. [226] * In an immediate perception of external things, the belief of their existence would not be a conse- quence of the perception, but be involved in the per. ception itself.— H. 310 ON THE INTELLECTUAL POWERS. [essay II. CHAPTEK XVI. OF SENSATION. Having finished what I intend, with regard to that act of mind which we call the perception of an external object, I proceed to consider another, which, by our constitution, is conjoined with perception, and not with perception only, but with many other acts of our minds ; and that is sensation. To prevent repetition, I must refer the reader to the explication of this word given in Essay I., chap. i. Almost all our perceptions have corre- sponding sensations which constantly ac- company them, and, on that account, are very apt to be confounded with them. Neither ought we to expect that the sens- ation, and its corresponding perception, should be distinguished in common lan- guage, because the purposes of common life do not require it. Language is made to serve the purposes of ordinary conversa- tion ; and we have no reason to expect that it should make distinctions that are not of common use. Hence it happens, that a quality perceived, and the sensation . cor- responding to that perception, often go under the same name. This makes the names of most of our sensations ambiguous, and this ambiguity hath very much perplexed philosophers. It will be necessary to give some instances, to illustrate the distinction between our sens- ations and the objects of perception. When I smell a rose, there is in this operation both sensation and perception. The agreeable odour I feel, considered by itself, without relation to any external ob- ject, is merely a sensation. [227] It affects the mind in a certain way ; and this affection of the mind may be conceived, without a thought of the rose, or any other object. This sensation can be nothing else than it is felt to be. Its very essence consists in being felt ; and, when it is not felt, it is not. There is no difference between the sensa- tion and the feeling of it — they are one and the same thing. It is for this reason that we before observed that, in sensation, there is no object distinct from that act of the mind by which it is felt — and this holds true with regard to all sensations. Let us next attend to the perception which we have in smelling a rose. Percep- tion has always an external object ; and the object of my perception, in this case, is that quality in the rose which I discern by the sense of smell. Observing that the agree- able sensation is raised when the rose is near, and ceases when it is removed, I am led, by my nature, to conclude some quality to be in the rose, which is the cause of this sensation. This quality in the rose is the object perceived ; and that act of my mind by which I have the conviction and belief of this quality, is what in this case I call perception.* But it is here to be observed, that the sensation I feel, and the quality in the rose which I perceive, are both called by the same name. The smell of a rose is the name given to both : so that this name hath two meanings ; and the distinguishing its different meanings removes all perplexity, and enables us to give clear and distinct answers to questions about which philoso- phers have held much dispute, -f- Thus, if it is asked, whether the smell be in the rose, or in the mind that feels it, the answer is obvious : That there are two different things signified by the smell of a rose ; one of which is in the mind, and can be in nothing but in a sentient being ; the other is truly and properly in the rose. The sensation which I feel is in my mind. The mind is the sentient being ; and, as the rose is insentient, there can be no sensation, nor anything resembling sensation in it. [228] But this sensation in my mind is occasioned by a certain quality in the rose, which is called by the same name with the sensation, not on account of any similitude, but be- cause of their constant concomitancy. All the names we have for smells, tastes, sounds, and for the various degrees of heat and cold, have a like ambiguity ; and what has been said of the smell of a rose may be applied to them. They signify both a sens- ation, and a quality perceived by means of that sensation. The first is the sign, the last the thing signified. As both are con- joined by nature, and as the purposes of common life do not require them to be dis- joined in our thoughts, they are both ex- pressed by the same name : and this am- biguity is to be found in all languages, be- cause the reason of it extends to all. The same ambiguity is found in the names of such diseases as are indicated by a particular painful sensation : such as the toothache, the headache. The toothache * This paragraph appears to be an explicit disa- vowal of the doctrine of an intuitive or immediate perception. If, from a certain sensible feeling, or sensation, (which is itself cognitive of no object,) 1 am only determined by my nature to conclude that there is some external quality which is the cause of this sensation, and if this quality, thus only known as an inference from its effect, be the object perceived; then is perception not an act immediately cognitive of any existing object, and the object pprceived is, in fact, except as an imaginary something, unknown. — H. + In reference to this and the following paragraphs, I may observe that the distinction of subjective and objective qualities here vaguely attempted, had been already precisely accomplished by Aristotle, in his discrimination of phers. See above, notes at pp 205 and 310, and No e D.— H. + See Note D — H. % The Atomists derived the qualitative attributes of.things from the quantitative — H. \ Still Democritus suppose i certain real or ob- jective causes f >r the subjsct ve differences of our It would seem that, when men began to speculate upon this subject, the primary qualities appeared so clear and manifest that they could entertain no doubt of their existence wherever matter existed ; but the secondary so obscure that they were at a loss where to place them. They used this comparison : as fire, which is neither in the flint nor in the steel, is produced by their collision, so those qualities, though not in bodies, are produced by their impulse upon our senses. [243] This doctrine was opposed by Aristotle. * He believed taste and colour to be substan- tial forms of bodies, and that their species, as well as those of figure and motion, are received by the senses, -f- In believing that what we commonly call taste and colour, is something really inherent in body, and does not depend upon its being tasted and seen, he followed nature. But, in believing that our sensations of taste and colour are the forms or species of those qualities received by the senses, he followed his own theory, which was an ab- surd fiction.-}- Des Cartes not only shewed the absurdity of sensible species received by the senses, but gave a more just and more intelligible account of secondary qualities than had been given before. Mr Locke followed him, and bestowed much pains upon this subject. He was the first, I think, that gave them the name of secondary qualities,^ which has been very gsnerally adopted. He distinguished the sensation from the quality in the body, which is the cause or occasion of that sensation, and shewed that there neither is nor can be any similitude between them.§ By this account, the senses are acquitted of putting any fallacy upon us; the sensation is real, and no fallacy ; the quality in the body, which is the cause or occasion of this sensation, is likewise real, though the nature of it is not manifest to our senses. If we impose upon ourselves, by confounding the j-ensation with the quality that occasions it, this is owing to rash judgment or weak understanding, but not to any false testi- mony of our senses. This account of secondary qualities I take sensations Thus, in the different forms, positions, and relations of atoms, he sought the ground of difference of tastes, colours, heat and cold, &c. See Theophrastus De Sensu, § 65 —Aristotle De Anima, iii. 2.— Galen De Elementis—S\m^\\c\\xs in Phys. Auscult. libros, f. 119, b.— H. * Aristotle admitted that the doctrine in question was true, of colour, taste, &c, as »<*•»•' tvte/yuctv, but not true of them as *«t« $uva/u.iv. See be Anima iii.2 — H. t This is not really Aristotle's doctrine.— H. t Locke only gave a new meaning to old terms. The first and second or the primary and secondary qualities of Aristotle, denoted a distinction similar to, but not identical with, that in question— H. § He distinguished nothing which had not been more precisely discriminated by Aristotle and the Cartesians. — H. [242, 243] chap, xvn.] OF THE OBJECTS OF PERCEPTION. 317 to be very just ; and if Mr Locke had stopped here, he would have left the matter very clear. But he thought it necessary to introduce the theory of ideas, to explain the distinction between primary and secondary qualities, and by that means, as I think, perplexed and darkened it. When philosophers speak about ideas, we are often at a loss to know what they mean by them, and may be apt to suspect that they are mere fictions, that have no exist- ence. [244] They have told us, that, by the ideas which we have immediately from our senses, they mean our sensations.* These, indeed, are real things, and not fictions. We may, by accurate attention to them, know perfectly their nature ; and, if philo- sophers would keep by this meaning of the word idea, when applied to the objects of sense, they would at least be more intelli- gible. Let us hear how Mr Locke explains the nature of those ideas, when applied to primary and secondary qualities, Book 2, chap 8, § 7j tenth edition. " To discover the nature of our ideas the better, and to discourse of them intelligibly, it will be con- venient to distinguish them, as they are ideas, or perceptions in our minds, and as they are modifications of matter in the bodies that cause such perceptions in us, that so we may not think (as perhaps usually is done) that they are exactly the images and resemblances of something inherent in the subject ; most of those of sensation being, in the mind, no more the likeness of some- thing existing without us, than the names that stand for them are the likeness of our ideas, which yet, upon hearing, they are apt to excite in us." This way of distinguishing a thing, first, as what it is ; and, secondly, as what it is not, is, I apprehend, a very extraordinary way of discovering its nature.-f- And if ideas are ideas or perceptions in our minds, and, at the same time, the modifications of mat- ter in the bodies that cause such percep- tions in us, it will be no easy matter to discourse of them intelligibly. The discovery of the nature of ideas is carried on in the next section, in a manner no less extraordinary. " Whatsoever the mind perceives in itself, or is the immediate object of perception, thought, or under- standing, that I call idea ; and the power to produce any idea in our mind, I call quality of the subject wherein that power is. Thus, a snowball having the power to produce in us the ideas of white, cold, and round — the powers to produce those ideas • The Cartesians, particularly Malebranche, dis- tinguished the Idea and the Feeling (sentiment, se7isa- tio.) Of the primary qualities in their doctrine we have Ideas ; of the secondary, only Feelings.— H. t This and some of the following strictures on Locke are*rather hypercritical— H. [244-246] 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 them sometimes as in the things themselves, I would be understood to mean those quali- ties in the objects which produce them in us." [245] These are the distinctions which Mr Locke thought convenient, in order to dis- cover the nature of our ideas of the quali- ties of matter the better, and to discourse of them intelligibly. I believe it will be difficult to find two other paragraphs in the essay so unintelligible. Whether this is to be imputed to the intractable nature of ideas, or to an oscitancy of the author, with which he is very rarely chargeable, I leave the reader to judge. There are, indeed, seve- ral other passages in the same chapter, in which a like obscurity appears ; but I do not chuse to dwell upon them. The con- clusion drawn by him from the whole is, that primary and secondary qualities are distinguished by this, that the ideas of the former are resemblances or copies of them, but the ideas of the other are not resem- blances of them. Upon this doctrine, I beg leave to make two observations. First, Taking it for granted that, by the ideas of primary and secondary qualities, he means the sensations' they excite in us, I observe that it appears strange, that a^ sensation should be the idea of a quality in body, to which it is acknowledged to bear no resemblance. If the sensation of sound be the idea of that vibration of the sound- ing body which occasions it, a surfeit may, for the same reason, be the idea of a feast. A second observation is, that, when Mr Locke affirms, that the ideas of primary qualities — that is, the sensations* they raise in us — are resemblances of those qualities, he seems neither to have given due atten- tion to those sensations, nor to the nature of sensation in general. [246] Let a man press his hand against a hard body, and let him attend to the sensation he feels, excluding from his thought every thing external, even the body that is the cause of his feeling. This abstraction, in- deed, is difficult, and seems to have been little, if at all practised. But it is not im- possible, and it is evidently the only way to understand the nature of the sensation. A due attention to this sensation will satisfy * Here, as formerly, (vide supra, notes at pp. 208, 290, &c.,) Reid will insist on giving a more limited meaning to the term Sensation than Locke did, and on criticising him by that imposed meaning. The Sensation of Locke was equivalent to the Sensation and Perception of Reid. It is to be observed that Locke did not, like the Cartesians, distinguish the Idea (corresponding to Reid's Perception) from the Feeling (sentiment, sen6::tio) corresponding to Reid'i Sensation. — H. 318 ON THE INTELLECTUAL POWERS. [essay II him that it is no more like hardness in a body than the sensation of sound is like vibration in the sounding body. I know of no ideas but my conceptions ; and my idea of hardness in a body, is the conception of such a cohesion of its parts as requires great force to displace them. I have both the conception and belief of this quality in the body, at the same time that I have the sensation of pain, by pressing my hand against it. The sensation and perception are closely conjoined by my constitution ; but I am sure they have no similitude ; I know no reason why the one should be called the idea of the other, which does not lead us to call every natural effect the idea of its cause. Neither did Mr Locke give due attention to the nature of sensation in general, when he affirmed that the ideas of primary qua- lities — that is, the sensations* excited by them— are resemblances of those quali- ties. That there can be nothing like sensation in an insentient being, or like thought in an unthinking being, is self-evident, and has been shewn, to the conviction of all men that think, by Bishop Berkeley ; yet this was unknown to Mr Locke. It is an humbling consideration, that, in subjects of this kind, self-evident truths may be hid from the eyes of the most ingenious men. But we have, withal, this consolation, that, when once discovered, they shine by their own light : and that light can no more be put out. [247] Upon the whole, Mr Locke, in making secondary qualities to be powers in bodies to excite certain sensations in us, has given a just and distinct analysis of what our senses discover concerning them ; but, in applying the theory of ideas to them and to the primary qualities, he has been led to say things that darken the subject, and that will not bear examination. -|- Bishop Berkeley having adopted the sen- timents common to philosophers, concern- ing the ideas we have by our senses — to wit, that they are all sensations — saw more clearly the necessary consequence of this doctrine ; which is, that there is no material world — bo qualities primary or secondary — and, consequently, no foundation for any dis- tinction between them.:}: He exposed the absurdity of a resemblance between our * No ; not Sensations in Reid's meaning ; but Per- cepts—the immediate objects we are conscious of in the cognitions of sense. — H. 1 The Cartesians did not apply the term ideas to our sensations of the secondary qualities. — H. % See above, p. 142, note *. The mere distinction of primary and secondary qualities, of perception and sensation, is of no importance against Idealism, if the primary qualities as immediately percewed. (i e. as known to consciousness,) be only conceptions, no- tions, or modifications of mind itselt. See following Note— H. sensations and any quality, primary or secondary, of a substance that is supposed to be insentient. Indeed, if it is granted that the senses have no other office but to furnish us with sensations, it will be found impossible to make any distinction between primary and secondary qualities, or even to maintain the existence of a material world. From the account I have given of the various revolutions in the opinions of philo- sophers about primary and secondary qua- lities, I think it appears that all the dark- ness and intricacy that thinking men have found in this subject, and the errors they have fallen into, have been owing to the difficulty of distinguishing clearly sensa- tion from perception — what we feel from what we perceive. The external senses have a double pro- vince — to make us feel, and to make us perceive. They furnish us with a variety of sensations, some pleasant, others painful, and others indifferent ; at the same time, they give us a conception and an invincible belief of the existence of external objects. This conception of external objects is the work of nature. The belief of their exist- ence, which our senses give, is the work of nature ; so likewise is the sensation that accompanies it. This conception and be- lief which nature produces by means of the senses, we call perception.* [248] The feeling which goes along with the percep- tion, we call sensation. The perception and its corresponding sensation are produced at the same time. In our experience we never find them disjoined. Hence, we are led to consider them as one thing, to give them one name, and to confound their different attributes. It becomes very difficult to separate them in thought, to attend to each by itself, and to attribute nothing to it which belongs to the other. To do this, requires a degree of attention to what passes in our own minds, and a talent of distinguishing things that differ, which is not to be expected in the vulgar, and is even rarely found in philosophers ; so that the progress made in a just analysis of the operations of our senses has been very slow. The hypothesis of ideas, so generally adopted, hath, as I apprehend, greatly retarded this progress, and we might hope for a quicker advance, if philosophers could so far humble themselves as to be- lieve that, in every branch of the philosophy of nature, the productions of human fancy and conjecture will be found to be dross ; and that the only pure metal that will en. dure the test, is what is discovered by patient observation and chaste induction. * If the conception, like the belief, be subjective in perception, we have no refuge. from Idealism in this doctrine. See above, the notes at pp. 128-130, 183, &c, and NoteC— H. [247, 248] chap, xviii.] OF OTHER OBJECTS OF PERCEPTION. 319 CHAPTER XVIII. OF OTHER OBJECTS OF PERCEPTION. Besides primary and secondary qualities of bodies, there are many other immediate objects of perception. Without pretending to a complete enumeration, I think they mostly fall under one or other of the follow- ing, classes. 1st, Certain states or condi- tions of our own bodies. 2d, Mechanical powers or forces. 3d, Chemical powers. 4th, Medical powers of virtues. 5th, Vege- table and animal powers. [249] That we perceive certain disorders in our own bodies by means of uneasy sensations, which nature hath conjoined with them, will not be disputed. Of this kind are toothache, headache, gout, and every distemper and hurt which we feel. The notions which our sense gives of these, have a strong analogy to our notions of secondary qualities. Both are similarly compounded, and may be similarly resolved, and they give light to each other. In the toothache, for instance, there is, first,, a painful feeling ; and, secondly, a conception and belief of some disorder in the tooth, which is believed to be the cause of the uneasy feeling.* The first of these is a sensation, the second is perception ; for it includes a conception and belief of an external object. But these two things, though of different natures, are so con- stantly conjoined in our experience and in our imagination, that we consider them as one. We give the same name to both ; for the toothache is the proper name of the pain we feel ; and it is the proper name of the disorder in the tooth which causes that pain. If it should be made a question whether the toothache be in the mind that feels it, or in the tooth that is affected, much might be said on both sides, while it is not observed that the word has two mean- ings, -f* But a little reflection satisfies us, that the pain is in the mind, and the dis- order in the tooth. If some philosopher should pretend to have made the discovery that the toothache, the gout, the headache, are only sensations in the mind, and that it is a vulgar error to conceive that they are distempers of the body, he might defend his system in the same manner as those who affirm that there is no sound, nor colour, nor taste in bodies, defend that para- dox. But both these systems, like most * There is no such perception, properly so called. The cognition is merely an inference from the feeling; and it subject, at least, only some hypothe- tical representation of a really ignotum quid. Here the subjective element preponderates so greatly as almost to extinguish the objective — H. + This is not correct. See above, p. 205, col. b note *, and Note D.—H. [249, 250] paradoxes, will be found to be only an abuse of words. We say that we feci the toothache, not that we perceive it. On the other hand, we say that we perceive the colour of a body, not that we feel it. Can any reason be given for this difference of phraseology ? [250] In answer to this question, I apprehend that, both when we feel the toothache and when we see a coloured body, there is sensa- tion and perception conjoined. But, in the toothache, the sensation being very painful, engrosses the attention ; and therefore we speak of it as if it were felt only, and not perceived : whereas, in seeing a coloured body, the sensation is indifferent, and draws no attention. The quality in the body, which we call its colour, is the only object of attention ; and therefore we speak of it as if it were perceived and not felt. Though all philosophers agree that, in seeing colour there is sensation, it is not easy to persuade the vulgar that, in seeing a coloured body, when the light is not too strong nor the eye inflamed, they have any sensation or feeling at all. There are some sensations, which, though they are very often felt, are never attended to, nor reflected upon. We have no con- ception of them ; and, therefore, in language there is neither any name for them, nor any form of speech that supposes their existence. Such are the sensations of colour, and of all primary qualities ; and, therefore, those qualities are said to be perceived, but not to be felt. Taste and smell, and heat and cold, have sensations that are often agreeable or disagreeable, in such a degree as to draw our attention ; and they are sometimes said to be felt, and sometimes to be perceived. When disorders of the body occasion very acute pain, the uneasy sensa- ation engrosses the attention, and they are said to be felt, not to be perceived.* There is another question relating to phraseology, which this subject suggests. A man says, he feels pain in such a parti, cular part of his body ; in his toe for in- stance. Now, reason assures us that pain being a sensation, can only be in the sen- tient being, as its subject- — that is, in the mind. And, though philosophers have dis- puted much about the place of the mind ; yet none of them ever placed it in the toe.-f- * As already repeatedly observed, the objective element (perception) and the subjective element (feeling, sensation) are always in the inverse ratio of each other. This is a law of which Reid and the philosophers were not aware. — H. t Not in the toe-exclusively. But, both in ancient and modern times, the opinion has been held that the mind has as much a local presence in the toe as in the head, the doctrine, indeed, -longgenerally main- tained was, that, in relation to the body, thesoulis all in the whole, and all in every part. On the question of the seat of the soul, which has been marvellously perplexed, I cannot enter. I shall only say, in gene- ral, that the first condition of the possibility of an 320 ON THE INTELLECTUAL POWERS. [ESSAY 12 What shall we say then in this case ? Do our senses really deceive us, and make us believe a thing which our reason determines to be impossible? [251] I answer, first, That, when a man says he has pain in his toe, he is perfectly understood, both by himself and those who hear him. This is all that he intends. He really feels what he and all men call a pain in the toe ; and there is no deception in the matter. Whether, therefore, there be any impropriety in the phrase or not, is of no consequence in com- mon life. It answers all the ends of speech, both to the speaker and the hearers. In all languages there are phrases which have a distinct meaning; while, at the same time, there may be something in the structure of them that disagrees with the analogy of grammar or with the principles of philosophy. And the reason is, because language is not made either by gramma- rians or philosophers. Thus, we speak of feeling pain, as if pain was something dis- tinct from the feeling of it. We speak of pain coming and going, and removing from one place to another. Such phrases are meant by those who use them in a sense that is neither obscure nor false. But the philosopher puts them into his alembic, reduces them to their first principles, draws out of them a sense that was never meant, and so imagines that he has discovered an error of the vulgar. I observe, secondly, That, when we con- sider the sensation of pain by itself, with- out any respect to its cause, we cannot say with propriety, that the toe is either the place or the subject of it. But it ought to be remembered, that, when we speak of pain in the toe, the sensation is combined in our thought, with the cause of it, which really is in the toe. The cause and the eifect are combined in one complex notion, and the same name serves for both. It is the busi- ness of the philosopher to analyse this com- plex notion, and to give different names to its different ingredients. He gives the name of pain to the sensation only, and the name of disorder to the unknown cause of it. Then it is evident that the disorder only is in the toe, and that it would be an error to think that the pain is in it.* But we ought not to ascribe this error to the vulgar, who never made the distinction, and who, under the name of pain, comprehend both the sensation and its cause. -|* [252] immediate, intuitive, or real perception of external things, which our consciousness assures that we pos- sess, is the immediate connection of the cognitive principle with every part of the corporeal organism. — * Only if the toe be considered as a mere material mass, and apart from an animating principle.— H. t That the pain is where it is felt is, however, the doctrine of common sense. We only feel in as much as we have a body and a soul ; we only feel pain in the toe in as much as we have such a member, and in Cases sometimes happen, which give occasion even to the vulgar to distinguish the painful sensation from the disorder which is the cause of it. A man who has had his leg cut off, many years after feels pain in a toe of that leg. The toe has now no existence ; and he perceives easily, that the toe can neither be the place nor the subject of the pain which he feels ; yet it is the same feeling he used to have from a hurt in the toe ; and, if he did not know that his leg was cut off, it would give him the same immediate conviction of some hurt or dis- order in the toe.* The same phenomenon may lead the philosopher, in all cases, to distinguish sens- ation from perception. We say, that the man had a deceitful feeling, when he felt a pain in his toe after the leg was cut off; and we have a true meaning in saying so. But, if we will speak accurately, our sensa- tions cannot be deceitful ; they must be what we feel them to be, and can be no- thing else. Where, then, lies the deeeit ? I answer, it lies not in the sensation, which is real, but in the seeming perception he had of a disorder in his toe. This percep- tion, which Nature had conjoined with the sensation, was, in this instance, fallacious. The same reasoning may be applied to every phenomenon that can, with propriety, be called a deception of sense. As when one who has the jaundice sees a body yellow, which is really white ;-f- or when a man sees an object double, because his eyes are not both directed to it : in these, and other like cases, the sensations we have are real, and the deception is only in the perception which nature has annexed to them. Nature has connected our perception of external objects with certain sensations. If the sensation is produced, the corre- sponding perception follows even when there is no object, and in that case is apt to deceive us. [253] In like manner, nature has connected our sensations with certain impressions that are made upon the nerves and brain ; and, when the impression is made, from whatever cause, the corre- sponding sensation and perception imme- diately follow. Thus, in the man who feels pain in his toe after the leg is cut off, the nerve that went to the toe, part of which was cut off with the leg, had the same impres- sion made upon the remaining part, which, in the natural state of his body, was caused as much as the mind, or sentient principle, pervades it. We just as much feel in the toe as we think in in the head. If (but only if) the latter be a vitium subreptionit, as Kant thinks, so is the former.— H. * This illustration is Des Cartes'. If correct, it only shews that the connection of mind with organ- ization extends from the centre to the circumference of the nervous system, and is not limited to any part.— H. 1 The man does not see the white body at all.— H. [251-253] chap, xvm.] OF OTHER OBJECTS OF PERCEPTION. 321 by a hurt in the toe : and immediately this impression is followed by the sensation and perception which nature connected with it.* In like manner, if the same impressions which are made at present upon my optic nerves by the objects before me, could be made in the dark, I apprehend that I should have the same sensations and see the same objects which I now see. The im- pressions and sensations would in such a case be real, and the perception only fallacious.* Let us next consider the notions which our senses give us of those attributes of bodies called powers. This is the more necessary, because power seems to imply some activity ; yet we consider body as a dead inactive thing, which does not act, but may be acted upon. Of the mechanical powers ascribed to bodies, that which is called their vis insita or inertia, may first be considered. By this is meant, no more than that bodies never change their state of themselves, either from rest to motion, or from motion to rest, or from one degree of velocity or one direction to another. In order to produce any such change, there must be some force impressed upon them ; and the eha'ige produced is precisely proportioned to the force impressed, and in the direction of that force. That all bodies have this property, is a matter of fact, which we learn from daily observation, as well as from the most accu- rate experiments.. [254] Now, it seems plain, that this does not imply any activity in body, but rather the contrary. A power in body to change its state, would much rather imply activity than its continuing in the same state : so that, although this property of bodies is called their vis insita, or vis imrlice, it implies no proper activity. If we consider, next, the power of gravity, it is a fact that all the bodies of our pla- netary system gravitate towards each other. This has been fully proved by the great Newton. But this gravitation is not con- ceived by that philosopher to be a power inherent in bodies, which they exert of themselves, but a force impressed upon them, to which they must necessarily yield. Whether this force be impressed by some subtile aether, or whether it be impressed by the power of the Supreme Being, or of some subordinate spiritual being, we do not know ; but all sound natural philosophy, particu- larly that of Newton, supposes it to be an impressed force, and not inherent in bodies, -f So that, when bodies gravitate, they do * This is a doctrine which cannot be reconciled with that of an intuitive or objective perception. AW here is subjective. — H. f That all activity supposes an immaterial or spi- ritual agent, is an ancient doctrine. It is, however, only an hypothesis. — H. [ aS4-«5tf] not properly act, but are acted upon : they only yield to an impression that is made upon them. It is common in language to express, by active verbs, many changes in things wherein they are merely passive : and this way of speaking is used chiefly when the cause of the change is not obvious to sense. Thus we say that a ship sails, when every man of common sense knows that she has no inherent power of motion and is only driven by wind and tide. In like manner, when we say that the planets gravitate towards the sun, we mean no more but that, by some unknown power, they are drawn or impelled in that direction. What has been said of the power of Gra- vitation may be applied to other mechanical powers, such as cohesion, magnetism, elec- tricity ; and no less to chemical and medical powers. By all these, certain effects are produced, upon the application of one body to another. [255] Our senses discover the effect ; but the power is latent. We know there must be a cause of the effect, and we form a relative notion of it from its effect ; and very often the same name is used to signify the unknown cause, and the known effect. We ascribe to vegetables the powers of drawing nourishment, growing and multi- plying their kind. Here likewise the effect is manifest, but the cause is latent to sense. These powers, therefore, as well as all the other powers we ascribe to bodies, are un- known causes of certain known effects. It is the business of philosophy to investigate the nature of those powers as far as we are able ; but our senses leave us in the dark. We may observe a great similarity in the notions which our senses give us of second- ary qualities, of the disorders we feel in our own bodies, and of the various powers of bodies which we have enumerated. They are all obscure and relative notions, being a conception of some unknown cause of a known effect. Their names are, for the most part, common to the effect and to its cause ; and they are a proper subject of philosophical disquisition. They might, therefore, I think, not improperly be called occult qualities. This name, indeed, is fallen into disgrace since the time of Des Cartes. It is said to have been used by the Peripatetics to cloak their ignorance, and to stop all inquiry into the nature of those qualities called occult. Be it so. Let those answer for this abuse of the word who were guilty of it. To call a thing occult, if we attend to the meaning of the word, is rather modestly to confess ignorance, than to cloak it. It is to point it out as a proper subject for the investiga- tion of philosophers, whose proper business it is to better the condition of humanity, by discovering what was before hid from human knowledge. [256] 322 ON THE INTELLECTUAL POWERS. [essay II. Were I therefore to make a division of the qualities of bodies as they appear to our senses, I would divide them first into those that are manifest and those that are occult. The manifest qualities are those which Mr Locke calls primary ,• such as Extension, Figure, Divisibility, Motion, Hardness, Softness, Fluidity. The nature of these is manifest even to sense : and the business of the philosopher with regard to them, is not to find out their nature, which is well known, but to discover the effects produced by their various combinations ; and, with regard to those of them which are not essential to matter, to discover their causes as far as he is able. The second class consists of occult quali- ties, which may be subdivided into various kinds : as, first, the secondary qualities ; secondly, the disorders we feel in our own bodies ; and, thirdly, all the qualities which we call powers of bodies, whether mechani- cal, chemical, medical, animal, or vegetable; or if there be any other powers not compre- hended under these heads. Of all these the existence is manifest to sense, but the nature is occult ; and here the philosopher has an ample field. What is necessary for the conduct of our animal life, the bountiful Author of Nature hath made manifest to all men. But there are many other choice secrets of Nature, the discovery of which enlarges the power and exalts the state of man. These are left to be discovered by the proper use of our rational powers. They are hid, not that they may be always concealed from human knowledge, but that we may be excited to search for them. This is the proper busi- ness of a philosopher, and it is the glory of a man, and the best reward of his labour, to discover what Nature has thus con- cealed. [257] CHAPTER XIX. OF MATTER AND OF SPACE. The objects of sense we have hitherto considered are qualities. But qualities must have a subject. We give the names of matter, material substance, and bod;:, to the subject of sensible qualities ; and it may be asked what this mat er is. I perceive in a billiard ball, figure, colour, and motion ; but the ball is not figure, nor is it colour, nor motion, nor all these taken together ; it is something that has figure, and colour, and motion. This is a dictate of nature, and the belief of all mankind. As to the nature of this something, I am afraid we can give little account of it, but that it has the qualities which our senses discover. But how do we know that they are qua- lities, and cannot exist without a subject ? I confess I cannot explain how we know that they cannot exist without a subject, any more than I can explain how we know that they exist. We have the information of nature for their existence ; and I think we have the information of nature that they are qualities. The belief that figure, motion, and colour are qualities, and require a subject, must either be a judgment of nature, or it must be discovered by reason, or it must be a prejudice that has no just foundation. There are philosophers who maintain that it is a mere prejudice ; that a body is nothing but a collection of what we call sensible quali- ties ; and that they neither have nor need any subject. This is the opinion of Bishop Berkeley and Mr Hume; and they were led to it by finding that they had not in their minds any idea of substance. [258] It could neither be an idea of sensation nor of reflection. But to me nothing seems more absurd than that there should be extension without anything extended, or motion without any- thing moved ; yet I cannot give reasons for my opinion, because it seems to me self- evident, and an immediate dictate of my nature. And that it is the belief of all mankind, appears in the structure of all languages ; in which we find adjective nouns used to express sensible qualities. It is well known that every adjective in language must belong to some substantive expressed or under- stood — that is, every quality must belong to some subject. Sensible qualities make so great a part of the furniture of our minds, their kinds are so many, and their number so great, that, if prejudice, and not nature, teach us to ascribe them all to a subject, it must have a great work to perform, which cannot be accomplished in a short time, nor carried on to the same pitch in every individual. We should find not individuals only, but nations and ages, differing from each other in the progress which this prejudice had made in their sentiments ; but we find no such difference among men. What one man accounts a quality, all men do, and ever did. It seems, therefore, to be a judgment of nature, that the things immediately per- ceived are qualities, which must belong to a subject ; and all the information that our senses give us about this subject, is, that it is that to which such qualities belong. From this it is evident, that our notion of body or matter, as distinguished from its qualities, is a relative notion;* and I am * That is— our notion of absolute body is relative. This is incorrectly expressed. We can know, we can [257, 258] P. XIX. ] OF MATTER AND OF SPACE. 323 afraid it must always be obscure until men have other faculties. [259] The philosopher, in this, seems to have no advantage above the vulgar ; for, as they perceive colour, and figure, and motion by their senses as well he does, and both are equally certain that there is a subject of those qualities, so the notions which both have of this subject are equally ob- scure. When the philosopher calls it a substratum, and a subject of inhesion, those learned words convey no meaning but what every man understands and expresses, by saying, in common language, that it is a thing extended, and solid, and movable. The relation which sensible qualities bear to their subject — that is, to body — is not, however, so dark but that it is easily dis- tinguished from all other relations. Every man can distinguish it from the relation of an effect to its cause ; of a mean to its end ; or of a sign to the thing signified by it. I think it requires some ripeness of un- derstanding to distinguish the qualities of a body from the body. Perhaps this dis- tinction is not made by brutes, nor by in- fants ; and if any one thinks that this dis- tinction is not made by our senses, but by some other power of the mind, I will not dispute this point, provided it be granted that men, when their faculties are ripe, have a natural conviction that sensible qua- lities cannot exist by themselves without some subject to which they belong. I think, indeed, that some of the determ- inations we form concerning matter can- not be deduced solely from the testimony of sense, but must be referred to some other source. There seems to be nothing more evident than that all bodies must consist of parts ; and that every part of a body is a body, and a distinct being, which may exist without the other parts ; and yet I apprehend this con- clusion is not deduced solely from the testi- mony of sense : for, besides that it is a necessary truth, and, therefore, no object of sense,* there is a limit beyond which we conceive, only what is relative. Our knowledge of qualities or jihcenomena is necessarily relative ; for these exist only as they exist in relation to our facul- ties. The knowledge, or even the conception, of a substance in itself, and apart from any qualities in relation to, and therefore cognisable or conceivable by, our minds, involves a contradiction. Of such we can form only a negative notion ; that is, we can merely conceive it as inconceivable. But to call this ne- gative notion a relative notion, is wrong ; 1°, because all our (positive) notions are relative ; and ', note *.— H. f If tangible figure and extension be only " a more complete conception," &c, it cannot be a cognition of real figure and extension.— II. CHAPTER XX. OF THE EVIDENCE OF SENSE, AND OF BELIEP IN GENERAL. The intention of nature in the powers which we call the external senses, is evident. They are intended to give us that informa- tion of external objects which the Supreme Being saw to be proper for us in our pre- sent state; and they give to all mankind the information necessary for life, without reasoning, without any art or investigation on our part. [268] The most uninstructed peasant has as distinct a conception and as firm a belief of the immediate objects of his senses, as the greatest philosopher ; and with this he rests satisfied, giving himself no concern how he came by this conception and belief. But the philosopher is impatient to know how his conception of external objects, and his belief of their existence, is produced. This, I am afraid, is hid in impenetrable darkness. But where there is no know- ledge, there is the more room for conjecture, and of this, philosophers have always been very liberal. The dark cave and shadows of Plato,* the species of Aristotle,-)* the films of Epicurus, and the ideas and impressions of modern phdosophers.* are the productions of human fancy, successively invented to satisfy the eager desire of knowing how we perceive external objects ; but they are all deficient in the two essential characters of a true and philosophical account of the pboenomenon : for we neither have any evidence of their existence, nor, if they did exist, can it be shewn how they would produce perception. It was before observed, that there are two ingredients in this operation of percep- tion : fix st, the conception or notion of the object ; and, secondly, the belief of its pre- sent existence. Both are unaccountable. That we can assign no adequate cause of our first conceptions of things, I think, is now acknowledged by the most enlightened philosophers. We know that such is our constitution, that in certain circumstances we have certain conceptions ; but how they are produced we know no more than how we ourselves were produced. [269] When we have got the conception of ex« ternal objects by our senses, we can ana- lyse them in our thought into their sim- ple ingredients ; and we can compound those ingredients into various new forms, which the senses never presented. But it is * ?ee p. 262, col. b, note *.— H. \ See Note M.— H. ± By ideas, as repeatedly noticed, Reid under stands always certain representative entities distinct from the knowing mind. [267-2691 XX.] OF THE EVIDENCE OF SENSE, &c. 327 beyond the power of human imagination to form any conception, whose simple ingre- dients have not been furnished by nature in a manner unaccountable to our understanding. We have an immediate conception of the operations of our own minds, joined with a a belief of their existence ; and this we call consciousness. * But this is only giving a name to this source of our knowledge. It is not a discovery of its cause. In like man- ner, we have, by our external senses, a conception of external objects, joined with a belief of their existence ; and this we call perception. But this is only giving a name to another source of our knowledge, without discovering its cause. We know that, when certain impressions are made upon our organs, nerves, and brain, certain corresponding sensations are felt, and certain objects are both conceived and believed to exist. But in this train of operations nature works in the dark. We can neither discover the cause of any one of them, nor any necessary connection of one with another ; and, whether they are connected by any necessary tie, or only conjoined in our constitution by the will of heaven, we know not.-)- That any kind of impression upon a body should be the efficient cause of sensation, ap- pears very absurd. Nor can we perceive any necessary connection between sensation and the conception and belief of an external object. For anything we can discover, we might have been so framed as to have all the sensations we now have by our senses, without any impressions upon our organs, and without any conception of any external object. For anything we know, we might have been so made as to perceive external objects, without any impressions on bodily organs, and without any of those sensa- tions which invariably accompany percep- tion in our present frame. [270] If our conception of external objects be unaccountable, the conviction and belief of their existence, which we get by our senses, is no less so.± * Here consciousness is made to consist in concep- tion. l?ut, as Reid could hardly mean that con- sciousness conceives {i.e., represents) the operations about which it is conversant, and is not intuitively cognisant of them, it would seem that he occasionally employs conception for knowledge. This is of im- portance in explaining favourably Reid's use of the word Conception in relation to Perception. But then, how vague and vacillating is his language! — H. t See p. 257, col. b, note *.— H. ± If an immediate knowledge of external things— that is, a consciousness of the qualities of the non- ego — be admitted, the Lelief of their existence follows of course. On this supposition, therefore, such a belief would not be unaccountable ; for it would be accounted for by the fact of the knowledge in which it would necessarily be contained. Our belief, in this case, of the existence of external objects, would not be more inexplicable than our belief that 2 J- 2 = 4. In both cases it would be sufficient to say, we believe because tve know; for belief is only unaccountable when it is not the consequent or concomitant of [270,271] Belief, assent, conviction, are words which I do not think admit of logical defin- ition, because the operation of mind sig- nified by them is perfectly simple, and of its own kind. Nor do they need to be de- fined, because they are common words, and well understood. Belief must have an object. For he that believes must believe something ; and that which he believes, is called the object of his belief. Of this object of his belief, he must have some conception, clear or ob- scure ; for, although there may be the most clear and distinct conception of an object without any belief of its existence, there can be no belief without conception.* Belief is always expressed in language by a proposition, wherein something is affirmed or denied. This is the form of speech which in all languages is appropriated to that purpose, and without belief there could be neither affirmation nor denial, nor should we have any form of words to express either. Belief admits of all degrees, from the slightest suspicion to the fullest assur- ance. These things are so evident to every man that reflects, that it would be abusing the reader's patience to dwell upon them. I proceed to observe that there are many operations of mind in which, when we analyse them as far as we are able, we find belief to be an essential ingredient. A man cannot be conscious of his own thoughts, without believing that he thinks. He can- not perceive an object of sense, without be- lieving that it exists.-]- He cannot distinctly remember a past event, without believing that it did exist. Belief therefore is an ingredient in consciousness, in perception, and in remembrance. [271] Not only in most of our intellectual oper- ations, but in many of the active princi- ples of the human mind, belief enters as an ingredient. Joy and sorrow, hope and fear, imply a belief of good or ill, either pre- sent or in expectation. Esteem, gratitude, pity, and resentment, imply a belief of cer- tain qualities in their objects. In every action that is done for an end, there must be a belief of its tendency to that end. So large a share has belief in our intellectual knowledge. By this, however, I do not, of course, mean to say that knowledge is not in itself marvel- lous and unaccountable. This statement of Keid again favours the opinion that his doctrine of percep- tion is not really immediate.— H. * Is conception here equivalent to knowledge or to thouaht?— H. t Mr Stewart (Elem. I., ch.iii., p. 146, and Essays, II., ch. ii., p. 79, sq.) proposes a supplement to this doctrine of Keid, in order to explain why we believe in the existence of the qualities of external objects when they are not the objects of our perception. This belief he holds to be the result of experience, in combination with an original principle ot our consti- tution, whereby we ate determined to believe in the permanence of the laws of nature.— H 328 ON THE INTELLECTUAL POWERS. [essay II. operations, in our active principles, and in our actions themselves, that, as faith in things divine is represented as the main spring in the life of a Christian, so belief in general is the main spring in the life of aman. That men often believe what there is no just ground to believe, and thereby are led into hurtful errors, is too evident to be denied. And, on the other hand, that there are just grounds of belief can as little be doubted by any man who is not a perfect sceptic. We give the name of evidence to what- ever is a ground of belief. To believe with- out evidence is a weakness which every man is concerned to avoid, and which every man wishes to avoid. Nor is it in a man's power to believe anything longer than he thinks he has evidence. What this evidence is, is more easily felt than described. Those who never reflected upon its nature, feel its influence in govern- ing their belief. It is the business of the logician to explain its nature, and to dis- tinguish its various kinds and degrees ; but every man of understanding can judge of it, and commonly judges right, when the evi- dence is fairly laid before him, and his mind is free from prejudice. A man who knows nothing of the theory of vision may have a good eye; and a man who never speculated about evidence in the abstract may have a good judgment. [272] The common occasions of life lead us to distinguish evidence into different kinds, to which we give names that are well under- stood ; such as the evidence of sense, the evidence of memory, the evidence of con- sciousness, the evidence of testimony, the evidence of axioms, the evidence of reason- ing. All men of common understanding agree that each of these kinds of evidence may afford just ground of belief, and they agree very generally in the circumstances that strengthen or weaken them. Philosophers have endeavoured, by ana- lysing the different sorts of evidence, to find out some common nature wherein they all agree, and thereby to reduce them all to one. This was the aim of the school- men in their intricate disputes about the criterion of truth. Des Cartes placed this criterion of truth in clear and distinct per- ception, and laid it down as a maxim, that whatever we clearly and distinctly perceive to be true, is true ; but it is difficult to know what he understands by clear and distinct perception in this maxim. Mr Locke placed it in a perception of the agree- ment or disagreement of our ideas, which perception is immediate in intuitive know- ledge, and by the intervention of other ideas in reasoning. I confess that, although I have, as I think, a distinct notion of the different kinds of evidence above-mentioned, and, perhaps, of some others, which it is unne- cessary here to enumerate, yet I am not able to find any common nature to which they may all be reduced. They seem to me to agree only in this, that they are all fitted by Nature to produce belief in the human mind, some of them in the highest degree, which we call certainty, others in various degrees according to circumstances. I shall take it for granted that the evi- dence of sense, when the proper circum- stances concur, is good evidence, and a just ground of belief. My intention in this place is only to compare it with the other kinds that have been mentioned, that we may judge whether it be reducible to any of them, or of a nature peculiar to itself. [273] First., It seems to be quite different from the evidence of reasoning. All good evi- dence is commonly called reasonable evi- dence, and very justly, because it ought to govern our belief as reasonable creatures. And, according to this meaning, I think the evidence of sense no less reasonable than that of demonstration.* If Nature give us information of things that concern us, by other means than by reasoning, reason itself will direct us to receive that inform- ation with thankfulness, and to make the best use of it. But, when we speak of the evidence of reasoning as a particular kind of evidence, it means the evidence of propositions that are inferred by reasoning, from propositions already known and believed. Thus, the evidence of the fifth proposition of the first book of Euclid's Elements consists in this, That it is shewn to be the necessary consequence of the axioms, and of the pre- ceding propositions. In all reasoning, there must be one or more premises, and a con- clusion drawn from them. And the pre- mises are called the reason why we must believe the conclusion which we see to fol- low from them. That the evidence of sense is of a differ- ent kind, needs little proof. No man seeks a reason for believing what he sees or feels ; and, if he did, it would be difficult to find one. But, though he can give no reason for believing his senses, his belief remains as firm as if it were grounded on demon- stration. Many eminent philosophers, thinking it unreasonable to believe when they could not shew a reason, have laboured to furnish us with reasons for believing our senses ; but their reasons are very insufficient, and will not bear examination. Other philoso- * 7jv;tiiv Xoyov kqivTizs rr,y et'io-Bytriv, ccpptusict ris tfi Sictvoioif- — A?" tOtle. YleQ/rixiiv ob 5£~ xotvTa. ton Zicc tmv Xoycav, ccXKoc toWclxis f&c&Wov toi; tpxivof&svoi;.— Id. Trf at)ertir,tru uciXXoy *? tu Xoyu sr*5"£UrE0»* xa.) te7; Xoyois sk» oueXeycCfAtvet itismCun rot;' tpatvouivoif.— Id. 'H a.'ic-0y,7ic inrKUn E£t/ 5yv«ii/v. — Id H. [_272, 273 J XX.]] OF THE EVIDENCE OF SKNSE, &c. 329 pliers have shewn very clearly the fallacy of these reasons, and have, as they imagine, discovered invincible reasons against this be- lief ; but they have never been able either to shake it in themselves, or to convince others. [274] The statesman continues to plod, the soldier to fight, and the merchant to export and import, without being in the least moved by the demonstrations that have been offered of the non-existence of those things about which they are so seri- ously employed. And a man may as soon, by reasoning, pull the moon out of her orbit, as destroy the belief of the objects of sense. Shall we say, then, that the evidence of sense is the same with that of axioms, or self-evident truths ? I answer, First, That, all modern philosophers seem to agree that the existence of the objects of sense is not self-evident, because some of them have endeavoured to prove it by subtle rea- soning, others to refute it. Neither of these can consider it as self-evident. Secondly, I would observe that the word axiom is taken by philosophers in such a sense as that the existence of the objects of sense cannot, with propriety, be called an axiom. They give the name of axiom only to self-evident truths, that are neces- sary, and are not limited to time and place, but must be true at all times and in all places. The truths attested by our senses are not of this kind ; they are contingent, and limited to time and place. Thus, that one is the half of two, is an axiom. It is equally true at all times and in all places. We perceive, by attending to the proposition itself, that it cannot but be true ; and, therefore, it is called an eter- nal, necessary, and immutable truth. That there is at present a chair on my right hand, and another on my left, is a truth attested by my senses ; but it is not necessary, nor eternal, nor immutable. It may not be true next minute ; and, therefore, to call it an axiom would, I apprehend, be to deviate from the common use of the word. [275] Thirdly, If the word axiom be put to signify every truth which is known imme- diately, without being deduced from any antecedent truth, then the existence of the objects of sense may be called an axiom ; for my senses give me as immediate con- viction of what they testify, as my under- standing gives of what is commonly called an axiom. There is, no doubt, an analogy between the evidence of sense and the evidence of testimony. Hence, we find, in all lan- guages, the analogical expressions of the testimony of sense, of giving credit to our senses, and the like. But there is a real difference between the two, as well as a similitude. In believing upon testimony, ue rely upon the authority of a person who ['27 4-276] testifies ; but we have no such authority for believing our senses. Shall we say, then, that this belief is the inspiration of the Almighty ? I think this may be said in a good sense ; for I take it to be the immediate effect of our constitu- tion, which is the work of the Almighty. But, if inspiration be understood to imply a persuasion of its coming from God, our belief of the objects of sense is not inspira- tion ; for a man would believe his senses though he had no notion of a Deity. He who is persuaded that he is the workman- ship of God, and that it is a part of his constitution to believe his senses, may think that a good reason to confirm his belief. But he had the belief before he could give this or any other reason for it. If we compare the evidence of sense with that of memory, we find a great resem- blance, but still some difference. I remem- ber distinctly to have dined yesterday with such a company. What is the meaning of this ? It is, that I have a distinct con- ception and firm belief of this past event ; not by reasoning, not by testimony, but immediately from my constitution. And I give the name of memory to that part of my constitution by which I have this kind of conviction of past events. [276] I see a chair on my right hand. What is the meaning of this ? It is, that I have, by my constitution, a distinct conception and firm belief of the present existence of the chair in such a place and in such a position ; and I give the name of seeing to that part of my constitution by which I have this immediate conviction. The two operations a.uree in the immediate convic- tion which they give. They agree in this also, that the things believed are not necessary, but contingent, and limited to time and place. But they differ in two respects : — First, That memory has some- thing for its object that did exist in time past ; but the object of sight, and of all the senses, must be something which exists at present ; — and, Secondly, That I see by my eyes, and only when they are directed to the object, and when it is illuminated. But my memory is not limited by any bodily organ that I know, nor by light and dark- ness, though it has its limitations of another kind.* These differences are obvious to all men, and very reasonably lead them to consider seeing and remembering as operations spe- cifically different. But the nature of the evidence they give, has a great resemblance. * There is a more important difference than these omitted. In memory, we cannot possibly be con- scious or immediately cognisant of any object beyond the modifications of "the ego itself. In perception, (if an immediate perception be allowed,) we must be conscious, or immediately cognisant, of scm° pheno- menon of the non-ego. — H. 330 ON THE INTELLECTUAL POWERS. [essay n. A like difference and a like resemblance there is between the evidence of sense and that of consciousness, which I leave the reader to trace. As to the opinion that evidence consists in a perception of the agreement or dis- agreement of ideas, we may have occasion to consider it more particularly in another place. Here I only observe, that, when taken in the most favourable sense, it may be applied with propriety to the evidence of reasoning, and to the evidence of some axioms. But I cannot see how, in any sense, it can be applied to the evidence of consciousness, to the evidence of memory, or to that of the senses. When I compare the different kinds of evidence above-mentioned, I confess, after all, that the evidence of reasoning, and that of some necessary and self-evident truths, seems to be the least mysterious and the most perfectly comprehended ; and there- fore I do not think it strange that philoso- phers should have endeavoured to reduce all kinds of evidence to these. [277] When I see a proposition to be self-evi- dent and necessary, and that the subject is plainly included in the predicate, there seems to be nothing more that I can desire in order to understand why I believe it. And when I see a consequence that necessarily follows from one or more self-evident propositions, I want nothing more with regard to my belief of that consequence. The light of truth so fills my mind in these cases, that I can neither conceive nor desire anything more satisfying. On the other hand, when I remember dis- tinctly a past event, or see an object before my eyes, this commands my belief no less than an axiom. But when, as a philosopher, I reflect upon this belief, and want to trace it to its origin, I am not able to resolve it into necessary and self-evident axioms, or con- clusions that are necessarily consequent upon them. I seem to want that evidence which I can best comprehend, and which gives perfect satisfaction to an inquisitive mind ; yet it is ridiculous to doubt ; and I find it is not in my power. An attempt to throw off this belief is like an attempt to fly, equally ridiculous and impracticable. To a philosopher, who has been accus- tomed to think that the treasure of his know- ledge is the acquisition of that reasoning power of which he boasts, it is no doubt humiliating to find that his reason can lay no claim to the greater part of it. By his reason, he can discover certain abstract and necessary relations of things ; but his knowledge of what really exists, or did exist, comes by another channel, which is open to those who cannot reason. He is led to it in the dark, and knows not how he came by it. [278] It is no wonder that the pride of philo- sophy should lead some to invent vain theories in order to account for this know- ledge ; and others, who see this to be im- practicable, to spurn at a knowledge they cannot account for, and vainly attempt to throw it off as a reproach to their under- standing. But the wise and the humble will receive it as the gift of Heaven, and endeavour to make the best use of it. CHAPTER XXI. OF THE IMPROVEMENT OF THE SENSES. Our senses may be considered in two views : first, As they afford us agreeable sensations, or subject us to such as are dis- agreeable ; and, secondly, As they give us information of things that concern us. In the first view, they neither require nor admit of improvement. Both the painful and the agreeable sensations of our external senses are given by nature for certain ends ; and they are given in that degree which is the most proper for their end. By dimin- ishing or increasing them, we should not mend, but mar the work of Nature. Bodily pains are indications of some dis- order or hurt of the body, and admonitions to use the best means in our power to pre- vent or remove their causes. As far as this can be done by temperance, exercise, regi- men, or the skill of the physician, every man hath sufficient inducement to do it. When pain cannot be prevented or re- moved, it is greatly alleviated by patience and fortitude of mind. While the mind is superior to pain, the man is not unhappy, though he may be exercised. It leaves no sting behind it, but rather matter of triumph and agreeable reflection, when borne pro- perly, and in a good cause. [279] The Canadians have taught us that even savages may acquire a superiority to the most ex- cruciating pains ; and, in every region of the earth, instances will be found, where a sense of duty, of honour, or even of worldly interest, have triumphed over it. It is evident that nature intended for man, in his present state, a life of labour and toil, wherein he may be occasionally exposed to pain and danger ; and the happiest man is not he who has felt least of those evils, but he whose mind is fitted to bear them by real magnanimity. Our active and perceptive powers are improved and perfected by use and exercise. This is the constitution of nature. But, with regard to the agreeable and disagree- able sensations we have by our senses, the very contrary is an established constitution of nature — the frequent repetition of them weakens their force. Sensations at first very [277-279] chap, xxi.] OF THE IMPROVEMENT OF THE SENSES. 331 disagreeable, by use become tolerable, and at last perfectly indifferent. And those that are at first very agreeable, by frequent re- petition become insipid, and at last, per- haps, give disgust. Nature has set limits to the pleasures of sense, which we cannot pass ; and all studied gratifications of them, as it is mean and unworthy of a man, so it is foolish and fruitless. The man who, in eating and drinking, and in other gratifications of sense, obeys the calls of Nature, without affecting deli- cacies and refinements, has all the enjoy- ment that the senses can afford. If one could, by a soft and luxurious life, acquire a more delicate sensibility to pleasure, it must be at the expense of a like sensibility to pain, from which he can never promise exemption, and at the expense of cherishing many diseases which produce pain. The improvement of our external senses, as they are the means of giving us informa- tion, is a subject more worthy of our atten- tion ; for, although they are not the noblest and most exalted powers of our nature, yet they are not the least useful. [280] All that we know, or can know, of the material world, must be grounded upon their inform- ation ; and the philosopher, as well as the day-labourer, must be indebted to them for the largest part of his knowledge. Some of our perceptions by the senses may be called original, because they require no previous experience or learning ; but the far greatest part is acquired, and the fruit of experience. Three of our senses — to wit, smell, taste, and hearing — originally give us only certain sensations, and a conviction that these sensa- tions are occasioned by some external object. We give a name to that quality of the ob- ject by which it is fitted to produce such a sensation, and connect that quality with the object, and with its other qualities. Thus we learn, that a certain sensation of smell is produced by a rose ; and that quality in the rose, by which it is fitted to produce this sensation, we call the smell of the rose. Here it is evident that the sensa- tion is original. The perception that the rose has that quality which we call its smell, is acquired. In like manner, we learn all those qualities in bodies which we call their smell, their taste, their sound. These are all secondary qualities, and we give the same name to them which we give to the sensations they produce; not from any similitude between the sensation and the quality of the same name, but because the quality is signified to us by the sensation as its sign, and because our senses give us no other knowledge of the quality but that it is fit to produce such a sensation. By the other two senses, we have much more ample information. By sight, we T2S0-282] learn to distinguish objects by their colour, in the same manner as by their sound, taste, and smell. By this sense, we perceive visible objects to have extension in two dimensions, to have visible figure and magnitude, and a certain angular distance from one another. These, I conceive, are the original perceptions of sight.* [281] By touch, we not only perceive the tem- perature of bodies as to heat and cold,-J- which are secondary qualities, but we per- ceive originally their three dimensions, their tangible figure and magnitude, their linear distance from one another, their hardness, softness, or fluidity. These qualities we originally perceive by touch only ; but, by experience, we learn to perceive all or most of them by sight. We learn to perceive, by one sense, what originally could have been perceived only by another, by finding a connection between the objects of the different senses. Hence the original perceptions, or the sensations of one sense become signs of whatever has always been found connected with them ; and from the sign, the mind passes imme- diately to the conception and belief of the thing signified. And, although the connec- tion in the mind between the sign and the thing signified by it, be the effect of custom, this custom becomes a second nature, and it is difficult to distinguish it from the ori- ginal power of perception. Thus, if a sphere of one uniform colour be set before me, I perceive evidently by my eye its spherical figure and its three dimen- sions. All the world will acknowledge that, by sight only, without touching it, I may be certain that it is a sphere ; yet it is no less certain that, by the original power of sight, I could not perceive it to be a sphere, and to have three dimensions. The eye originally could only perceive two di- mensions, and a gradual variation of colour on the different sides of the object. It is experience that teaches me that the variation of colour is an effect of spherical convexity, and of the distribution of light and shade. But so rapid is the progress of the thought, from the effect to the cause, that we attend only to the last, and can hardly be persuaded that we do not imme- diately see the three dimensions of the sphere. [282] Nay, it may be observed, that, in this case, the acquired perception in a manner effaces the original one ; for the sphere is seen to be of one uniform colour, though originally there would have appeared a gradual variation of colour. But that ap- * See above, p. 123, col. b, note f, and p. 1S5, col. a, note *. •} Whether heat, cold, &c, be objects of touch or of a different sense, it is not here the place to inquire. -H. 332 ON. THE INTELLECTUAL POWERS. [ESSAY II. parent variation we learn to interpret as the effect of light and shade falling upon a sphere of one uniform colour. A sphere may be painted upon a plane, so exactly, as to be taken for a real sphere when the eye is at a proper distance and in the proper point of view. We say in this case, that the eye is deceived, that the appearance is fallacious. But there is no fallacy in the original perception, but only in that which is acquired by custom. The variation of colour, exhibited to the eye by the painter's art, is the same which nature exhibits by the different degrees of light falling upon the convex surface of a sphere. In perception, whether original or ac- quired, there is something which may be called the sign, and something which is signified to us, or brought to our knowledge by that sign. In original perception, the signs are the various sensations which are produced by the impressions made upon our organs. The things signified, are the objects perceived in consequence of those sensations, by the original constitution of our nature. Thus, when I grasp an ivory ball in my hand, I have a certain sensation of touch. Although this sensation be in the mind and have no similitude to anything material, yet, by the laws of my constitution, it is immediately followed by the conception and belief, that there is in my hand a hard smooth body of a spherical figure, and about an inch and a half in diameter. This belief is grounded neither upon reasoning, nor upon experience ; it is the immediate effect of my constitution, and this I call original perception.* [283] In acquired perception, the sign may be either a sensation, or something originally perceived. The thing signified, is something which, by experience, has been found con- nected with that sign. Thus, when the ivory ball is placed be- fore my eye, I perceive by sight what I before perceived by touch, that the ball is smooth, spherical, of such a diameter, and at such a distance from the eye ; and to this is added the perception of its colour. All these things I perceive by sight, dis- tinctly and with certainty. Yet it is cer- tain from principles of philosophy, that, if I had not been accustomed to compare the informations of sight with those of touch, I should not have perceived these things by sight. I should have perceived a circu- lar object, having its colour gradually more faint towards the shaded side. But I should not have perceived it to have three dimen- sions, to be spherical, to be of such a linear magnitude, and at such a distance from the eye. That these last mentioned are not * See above, p. ll\, et-alibi.—H. original perceptions of sight, but acquired by experience, is sufficiently evident from the principles of optics, and from the art of painters, in painting objects of three dimen- sions, upon a plane which has only two. And it has been put beyond all doubt, by observations recorded of several persons, who having, by cataracts in their eyes, been deprived of sight from their infancy, have been couched and made to see, after they came to years of understanding. * Those who have had their eyesight from infancy, acquire such perceptions so early that they cannot recollect the time when they had them not, and therefore make no distinction between them and their original perceptions ; nor can they be easily per- suaded that there is any just foundation for such a distinction. [284] In all lan- guages men speak with equal assurance of their seeing objects to be spherical or cubi- cal, as of their feeling them to be so ; nor do they ever dream that these perceptions of sight were not as early and original as the perceptions they have of the same ob- jects by touch. This power which we acquire of perceiv- ing things by our senses, which originally we should not have perceived, is not the effect of any reasoning on our part : it is the result of our constitution, and of the situations in which we happen to be placed. We are so made that, when two things are found to be conjoined in certain circum- stances, we are prone to believe that they are connected by nature, and will always be found together in like circumstances. The belief which we are led into in such cases is not the effect of reasoning, nor does it arise from intuitive evidence in the thing believed ; it is, as I apprehend, the immediate effect of our constitution. Accordingly, it is strongest in infancy, before our reasoning power appears — before we are capable of draw- ing a conclusion from premises. A child who has once burnt his finger in a candle, from that single instance connects the pain of burning with putting his finger in the caudle, and believes that these two things must go together. It is obvious that this part of our constitution is of very great use before we come to the use of reason, and guards'us from a thousand mischiefs, which, without it, we would rush into ; it may sometimes lead us into error, but the good effects of it far overbalance the ill. It is, no doubt, the perfection of a rational being to have no belief but what is grounded on intuitive evidence, or on just reasoning : but man, I apprehend, is not such a being ; nor is it the intention of nature that he should be such a being, in every period of his existence. We come into the world * See above, p. 136, note t, and p. 182, note *.— H. [283, 281] chap, xxi.] OF THE IMPROVEMENT OF THE SENSES. 333 without the exercise of reason ; we are merely animal before we are rational crea- tures ; and it is necessary for our preserva- tion, that we should believe many things be- fore we can reason. How then is our belief to be regulated before we have reason to regulate it ? ['285] Has nature left it to be regulated by chance ? By no means. It is regulated by certain principles, which are parts of our constitution ; whether they ought to be called animal principles, or in- stinctive principles, or what name we give to them, is of small moment ; but they are certainly different from the faculty of rea- son : they do the office of reason while it is in its infancy, and must, as it were, be car- ried in a nurse's arms, and they are leading- strings to it in its gradual progress. From what has been said, I think it ap- pears that our original powers of perceiving objects by our senses receive great improve- ment by use and habit ; and without this improvement, would be altogether insuf- ficient for the purposes of life. The daily occurrences of life not only add to our stock of knowledge, but give additional percep- tive powers to our senses ; and time gives us the use of our eyes and ears, as well as of our hands and legs. This is the greatest and most important improvement of our external senses. It is to be found in all men come to years of un- derstanding, but it is various in different persons according to their different occupa- tions, and the different circumstances in which they are placed. Every aitist re- quires an eye as well as a hand in his own profession ; his eye becomes skilled in per- ceiving, no less than his hand in executing, what belongs to his employment. Besides this improvement of our senses, which nature produces without our inten- tion, there are various ways in which they may be improved, or their defects re- medied by art. As, firsl ', by a due care of the organs of sense, that they be in a sound and natural state. This belongs to the de- partment of the medical faculty. Secondly, By accurate attention to the objects of sense. The effects of such atten- tion in improving our senses, appear in every art. The artist, by giving more attention to certain objects than others do, by that means perceives many things in those ob- jects which others do not. [286] Those who happen to be deprived of one sense, frequently supply that defect in a great de- gree, by giving more accurate attention to the objects of the senses they have. The blind have often been known to acquire un- common acuteness in distinguishing things by feeling and hearing ; and the deaf are uncommonly quick in reading men's thoughts in their countenance. A third way in which our senses admit of [285-287] improvement, is, by additional organs, or in- struments contrived by art. By the inven- tion of optical glasses, and the gradual im- provement of them, the natural power of vision is wonderfully improved, and a vast addition made to the stock of knowledge which we acquire by the eye. By speaking- trumpets and • ear-trumpets some improve- ment has been made in the sense of hearing. Whether by similar inventions the other senses may be improved, seems uncertain. A fourth method by which the informa- tion got by our senses may be improved, is, by discovering the connection which nature hath established between the sensible quali- ties of objects, and their more latent qualities. By the sensible qualities of bodies, I un- derstand those that are perceived immedi- ately by the senses, such as their colour, figure, feeling, sound, taste, smell. The various modifications and various combin- ations of these, are innumerable ; so that there are hardly two individual bodies in Nature that may not be distinguished by their sensible qualities. The latent qualities are such as are not immediately discovered by our senses ; but discovered sometimes by accident, some- times by experiment or observation. The most important part of our knowledge of bodies is the knowledge of the latent qua- lities of the several species, by which they are adapted to certain purposes, either for food, or medicine, or agriculture, or for the materials or utensils of some art or manu- facture. [287] I am taught that certain species of bodies have certain latent qualities ; but how shall I know that this individual is of such a species ? This must be known by the sen- sible qualities which characterise the species. I must know that this is bread, and that wine, before I eat the one or drink the other. I must know that this is rhubarb, and that opium, before I use the one or the other for medicine. It is one branch of human knowledge to know the names of the various- species of natural and artificial bodies, and to know the sensible qualities by which they are ascertained to be of such a species, and by which they are distinguished from one an- other. It is another branch of knowledge to know the latent qualities of the several species, and the uses to which they are subservient. The man who possesses both these branches is informed, by his senses, of in- numerable things of real moment which are hid from those who possess only one, or neither. This is an improvement in the information got by our senses, which must keep pace with the improvements made in natural history, in natural philosophy, and in the arts. 334 ON THE INTELLECTUAL POWERS. j^ESSAY n. It would be an improvement still higher if we were able to discover any connection between the sensible qualities of bodies and their latent qualities, without knowing the species, or whai may have been discovered with regard to it. Some philosophers, of the first rate, have made attempts towards this noble improve- ment, not without promising hopes of suc- cess. Thus, the celebrated Linnaeus has attempted to point out certain sensible qua- lities by which a plant may very probably be concluded to be poisonous without know- ing its name or species. He has given se- veral other instances, wherein certain medi- cal and economical virtues of plants are indicated by their external appearances. Sir Isaac Newton hath attempted to shew that, from the colours of bodies, we may form a probable conjecture of the size of their constituent parts, bv which the rays of light are reflected. [288] No man can pretend to set limits to the discoveries that may be made by human genius and industry, of such connections between the latent and the sensible quali- ties of bodies. A wide field here opens to our view, whose boundaries no man can ascertain, of improvements that may here- after be made in the information conveyed to us by our senses. CHAPTER XXII. OF THE FALLACY OF THE SENSES. Complaints of the fallacy of the senses have been very common in ancient and in modern times, especially among the philo- sophers. And, if we should take for granted all that they have said on this subject, the natural conclusion from it might seem to be, that the senses are given to us by some malignant demon on purpose to delude us, rather than that they are formed by the wise and beneficent Author of Nature, to give us true information of things necessary to our preservation and happiness. The whole sect of atomists among the ancients, led by Democritus, and afterwards by Epicurus, maintained that all the quali- ties of bodies which the moderns call se- condary qualities — to wit, smell, taste, sound, colour, heat, and cold — are mere illusions of sense, and have no real existence.* Plato maintained that we can attain no real know- ledge of material things ; and that eternal and immutable ideas are the only objects of real knowledge. The academics and scep- tics anxiously sought for arguments to prove the fallaciousness of our senses, in order to support their favourite doctrine, * Not correctly stated. See above, p. 'A\6, note ). The Epicureans denied the fallacy of Sense.— H. that even in things that seem most evident, we ought to withhold assent. [289 J Among the Peripatetics we find frequent complaints that the senses often deceive us, and that their testimony is to be suspected, when it is not confirmed by reason, by which the errors of sense may be corrected. This complaint they supported by many com- monplace instances : such as, the crooked appearance of an oar in water ; objects being magnified, and their distance mistaken, in a fog ; the sun and moon appearing about a foot or two in diameter, while they are really thousands of miles ; a square tower being taken at a distance to be round. These, and many similar appearances, they thought to be sufficiently accounted for from the fallacy of the senses : and thus the fallacy of the senses was used as a decent cover to conceal their ignorance of the real causes of such phaenomena, and served the same pur- pose as their occult qualities and substantial forms. * Des Cartes and his followers joined in the same complaint. Antony le Grand, a philosopher of that sect, in the first chapter of his Logic, expresses the sentiments of the sect as follows : " Since all our senses are fallacious, and we are frequently deceived by them, common reason advises that we should not put too much trust- in them, nay, that we should suspect falsehood in every- thing they represent ; for it is imprudence and temerity to trust to those who have but oncedeceived us ; and,if they err at any time, they may be believed always to err. They are given by nature for this purpose only to warn us of what is useful and what is hurtful to us. The order of Nature is per- verted when we put them to any other use, and apply them for the knowledge of truth." When we consider that the active part of 'mankind, in all ages from the beginning of the world, have rested their most import- ant concerns upon the testimony of sense, it will be very difficult to reconcile their conduct with the speculative opinion so generally entertained of the fallaciousness of the senses. [290] And it seems to be a very unfavourable account of the work- manship of the Supreme Being, to think that he has given us one faculty to deceive us — to wit, our senses ; and another faculty — to wit, our reason — to detect the fallacy. It deserves, therefore, to be considered, whether the fallaciousness of our senses be not a common error, which men have been led into, from a desire to conceal their igno- rance, or to apologize for their mistakes. There are two powers which we owe to * A very inaccurate representation of the Peripa- tetic doctrine touching this matter. In fact, the Ari- stotelian doctrine, and that of Reid himself, are almost the same. — H. [288-290] chap, xxn.] OF THE FALLACY OF THE SENSES. 335 our external senses— sensation, and the per- ception of external objects. It is impossible that there can be any fallacy in sensation : for we are conscious of all our sensations, and they can neither be any other in their nature, nor greater or less in their degree than we feel them. It is impossible that a man should be in pain, when he does not feel pain ; and when he feels pain, it is impossible that his pain should not be real, and in its degree what it is felt to be ; and the same thing may be said of every sensation whatsoever. An agreeable or an uneasy sensation may be forgot when it is past, but when it is pre- sent, it can be nothing but what we feel. If, therefore, there be any fallacy in our senses, it must be in the perception of ex- ternal objects, winch we shall next con- sider. And here I grant that we can conceive powers of perceiving external objects more perfect than ours, which, possibly, beings of a higher order may enjoy. We can perceive external objects only by means of bodily or- gans ; and these are liable to various dis- orders, which sometimes affect our powers of perception. The nerves and brain, which are interior organs of perception, are like- wise liable to disorders, as every part of the human frame is. [291] The imagination, the memory, the judging and reasoning powers, are all liable to be hurt, or even destroyed, by disorders of the oody, as well as our powers of perception ; but we do not on this account call them fallacious. Our senses, our memory, and our reason, are all limited and imperfect — this is the lot of humanity : but they are such as the Author of our being saw to be best fitted for us in our present state. Superior natures may have intellectual powers which we have not, or such as we have, in a more perfect degree, and less liable to accidental disor- ders ; but we have no reason to think that God has given fallacious powers to any of his creatures : this would be to think dis- honourably of our Maker, and would lay a foundation for universal scepticism. The appearances commonly imputed to the fallacy of the senses are many and of different kinds; but I think they may be reduced to the four following classes. First, Many things called deceptions of the senses are-only conclusions rashly drawn from the testimony of the senses. In these cr.ses the testimony of the senses is true, but we rashly draw a conclusion from it, which does not necessarily follow. We are disposed to impute our errors rather to false information than to inconclusive reasoning, and to biame our senses for the wrong con- clusions we draw from their testimony. Thus, when a man has taken a counter- [291-293] feit guinea for a true one, he says his senses deceived him ; but he lays the blame where it ought not to be laid : for we may ask him, Did your senses give a false testimony of the colour, or of the figure, or of the im- pression ? No. But this is all that tbey testified, and this they testified truly : From these premises you concluded that it was a true guinea, but this conclusion does not follow ; you erred, therefore, not by relying upon the testimony of sense, but by judging rashly from its testimony. [292] Not only are your senses innocent of this error, but it is only by their information that it can be discovered. If you consult them properly, they will inform you that what you took for a guinea is base metal, or is deficient in weight, and this can only be known by the testimony of sense. I remember to have met with a man who thought the argument used by Protestants against the Popish doctrine of transubstan- tiation, from the testimony of our senses, inconclusive ; because, said he, instances may be given where several of our sensesmay deceive usi How do we know then that there may not be cases wherein they all deceive us, and no sense is left to detect the fallacy ? I begged of him to know an in- stance wherein several of our senses deceive us. I take, said he, a piece of soft turf ; I cut it into the shape of an apple ; with the essence of apples, I give it the smell of an apple ; and with paint, I can give it the skin and colour of an apple. Here then is a body, which, if you judge by your eye, by your touch, or by your smell, is an apple. To this I would answer, that no one of our senses deceives us in this case. My sight and touch testify that it has the shape aLd colour of an apple : this is trie. The sense of smelling testifies that it has the smell of an apple : this is likewise true, and is no deception. Where then lies the de- ception ? It is evident it lies in this — that because this body has some qualities belong- ing tovm apple I conclude that it is an apple. This is a fallacy, not of the senses, but of inconclusive "reasoning. Many false judgments that are accounted deceptions of sense, arise from our mistaking relative motion for real or absolute motion. These can.be no deceptions of sense, because by our senses we perceive only the relative motions of bodies ; and it is by reasoning that we infer the real from the relative which we perceive. A little reflection may satisfy us of this. [293] It was before observed, that we perceive extension to be one sensible quality of bodies, and thence are necessarily led to conceive space, though space be of itself no object of sense. When a body is re- moved out of its place, the space which it filled remains empty till it is filled by some 330 ON THE INTELLECTUAL POWERS. [» other body, and would remain if it should never be filled. Before any body existed, the space which bodies now occupy was empty spaee, capable of receiving bodies ; for no body can exist where there is no space to contain it. There is space therefore where- ever bodies exist, or can exist. Hence it is evident that space can have no limits. It is no less evident that it is immovable. Bodies placed in it are mov- able, but the place where they were cannot be moved ; and we can as easily conceive a thing to be moved from itself, as one part of space brought nearer to or removed farther from another. The space, therefore, which is unlimited and immovable, is called by philosophers absolute space. Absolute or real motion is a change of place in absolute space. Our senses do not testify the absolute motion or absolute rest of any body. When one body removes from anothei*, this may be discerned by the senses ; but whether any body keeps the same part of absolute space, we do not perceive by our senses. When one body seems to remove from an- other, we can infer with certainty that there is absolute motion, but whether in the one or the other, or partly in both, is not dis- cerned by sense. Of all the prejudices which philosophy contradicts, I believe there is none so general as that the earth keeps its place unmoved. This opinion seems to be universal, till it is corrected by instruction or by philoso- phical speculation. Those who have any tincture of education are not now in danger of being held by it, but they find at first a reluctance to believe that there are anti- podes ; that the earth is spherical, and turns round its axis every day, and round the sun every year : they can recollect the time when reason struggled with prejudice upon these points, and prevailed at length, but not without some effort. [294] The cause of a prejudice so very general is not unworthy of investigation. But that is not our present business. It is sufficient to observe, that it cannot justly be called a fallacy of sense ; because our senses testify only the change of situation of one body in relation to other bodies, and not its change of situation in absolute space. It is only the relative motion of bodies that we per- eeive, and that we perceive truly. It is the province of reason and philosophy, from the relative motions which we perceive, to collect the real and absolute motions which produce them. All motion must be estimated from some point or place which is supposed to be at rest. We perceive not the points of abso- lute space, from which real and absolute motion must be reckoned . And there are obvious reasons that lead mankind in the state of ignorance, to make the earth the fixed place from which they may estimate the various motions they perceive. The custom of doing this from infancy, and of using constantly a language which supposes the earth to be at rest, may perhaps be the cause of the general prejudice in favour of this opinion. Thus it appears that, if we distinguish accurately between what our senses really and naturally testify, and the conclusions which we draw from their testimony by reasoning, we shall find many of the errors, called fallacies of the senses, to be no fal- lacy of the senses, but rash judgments, which are not to be imputed to our senses. Secondly, Another class of errors imputed to the fallacy of the senses, are those which we are liable to in our acquired perceptions. Acquired perception is not properly the testimony of those senses which God hath given us, but a conclusion drawn from what the senses testify. [295] In our past ex- perience, we have found certain things con- joined with what our senses testify. We are led by our constitution to expect this conjunction in time to come ; and when we have often found it in our experience to happen, we acquire a firm belief that the things which we have found thus conjoined, are connected in nature, and that one is a sign of the other. The appearance of the sign immediately produces the belief of its usual attendant, and we think we perceive the one as well as the other. That such conclusions are formed even in infancy, no man can doubt : nor is it less certain that they are confounded with the natural and immediate perceptions of sense, and in all languages are called by the same name. We are therefore authorized by language to call them perception, and must often do so, or speak unintelligibly. But philosophy teaches us, in this, as in many other instances, to distinguish things which the vulgar confound. I have therefore given the name of acquired perception to such conclusions, to distinguish them from what is naturally, originally, and imme- diately testified by our senses. Whether this acquired perception is to be resol ved into some process of reasoning, of which we have lost the remembrance, as some philosophers think, or whether it results from some part of our constitution distinct from reason, as I rather believe, does not concern the present subject. If the first of these opinions be true, the errors of ac- quired perception will fall under the first class before mentioned. If not, it makes a distinct class by itself. But whether the one or the other be true, it must be observed that the errors of acquired per- ception are not properly fallacies of our senses. [294. 2951 chap, xxii.] OF THE FALLACY OF THE SENSES. 337 Thus, when a globe is set before me, I perceive by my eyes that it has three di- mensions and a spherical figure. To say that this is not perception, would be to reject the authority of custom in the use of words, which no wise man will do : but that it is not the testimony of my sense of seeing, every philosopher knows. I see only a circular form, having the light and colour distributed in a certain way over it. [296] But, being accustomed to observe this distribution of light and colour only in a spherical body, I immediately, from what I see, believe the object to be spherical, and say that I see or perceive it to be spherical. When a ^painter, by an exact imitation of that distribution of light and colour which I have been accustomed to see only in a real sphere, deceives me, so as to make me take that to be a real sphere which is only a painted one, the testimony of my eye is true — the colour and visible figure of the object is truly what I see it to be : the error lies in the conclusion drawn from what I see — to wit, that the object has three dimensions and a spherical figure. The conclusion is false in this case ; but, whatever be the origin of this conclusion, it is not properly the testimony of sense. To this class we must refer the judg- ments we are apt to form of the distance and magnitude of the heavenly bodies, and of terrestrial objects seen on high. The mistakes we make of the magnitude and distance of objects seen through optical glasses, or through an atmosphere uncom- monly clear or uncommonly foggy, belong likewise to this class. The errors we are led into in acquired perception are very rarely hurtful to us in the conduct of life ; they are gradually cor- rected by a more enlarged experience, and a more perfect knowledge of the laws of Nature : and the general laws of our con- stitution, by which we are sometimes led into them, are of the greatest utility. We come into the world ignorant of everything, and by our ignorance exposed to many dangers and to many mistakes. The regular train of causes and effects, which divine wisdom has established, and which directs every step of our conduct in advanced life, is unknown, until it is gradually dis- covered by experience. [297] We must learn much from experience before we can reason, and therefore must be liable to many errors. Indeed, I apprehend, that, in the first part of life, reason would do us much more hurt than good Were we sensible of our condition in that period, and capable of reflecting upon it, we snould be like a man in the dark, surrounded with dangers, where every step he takes may be into a pit. Reason would direct him to sit down, and wait till he could see about him. ("2.96-298] In like manner, if we suppose an infant endowed with reason, it would direct him to do nothing, till he knew what could be done with safety. This he can only know by experiment, and experiments are danger- ous. Reason directs, that experiments that are full of danger should not be made with- out a very urgent cause. It would there- fore make the infant unhappy, and hinder his improvement by experience. Nature has followed another plan. The child, unapprehensive of danger, is led by instinct to exert all his active powers, to try everything without the cautious admo- nitions of reason, and to believe everything that is told him. Sometimes he suffers by his rashness what reason would have pre- vented : but his suffering proves a salutary discipline, and makes him for the future avoid the cause of it. Sometimes he is imposed upon by his credulity ; but it is of infinite benefit to him upon the whole. His activity and credulity are more useful qua- lities and better instructors than reason would be ; they teach him more in a day than reason would do in a year ; they furnish a stock of materials for reason to work upon ; they make him easy and happy in a period of his existence when reason could only serve to suggest a thousand tormenting anxieties and fears : and he acts agreeably to the constitution and intention of nature even when he does and believes what reason would not justify. So that the wisdom and goodness of the Author of nature is no less conspicuous in withholding the exercise of our reason in this period, than in bestowing it when we are ripe for it. [298] A third class of errors, ascribed to the fallacy of the senses, proceeds from igno- rance of the laws of nature. The laws of nature (I mean not moral but physical laws) are learned, either from our own experience, or the experience of others, who have had occasion to observe the course of nature. Ignorance of those laws, or inattention to them, is apt to occasion false judgments with regard to the objects of sense, especial- ly those of hearing and of sight ; which false judgments are often, without good reason, called fallacies of sense. Sounds affect the ear differently, accord- ing as the sounding body is before or behind us, on the right hand or on the left, near or at a great distance. We learn, by the manner in which the sound affects the ear, on what hand we are to look for the sound- ing body ; and inmost cases we judge right. But we are sometimes deceived by echoes, or by whispering galleries, or speaking trumpets, which return the sound, or alter its direction, or convey it to a distance with- out diminution. The deception is still greater, because 338 ON THE INTELLECTUAL POWERS. (_ESSAY II. more uncommon, which is said to be pro- duced by Gastriloquists — that is, persons who have acquired the art of modifying their voice, so that it shall affect the ear of the hearers, as if it came from another person, or from the clouds, or from under the earth- I never had the fortune to be acquainted with any of these artists, and therefore can- not say to what degree of perfection the art may have been carried. I apprehend it to be only such an im- perfect imitation as may deceive those who are inattentive, or under a panic. For, if it could be carried to perfection, a Gastrho- quist would be as dangerous a man in so- ciety as was the shepherd Gyges,* who, by turning a ring upon his finger, could make himself invisible, and, by that means, from being the king's shepherd, became King of Lydia. [299] If the Gastriloquists have all been too good men to use their talent to the detri- ment of others, it might at least be expected that some of them should apply it to their own advantage. If it could be brought to any considerable degree of perfection, it seems to be as proper an engine for draw- ing money by the exhibition of it, as leger- demain or rope-dancing. But I have never heard of any exhibition of this kind, and therefore am apt to think that it is too coarse an imitation to bear exhibition, even to the vulgar. Some are said to have the art of imitat- ing the voice of another so exactly that in the dark they might be taken for the person whose voice they imitate. I am apt to think that this art also, in the relations made of it, is magnified beyond the truth, as wonderful relations are apt to be, and that an attentive ear would be able to distinguish the copy from the original. It is indeed a wonderful instance of the accuracy as well as of the truth of our senses, in things that are of real use in life, that we are able to distinguish all our acquaintance ty their countenance, by their voice, and by their handwriting, when, at the same time, we are often unable to say by what minute difference the distinction is made ; and that we are so very rarely deceived in matters of this .kind, when we give proper attention to the informations of sense. However, if any case should happen, in which sounds produced by different causes are not distinguishable by the ear, this may prove that our senses are imperfect, but not that they are fallacious. The ear may not be able to draw the just conclusion, but it is only our ignorance of the laws of sound that leads us to a wrong conclusion. [300] Deceptions of sight, arising from igno- * See Cicero, De Officiis. The story told by Hero- dotus is different— H. ranee of the laws of nature, are more numer- ous and more remarkable than those of hearing. The rays of light, which are the means of seeing, pass in right lines from the object to the eye, when they meet with no obstruc- tion ; and we are by nature led to conceive the visible object to be in the direction of the rays that come to the eye. But the rays may be reflected, refracted, or inflected in their passage from the object to the eye, according to certain fixed laws of nature, by which means their direction may be changed, and consequently the apparent place, figure, or magnitude of the object. Thus, a child seeing himself in a mirror, thinks he sees another child behind the mirror, that imitates all his motions. But even a child soon gets the better of this de- ception, and knows that he sees himself only. All the deceptions made by telescopes, microscopes, camera obscuras, magic lan- thorns, are of the same kind, though not so familiar to the vulgar. The ignorant may be deceived by them ; but to those who are acquainted with the principles of optics, they give just and true information ; and the laws of nature by which they are produced, are of infinite benefit to mankind. There remains another class of errors, commonly called deceptions of sense, and the only one, as I apprehend, to which that name can be given with propriety : I mean such as proceed from some disorder or pre- ternatural state, either of the external organ or of the nerves and brain, which are in- ternal organs of perception. In a delirium or in madness, perception, memory, imagination, and our reasoning powers, are strangely disordered and con- founded. There are likewise disorders which affect some of our senses, while others are sound. Thus, a man may feel pain in his toes after the leg is cut off. He may feel a little ball double by crossing his fingers. [30 1 ] He may see an object double, by not direct- both eyes properly to it. By pressing the ball of his eye, he may see colours that ara not real. By the jaundice in his eyes, he may mistake colours. These are more properly deceptions of sense than any of the classes before mentioned. We must acknowledge it to be the lot of human nature, that all the human faculties are liable, by accidental causes, to be hurt and unfitted for their natural functions, either wholly or in part : but as this imper- fection is common to them all, it gives no just ground for accounting any of them fallacious. Upon the whole, it seems to have been a common error of philosophers to account the senses fallacious. And to this error they have added another — that one use of reason is to detect the fallacies of sense. [299-301] chap, xxii.] OF THE FALLACY OF THE SENSES. 339 It appears, I think, from what has heen said, that there is no more reason to account our senses fallacious, than our reason, our memory, or any other faculty of judging which nature hath given us. They are all limited and imperfect ; but wisely suited to the present condition of man. We are liable to error and wrong judgment in the use of them all ; but as little in the inform- ations of sense as in the deductions of reasoning. And the errors we fall into with regard to objects of sense are not corrected by reason, but by more accurate attention to the informations we may receive by our senses themselves. Perhaps the pride of philosophers may have given occasion to this error. Reason is the faculty wherein they assume a supe- riority to the unlearned. The informations of sense are common to the philosopher and to the most illiterate : they put all men upon a level ; and therefore are apt to be undervalued. We must, however, be be- holden to the informations of sense for the greatest and most interesting part of our knowledge. [302] The wisdom of nature has made the most useful things most com- mon, and they ought not to be despised on that account. Nature likewise forces our belief in those informations, and all the attempts of philosophy to weaken it are fruitless and vain. I add only one observation to what has been said upon this subject. It is, that there seems to be a contradiction between what philosophers teach concerning ideas, and their doctrine of the fallaciousness of the senses. We are taught that the office of the senses is only to give us the ideas of external objects. If this be so, there can be no fallacy in the senses. Ideas can neither be true nor false. If the senses testify nothing, they cannot give false testi- mony. If they are not judging faculties, no judgment can be imputed to them, whether false or true. There is, therefore, a contra- diction between the common doctrine con- cerning ideas and that of the fallaciousness of the senses. Both may be false, as I believe they are, but both cannot be true. [303] ESSAY III OF MEMORY. CHAPTER I. THINGS OBVIOUS AND CERTAIN WITH REGARD TO MEMORY. In the gradual progress of man, from infancy to maturity, there is a certain order in which his faculties are unfolded, and this seems to be the best order we can follow in treating of them. The external senses appear first ; me- mory soon follows — which we are now to consider. It is by memory that we have an imme- diate knowledge of things past.* The senses give us information of things only as they exist in the present moment ; and this information, if it were not preserved by memory, would vanish instantly, and leave us as ignorant as if it had never been. Memory must have an object. Every man who remembers must remember some- * An immediate knowledge of'apast thing is a con- tradiction. For we can only know a thing imme- diately, if we know it in itself, or as existing ; but what is past cannot be known in itself, for it is non- existent.— -H. thing, and that which he remembers is called the object of his remembrance. In this, memory agrees with perception, but differs from sensation, which has no object but the feeling itself.* [304] Every man can distinguish the thing re- membered from the remembrance of it. We may remember anything which we have seen, or heard, or known, or done, or suf- fered ; but the remembrance of it is a par- ticular act of the mind which now exists, and of which we are conscious. To con- found these two is an absurdity, which a thinking man could not be led into, but by some false hypothesis which hinders him from reflecting upon the thing which he would explain by it. In memory we do not find such a train of operations connected by our constitution as in perception. When we perceive an object by our senses, there is, first, some impression made by the object upon the organ of sense, either immediately, or by means of some medium. By this, an im- [302-304] * But have we only such a mediate knowledge of the real object in perception, as we have of the real object in memory ? On Reid's error, touching the object of memory, see, in general, Note B. — H. z 2 340 ON THE INTELLECTUAL POWERS. [essay IH* pression is made upon the nerves and brain, in consequence of which we feel some sensa- tion ; and that sensation is attended by that conception and belief of the external object which we call perception. These opera- tions are so connected in our constitution, that it is difficult to disjoin them in our con- ceptions, and to attend to each without con- founding it with the others. But, in the operations of memory, we are free from this embarrassment ; they are easily distin- guished from all other acts of the mind, and the names which denote them are free from all ambiguity. The object of memory, or thing remem- bered, must be something that is past ; as the object of perception and of conscious- ness must be something which is present. What now is, cannot be an object of memory ; neither can that which is past and gone be an object of perception or of consciousness. Memory is always accompanied with the belief of that which we remember, as per- ception is accompanied with the belief of that which we perceive, and consciousness with the belief of that whereof we are con- scious. Perhaps in infancy, or in a disorder of mind, things remembered may be con- founded with those which are merely ima- gined ; but in mature years, and in a sound state of mind, every man feels that he must believe what he distinctly remembers, though he can give no other reason of his belief, but that he remembers the thing dis- tinctly ; whereas, Avhen he merely imagines a thing ever so distinctly, he has no belief of it upon that account. [305] This belief, which we have from distinct memory, we account real knowledge, no less certain than if it was grounded on de- monstration ; no man in his wits calls it in question, or will hear any argument against it.* The testimony of witnesses in causes of life and death depends upon it, and all the knowledge of mankind of past events is built on this foundation. There are cases in which a man's me- mory is less distinct and determinate, and where he is ready to allow that it may have failed him ; but this does not in the least weaken its credit, when it is perfectly dis- tinct. Memory implies a conception and belief of past duration ; for it is impossible that a man should remember a thing distinctly, without believing some interval of duration, more or less, to have passed between the time it happened, and the presentmoment ; and I think it is impossible to shew how we could acquire a notion of duration if we had no memory. Things remembered must be things formerly perceived or * But see beW, p. 36?.— H. known. I remember the transit of Venus over the sun in the year 1769. I. must therefore have perceived it at the time it happened, otherwise I could not now re- member it. Our first acquaintance with any object of thought cannot be by remem- brance. Memory can only produce. a con- tinuance or renewal of a former acquaint- ance with the thing remembered. The remembrance of a past event is ne- cessarily accompanied with the conviction of our own existence at the time the event happened. I cannot remember a thing that happened a year ago, without a con- viction as strong as memory can give, that I, the same identical person who now re- member that event, did then exist. [306] What I have hitherto said concerning memory, I consider as principles which ap- pear obvious and certain to every man who will take the pains to reflect upon the oper- ations of his own mind. They are facts of which every man must judge by what he feels ; and they admit of no other proof but an appeal to every man's own reflec- tion. I shall therefore take them for granted in what follows, and shall, first, draw some conclusions from them, and then examine the theories of philoso- phers concerning memory, and concerning duration, and our personal identity, of which we acquire the knowledge by me- mory. CHAPTER II. MEMORY AN ORIGINAL FACULTY. First, I think it appears, that memory is an original faculty, given us by the Author of our being, of which we can give no account, but that we are so made. The knowledge which I have of things past, by my memory, seems to me as unac- countable as an immediate knowledge would be of things to come ; * and I can give no reason why I should have the one and not the other, but that such is the wiil of my Maker. I find in my mind a distinct conception, and a firm belief of a series of past events; but how this is produced I know not. I call it memory, but this is only giving a name to it — it is not an ac- count of its cause. I believe most firmly, what I distinctly remember ; but I can * An immediate knowledge of firings to come, is equally a contradiction as an immediate knowledge of tilings past. See the first note of last page. But if, as Reid himself allows, memory depend upo:i cer- tain enduring affections of the brain, determined by past cognition, it seems a strange assertion, on this as on other accounts, that the possibility of a know- ledge of the future is not more inconceivable than of a knowledge of the past. Maupertuis, howrver, has advanced a similar doctrine; and some, also, of the advocates of animal magnetism. — H. [305, 306] II.] MEMORY AN ORIGINAL FACULTY. 341 give no reason of this belief. It is the in- spiration of the Almighty that gives me this understanding.* [307] When I believe the truth of a mathema- tical axiom, or of a mathematical proposi- tion, I see that it must be so : every man who has the same conception of it sees the same. There is a necessary and an evident connection between the subject and the pre- dicate of the proposition ; and I have all the evidence to support my belief which I can possibly conceive. •. When I believe that I washed my hands and face this morning, there appears no ne- cessity in the truth of this proposition. It might be, or it might not be. A man may distinctly conceive it without believing it at all. How then do I come to believe it ? I remember it distinctly. This is all I can say. This remembrance is an act of my mind. Is it impossible that this act should be, if the event had not happened ? I con- fess I do not see any necessary connection between the one and the other. If any man can shew such a necessary connection, then I think that belief which we have of what we remember will be fairly accounted for ; but, if this cannot be done, that belief is un- accountable, and we can say no more but that it is the result of our constitution. Perhaps it may be said, that the ex- perience we have had of the fidelity of me- mory is a good reason for relying upon its testimony. I deny not that this may be a reason to those who have had this expe- rience, and who reflect upon it. . But 1 be- lieve there are few who ever thought of this reason, or who found any need of it. It must be some very rare occasion that leads a man to have recourse to it ; and in those who have done so, 'the testimony of memory was believed before the experience of its fidelity, and that belief could not be caused by the experience which came after it. We know some abstract truths, by com- paring the terms of the proposition which expresses them, and perceiving some ne- cessary relation or agreement between them. It is thus I know that two and three make five ; that the diameters of a circle are all equal. [308] Mr Locke having discovered this source of knowledge, too rashly con- cluded that all human knowledge might be derived from it ; and in this he has been followed very generally — by Mr Hume in particular. But I apprehend that our knowledge of the existence of things contingent can never be traced to this source. I know that such a thing exists, or did exist. This know- ledge cannot be derived from the perception of a necessary agreement between existence * " The inspiration of the- Almigl.tv giveth u nderstandtng."— Job. — H. r307-309l and the thing that exists, because there is no such necessary agreement ; and there- fore no such agreement can be perceived either immediately or by a chain of reason- ing. The thing does not exist necessarily, but by the will and power of him that made it ; and there is no contradiction follows from supposing it not to exist. Whence I think it follows, that our know- ledge of the existence of our own thoughts, of the existence of all the material objects about us, and of all past contingencies, must be derived, not from a perception of necessary relations or agreements, but from some other source. Our Maker has provided other means for giving us the knowledge of these things — mean's which perfectly answer their end, and produce the effect intended by them. But in what manner they do this, is, I fear, beyond our skill to explain. We know our own thoughts, and the operations of our minds, by a power which we call conscious- ness : but this is only giving a name to this part of our frame. It does not explain its fabric, nor how it produces in us an irre- sistible conviction of its informations. We perceive material objects and their sensible qualities by our senses ; but how they give us this information, and how they produce our belief in it, we know not. We know many past events by memory ; but how it gives this information, I believe, is inex- plicable. It is well known what subtile disputes were held through all the scholastic ages, and are still carried on about the prescience of the Deity. [309] Aristotle had taught that there can be no certain foreknowledge of things contingent ; and in this he has been very generally followed, upon no other grounds, as I apprehend, but that we can- not conceive how such things should be foreknown, and therefore conclude it to be impossible. Hence has arisen an opposi- tion and supposed inconsistency between divine prescience and human liberty. Some have given up the first in favour of the last, and others have given up the last in order to support the first. It is remarkable that these disputants have never apprehended that there is any difficulty in reconciling with liberty the knowledge of what is past, but only of what is future. It is prescience only, and not memory, that is supposed to be hostile to liberty, and hardly reconcileable to it. Yet I believe the difficulty is perfectly equal in the one case and in the other. I admit, that we cannot account for prescience of the actions of a free agent. But I main- tain that we can as little account for me- mory of the past actions of a free agent, If any man thinks he can prove that the actions of a free agent cannot be foreknown. 342 ON THE INTELLECTUAL POWERS. [[essay III. he will find the same arguments of equal force to prove that the past actions of a free agent cannot he remembered.* It is true, that what is past did certainly exist. It is no less true that what is future will cer- tainly exist. I know no reasoning from the constitution of the agent, or from his cir- cumstances, that has not equal strength, whether it be applied to his past or to his future actions. The past was, but now is not. The future will be, but now is not. The present is equally connected or un- connected with both. The only reason why men have appre- hended so great disparity in cases so per- fectly like, I take to be this, That the faculty of memory in ourselves convinces us from fact, that it is not impossible that an in- telligent being, even a finite being, should have certain knowledge of past actions of free agents, without tracing them from any- thing necessarily connected with them. [310] But having no prescience in our- selves corresponding to our memory of what is past, we find great difficulty in admitting it to be possible even in the Supreme Being. A faculty which we possess in some de- gree, we easily admit that the Supreme Being may possess in a more perfect degree ; but a faculty which has nothing corre- sponding to it in our constitution, we will hardly allow to be possible. We are so constituted as to have an intuitive know- ledge of many things past ; but we have no intuitive knowledge of the future. -f- We might perhaps have been so constituted as to have an intuitive knowledge of the future ; but not of the past ; nor would this consti- tution have been more unaccountable than the present, though it might be much more inconvenient. Had this been our consti- tution, we should have found no difficulty in admitting that the Deity may know all things future, but very much in admitting his knowledge of things that are past. Our original faculties are all unaccount- able. Of these memory is one. He only who madethem, comprehends fully howthey are made, and how they produce in us not only a conception, but a firm belief and assurance of things which it concerns us to know. * This is a marvellous doctrine. The difficulty in the two cases is not the same The past, as past, whether it has been the action of a free agent or not, is now necessary ,- and, though we mny be unable to undcrsta d how it can be remembered, the supposi- tion of-its r nieml>rance involves no conrad ; ction. On the contrary, the future action of a free agent is ex hypothesi not a necessary event, i ut an event cannot be now certair.ly foreseen, excep it is now ce tainly to be j and to say that what is certainly to be i> not necessarily to be, s ems a contradiction.— H. t If by intuitive be -meant immediate, such a know- ledge is impossi le-in either cise; for we can know neither the past nor the future- in themselves, but only in the present— that i-, mediately.— H. CHAPTER III. OF DURATION. From the principles laid down in the first chapter of this Essay, I think it appears that odr notion of duration, as well as our belief of it, is got by the faculty of memory. * It is essential to everything remembered that it be something which is past ; and we cannot conceive a thing to be past, without conceiving some duration, more or less, be- tween it and the present. [311] As soon therefore as we remember anything, we must have both a notion and a 'belief of duration. It is necessarily suggested by every operation of our memory ; and to that faculty it ought to -be ascribed. This is, therefore, a proper place to consider what is known concerning it. Duration, Extension, and Number, are the measures of all things subject to men- suration. When we apply them to finite things which are measured by them, they seem of all things to be the most distinctly conceived and most within the reach of human understanding. Extension having three dimensions, has an endless variety of modifications, capable of being accurately defined ; and their various relations furnish the human mind with its most ample field of demonstrative reasoning. Duration having only one di- mension, has fewer modifications ; but these are clearly understood — and their relations admit of measure, proportion, and demon- strative reason in£. Number is called discrete quantity, be- cause it is compounded of units, which are all equal and similar, and it can only be divided into units. This is true, in some sense, even of fractions of unity, to which we now commonly give the name of num- ber. For, in every fractional number, the unit is supposed to be subdivided into a certain number of equal parts, which are the units of that denomination, and the fractions of that denomination are only di- visible into units of the same denomination. Duration and extension are not discrete, but continued quantity. They consist of parts perfectly similar, but divisible without end. In order to aid our conception of the mag- nitude and proportions of the various inter- vals of duration, we find it necessary to give a name to some known portion of it, such as an hour, a day, a year. These we con- sider as units, and, by the number of them contained in a larger interval, we form a distinct conception of its magnitude. [312] A similar expedient we find necessary to give * Reid makes Time an empirical cr generalized notion. — H. [310-312] CHAP. III.] OF DURATION. 343 us a distinct conception of the magnitudes and proportions of things extended. Thus, number is found necessary, as a common measure of extension and duration. But this perhaps is owing to the weakness of our understanding. It has even been disco- vered, by the sagacity of mathematicians, that this expedient does not in all cases answer its intention. For there are pro- portions of continued quantity, which can- not be perfectly expressed by numbers ; such as that between the diagonal and side of a square, and many others. The parts of duration have to other parts of it the relations of prior and posterior, and to the present they have the relations of past and future. The notion of past is immediately suggested by memory, as has been before observed. And when we have got the notions of present and past, and of prior and posterior, we can from these frame a notion of the future ; for the future is that which is posterior to the present. Nearness and distance are relations equally applicable to time and to place. Distance in time, and distance in place, are things so different in their nature and so like in their relation, that it is difficult to determine whether the name of distance is applied to both in the same, or an anological sense. The extension of bodies which we per- ceive by our senses, leads us necessarily to the conception and belief of a space which remains immoveable when the body is re- moved. And the duration of events which we remember leads us necessarily to the conception and belief of a duration which would have gone on uniformly though the event had never happened. • Without space there can be nothing that is extended. And without time there can be nothing that hath duration. This I think undeniable ; and yet we find that ex- tension and duration are not more clear and intelligible than space and time are dark and difficult objects of contemplation. [313] As there must be space wherever any- thing extended does or can exist, and time * If Space and Time be necessary .yeneralizations from experience, this is contrary to Keid's own doc- trine, that experience can give us no necessary know, ledge. If, again, they be necessary- and original notions, the account of their origin here given, is in- correct. It-should have been said that experience is not the source of their existence, but only the occa- sion of their manifestation. On this subject, see, mstar omnium, Cousin on Locke, in his •• Cours de Philosophic," (t. ii., Lecons 17 and. 18.) This admirable work has been well transla'ed into Eng- lish, by an American, philosopher, Mr Henry; but the eloquei ce and precision of the author can only be properly appreciaed by those who study the work in the original language. The reader may, however, consult likewise Stewart's " Philosophical Essays." (Essay ii.,'chap. -2,) ,and Hoyer Collard's " Frag- ments," (ix. and x.) These auihors, from their mce limited acquaintance with the speculations of the Ger- man philosophers, are, however, less on a level with the problem. — H. [313, 314] when there is or can be anything that has duration, we can set no bounds to either, even in our imagination. They defy all limitation. The one swells in our concep- tion to immensity, the other to eternity. An eternity past is an object which we cannot comprehend ; but a beginning of time, unless we take it in a figurative sense, is a contradiction. By a common figure of speech, we give the name of time to those motions and revolutions by which we mea- sure it, such as days and years. We can conceive a beginning of these sensible mea- sures of time, and say that there was a time when they w r ere not, a time undistinguished by any motion or change ; but to say that there was a time before all time, is a con- tradiction. All limited duration is comprehended in time, and all limited extension in space. These, in their capacious womb, contain all finite existences, but are contained by none. Created things have their particular place in space, and their particular place in time ; but time is everywhere, and space at alltimes. They embrace each the other, and have that mysterious union which the schoolmen con- ceived between soul and body. The whole of each is in every part of the other. We are at a loss to what category or class of things we ought to refer them. They are not beings, but rather the receptacles of every created being, without which it could not have had the possibility of exist- ence. Philosophers have endeavoured to reduce all the objects of human thought to these three classes, of substances, modes, and relations. To which of them shall we refer time, space, and number, the most common objects of thought ? [314] Sir Isaac Newton thought that the Deity, by existing everywhere and at all times, constitutes time and space, immensity and eternity. This probably suggested to his great friend, Dr Clarke, what he calls the argument a priori for the existence of an immense and eternal Being. Space and time, he thought, are only abstract or par- tial conceptions of an immensity and eter- nity which forces itself upon our belief. And as immensity and eternity are not substances, they must be the attributes of a Being who is necessarily immense and eternal. These are the speculations of men of superior genius. But whether thev be as solid as they are sublime, or whether they be the wanderings of imagination in a region beyond the limits of human under- standing, I am unable to determine. The schoolmen made eternity to be a nunc stajis — that is, a moment of time that stands still. This was to put a spoke into the wheel of time, and might give satisfac- tion to those who are to be satisfied by words without meaning. But I can as 344 ON THE INTELLECTUAL POWERS. [EssAy in easily believe a circle to be a square as time to stand still. Such paradoxes and riddles, if I may so call them, men are involuntarily led into when they reason about time and space, and attempt to comprehend their nature. They are probably things of which the hu- man faculties give an imperfect and inade- quate conception. Hence difficulties arise which we in vain attempt to overcome, and doubts which we are unable to resolve. Perhaps some faculty which we possess not, is necessary to remove the darkness which hangs over them, and makes us so apt to bewilder ourselves when we reason about them. [315] CHAPTER IV. OF IDENTITY. The conviction which every man has of his Identity, as far back as his memory reaches, needs no aid of philosophy to strengthen it; and no philosophy can weaken it, without first producing some degree of insanity. The philosopher, however, may very properly consider this conviction as a phe- nomenon of human nature worthy of his attention. If he can discover its cause, an addition is made to his stock of knowledge. If not, it must be held as a part of our ori- ginal constitution, or an effect of that con- stitution produced in a manner unknown to us. We may observe, first of all, that this con- viction is indispensably necessary to all ex- ercise of reason. The operations of reason, whether in action or in speculation, are made up of successive parts. The antece- dent are the foundation of the consequent, and, without the conviction that the ante- cedent have been seen or done by me, I could have no reason to proceed to the con- sequent, in any speculation, or in any active project whatever. There can be no memory of what is past without the conviction that we existed at the time remembered. There may be good arguments to convince me that I existed before the earliest thing I can remember ; but to suppose that my memory reaches a moment farther back than my belief and conviction of my existence, is a contradic- tion. The moment a man loses this conviction, as if he had drunk the water of Lethe, past things are done away ; and, in his own belief, he then begins to exist. [316] Whatever was thought, or said, or done, or suffered before that period, may belong to some^ other person ; but he can never impute it to himself, or take any subse- quent step that supposes it to be his do- ing. From this it is evident that we must have the conviction of our own continued existence and identity, as soon as we are capable of thinking or doing anything, on account of what we have thought, or done, or suffered before ; that is, as soon as we are reasonable creatures. That we may form as distinct a notion as we are able of this phenomenon of the human mind, it is proper to consider what is meant by identity in general, what by our own personal identity, and how we are led into that invincible belief and conviction which every man has of his own personal identity, as far as his memory reaches. Identity in general, I take to be a rela- tion between a thing which is known to exist at one time, and a thing which is known to have existed at another time.* If you ask whether they are one and the same, or two different things, every man of common sense understands the meaning of your question perfectly. Whence we may infer with certainty, that every man of common sense has a clear and distinct no- tion of identity. If you ask a definition of identity, I con- fess I can give none ; it is too simple a no- tion to admit of logical definition. I can say it is a relation ; but I cannot find words to express the specific difference between this and other relations, though I am in no danger of confounding it with any other. I can say that diversity is a contrary rela- tion, and that similitude and dissimilitude are another couple of contrary relations, which every man easily distinguishes in his conception from identity and diversity. [317] I see evidently that identity supposes an uninterrupted continuance of existence. That which hath ceased to exist, cannot be the same with that which afterwards begins to exist ; for this would be to suppose a being to exist after it ceased to exist, and to have had existence before it was produced, which are manifest contradictions. Con- tinued uninterrupted existence is therefore necessarily implied in identity. Hence we may infer that identity cannot, in its proper sense, be applied to our pains, our pleasures, our thoughts, or any opera- tion of our minds. The pain felt this day is not the same individual pain which I felt yesterday, though they may be similar in kind and degree, and have the same cause. The same may be said of every feeling and of every operation of mind : they are all * Identity is a relation between our cognitions of a thing, and not letween^.things themselves. It would, therefore, have been better in this sentence to have said, " a relations Letween a thing as known to exist at one time, and a thing as knoun to exist at another time." — H. [315-317] IV.] OF IDENTITY. 345 successive in their nature, like time itself, no two moments of which can be the same moment. ■ It is otherwise with the parts of absolute space. They always are, and were, and will be the same. So far, I think, we pro- ceed upon clear ground in fixing the notion of identity in general. It is, perhaps, more difficult to ascertain with precision the meaning of Personality; but it is not necessary in the present sub- ject : it is sufficient for our purpose to observe, that all mankind place their per- sonality in something that cannot be divided, or consist of parts. A part of a person is a manifest absurdity. When a man loses his estate, his health, his strength, he is still the same person, and has lost nothing of his personality. If he has a leg or an arm cut off, he is the same person he was before. The amputated member is no part of his person, otherwise it would have a right to a part of his estate, and be liable for a part of his en- gagements ; it would be entitled to a share of his merit and demerit — which is manifestly absurd. A person is something indivisible, and is what Leibnitz calls a monad. [318] My personal identity, therefore, implies the continued existence of that indivisible thing which I call myself. Whatever this self may be, it is something which thinks, and deliberates, and resolves, and acts, and suffers. I am not thought, I am not action, I am not feeling ; I am something that thinks, and acts, and suffers. My thoughts, and actions, and feelings, change every moment — they have no continued, but a successive existence ; but that self or /, to which they belong, is permanent, and has the same relation to all the succeeding thoughts, actions, and feelings, which I call mine. Such are the notions that I have of my personal identity. But perhaps it may be said, this may all be fancy without reality. How do you know ?— what evidence have you, that there is such a permanent self which has a claim to all the thoughts, actions, and feelings, which you call yours ? To this I answer, that the proper evi- dence I have of all this is remembrance. I remember that, twenty years ago, I conversed with such a person ; I remember several things that passed in that conversation; my memory testifies not only that this was done, but that it was done by me who now remember it. If it was done by me, I must have existed at that time, and continued to exist from that time to the present : if the identical person whom I call myself, had not a part in that conversation, my memory is fallacious — it gives a distinct and positive testimony of what is not true. Every man in his senses believes what he distinctly remembers, and everything he remembers [318-320] convinces him that he existed at the time remembered. Although memory gives the most irre- sistible evidence of my being the identical person that did such a thing, at such a time, I may have other good evidence of things which befel me, and which I do not remem- ber : I know who bare me and suckled me, but I do not remember these events. [319] It may here be observed, (though the observation would have been unnecessary if some great philosophers had not contra- dicted it,) that it is not my remembering any action of mine that makes me to be the person who did it. This remembrance makes me to know assuredly that I did it ; but I might have done it though I did not remember it. That relation to me, which is expressed by saying that I did it, would be the same though I had not the least re- membrance of it. To say that my remem- bering that I did such a thing, or, as some choose to express it, my being conscious that I did it, makes me to have done it, appears to me as great an absurdity as it would be to say, that my belief that the world was created made it to be created. When we pass judgment on the identity of other persons besides ourselves, we pro- ceed upon other grounds, and determine from a variety of circumstances, which sometimes produce the firmest assurance, and sometimes leave room for doubt. The identity of persons has often furnished mat- ter of serious litigation before tribunals of justice. But no man of a sound mind ever doubted of his own identity, as far as he distinctly remembered. The identity of a person is a perfect identity ; wherever it is real, it admits of no degrees ; and it is impossible that a person should be in part the same, and in part different ; because a person is a monad, and is not divisible into parts. The evidence of identity in other persons besides ourselves does indeed admit of all degrees, from what we account certainty to the least degree of probability. But still it is true that the' same person is perfectly the same, and can- not be so in part, or in some degree only. For this cause, I have first considered personal identity, as that which is perfect in its kind, and the natural measure of that which is imperfect, [320] We probably at first derive our notion of identity from that natural conviction which every man has from the dawn of reason of his own identity and continued existence. The operations of our minds are all succes- sive, and have no continued existence. But the thinking being has a continued exist- ence ; and we have an invincible belief that it remains the same when all its thoughts and operations change. Our judgments of the identity of objects 646 ON THE INTELLECTUAL POWERS. [essay III. of sense seem to be formed much upon the same grounds as our judgments of the identity of other persons besides ourselves. Wherever we observe great similarity, we are apt to presume identity, if no reason appears to the contrary. Two objects ever so like, when they are perceived at the same time, cannot be the same ; but, if they are presented to our senses at different times, we are apt to think them the same, merely from their similarity. Whether this be a natural prejudice, or from whatever cause it proceeds, it cer- tainly appears in children from infancy ; and, when we grow up, it is confirmed in most instances by experience ; for we rarely find two individuals of the same species that are not distinguishable by obvious differ- ences. A man challenges a thief whom he finds in possession of his horse or his watch, only on similarity. When the watchmaker swears that he sold this watch to such a person, his testimony is grounded on simi- larity. The testimony of witnesses to the identity of a person is commonly grounded on no other evidence. Thus it appears that the evidence we have of our own identity, as far back as we remember, is totally of a different kind from the evidence we have of the identity of other persons, or of objects of sense. The first is grounded on memory, and gives un- doubted certainty. The last is grounded on similarity, and on other circumstances, which in many cases are not so decisive as to leave no room for doubt. [321] It may likewise be observed, that the identity of objects of sense is never perfect. All bodies, as they consist of innumerable parts that may be disjoined from them by a great variety of causes, are subject to continual changes of their substance, in- creasing, diminishing, changing insensibly. When such alterations are gradual, because language could not afford a different name for every different state of such a change- able being, it retains the same name, and is considered as the same thing. Thus we say of an old regiment that it did such a thing a century ago, though there now is not a man alive who then belonged to it. We say a tree is the same in the seed-bed and in the forest. A ship of war, which has successively changed her anchors, her tackle, her sails, her masts, her planks, and her timbers, while she keeps the same name, is the same. The identity, therefore, which we ascribe to bodies, whether natural or artificial, is not perfect identity ; it is rather some- thing which, for the conveniency of speech, we call identity. It admits of a great change of the subject, providing the change be gradual, sometimes even of a total change. And the changes which in com- mon language are made consistent with identity, differ from those that are thought to destroy it, not in kind, but in number and degree. It has no fixed nature wheu applied to bodies ; and questions about the identity of a body are very often questions about words. But identity, when applied to persons, has no ambiguity, and admits not of degrees, or of more and less. It is the foundation of all rights and obligations, and of all accountableness ; and the notion of it is fixed and precise. [322] CHAPTER V. mr locke's account of the origin op our ideas, and particularly of the idea of duration. It was a very laudable attempt of Mr Locke " to inquire into the original of those ideas, notions, or whatever you please to call them, which a man observes, and is conscious to himself he has in his mind, and the ways whereby the understanding comes to be furnished with them.'* No man was better qualified for this investi- gation ; and I believe no man ever en- gaged in it with a more sincere love of truth. His success, though great, would, I ap- prehend, have been greater, if he had not too early formed a system or hypothesis upon this subject, without all the caution and patient induction, which is necessary in drawing general conclusions from facts. The sum of his doctrine I take to be this — " That all our ideas or notions may be reduced to two classes, the simple and the complex : That the simple are purely the work of Nature, the understanding being merely passive in receiving them : That they are all suggested by two powers of the mind — to wit, Sensation and Reflec- tion ;* and that they are the materials of all our knowledge. That the other class of complex ideas are formed by the under- standing itself, which, being once stored with simple ideas of sensation and reflec- tion, has the power to repeat, to compare, and to combine them, even to an almost infinite variety, and so can make at pleasure new complex ideas : but that is not in the power of the most exalted wit, or enlarged * That "Locke did not (as even Mr Stewart sup- poses) introduce Reflection, either name or thing, into the philosophy of mind, see Note I. Nor was he even the first explicitly to enunciate Sense and Reflection as the two sources of our knowledge; for I can shew that this had been done in a far more philosophical manner by some of the schoolmen ; Reflection with them not being merely, as with Locke, a source of adventitious, empirical, or a pos- teriori knowledge, but the mean by which we dis- close also the native, pure, or a priori cognitions which the intellect itself contains. — H. f32l, 322"] chap, v.] LOCKE'S ACCOUNT OF THE IDEA OF DURATION. 347 understanding, by any quickness or variety of thought, to invent or frame one new simple iuea in the mind, not taken in by the two ways before-mentioned. [323] That, as our power over the material world reaches only to the compounding, dividing, and putting together, in various forms, the matter which God has made, but reaches not to the production or annihilation of a single atom ; so we may compound, com- pare, and abstract the original and simple ideas which Nature has given us ; but are unable to fashion in our understanding any simple idea, not received in by our senses from external objects, or by reflection from the operations of our own mind about them." This account of the origin of all our ideas is adopted by Bishop Berkeley and Mr Hume; but some very ingenious philoso- phers, who have a high esteem of Locke's Essay, are dissatisfied with it. Dr Hutcheson of Glasgow, in his " In- quiry into the Ideas of Beauty and Virtue," lias endeavoured to shew that these are original and simple ideas, furnished by original powers, which he calls the sense of beauty and the moral sense. Dr Price, in his " Review of the Principal Questions and Difficulties in Morals," has observed, very justly, that, if we take the words sensation and reflection, as Mr Locke has defined them in the beginning of his excellent Essay, it will be impossible to derive some of the most important of our ideas from them ; and that, by the under- standing — that, is by our judging and reason- ing power — we are furnished with many simple and original notions. Mr Locke says that, by reflection, he would be understood to mean " the notice which the mind takes of its own operations, and the manner of them. " This, I think, we commonly call consciousness; from which, indeed, we derive all the notions we have of the operations of our own minds ; and he often speaks of the operations of our own minds, as the only objects of reflection. When reflection is taken in this confined sense, to say that all our ideas are ideas either of sensation or reflection, is to say that everything we can conceive is either some object of sense or some operation of our own minds, which is far from being true. [324] But the word reflection is commonly used in a much more extensive sense ; it is ap- plied to many operations of the mind, with more propriety than to that of conscious- ness. We reflect, when we remember, or call to mind what is past, and survey it with attention. We reflect, when we define, when we distinguish, when we judge, when we reason, whether about things material or intellectual. When reflection is taken in this sense, [ 323-325] which is more common, and therefore more proper* than the sense which Mr Locke has put upon it, it may be justly said to be the only source of all our distinct and ac- curate notions of things. For, although our first notions of material things are got by the external senses, and our first notions of the operations of our own minds by con- sciousness, these first notions are neither simple nor clear. Our senses and our con- sciousness are continually shifting from one object to another ; their operations are tran- sient and momentary, and leave no distinct notion of their objects, until they are re- called by memory, examined with attention, and compared with other things. This reflection is not one power of the mind ; it comprehends many ; such as re- collection, attention, distinguishing, com- paring, judging. By these powers our minds are furnished not only with many simple and original notions, but with all our notions, which are accurate and well defined, and which alone are the proper materials of reasoning. Many of these are neither no- tions of the objects of sense, nor of the operations of our own minds, .and therefore neither ideas of sensation, nor of reflection, in the sense that Mr Locke gives to reflec- tion. But, if any one chooses to call them ideas of reflection, taking the word in the more common and proper sense, I have no objection. [325] Mr Locke seems to me to have used the word reflection sometimes in that limited sense which he has given to it in the defi- nition before mentioned, and sometimes to have fallen unawares into the common sense of the word ; and by this ambiguity his ac- count of the origin of our ideas is darkened and perplexed. Having premised these things in general of Mr Locke's theory of the origin of our ideas or notions, I proceed to some observ- ations on his account of the idea of dura- tion. " Reflection," he says, " upon the train of ideas, which appear one after another in our minds, is that which furnishes us with the idea of succession ; and the distance between any two parts of that succession, is that we call duration." If it be meant that the idea of succession is prior to that of duration, either in time or in the order of nature, this, I think, is impossible, because succession, as Dr Price justly observes, presupposes duration, and can in no sense be prior to it ; and there- * This is not correct; and the employment of Reflection in another meaning than that of irirpotpii Tpo; iaorto — the reflex knowledge or consciousness which the mind has of its own affections— is wholly a secondary and less proper signification. See Note I. I may again notice, that Reid vacillates in the mean- ing he gives to the term Reflection. Compare above, p. '232, note *, and below, under p. 516.— H. 34» ON THE INTELLECTUAL POWERS. [essay III fore it would be more proper to derive the idea of succession from that of duration. But how do we get the idea of succession ? [t is, says he, by reflecting uponthe train of ideas which appear one after another in our minds. Reflecting upon the train of ideas can be nothing butrememberingit, and giving atten- tion to what our memory testifies concern- ing it ; for, if we did not remember it, we could not bave a thought about it. So that it is evident that this reflection includes remembrance, without which there could be no reflection on what is past, and conse- quently no idea of succession. [326] It may here be observed, that, if we speak strictly and philosophically, no kind of suc- cession can bean object either of the senses or of consciousness ; because the operations of both are confined to the present point of time, and there can be no succession in a point of time ; and on that account the mo- tion of a body, which is a successive change of place, could not be observed by the senses alone without the aid of memory. As this observation seems' to contradict the common sense and common language of mankind, when they affirm that they see a ody move, and hold motion to be an. object of the senses, it is proper to take notice, that this contradiction between the philosopher and the vulgar is apparent only, and not real. It arises from this, that philosophers and the vulgar differ in the meaning they put upon what is called the present time, and are thereby led to make a different limit between sense and memory. Philosophers give the name of the pre- sent to that indivisible point of time, which divides the future from the past : but the vulgar find it more convenient in the affairs of life, to give the name of present to a por- tion of time, which extends more or less, according to circumstances, into the past or the future. Hence we say, the present hour, the present year, the present century, though one point only of these periods can be present in the philosophical sense. It has been observed by grammarians, that the present tense in verbs is not con- fined to an indivisible point of time, but is so far extended as to have a beginning, a middle, and an end ; and that, in the most copious and accurate languages, these dif- ferent parts of the present are distinguished by different forms of the verb. As the purposes of conversation make it convenient to extend what is called the pre- sent, the same reason leads men to extend the province of sense, and to carry its limit as far back as they carry the present. Thus a man may say, I saw such a person just now : it would be ridiculous to find fault with this way of speaking, because it is authorized bv custom, and has a distinct meaning. [327] But, if we speak philoso- phically, the senses do not testify what we saw, but only what we see ; what I saw last moment I consider as the testimony of sense, though it is now only the testimony of memory. There is no necessity in common life of dividing accurately the provinces of sense and of memory ; and, therefore ,we assign to sense, not an indivisible point of time, but that small portion of time which we call the present, which has a beginning, a middle, and an end. Hence, it is easy to see that, though, in common language, we speak with perfect propriety and truth, when we say that we see a body move, and that motion is an ob- ject of sense, yet when, as philosophers, we distinguish accurately the province of sense from that of memory, we can no more see what is past, though but a moment ago, than we can remember what is present ; so that, speaking philosophically, it is only by the aid of memory that we discern motion, or any succession whatsoever. We see the present place of the body ; we remember the successive advance it made to that place : the first can then only give us a conception of motion when joined to the last. Having considered the account given by Mr Locke, of the idea of succession, we shall next consider how, from the idea of succession, he derives the idea of duration. " The distance," he says, " between any parts of that succession, or between, the appearance of any two ideas in our minds, is that we call duration." To conceive this the more distinctly, let us call the distance between an idea and that which immediately succeeds it, one ele- ment of duration ; the distance between an idea, and the second that succeeds it, two elements, and so on : if ten such elements make duration, then one must make dura- tion, otherwise duration must be made up of parts that have no duration, which is im- possible. [328] For, suppose a succession of as many ideas as you please, if none of these ideas have duration, nor any interval of duration be between one and another, then it is perfectly evident there can be no interval of duration between the first and the last, how great soever their number be. I con- clude, therefore, that there must be dura- tion iu every single interval or element of which the whole duration is made up. Nothing indeed, is more certain, than that every elementary part of duration must have duration, as every elementary part of extension must have extension. Now, it must be observed that, in these elements of duration, or single intervals of successive ideas, there is no succession of ideas ; yet we must conceive them to have [326-32S] chap, v.] LOCKE'S ACCOUNT OF THE IDEA OF DURATION. 349 duration ; whence we may conclude with certainty, that there is a conception of du- ration, where there is no succession of ideas in the mind. We may measure duration by the suc- cession of thoughts in the mind, as we mea- sure length by inches or feet ; but the notion or idea of duration must be antecedent to the mensuration of it, as the notion of length is antecedent to its being measured. Mr Locke draws some conclusions from his account of the idea of duration, which may serve as a touchstone to discover how far it is genuine. One is, that, if it were possible for a waking man to keep only one idea in his mind without variation, or the succession of others, he would have no per- ception of duration at all ; and the moment he began to have this idea, would seem to have no distance from the moment he ceased to have it. Now, that one idea should seem to have no duration, and that a multiplication of that j no duration should seem to have duration, appears to me as impossible as that the multiplication of nothing should produce something. [329] Another conclusion which the author draws from this theory is, that the same period of duration appears long to us when the succession of ideas in our mind is quick, and short when the succession is slow. There can be no doubt but the same length of duration appears in some circum- stances much longer than in others ; the time appears long when a man is impatient under any pain or distress, or when he is eager in the expectation of some happiness. On the other hand, when he is pleased and happy in agreeable conversation, or delighted with a variety of agreeable objects that strike his senses or his imagination, time flies away, and appears short. According to Mr Locke's theory, in the first of these cases, the succession of ideas is very quick, and in the last very slow. I am rather inclined to think that the very contrary is the truth. When a man is racked with pain, or with expectation, he can hardly think of anything but his distress ; and the more his mind is occupied by that sole object, the longer the time appears. On the other hand, when he is entertained with cheerful music, with lively conversa- tion, and brisk sallies of wit, there seems to be the quickest succession of ideas, but the time appears shortest. I have heard a military officer, a man of candour and observation, say, that the time he was engaged in hot action always, ap- peared to him much shorter than it really was. Yet I think it cannot be supposed that the succession of ideas was then slower than usual. * * In travelling, the time^seems verv short, while 329, 330] If the idea of duration were got merely by the succession of ideas in our minds, that succession must, to ourselves, appear equally quick at all times, because the only measure of duration is the number of suc- ceeding ideas ; but I believe every man capable of reflection will be sensible, that at one time his thoughts come slowly and heavily, and at another time have a much quicker and livelier motion. [330] I know of no ideas or notions that have a better claim to be accounted simple and original than those of Space and Time. It is essential both to space and time to be made up of parts ; but every part is similar to the whole, and of the same nature. Dif- ferent parts of space, as it has three dimen- sions, may differ both in figure and in mag- nitude ; but time having only one dimen- sion, its parts can differ only in magnitude ; and, as it is one of the simplest objects of thought, the conception of it must be purely the effect of our constitution, and given us by some original power of the mind. The sense of seeing, by itself, gives us the conception and belief of only two dimen- sions of extension, but the sense of touch discovers three ; and reason, from the con- templation of finite extended things, leads us necessarily to the belief of an immensity that contains them.* In like manner, me- mory gives us the conception and belief of finite intervals of duration. From the con- templation of these, reason leads us neces- sarily to the belief of an eternity, which comprehends all things that have a begin- ning and end.* Our conceptions, both of space and time, are probably partial and inadequate,-]'- and, therefore, we are apt to lose ourselves, and to be embarrassed in our reasonings about them. Our understanding is no less puzzled when we consider the minutest parts of time and space than when Ave consider the whole. We are forced to acknowledge that in their nature they are divisible with- out end or limit ; but there are limits be- yond which our faculties can divide neither the one nor the other. It may be determined by experiment, what is the least angle under which an object may be discerned by the eye, and what is the least interval of duration that may be discerned by the ear. I believe these may be different in different persons : But surely there is a limit which no man can exceed : and what our faculties can no longer divide is still divisible in it- passing; very long n retrospect. The cause is ob- vious. — H. * See above, p. 343, rote *.— H. + They are not probably but necessarily partial and inadequate. For we are unable positively to conceive Time or Space, either as infinite, (i. e., without limits,) or a? not infinite (/. e., as limited.* — H. 350 ON THE INTELLECTUAL POWERS. [essay III. self, and, by beings of superior perfection, may be divided into thousands of parts. [331] I have reason to believe, that a good eye in the prime of life may see an object under an angle not exceeding half a minute of a degree, and I believe there are some human eyes still more perfect. But even this de- gree of perfection will appear great, if we consider how small a part of the retina of the eye it must be which subtends an angle of half a minute. Supposing the distance between the centre of the eye and the retina to be six or seven tenths of an inch, the subtense of an angle of half a minute to that radius, or the breadth of the image of an object seen under that angle, will not be above the ten thou- sandth part of an inch. This shews such a wonderful degree of accuracy in the re- fracting power of a good eye, that a pencil of rays corning from one point of the object shall meet in one point of the retina, so as not to deviate from that point the ten thousandth part of an inch. It shews, likewise, that such a motion of an object as makes its image on the retina to move the ten thousandth part of,an inch, is discern- ible by the mind. In order to judge to what degree of ac- curacy we can measure short intervals of time, it may be observed that one who has given attention to the motion of a Second pendulum, will be able to beat seconds for a minute with a very small error. When he continues this exercise long, as for five or ten minutes, he is apt to err, more even than in proportion to the time— for this reason, as I apprehend, that it is difficult to attend long to the moments as they pass, without wandering after some other object of thought. I have found, by some experiments, that a man may beat seconds for one minute, without erring above one second in the whole sixty ; and I doubt not but by long practice he might do it still more accurately. From this I think it follows, that the six- tieth part of a second of time is discernible bv the human mind. [332] CHAPTER VI. OF MR LOCKE'S -ACCOUNT OF OUR PERSONAL IDENTITY. In a long chapter upon Identity and Diversity, Mr Locke has made many in- genious and just observations, and some which I think cannot be defended. I shall only take notice of the account he gives of our own Personal Identity. His doctrine upon this subject has been censured by Bishop Butler, in a short essay subjoined to his " Analogy," with whose sentiments I perfectly agree. Identity, as was observed. Chap. IV. of this Essay, supposes the continued existence of the being of which it is affirmed, and therefore can be applied only to things which have a continued existence. While any being continues to exist, it is the same being : but two beings which have a different be- ginning or a different ending of their exist- ence, cannot possibly be the same. To this I think Mr Locke agrees. He observes, very justly, that to know what is meant by the same person, we must consider what the word person stands for ; and he defines a person to be an intelligent being, endowed with reason and with con- sciousness, which last he thinks inseparable from thought. From this definition of a person, it must necessarily follow, that, while the intelligent being continues to exist and to be intelli- gent, it must be the same person. To say that the intelligent being is the person, and yet that the person ceases to exist, while the intelligent being continues, or that the person continues while the intelligent being ceases to exist, is to my apprehension a manifest contradiction. [333 J One would think that the definition of a person should perfectly ascertain the nature of personal identity, or wherein it consists, though it might still be a question how we come to know and be assured of our per- sonal identity. Mr Locke tells us, however, " that per- sonal identity — that is, the sameness of a rational being — consists in consciousness alone, and, as far as this consciousness can be extended backwards to any past action or thought, so far reaches the identity of that person. So that, whatever hath the consciousness of present and past actions, is the same person to whom they belong."* * See Essay, (Book ii. c^. 27, ?. 9.) The passage given as a quotation in the .text, is the sum of Locke's doctrine, but not exactly in his words. Long before Butler, to whom the merit is usually ascribed, L cke's doctrine of Personal Identity had been attaskeo. and refuted. This was done eren by his earliest critic, John Sergeant, whose words, as he is.an author wholly unknown to all historians of phi. losophy, and his works of the rarest, I shall quote. He thus argues : — " The former distinction forelaid, he ( Locke) proceeds to make personal identity in man to consist in the consciousness that we are the same thinking thing in different times and^places. He proves it, because consciousness is inseparable from thinking, and, as it seems to him, essential to it. Perhaps he may have had second thoughts, since he writ his 19th Chapter, where, ^ 4, he thought it probable that Thinking is but the action, and not the essence of the soul. His reason here is — ' Because 'tis impossible for any to perceive, without perceiving that he does perceive,' which I have shewn above to be so far lrom impossible, that the contrary is such. But, to speak to the point ; Consciousness of any action or other accident we have now, or have had, is nothing but our knowledge that it belonged to us ; and, since we both • gree that we lave no .innate knowledges, it follows, that all, both actual and ha!>i- tual knowledges, which we have, are acquired orac- r 331-3331 chap, vi.] LOCKE'S ACCOUNT OF OUR PERSONAL IDENTITY. 351 This doctrine hath some strange conse- quences, which the author was aware of, Such as, that, if the same consciousness can be transferred from one intelligent being to another, which he thinks we cannot shew to be impossible, then two or twenty intel- ligent beings may be the same person. And if the intelligent being may lose the con- sciousness of the actions done by him, which surely is possible, then he is not the person that did those actions ; so that one intelli- gent being may be two or twenty different persons, if he shall so often lose the con- sciousness of his former' actions. There is another consequence of this doctrine, which follows no less necessarily, though Mr Locke probably did not see it. It is, that a man may be, and at the same time not be, the person that did a particular action. Suppose a brave officer to have been flogged when a boy at school, for robbing an orchard, to have taken a standard from the enemy in his first campaign, and to have been made a general in advanced life : Sup- pose also, which must be admitted to be possible, that, when he took the standard, cidental to the subject or knower. Wherefore^the man, or that thing, which: is to be the knower, must have had individuality, or personality, from other principles, antecedently to- this knowledge, called consciousness : and, consequently, he will retain his identity, or continue the same man, or (which • is equivalent) the same person, as long as he has those individuating principles. What those principles are which constitute this man ; or this knowing indivi. duum, I have shewn above, \\ 6, 7. It being then most evident, that a man must be the same, ere he can know or be conscious that he is the same, all his laborious descants and extravagant consequences which are built upon this supposition, that conscious- ness individuates the person, can need no farther refutation." The same objection was also made by Leibnitz in his strictures on Locke's Essay. Inter alia, he says — " Pour ce qui est du soi il sera bon de le distinguer de Vapparence du soi et de la consciosite. Le soi fait l'identite reelle et physique, et l'apparence du soi, accompagnee de laverite, y joint l'identite personelle. Ainsi ne voulant point dire, que l'identite personelle ne s'etend pas plus loin que le souvenir, je dirois encore moms que le soi ou l'identite physique en depend. L'identite reele et personelle seprouve le plus certain- ment qu'il se.peut en matiere de fait, par la reflexion presente et immediate ; elle se prouve suffisament pour 1'ordinaire par notre souvenir d'intervalle ou par le temeignage conspirant des autres. Mais si Dieu changeoit extraordinairment l'identite reele, la per- sonelle demeuroit, pourvu que l'homme conservat les apparences d'identite, tant les internes, (e'est-^a dire de la conscience,) que lesexternes, comme celles qui consistent dans ce qui paroit aux autres. Ainsi la conscience n'est pas le seul moyennle oonstituer l'identite personelle, et le rapport d'autrui ou meme d'autres marques ypeuvent supplier. Mais il y a dela difliculte, s'il se trouve contradiction entreces diver- ses-apparei ces. La conscience se peut taire cqmme dans l'oubli ; mais-si elle disoit bien clairment des choses, qui fussent contrairesaux autres apparences, on seroit embarasse" dans la decision et comme sus- pends quelques fois entre deux possibilites, cellede 1'erreur du noire souvenir et celle de quelque decep- tion dans les apparences externes." For the best criticism of Locke's doctrine of Perso- nal Identity, I may, however, reler the reader to M. Cousin's " Cours de Philosophic" t. ii„ Leeon xviii., p. U 0-198— H. [331, 335] he was conscious of his having been flogged at school, and that when made a general he was conscious of his taking the standard, but had absolutely lost the consciousness of his flogging. [334] These things being supposed, it follows, from Mr Locke's doctrine, that he who was flogged at school is the same person who took the standard, and that he who took the standard is the same person who was made a general. Whence it follows, if there be any truth in logic, that the general is the same person with him who was flogged at school. But the general's consciousness does not reach so far back as his flogging — therefore, according to Mr Locke's doctrine, he is not the person who was flogged. Therefore, the general is, and at the same time is not the same person with him who was flogged at school.* Leaving the consequences of this doctrine to those who have leisure to trace them, we may observe, with regard to the doctrine itself— First, That Mr Locke attributes to con- sciousness the conviction we have of our past actions, as if a man may now be con- scious of what he did twenty years ago. It is impossible to understand the meaning of this, unless by consciousness be meant memory, the only faculty by which we have an immediate knowledge of our past actions. -f* Sometimes, in popular discourse, a man says he is conscious that he did such a thing, meaning that he distinctly remembers that he did it. It is unnecessary, in com- mon discourse, to fix accurately the limits between consciousness and memory. This was formerly shewn to be the case with re- gard to sense and memory : and, therefore, distinct remembrance is sometimes called sense, sometimes consciousness, without any inconvenience. But this ought to be avoided in philoso- phy, otherwise we confound the different powers of the mind, and ascribe to one what really belongs to another. If a man can be conscious of what he did twenty years or twenty minutes ago, there is no use for memory, nor ought we to allow that there is any such faculty. [335] The faculties of consciousness and memory are chiefly dis- tinguished by this, that the first is an im- mediate knowledge of the present, the second an immediate knowledge of the past. % When, therefore, Mr Locke's notion of * Compare Buffier's " Traite des premieres Veritez," (Remarques sur Locke, § 5f b,) who makes*a similar criticism. — JH. . t Locke, it. will be remembered, does not, like Reid, view con-ciousi ess as a co-ordinate faculty with memory ; but under consciousness he properly com- prehends the various faculties as so -many special modifications. — H. % As already frequently . stated, an immediate knowledge of the past isicontradictory. This- ob- servation Icannot again repeat. See Note B. — H. 352 ON THE INTELLECTUAL POWERS. [_essay III. personal identity is properly expressed, it is that personal identity consists in distinct remembrance ; for, even in the popular sense, to say that I am conscious of a past action, means nothing else than that I dis- tinctly remember that I did it. Secondly, It may be observed, that, in this doctrine, not only is consciousness con- founded with memory, but, which is still more strange, personal identity is confounded with the evidence which we have of our personal identity. It is very true that my remembrance that I did such a thing is the evidence I have that I am the identical person who did it. And this, I am apt to think, Mr Locke meant. But, to say that my remembrance that I did such a thing, or my conscious- ness, makes me the person who did it, is, in my apprehension, an absurdity too gross to be entertained by any man who attends to the meaning of it ; for it is to attribute to memory or consciousness, a strange magi- cal power of producing its object, though that object must have existed before the memory or consciousness which produced it. Consciousness is the testimony of one faculty ; memory is the testimony of another faculty. And, to say that the testimony is the cause of the thing testified, this surely is absurd, if anything be, and could not have been said by Mr Locke, if he had not confounded the testimony with the thing testified. When a horse that was stolen is found and claimed by the owner, the only evidence he can have, or that a judge or witnesses can have that this is the very identical horse which was his property, is similitude. [336] But would it not be ridiculous from this to infer that the identity of a horse consists in similitude only ? The only evidence I have that I am the identical person who did such actions is, that I remember distinctly I did them ; or, as Mr Locke expresses it, I am conscious I did them. To infer from this, that personal identity consists in conscious- ness, is an argument which, if it had any force, would prove the identity of a stolen horse to consist solely in similitude. Thirdly, Is it not strange that the same- ness or identity of a person should consist in a thing which is continually changing, and is not any two minutes the same ? Our consciousness, our memory, and every operation of the mind, are still flow- ing, like the water of a river, or like time itself. The consciousness I have this moment can no more be the same conscious- ness I had last moment, than this moment can be the last moment. Identity can only be affirmed of things which have a continued existence. Consciousness, and every kind of thought, is transient and momentary, and has no continued existence ; and, there- fore, if personal identity consisted in con- sciousness, it would certainly follow that no man is the same person any two moments of his life ; and, as the right and justice of reward and punishment is founded on per- sonal identity, no man could be responsible for his actions. But, though I take this to be the una- voidable consequence of Mr Locke's doc- trine concerning personal identity, and though some persons may have liked the doctrine the better on this account, I am far from imputing anything of this kind to Mr Locke. He was too good a man not to have rejected with abhorrence a doctrine which he believed to draw this consequence after it. [337] Fourthly, There are many expressions used by Mr Locke, in speaking of personal identity, which, to me, are altogether unin- telligible, unless we suppose that he con- founded that sameness or identity which we ascribe to an individual, with the identity which, in common discourse, is often ascribed to many individuals of the same species. When we say that pain and pleasure, consciousness and memory, are the same in all men, this sameness can only mean simi- larity, or sameness of kind ; but, that the pain of one man can be the same individual pain with that of another man, is no less impossible than that one man should be another man ; the pain felt by me yester- day can no more be the pain I feel to-day, than yesterday can be this day; and the same thing may be said of every passion and of every operation of the mind. The same kind or species of operation may be in different men, or in the same man at different times ; but it is impossible that the same individual operation should be in dif- ferent men, or in the same man at different times. When Mr Locke, therefore, speaks of "the same consciousness being continued through a succession of different substances ;" when he speaks of " repeating the idea of a past action, with the same consciousness we had of it at the first," and of " the same con- sciousness extending to actions past and to come" — these expressions are to me unin- telligible, unless he means not the same in- dividual consciousness, but a consciousness that is similar, or of the same kind. If our personal identity consists in con- sciousness, as this consciousness cannot be the same individually any two moments, but only of the same kind, it would follow that we are jnot for any two moments the same individual persons, but the same kind of persons. As our consciousness sometimes ceases to exist, as in sound sleep, our personal identity must cease with it. Mr Locke allows, that the same thing cannot have [336, 337] CHAP. VII.] THEORIES CONCERNING MEMORY. 353 two beginnings of existence ; so that our identity would be irrecoverably gone every time we cease to think, if it was but for a a moment.* [338] CHAPTER VII. THEORIES CONCERNING MEMORY. The common theory of ideas — that is, of images in the brain or in the mind, of all the objects of thought — has been very generally applied to account for the facul- ties of memory and imagination, as well as that of perception by the senses. The sentiments of the Peripatetics are expressed by Alexander Aphrodisiensis, one of the earliest Greek commentators on Aristotle, in these words, as they are trans- lated by Mr Harris in his " Hermes :" — " Now, what Phancy or Imagination is, we may explain as follows : — We may conceive to be formed within us, from the operations of our senses about sensible objects, some Im- pression, as it were, or Picture, in our origi- nal Sensorium, being a relict of that motion caused within us by the external object ; a relict which, when the external object is no longer present, remains, and is still preserved, being, as it were, its Image, * It is here proper to insert Keid's remarks on Personal Identity, as published by Lord Kames, in his " Essays on the Principles of Morality and Natural Religion," (third edition, p. 204.) These, perhaps, might have more appropriately found their place in the Correspondence of our Author. " To return to our subject," says his Lordship, " Mr Locke, writing on personal identity, has fallen 6hort of his usual accuracy. He inadvertently jumbles together the identity that is nature's work, with our knowledge of it. Nay, he expresses himself some- times as if identity had no other foundation than that knowledge. 1 am favoured by l)r Reid with the following thoughts on personal identity : — "' All men agree that personality is indivisible ; a part of a person is an absurdity. A man who loses his estate, his health, an arm, or a leg, continues stiil to be the same person. My personal identity, therefore, is the continued existence of that indivisible thing which I call myself. lam not thought; 1 am not action ; I am not feeling; but I think, and act, and feel. Thoughts, actions, feelings, change every moment; but self, to which they belong, is perman- ent. If it be asked how I know that it is permanent, the answer is, that ! know it from memory. Every- thing I remember to have seen, or heard, or done, or suffered, convinces me that I existed at the time remembered. But, though it is from memory that I have the knowledge of my personal identity, yet per. sonal identity must exist'in nature, independent of memory ; otherwise, I should only be the same per- son as far as my memory serves me ; and what would become of my existence during the intervals wherein my memory has failed me ? My rememberance of any ol my actions does not make me to be the person who did the action, but only makes me know that I was the person who did it. And yet it w^s Mr Locke's opinion, that my remembrance of an action is what makes me to be the person who did it ; a pregnant instance that even men of the greatest genius may sometimes fall into an absurdity. Is it not an obvious corollary, from Mr Locke's opinion, that he never was born ? He could not remember his birth ; and, therefore, was not the person born at such a place and at such a time.' "— H. T338, 339] and which, by being thus preserved, be- comes the cause of our having Memory. Now, such a sort of relict, and, as it were, impression, they call Phancy or Imagina- tion."" Another passage from Alcinous Of the Doctrines of Plato, chap. 4, shews the agree- ment of the ancient Platonists and Peripa- tetics in this theory : — " When the form or type of things is imprinted on the mind by the organs of the senses, and so imprinted as not to be deleted by time, but preserved firm and lasting, its preservation is called Memory."* [339] Upon this principle, Aristotle imputes the shortness of memory in children to this cause — that their brain is too moist and soft to retain impressions made upon it: and the defect of memory in old men he imputes, on the contrary, to the hardness and rigidity of the brain, which hinders its receiving any durable impression, -f- This ancient theory of the cause of memory is defective in two respects : First, If the cause assigned did really exist, it by no means accounts for the phsenomenon ; and, secondly, There is no evidence, nor even probability, that that cause exists. It is probable that in perception some impression is made upon the brain as well as upon the organ and nerves, because all the nerves terminate iu the brain, and be- cause disorders and hurts of the brain are found to affect our powers of perception when the external organ and nerve are found ; but we are totally ignorant of the nature of this impression upon the brain : it can have no resemblance to the object perceived, nor does it in any degree ac- count for that sensation and perception which are consequent upon it. These things have been argued in the second Essay, and shall now be taken for granted, to prevent repetition. If the impression upon the brain be insuf- ficient to account for the perception of ob- jects that are present, it can as little account for the memory of those that are past. So that, if it were certain that the im- pressions made on the brain in perception remain as long as there is any memory of the object, all that could be inferred from this, is, that, by the laws of Nature, there is a connection established between that im- pression, and the rememberance of that object. But how the impression contributes * The inference founded on these passages, is alto, gether erroneous. See Note K.— H. f In this whole statement Reid is wrong. Tn the first place, Aristotle did not impute the defect of memory in children and old persons to any const tu- tion of the Brain ; for, in his doctrine, the Heart, and not the Brain, is the primary sensorium in which the impression is made. In the second place, the term impression (tuxos), is used by Aristotle in an analogical, not in a literal signification, See Note K. — H. <2 A 354 ON THE INTELLECTUAL POWERS. [essay III. to this remembrance, we should be quite ignorant ; it being impossible to discover hew thought of any kind should be pro- duced, by an impression on the brain, or upon any part of the body. [340] To say that this impression is memory, is absurd, if understood literally. If it is only meant that it is the cause of memory, it ought to be shewn how it produces this effect, otherwise memory remains as unac- countable as before. If a philosopher should undertake to ac- count for the force of gunpowder in the discharge of a musket, and then tell us gravely that the cause of this phenomenon is the drawing of the trigger, we should not be much wiser by this account. As little are we instructed in the cause of memory, by being told that it is caused by a certain impression on the brain. For, supposing that impression on the brain were as neces- sary to memory as the drawing of the trigger is to the discharge of the musket, we are still as ignorant as we were how memory is produced ; so that, if the cause of memory, assigned by this theory, did really exist, it does not in any degree account for memory. Another defect in this theory is, that there is no evidence nor probability that the cause assigned does exist ; that is, that the impression made upon the brain in per- ception remains after the object is removed. That impression, whatever be its nature, is caused by the impression made by the object upon the organ of sense, and upon the nerve. Philosophers suppose, without any evidence, that, when the object is re- moved, and the impression upon the organ and nerve ceases, the impression upon the brain continues, and is permanent ; that is, that, when the cause is removed, the effect continues. The brain surely does not ap- pear more fitted to retain an impression than the organ and nerve. But, granting that the impression upon the brain continues after its cause is re- moved, its effects ought to continue while it continues ; that is, the sensation and perception should be as permanent as the impression upon the brain, which is sup- posed to be their cause. But here again the philosopher makes a second supposition, with as little evidence, but of a contrary nature — to wit, that, while the cause re- mains, the effect ceases. [341] ■ If this should be granted also, a third must be made — That the same cause which at first produced sensation and perception, does afterwards produce memory — an opera- tion essentially different, both from sensa- tion and perception. A fourth supposition must be made — That this cause, though it be permanent, does not produce its effect at all times ; it must be like an inscription which is some- times covered with rubbish, and on other occasions made legible ; for the memory of things is often interrupted for a long time, and circumstances bring to our recollection what had been long forgot. After all, many things are remembered which were never perceived by the senses, being no objects of sense, and therefore which could make no impression upon the brain by means of the senses. Thus, when philosophers have piled one supposition upon another, as the giants piled the mountains in order to scale the heavens, all is to no purpose — memory remains unac- countable ; and we know as little how we remember things past, as how we are con- scious of the present. But here it is proper to observe, that, although impressions upon the brain give no aid in accounting for memory, yet it is very probable that, in the human frame, memory is dependent on some proper state or temperament of the brain.* Although the furniture of our memory bears no resemblance to any temperament of brain whatsoever, as indeed it is impos- sible it should, yet nature may have sub- jected us to this law, that a certain consti- tution or state of the brain is necessary to memory. That this is really the case, many well-known facts lead us to con- clude. [342] It is possible that, by accurate observa- tion, the proper means may be discovered of preserving that temperament of the brain which is favourable to memory, and of remedying the disorders of that tempera- ment. This would be a very noble im- provement of the medical art. But, if it should ever be attained, it would give no aid to understand how one state of the brain assists memory, and another hurts it. I know certainly, that the impression made upon my hand by the prick of a pin occasions acute pain. But can any philo- sopher shew how this cause produces the effect ? The nature of the impression is here perfectly known ; but it gives no help to understand how that impression affects the mind ; and, if we knew as distinctly that state of the brain which causes memory, we should still be as ignorant as before how that state contributes to memory. We might have been so constituted, for anything that I know, that the prick of a pin in the hand, instead of causing pain, should cause remembrance ; nor would that constitution be more unaccountable than the present. The body and mind operate on each other, * Nothing more was meant by the philosopher in question, than that memory is, as Reid himself ad. mits, dependent on a certain state ot the brain, and on some unknown effect determined in it, to which they gave the metaphorical name — impression, trace, type, &C.—H. [340-342] CHAP. VII.] THEORIES CONCERNING MEMORY. 355 according to fixed iaws of nature ; and it is the business of a philosopher to discover those laws by observation and experiment : but, when he has discovered them, he must rest in them as facts whose cause is in- scrutable to the human understanding. Mr Locke, and those who have followed him, speak with more reserve than the ancients,* and only incidentally, of impres- sions on the brain as the cause of memory, and impute it rather to our retaining in our minds the ideas got either by sensation or reflection. This, Mr Locke says, may be done two ways — " First, By keeping the idea for some time actually in view, which is called con- templation ; Secondly, By the power to re- vive again in our minds those ideas which, after imprinting, have disappeared, or have been, as it were, laid out of sight ; and this is memory, which is, as it were, the store- house of our ideas." [343] To explain this - more distinctly, he imme- diately adds the following observation : — " But our ideas being nothing but actual perceptions in the mind, which cease to be anything when there is no perception of them, this laying up of our ideas in the repository of the memory signifies no more but this, that the mind has a power, in many cases, to revive perceptions which it once had, with this additional perception annexed to them, that it has had them before ; and in this sense it is, that our ideas are said to be in our memories, when indeed they are actually nowhere ; but only there is an ability in the mind, when it will, to revive them again, and, as it were, paint them anew upon itself, though some with more, some with less difficulty, some more lively, and others more obscurely." In this account of memory, the repeated use of the phrase, as it were, leads one to judge that it is partly figurative ; we must therefore endeavour to distinguish the figu- rative part from the philosophical. The first, being addressed to the imagination, exhibits a picture of memory, which, to have its effect, must be viewed at a proper distance and from a particular point of view. The second, being addressed to the understanding, ought to bear a near inspec- tion and a critical examination. The analogy between memory and a re- pository, and between remembering and retaining, is obvious, and is to be found in all languages, it being very natural to ex- press the operations of the mind by images taken from things material. But, in phi- losophy we ought to draw aside the veil of imagery, and to view them naked. When, therefore, memory is said to be a repository or storehouse of ideas, where they I* This is .hardly correct See Note K.— H. [343-345] are laid up when not perceived, and again brought forth as there is occasion, I take this to be popular and rhetorical. [344] For the author tells us, that when they are not perceived, they are nothing, and no- where, and therefore can neither be laid up in a repository, nor drawn out of it. But we are told, " That this laying up of our ideas in the repository of the memory signifies no more than this, that the mind has a power to revive perceptions, which it once had, with this additional perception annexed to them, that it has had them before." This, I think, must be understood literally and philosophically. But it seems to me as difficult to revivf things that have ceased to be anything, as to lay them up in a repository, or to bring them out of it. When a thing is once annihilated, the same thing cannot be again produced, though another thing similar to it may. Mr Locke, in another place, acknowledges that the same thing cannot have two beginnings of existence ; and that things that have different beginnings are not the same, but diverse. From this it follows, that an ability to revive our ideas or perceptions, after they have ceased to be, can signify no more hut an ability to create new ideas or perceptions similar to those we had before. They are said " to be revived, with this additional perception, that we have had them before." This surely would be a fallacious perception, since they could not have two beginnings of existence : nor could we be- lieve them to have two beginnings of exist- ence. We can only believe that we had formerly ideas or perceptions very like to them, though not identically the same. But whether we perceive them to be the same, or only like to those we had before, this perception, one would think, supposes a remembrance of those we had before, other- wise the similitude or identity could not be perceived. Another phrase is used to explain this reviving of our perceptions — " The mind, as it were, paints them anew upon itself.' - [345] There may be something figurative in this ; but, making due allowance for that, it must imply that the -mind, which paints the things that have ceased to exist, must have the memory of what they were, since every painter must have a copy either before his eye, or in his imagination and memory. These remarks upon Mr Locke's account of memory are intended to shew that his system of ideas gives no light to this faculty, but rather tends to darken it ; as little does it make us understand how we remember, and by that means have the certain know- ledge of things past. Every man knows what memory is, and has a distinct notion of it. But when Mr 2 a 2 356 ON THE INTELLECTUAL POWERS. [essay 111. Locke speaks of a power to revive in the mind those ideas which, after imprinting, have disappeared, or have been, as it were, laid out of sight, one would hardly know this to be memory, if he had not told us. There are other things which it seems to resemble at least as much. I see before me the picture of a friend. I shut my eyes, or turn them another way, and the picture disappears, or is, as it were, laid out of sight. I have a power to turn my eyes again to- wards the picture, and immediately the per- ception is revived. But is this memory ? No surely ; yet it answers the definition as well as memory itself can do. " We may observe, that the word percep- tion is used by Mr Locke in too indefinite a way, as well as the word idea. Perception, in the chapter upon that sub- ject, is said to be the first faculty of the mind exercised about our ideas. Here we are told that ideas are nothing but percep- tions. Yet, I apprehend, it would sound oddly to say, that perception is the first faculty of the mind exercised about percep- tion ; and still more strangely to say, that ideas are the first faculty of the mind ex- ercised about our ideas. But why should not ideas be a faculty as well as perception, if both are the same ?f [346] Memory is said to be a power to revive our perceptions. Will it not follow from this, that everything that can be remem- bered is a perception ? If this be so, it will be difficult to find anything in nature but perceptions. $ Our ideas, we are told, are nothing but actual perceptions ; but, in many places of the Essay, ideas are said to be the objects of perception, and that the mind, in all its thoughts and reasonings, has no other im- mediate object which it does or can con- template but its own ideas. Does it not appear from.this, either that Mr Locke neld the operations of the mind to be the same thing with the objects of those operations, § or that he used the word idea sometimes in one sense and sometimes in another, with- out any intimation, and probably without any apprehension of its ambiguity ? It is au article of Mr Hume's philosophy, that there is no distinction between the opera- tions of the mind and their objects. § But I see no reason to impute this opinion to Mr Locke. I rather think that, notwith- * To some of the preceding* strictures on Locke's account of memory, excuses might competently be pleaded. — H. t This cntirurn only shews the propriety of the distinction of perception and percept. Locke and other-philosophers use the word perception, l 3 , for the act or faculty of perceiving; v°, for that which is perceived— the idea in their doctrine ; and 3°, for either or both indifferentlv.— H. 4: See above p. 222, b, note * ; p. 280, a. note*.— H. ^. The term object being then used lor the imme- diate object— viz., that of which we are conscious. — H standing his "great judgment and candour, his understanding was entangled by the ambiguity of the word idea, and that most of the imperfections of his Essay are owing to that cause. Mr Hume saw farther into the conse- quences of the common system concerning ideas than any author bad done before him. He saw the absurdity of making every object of thought double, and splitting it into a remote object, which has a separate and permanent existence, and an immediate object, called an idea or impression, which is an image of the former, and has no ex- istence, but when we are conscious of it. According to this system, we have no in- tercourse with the external world, but by means of the internal world of ideas, which represents the other to the mind. He saw it was necessary to reject one of these worlds as a fiction, and the question was, Which should be rejected ? — whether all mankind, learned and unlearned, had feigned the existence of the external world without good reason ; or whether philoso- phers had feigned the internal world of ideas, in order to account for the intercourse of the mind with the external ? [347] Mr Hume adopted the first of these opinions, and employed his reason and eloquence in support of it. Bishop Berkeley had gone so far in the same track as to reject the material world as fictitious ; but it was left to Mr Hume to complete the system. According to his system, therefore, im- pressions and ideas in his own mind are the only things a man can know or can conceive. Nor are these ideas representa- tives, as they were in the old system. There is nothing else in nature, or, at least, within the reach of our faculties, to be re- presented. What the vulgar call the per- ception of an external object, is nothing but a strong impression upon the mind. What we call the remembrance of a past event, is nothing but a present impression or idea, weaker than the former. And what we call imagination, is still a present idea, but weaker than that of memory. That I may not do him injustice, these are his words in his " Treatise of Human Nature," [vol. I.] page 193. " We find by experience that, when any impression has been present with the mind, it again makes its appearance there as an idea ; and this it may do after two different ways, either when in its new appearance it retains a considerable degree of its first vivacity and is somewhat intermediate be- twixt an impression and an.idea, or when it entirely loses that vivacity, and is a perfect idea. The faculty by which we repeat our impressions in the first manner, is called the memory, and the other the imagination." [346, 347] CHAP. VII. THEORIES CONCERNING MEMORY. 357 Upon this account of memory and imagi- nation, I shall make some remarks. [348] First, I wish to know what we are here to understand by experience ? It is said, we find all this by experience ; and I con- ceive nothing can be meant by this expe- rience but memory — not that memory which our author defines, but memory in the common acceptation of the word. Ac- cording to vulgar apprehension, memory is an immediate knowledge of something past. Our author does not admit that there is any such knowledge in the human mind. He maintains that memory is nothing but a present idea or impression. But, in de- fining what he takes memory to be, he takes for granted that kind of memory which he rejects. For, can we find by experience, that an impression, after its first appearance to the mind, makes a second and a third, with different degrees of strength and vivacity, if we have not so distinct a remembrance of its first appearance as enables us to know it upon its second and third, notwithstand- ing that, in the interval, it has undergone a very considerable change ?* All experience supposes memory; and there can be no such thing as experience, without trusting to our own memory, or that of others. So that it appears, from Mr Hume's account of this matter, that he found himself to have that kind of memory which he acknowledges and defines, by ex- ercising that kind which he rejects. Se-ondl'/, What is it we find by expe- rience or memory ? It is, " That, when an impression has been present with the mind, it again makes its appearance there as an idea, and that after two different ways." If experience informs us of this, it cer- tainly deceives us ; for the thing is impos- sible, and the author shews it to be so. Impressions and ideas are fleeting, perish- able things, which have no existence but when we are conscious of them. If an im- pression could make a second and a third appearance to the mind, it must have a continued existence during the interval of these appearances, which Mr Hume ac- knowledges to be a gross absurdity. [349] It seems, then, that we find, by experience, a thing which is impossible. We are im- posed upon by our experience, and made to believe contradictions. Perhaps it may be said, that these dif- ferent appearances of the impression are not to be understood literally, but figuratively ; that the impression is personified, and made to appear at different times and in different habits, when no more is meant but that an impression appears at one time ; afterwards a thing of a middle nature, between an im- pression and an idea, which we call memory ; [318-350] * S^e NoteB.— H. and, last of all, a perfect idea, which we call imagination : that this figurative meaning agrees best with the last sentence of the period, where we are told that memory and imagination are faculties, whereby we repeat our impresions in a more or less lively manner. To repeat an impression is a figur- ative way of speaking, which signifies making a new impression similar to the former. If, to avoid the absurdity implied in the literal meaning, we understand the philo- sopher in this figurative one, then his defini- tions of memory and imagination, when stripped of the figurative dress, will amount to this, That memory is the faculty of making a weak impression, and imagination the faculty of making an impression still weaker, after a corresponding strong one. These definitions of memory and imagina- tion labour under two defects : First, That they convey no notion of the thing defined ; and, Secondly, That they may be applied to things of a quite different nature from those that are defined. When we are said to have a faculty of making a weak impression after a corre- sponding strong one, it would not be easy to conjecture that this faculty is memory. Suppose a man strikes his head smartly against the wall, this is an impression ; now, he has a faculty by which he can repeat this impression with less force, so as not to hurt him : this, by Mr Hume's account, must be memory. [350] He has a faculty by which he can just touch the wall with his head, so that the impres- sion entirely loses its vivacity. This surely must be imagination ; at least, it comes as near to the definition given of it by Mr Hume as anything I can conceive. Thirdly, We may observe, that, when we are told that we have a faculty of repeating our impressions in a more or less lively manner, this implies that we are the effi- cient causes of our ideas of memory and imagination ; but this contradicts what the author says a little before, where he proves, by what he calls a convincing argument, that impressions are the cause of their cor- responding ideas. The argument that proves this had need, indeed, to be very con- vincing ; whether we make the idea to be a second appearance of the impression, or a new impression similar to the former. If the first be true, then the impression is the cause of itself. If the second then the impression, after it is gone and has no existence, produces the idea. Such are the mysteries of Mr Hume's philosophy. It may be observed, that the common system, that ideas are the only immediate objects of thought, leads to scepticism with regard to memory, as well as with regard to the objects of sense, whether those ideas are placed in the mind or in the brain. 358 ON THE INTELLECTUAL POWERS. [essay III. Ideas are said to be tilings internal and present, which have no existence but during the moment they are in the mind. The objects of sense are things external, which ha^e a continued existence. When it is maintained that all that we immediately perceive is only ideas or phantasms, how can we, from the existence of those phan- tasms, conclude the existence of an external world corresponding to them ? This difficult question seems not to have occurred to the Peripatetics.* Des Cartes saw the difficulty, and endeavoured to find out arguments by which, from the existence of our phantasms or ideas, we might infer the existence of external objects. [351] The same course was followed by Malebranche, Arnauld, and Locke; but Berkeley and Hume easily refuted all their arguments, and demonstrated that there is no strength in them. The same difficulty with regard to mem- ory naturally arises from the system of ideas ; and the only reason why it was not observed by philosophers, is, because they give less attention to the memory than to the senses ; for, since ideas are things pre- sent, how can we, from our having a certain idea piesently in our mind, conclude that an event really happened ten or twenty years ago, corresponding to it ? There is the same need of arguments to prove, that the ideas of memory are pictures of things that really did happen, as that the ideas of sense are pictures of external objects which now exist. In both cases, it will be impossible to find any argument that has real weight. So that this hypothesis leads us to absolute scepticism, with regard to those things which we most distinctly re- member, no less than with regard to the external objects of sense. It does not appear to have occurred either to Locke or to Berkeley, that their system has the same tendency to overturn the tes- timony of memory as the testimony of the senses. Mr Hume saw farther than both, and found this consequence of the system of ideas perfectly corresponding to his aim of establishing universal scepticism. Hissys- stem is therefore more consistent than theirs, and the conclusions agree better with the premises. But, if we should grant to Mr Hume that our ideas of memory afford no just ground to believe the past existence of things which we remember, it may still be asked, How it * This is not correct. See above, p. 2R5, note \. To that note I may add, that no orthodox Catholic could be an Idealist. It was only the doctrine of transsubstantiation that prevented Malebranche from pre-occupying the theory of Berkeley and Collier, wh'ch was in fact his own, with the transcendent reality of a material world left out, as a Protectant hors d'amvre. This, it is curious, has never been observed. See Note P. — H. comes to pass that perception and memory are accompanied with belief, while bare ima- gination is not ? Though this belief can- not be justified upon his system, it ought to be accounted for as a phsenomenon of hu- man nature. [352] This he has done, by giving us a new theory of belief in general ; a theory which suits very well with that of ideas, and seems to be a natural consequence of it, and which, at the same time, reconciles all the belief that we find in human nature to perfect scepticism. What, then, is this belief? It must either be an idea, or some modification of an idea ; we conceive many things which we do not believe. The idea of an object is the same whether we believe it to exist, or barely conceive it. The belief adds no new idea to the conception ; it is, therefore, no- thing but a modification of the idea of the thing believed, or a different manner of conceiving it. Hear himself : — " All the perceptions of the mind are of two kinds, impressions and ideas, which differ from each other only in their different degrees of force and vivacity. Our ideas are copied from our impressions, and repre- sent them in all their parts. When you would vary the idea of a particular object, you can only increase or diminish its force and vivacity. If you make any other change upon it, it represents a different object or impression. The case is the same as in colours. A particular shade of any colour may acquire a new degree of liveliness or brightness, without any other variation ; but, when you produce any other variation, it is no longer the same shade or colour. So that, as belief does nothing but vary the manner in which we conceive any object, it can only bestow en our ideas an additional force and vivacity. An opinion, therefore, or belief, may be most accurately defined a lively idea, related to or associated with a present impression.'' This theory of belief is very fruitful of consequences, which Mr Hume traces with his usual acuteness, and brings into the service of his system. [353] A great part of his system, indeed, is built upon it ; and it is of itself sufficient to prove what he calls his hypothesis, " that belief is more properly an act of the sensitive than of the cogitative part of our natures." It is very difficult to examine this ac- count of belief with the same gravity with which it is proposed. It puts one in mind of the ingenious account given by Martinus Scriblerus of the power of syllo- gism, by making the maj >>• the male, and the minor the female, which, being coupled by the middle term, generate the conclusion. There is surely no science in which men of great parts and ingenuity have fallen into [~3.5 1-3.53] chap, vii.] THEORIES CONCERNING MEMORY. 359 such gross absurdities as in treating of the powers of the mind. I cannot help think- ing that never anything more absurd was gravely maintained by any philosopher, than this account of the nature of belief, and of the distinction of perception, memory, and imagination. The belief of a proposition is an opera- tion of mind of which every man is con- scious, and what it is he understands per- fectly, though, on account of its simplicity, he cannot give a logical definition of it. If he compares it with strength or vivacity of his ideas, or with any modification of ideas, they are so far from appearing to be one and the same, that they have not the least similitude. That a strong belief and a weak belief differ only in degree, I can easily compre- hend ; but that belief and no belief should differ only in degree, no man can believe who understands what he speaks. For this is, in reality, to say that something and nothing differ only in degree ; or, that nothing is a degree of something. Every proposition that may be the ob- ject of belief, has a contrary proposition that may be the object of a contrary belief. The ideas of both, according to Mr Hume, are the same, and differ only in degrees of vivacity — that is, contraries differ only in degree ; and so pleasure may be a degree of pain, and hatred a degree of love. [354] But it is to no purpose to trace the absurd- ities that follow from this doctrine, for none of them can be more absurd than the doc- trine itself. Every man knows perfectly what it is to see an object with his eyes, what it is to remember a past event, and what it is to conceive a thing which has no existence. That these are quite different operations of his mind, he is as certain as that sound differs from colour, and both from taste ; and I can as easily believe that sound, and colour, and taste differ only in degree, as that seeing, and remembering, and imagin- ing, differ only in degree. Mr Hume, in the third volume of his " Treatise of Human Nature," is sensible that his theory of belief is liable to strong objections, and seems, in some measure, to retract it ; but in what measure, it is not easy to say. He seems still to think that belief is only a modification of the idea ; but that vivacity is not a proper term to express that modification. Instead of it, he uses some analogical phrases, to explain that modification, such as " apprehending the idea more strongly, or taking faster hold of it." There is nothing more meritorious in a philosopher than to retract an error upon conviction ; but, in this instance, I hum- bly apprehend Mr Hume claims that merit 1354-3.561 upon too slight a ground. For I cannot perceive that the apprehending an idea more strongly, or taking faster hold of it, expresses any other modification of the idea than what was before expressed by its strength and vivacity, or even that it ex- presses the same modification more pro- perly. Whatever modification of the idea he makes belief to be, whether its vivacity, or some other without a name, to make perception, memory, and imagination to be the different degrees of that modification, is chargeable with the absurdities we have mentioned. Before we leave this subject of memory, it is proper to take notice of a distinction which Aristotle makes between memory and reminiscence, because the distinction has a real foundation in nature, though in our language, I think, we do not distinguish them by different names. [355] Memory is a kind of habit which is not always in exercise with regard to things we remember, but is ready to suggest them when there is occasion. The most perfect degree of this habit is, when the thing pre- sents itself to our remembrance spontane- ously, and without labour, as often as there is occasion. A second degree is, when the thing is forgot for a longer or shorter time, even when there is occasion to remember it ; yet, at last, some incident brings it to mind without any search. A third degree is, when we cast about and search for what we would remember, and so at last find it out. It is this last, I think, which Ari- stotle calls reminiscence, as distinguished from memory. Reminiscence, therefore, includes a will to recollect something past, and a search for it. But here a difficulty occurs. It may be said, that what we will to remember we must conceive, as there can be no will with- out a conception of the thing willed. A will to remember a thing, therefore, seems to imply that we remember it already, and have no occasion to search for it. But this difficulty is easily removed. When we will to remember a thing, we must remember something relating to it, which gives us a relative conception of it ; but we may, at the same time, have no conception what the thing is, but only what relation it bears to something else. Thus, I remember that a friend charged me with a commission to be executed at such a place ; but I have forgot what the commission was. By applying my thought to what I remember concerning it, that it was given by such a person, upon such an occasion, in consequence of such a conversation, I am led, in a train of thought, to the very thing I had forgot, and recol- lect distinctly what the commission was. [356] Aristotle says, that brutes have not re- 360 ON THE INTELLECTUAL POWERS. [essay it- miniscence ;* and this I think is probable ; but, says he, they have memory. It cannot, indeed, be doubted but they have something very like to it, and, in some instances, in a very great degree. A dog knows his master after long absence. A. horse will trace back a road he has once gone, as accurately as a man ; and this is the more strange, that the train of thought which he had in going must be reversed in his return. It is very like to some prodigious memories we read of, where a person, upon hearing an hundred names or unconnected words pronounced, can begin at the last, and go backwards to the first, without losing or misplacing one. Brutes certainly may learn much from ex- perience, which seems to imply memory. Yet, I see no reason to think that brutes measure time as men do, by days, months, or years ; or that they have any distinct knowledge of the interval between things which they remember, or of their distance from the present moment If we could not record transactions according to their dates, human memory would be something very different from what it is, and, perhaps, re- semble more the memory of brutes. [357] ESSAY IV. OF CONCEPTION. CHAPTER I. OF CONCEPTION, OR SIMPLE APPREHENSION IN GENERAL. Conceiving, imagining,^ apprehending, un- derstanding, having a notion of a thing, are common words, used to express that opera- tion of the understanding which the logi- cians call simple apprehension. The having an idea of a thing, is, in common language, used in the same sense, chiefly, I think, since Mr Locke's time. X Logicians define Simple Apprehension to be the bare conception of a thing without any judgment or belief about it. If this were intended for a strictly logical definition, it might be a just objection to it, that con- ception and apprehension are only synony- mous words ; and that we may as well define conception by apprehension, as appre- hension by conception ; but it ought to be * This is a question which may be differently an. swered, according as we attribute a diflerent meaning to the terms employed H. t Imagining should not be confounded with Con- ceiving, &c. ; though some philosophers, as Ga-sendi, have not attended to the distinction. The words Conception, Concept, Notion, should be limited to the thought of what cannot be represented in the imagin- ation, as, the thought .sugges'ed by a general term. The Leibnitzians call this symbolical in contrast' to intuitive knowledge. This is the sense -m which conceptio-and conceptits have been usually and cor- rectly employed. Mr Siewarf, on the other hand, arbitrarily limiis Conception to the reproduction, in imagination, of an object of sense as actually per- ceived. See Elements, vol. I., ch. iii. I cannot enter on a general criticism of Reid's nomenclature, though I may say something more of this in the sequel. See below, under pp. 371, 482.— H. t In this country should be added. Locke only introduced into English philosophy the teim idea in its Cartesian universality. Prior to him, the word was only used with us in its Platonic signification. Before Des Cartes. David Buchanan, a Scotch philo- sopher, who sojourned in France, had, however, em- ployed Idea in an equal latitude. See Note G— H. remembered that the most simple operations of the mind cannot be logically defined. To have a distinct notion of them, we must attend to them as we feel them in our own minds. He that would have a distinct notion of a scarlet colour, will never attain it by a definition ; he must set it before his eye, attend to it, compare it with the colours that come nearest to it, and observe the specific difference, which he will in vain attempt to define.* [358] Every man is conscious that he can con- ceive a thousand things, of which he believes nothing at all — as a horse with wings, a mountain of gold ; but, although concep- tion may be without any degree of belief, even the smallest belief cannot be without conception. He that believes must have some conception of what he believes. Without attempting a definition of this operation of the mind, I shall endeavour to explain some of its properties ; consider the theories about it ; and take notice of some mistakes of philosophers concerning it. 1. It may be observed that conception enters as an ingredient in every operation of the mind. Our senses cannot give us the belief of any object, without giving some conception of it at the same time. No man can either remember or reason about things of which he hath no conception. When we will to exert any of our active powers, there must be some conception of what we will to do. There can be no desire nor aversion, love nor hatred, without some con- ception of the object. We cannot feel pain without conceiving it, though we can con- ceive it without feeling it. These things are self-evident. In every operation of the mind, there- * We do not define the specific difference, but we define bv it.— K. [357, 358] chap, i.] OF SIMPLE APPREHENSION IN GENERAL. 3(H fore, in everything we call thought, there must be conception. When we analyse the various operations either of the understand- ing or of the will, we shall always find this at the bottom, like the caput mortuum of the chemists, or the materia prima of the Peripatetics ; but, though there is no opera- tion of miud without conception, yet it may be found naked, detached from all others, and then it is called simple apprehension, or the bare conception of a thing. As all the operations of our mind are ex- pressed by language, every one knows that it is one thing to understand what is said, to conceive or apprehend its meaning, whether it be a word, a sentence, or a dis- course ; it is another thing to judge of it, to assent or dissent, to be persuaded or moved. The first is simple apprehension, and may be without the last ; but the last cannot be without the first. ^ [359] 2. In bare conception there can neither be truth nor falsehood, because it neither affirms nor denies. Every judgment, and every proposition by which judgment is expressed, must be true or false ; and the qualities of true and false, in their proper sense, can belong to nothing but to judg- ments, or to propositions which express judgment. In the bare conception of a thing there is no judgment, opinion, or be- lief included, and therefore it cannot be either true or false. But it may be said, Is there anything more certain than that men may have true or false conceptions, true or false appre- hensions, of things ? I answer, that such ways of speaking are indeed so common, and so well authorized by custom, the arbiter of language, that it would be presumption to censure them. It is hardly possible to avoid using them. But we ought to be upon our guard that we be not misled by them, to confound things which, though often expressed by the same words, are really different. We must therefore re- member what was before observed, Essay I. chap. I — that all the words by which we signify the bare conception of a thing, are likewise used to signify our opinions, when we wish to express them with modesty and diffidence. And we shall always find, that, when we speak of true or false conceptions, we mean true or false opinions. An opinion, though ever so wavering, or ever so mo- destly expressed, must be either true or false ; but a bare conception, which ex- presses no opinion or judgment, can be neither. If we analyse those speeches in which men attribute truth or falsehood to our conceptions of things, we shall find in every case, that there is some opinion or judgment implied in what they call conception. [360] A child conceives the moon to be flat, and a [359-361] foot or two broad — that is, this is his opinion : and, when we say it is a false notion or a false conception, we mean that it is a false opinion. He conceives the city of London to be like his country village — that is, he believes it to be so, till he is better instructed. He conceives a lion to have horns ; that is, he believes that the animal which men call a lion, has horns. Such opinions language authorizes us to call conceptions ; and they may be true or false. But bare conception, or what the logicians call simple apprehen- sion, implies no opinion, however slight, and therefore can neither be true nor false. What Mr Locke says of ideas (by which word he very often means nothing but con- ceptions) is very just, when the word idea is so understood. Book II., chap, xxxii., § 1. " Though truth and falsehood belong in propriety of speech only to propositions, yet ideas are often termed true or false (as what words are there that are not used with great latitude, and with some deviation from their strict and proper signification ?) though I think that when ideas themselves are termed true or false, there is still some secret or tacit proposition, which is the foundation of that denomination : as we shall see, if we examine the particular occasions wherein they come to be called true or false ; in all which we shall find some kind of affirmation or negation, which is the reason of that denomination ; for our ideas, being nothing but bare appearances, or perceptions in our minds, cannot properly and simply in themselves be said to be true or false, no more than a simple name of anything can be said to be true or false." It may be here observed, by the way, that, in this passage, as in many others, Mr Locke uses the word perception, as well as the word idea, to signify what I call con- ception, or simple apprehension. And in his chapter upon perception, Book II., chap, ix., he uses it in the same sense. Percep- tion, he says, "as it is the first faculty of the mind, exercised about our ideas, so it is the first and simplest idea we have from reflection, and is by some called thinking in general. [361] It seems to be that which puts the distinction betwixt the ani- mal kingdom and the inferior parts of nature. It is the first operation of all our faculties, and the inlet of all knowledge into our minds." Mr Locke has followed the example given by Des Cartes, Gassendi, and other Carte- sians,* in giving the name of perception to the bare conception of things : and he has been followed in this by Bishop Berkeley, * GassendiWas not a Cartesian, but an Anti-Car tesian, though he adopted several points in his phi- losoDhy from Des Cartes — for example, the employ- ment of the term Idea not in its Platonic limitation. 362 ON THE INTELLECTUAL POWERS. Qessay IV. Mr Hume, and many late philosopher?, when they treat of ideas. They have pro- bably been led into this impropriety, by the common doctrine concerning- ideas, which teaches us, that conception, perception by the senses, and memory, are only different ways of perceiving ideas in our own minds. * If that theory be well founded, it will in- deed be very difficult to find any specific distinction between conception;and percep- tion, -f- But there is reason to distrust any philosophical theory when it leads men to corrupt language, and to confound, under one name, operations of the mind which common sense and common language teach them to distinguish. I grant that there are some states of the mind, wherein a man may confound his conceptions with what he perceives or re- members, and mistake the one for the other ; as in the delirium of a fever, in some cases of lunacy and of madness, in dreaming, and perhaps in some momentary transports of devotion, or of other strong emotions, which cloud his intellectual faculties, and, for a time, carry a man out of himself, as we usually express it. Even in a sober and sound state of mind, the memory of a thing may be so very weak that we may be in doubt whether we only dreamed or imagined it. It may be doubted whether children, when their imagination first begins to work, can distinguish what they barely conceive from what they remember. [362] I have been told, by a man " of knowledge and ob- servation, that one of his sons, when he began to speak, very often told lies with great assurance, without any intention, as far as appeared, or any consciousness of guilt. From which the father concluded, that it is natural to some children to lie. I am rather inclined to think that the child had no intention to deceive, but mistook the rovings of his own fancy^for things which he remembered. £ This, however, I take to be very uncommon, after children can communicate their sentiments by language, though perhaps not so in a more early period. Granting all this, if any man will affirm that they whose intellectual faculties are sound, and sober, and ripe, cannot with certainty distinguish what they perceive or remember, from what they barely conceive, when those operations have any degree of strength and distinctness, he may enjoy his * But see above, p. 280, a, note * ct -alibi.— H. \ Yet Re id himself defines Perception, a Concep- tion (Imagination) accompanied with a belief in the existence of its -object ; and Mr Stewart reduces the specific difference, at best only a concomitant, to an accidental circumstance, in holding that our im- aginations are themselves conjoined with a tempo, rary bplief in their objective reality. — H. X But compeue alxve, y. 340, col. a.— H. opinion ; I know not how to reason with him. Why should philosophers confound those operations in treating of ideas, when they would be ashamed to do it on other occasions? To distinguish the various powers of our minds, a certain degree of understanding is necessary. And if" some, through a defect of understanding, natural or accidental, or from unripeness of under- standing, may be apt to confound different powers, will it follow that others cannot clearly distinguish them ? To return from this digression — into which the abuse ofthe word perception, by philo- sophers, has led me — it appears evident that the bare conception of an object, which includes no opinion or judgment, can neither be true nor false. Those qualities, in their proper sense, are altogether inapplicable to this operation of the mind. 3. Of all the analogies between the opera- tions of body and those of the mind, there is none so strong and so obvious to all man- kind as that which there is between paint- ing, or other plastic arts, and the power of conceiving objects in the mind. Hence, in all languages, the words by which this power of the mind and its various modifications are expressed, are analogical, and borrowed from those arts. [363] We consider this power of the mind as a plastic power, by which we form to ourselves images of the objects of thought. In vain should we attempt to avoid this analogical language, for we have no other language upon the subject ; yet it is danger- ous, and apt to mislead. All analogical and figurative words have a double meaning ; and, if we are not very much upon our guard, we slide insensibly from the bor- rowed and figurative meaning into the pri- mitive. We are prone to carry the parallel between the things compared farther than it will hold, and thus very naturally to fall into error. To avoid this as far as possible in the pre- sent subject, it is proper to attend to the dissimilitude between conceiving a thing in the mind, and painting it to the eye, as well as to their similitude. The similitude strikes and gives pleasure. The dissimilitude we are less disposed to observe ; but the philo- sopher ought to attend to it, and to carry it always in mind, in his reasonings on this subject, as a monitor, to warn him against the errors into which the analogical lan- guage is apt to draw him. When a man paints, there is some work done, which remains when his hand is taken off, and continues to exist though he should think no more of it. Every stroke of his pencil produces an effect, and this effect is different from his action in making it ; for it remains and continues to exist when the action ceases. The action of painting is [ 362, 633~} •1 OF SIMPLE APPREHENSION IN GENERAL. 363 one thing ; the picture produced is another thing. The first is the cause, the second is the effect. Let us next consider what is done when he only conceives this picture. He must have conceived it before he painted it ; for this is a maxim universally admitted, that every work of art must first be conceived in the mind of the operator. What is this conception ? It is an act of the mind, a kind of thought. This cannot be denied. [364] But does it produce any effect besides the act itself ? Surely common sense answers this question in the negative ; for every Dne knows that it is one thing to conceive, another thing to bring forth into effect. It is one thing to project, another to execute. A man may think for a long time what he is to do> and after all do nothing. Con- ceiving, as well as projecting or resolving, are what the schoolmen called immanent acts of the mind, which produce nothing beyond themselves. But painting is a transitive act, which produces an effect distinct from the operation, and this effect is the picture. Let this, therefore, be always remembered, that what is commonly called the image of a thing in the mind, is no more than the act or operation of the mind in conceiving it. That this is the common sense of men who are untutored by philosophy, appears from their language. If one ignorant of the language should ask, What is meant by conceiving a thing ? we should very natur- ally answer, that it is having an image of it in the mind — and perhaps we could not explain the word better. This shews that conception, and the image of a thing in the mind, are synonymous expressions. The image in the mind, therefore, is not the object of conception, nor is it any effect produced by conception as a cause. It is conception itself. That very mode of think- ing which we call conception, is by another name called an image in the mind.* Nothing more readily gives the concep- tion of a thing than the seeing an image of it. Hence, by a figure common in language, conception is called an image of the thing conceived. But to shew that it is not a real but a metaphorical image, it is called an image in the mind. We know nothing that is properly in the mind but thought ; and, when anything else is said to be in the mind, the expression must be figurative, and signify some kind of thought. [365] I know that philosophers very unani- mously maintain, that in conception there * We ought, however, to distinguish Imagination and Image, Conception and Concept. Imagination and Conception ought to be employed in speaking of the mental modification, one' and indivisible, con. sidered as an act ; Image and Concept, in speaking of it, considered as a product or immediate object.— f364.-366l is a real image in the mind, which is the immediate object of conception, and distinct from the act of conceiving it. I beg the reader's indulgence to defer what may be said for or against this philosophical opinion to the next chapter ; intending in this only to explain what appears to me to belong to this operation of mind, without considering the theories about it. I think it appears, from what has been said, that the common language of those who have not imbibed any philosophical opinion upon this subject, authorizes us to understand the conception of a thing, and an image of it in the mind, not as two different things, but as two dif- ferent expressions, to signify one and the same thing ; and I wish to use common words in their common acceptation. 4. Taking along with us what is said in the last article, to guard us against the se- duction of the analogical language used on this subject, we may observe a very strong analogy, not only between conceiving and painting in general, but between the dif- ferent kinds of our conception?, and the different works of the painter. He either makes fancy pictures, or he copies from the painting of others, or he paints from the life ; that is, from real objects of art or nature which he has seen. I think our conceptions admit of a division very similar. First, There are conceptions which may be called fancy pictures. They are com- monly called creatures of fancy, or of im- agination. They are not the copies of any original that exists, but are originals them- selves. Such was the conception which Swift formed of the island of Laputa, and of the country of the Lilliputians ; Cer- vantes of Don Quixote and. his Squire ; Harrington of the Government of Oceana ; and Sir Thomas More of that of Utopia. We can give names to such creatures of imagination, conceive them distinctly, and reason consequentially concerning them, though they never had an existence. They were conceived by their creators, and may be conceived by others, but they never existed. We do not ascribe the qualities of true or false to them, because they are not accompanied with any belief, nor do they imply any affirmation or negation. [366] Setting aside those creatures of imagina- tion, there are other conceptions, which may be called copies, because they have an original or archetype to which they refer, and with which they are believed to agree ; and we call them true or false conceptions, according as they agree or disagree with the standard to which they are referred. These are of two kinds, which have different standards or originals. The first kind is analogous to pictures taken from the life. We have conceptions of individual things that really exist, such 3fJ4 ON THE INTELLECTUAL POWERS. [_ES.?AY JV as the city of London, or the government of Venice. Here the things conceived are the originals ; and our conceptions are called true when they agree with the thing con- ceived. Thus, my conception of the city of London is true, when I conceive it to be what it really is. Individual things which really exist, being the creatures of God, (though some of them may receive their outward form from man,) he only who made them knows their whole nature ; we know them but in part, and therefore our conceptions of them must in all cases be imperfect and inade- quate ; yet they may be true and just, as far as they reach. The second kind is analogous to the copies which the painter makes from pictures done before. Such I think are the conceptions we have of what the ancients called univer- sal ; that is, of things which belong or may belong to many individuals. These are kinds and species of things ; such as man or elephant, which are species of substances ; wisdom or courage, which are species of qualities ; equality or similitude, which are species of relations.* It may be asked — From what original are these conceptions formed ? And when are they said to be true or false ? [367] It appears to me, that the original from which they are copied — that is, the thing conceived — is the conception or meaning which other men, who understand the language, affix to the same words. Things are parcelled into kinds and sorts, not by nature, but by men. The individual things we are connected with, are so many, that to give a proper name to every indi- vidual would be impossible. We could never attain the knowledge of them that is necessary, nor converse and reason about them, without sorting them according to their different attributes. Those that agree in certain attributes are thrown into one parcel, and have a general name given them, which belongs equally to every indi- vidual in that parcel. This common name must therefore signify those attributes which have been observed to be common to every individual in that parcel, and no- thing else. That such general words may answer their intention, all that is necessary is, that those who use them should affix the same meaning or notion— that is, the same con- ception to them. The common meaning is the standard by which such conceptions are formed, and they are said to be true or * Of all su:h we can have no adequate imagination. A universal, when represented in imagination, is no longer adequate, no longer a universal. We. cannot have an image of Horse, but only of some individual of that species We may, however, have a notion or conception of it. See below, p. 48 >.—H. false according as they agree or disagree with it. Thus, my conception of felony is true and just, when it agrees with the meaning of that word in the laws relating to it, and in authors who understand the law. The meaning of the word is the thing conceived ; and that meaning is the conception affixed to it by those who best understand the language. An individual is expressed in language either by a proper name, or by a general word joined to such circumstances as dis- tinguish that individual from all others ; if it is unknown, it may, when an object of sense, and within reach, be pointed out to the senses ; when beyond the reach of the senses, it may be ascertained by a descrip- tion, which, though very imperfect, may be true, and sufficient to distinguish it from every other individual. Hence it is, that, in speaking of individuals, we are very little iu danger of mistaking the object, or tak- ing one individual for another. [368] Yet, as was before observed, our concep- tion of them is always inadequate and lame. They are the creatures of God, and there are many things belonging to them which we know not, and which cannot be deduced by reasoning from what we know. They have a real essence, or constitution of nature, from which all their qualities flow ; but this essence our faculties do not com- prehend. They are therefore incapable of definition ; for a definition ought to com- prehend the whole nature or essence of the thing denned. Thus, Westminster Bridge is an indi- vidual object; though I had never seen or heard of it before, if I am only made to conceive that it is a bridge from West- minster over the Thames, this concep- tion, however imperfect, is true, and is sufficient to make me distinguish it, when it is mentioned, from every other object that exists. The architect may have an adequate conception of its structure, which is the work of man ; but of the materials, which are the work of God, no man has an adequate conception ; and, therefore, though the object may be described, it cannot bo denned. Universals are always expressed by gene- ral words ; and all the words of language, excepting proper names, are general words ; they are the signs of general concep- tions, or of some circumstance relating to them. These general conceptions are formed for the purpose of language and reasoning ; and the object from which they are taken, and to which they are intended to agree, is the conception which other men join to the same words ; they may, there- fore, be adequate, and perfectly agree with the thing conceived. This implies no more than that men who speak the same language [367, 368J chap, i.] OF SIMPLE APPREHENSION IN GENERAL. 365 may perfectly agree in the meaning of many general words. Thus mathematicians have conceived what they call a plane triangle. They have defined it accurately ; and, when I conceive it to be a plane surface, bounded by three right lines, I have both a true and an adequate conception of it. [369] There is nothing belonging to a plane triangle which is not comprehended in this conception of it, or deducible from it by just reasoning. This definition expresses the whole essence of the thing defined, as every just definition ought to do ; but this essence is only what Mr Locke very properly calls a nominal essence ; it is a general conception formed by the mind, and joined to a general word as its sign. If all the general words of a language had a precise meaning, and were perfectly un- derstood, as mathematical terms are, all verbal disputes would be at an end, and men would never seem to differ in opinion, but when they differ in reality ; but this is far from being the case. The meaning of most general words is not learned, like that of mathematical terms, by an accurate definition, but by the experience we happen to have, by hearing them used in conversa- tion. From such experience, we collect their meaning by a kind of induction ; and, as this induction is, for the most part, lame and imperfect, it happens that different per- sons join different conceptions to the same general word ; and, though we intend to give them the meaning which use, the arbiter of language, has put upon them, this is difficult to find, and apt to be mis- taken, even by the candid and attentive. Hence, in innumerable disputes, men do not really differ in their judgments, but in the way of expressing them. Our conceptions, therefore, appear to be of 'hree kinds. They are either the concep- tions of individual things, the creatures of God ; or they are conceptions of the mean- ing of general words ; or they are the crea- tures of our own imagination : and these different kinds have different properties, which we have endeavoured to describe. 5 . O ur conception of things may be strong and lively, or it may be faint and languid in all degrees. These are qualities which pro- perly belong to our conceptions, though we have no names for them but such as are analogical. • Every man is conscious of such a difference in his conceptions, and finds his lively conceptions most agreeable, when the object is not of such a nature as to give pain. 1370] Those who have lively conceptions, com- monly express them in a lively manner — that is, in such a manner as to raise lively conceptions and emotions in others Such persons are the most agreeable companions [369-371 J in conversation, and the most acceptable in their writings. The liveliness of our conceptions proceeds from different causes- Some objects, from their own nature, or from accidental asso- ciations, are apt to raise strong emotions in the mind. Joy and hope, ambition, zeal, and resentment, tend to enliven our con- ceptions ; disappointment, disgrace, grief, and envy, tend rather to flatten them. Men of keen passions are commonly lively and agreeable in conversation ; and dispassion- ate men often make dull companions. There is in some men a natural strengthaand vigour of mind which gives strength to their con- ceptions on all subjects, and in all the occa- sional variations of temper. It seems easier to form a lively concep- tion of objects that are familiar, than of those that are not ; our conceptions of visible objects are commonly the most lively, when other circumstances are equal. Hence, poets not only delight in the description of visible objects, but find means, by meta- phor, analogy, and allusion, to clothe every object they describe with visible qualities. The lively conception of these makes the object appeal', as it were, before our eyes. Lord Kames, in his Elements of Criticism, has shewn of what importance it is in works of taste, to give to objects described, what he calls ideal presence.* To produce this in the mind, is, indeed, the capital aim of poetical and rhetorical description. It carries the man, as it were, out of himself, and makes him a spectator of the scene described. This ideal presence seems to me, to be nothing else but a lively conception of the appearance which the object would make if really present to the eye. [371] Abstract and general conceptions are never lively, though they may be distinct ; and, therefore, however necessary in philo- sophy, seldom enter into poetical descrip- tion without being particularised or clothed in some visible dress, -f- It may be observed, however, that our conceptions of visible objects become more lively by giving them motion, and more still by giving them life and intellectual qualities. Hence, in poetry, the whole crea- tion is animated, and endowed with sense and reflection. Imagination, when it is distinguished from conception, seems to me to signify one species of conception —to wit, the COn- EIlaXoTOhct, Visiones, of the ancient Rhetoricians.— H. t They thus cease to be aught abstract and general, and become merely individual representations. In precise language, they are no longer i>ovnu.otrx, but G, a, note * : and, below, unde. p. 48.-.- H. 3?6 ON THE INTELLECTUAL POWERS. [[essay IV. number, such as a thousand. And a distinct notion of this number of sides not being to be got by the eye, it is not imagined, but it is distinctly conceived, and easily distin- guished from every other number. * 3. Simple apprehension is commonly re- presented as the first operation of the understanding ; and judgment, as being a composition or combination of simple appre- hensions. This mistake has probably arisen from the taking sensation, and the perception of objects by the senses, to be nothing but simple apprehension. They are, very pro- bably, the first operations of the mind ; but they are not simple apprehensions. *f- [398] It is generally allowed, that we cannot conceive sounds if we have never heard, nor colours if we have never seen ; and the same thing may be said of the objects of the other senses. In like manner, we must have judged or reasoned before we have the conception or simple apprehension of judgment and of reasoning. Simple apprehension, therefore, though it be the simplest, is not the first operation of the understanding ; and, instead of say- ing that the more complex operations of the mind are formed by compounding sim- ple apprehensions, we ought rather to say, that simple apprehensions are got by ana- lysing more complex operations. A similar mistake, which is carried through the whole of Mr Locke's Essay, may be here mentioned. It is, that our simplest ideas or conceptions are got im- mediately by the senses, or by conscious- ness, and the complex afterwards formed by compounding them. I apprehend it is far otherwise. Nature presents no object to the senses, or to consciousness, that is not complex. Thus, by our senses we perceive bodies of various kinds ; but every body* is a com- plex object ; it has length, breadth, and thickness; it has figure, and colour, and various other sensible qualities, which are blended together in the same subject ; and I apprehend that brute animals, who have the same senses that we have, cannot sepa- rate the different qualities belonging to the same subject, and have only a complex and confused notion of the whole. Such also would be our notions of the objects of sense, if we had not superior powers of understanding, by which we can analyse the complex object, abstract every parti- cular attribute from the rest, and form a distinct conception of it. So that it is not by the senses imme- * See above, p. 366, a, note *.— H. t They are not simple apprehensions, in one sense —that is, the objects are not incoraposite. Hut this vas not the meaning in which the expression was used by the Logicians.— H. diately, but rather by the powers of ana- lysing and abstraction, that we get the most simple and the most distinct notions even of the objects of sense. This will be more fully explained in another place. [399] 4- There remains another mistake con- cerning conception, which deserves to be noticed. It is — That our conception of things is a test of their possibility, so that, what we can distinctly conceive, we may conclude to be possible ; and of what is im- possible, we can have no conception. This opinion has been held by philoso- phers for more than an hundred years, without contradiction or dissent, as far as I know ; and, if it be an error, it may be of some use to inquire into its origin, and the causes that it has been so generally re- ceived as a maxim whose truth could not be brought into doubt. One of the fruitless questions agitated among the scholastic philosophers in the dark ages' was — What is the criterion of truth ? as if men could have any other way to distinguish truth from error, but by the right use of that power of judging which God has given them. Des Cartes endeavoured to put an end to this controversy, by making it a fundamen- tal principle in his system, that whatever we clearly and distinctly perceive, is true."}* To understand this principle of Des Cartes, it must be observed, that he gave the name of perception to every power of the human understanding ; and in explain- ing this very maxim, he tells us that sense, imagination, and pure intellection, are only different modes of perceiving, and, so the maxim was understood by all his followers. £ The learned Dr Cudworth seems also to have adopted this principle : — " The cri- terion of true knowledge, says he, is only to be looked for in our knowledge and con- ceptions themselves : for the entity of all theoretical truth is nothing else but clear intelligibility, and whatever is clearly con- ceived is an entity and a truth ; but that which is false, divine power itself cannot make it to be clearly and distinctly under- stood. [400] A falsehood can never be clearly conceived or apprehended to be true." — " Eternal and Immutable Mora- lity," p. 172, &c. This Cartesian maxim seems to me to have led the way to that now under con- sideration, which seems to have been adopted as the proper correction of the former. When the authority of Des Cartes declined, men began to see i that we may clearly and distinctly conceive what is not true, but * This was more a question with the Greek philo. sophers than witn the schoolmen.— H. t In this he proposed nothing new. -H. ± That is, in Des Cartes' signification of the word, different modes of 'jeing conscioKS. See above. — H. [398-100] cuai». in.] MISTAKES CONCERNING CONCEPTION. 377 thought, that our conception, though not in all cases a test of truth, might be a test of possibility.* This indeed seems to be a necessary con- sequence of the received doctrine of ideas ; it being evident that there can be no dis- tinct image, either in the mind or anywhere else, of that which is impossible. -|- The ambiguity of the word conceive, which we observed, Essay I. chap. 1, and the com- mon phraseology of saying we cannot con- ceive such a thing, when we would signify that we think it impossible, might likewise contribute to the reception of this doctrine. But, whatever was the origin of this opinion, it seems to prevail universally, and to be received as a maxim. " The bare having an idea of the propo- sition proves the thing not to be impossible ; for of an impossible proposition there can be no idea." — Dr Samuel Clarke. " Of that which neither does nor can exist we can have no idea." — Lord Boling- broke. " The measure of impossibility to us is inconceivableness, that of which we can have no idea, but that reflecting upon it, it appears to be nothing, we pronounce to be impossible." — Abernethy. [401] " In every idea is implied the possibility of the existence of its object, nothing being clearer than that there can be no idea of an impossibility, or conception of what can- not exist." — Dr Price. " Impossible est cujus nullani notionem formare possumus ; possibile e contra, cui aliqua respondet notio." — Wolfii Ontolo- " It is an established maxim in metaphy- sics, that whatever the mind conceives, in- cludes the idea of possible existence, or, in other words, that nothing we imagine is absolutely impossible." — D. Hume. It were easy to muster up many other respectable authorities for this maxim, and I have never found one that called it in question. If the maxim be true in the extent which * That is, of logical possibility — the absence of con- tradiction.— H. * This is rather a strained inference. — H. ? These are not exactly Wolf's expressions. See " Ontolopia," § § 102, 103; " Philosophia Rationalis" \ § 522, 528. The same doctrine is held by Tschirn. hansen and others. In so far, however, as it is said that inconceivability is the criterion of impossibility, it is- manifestly erroneous. Of many contradictories, we are able to conceive neither; but, by the law of thought, called that of Excluded Middle, one of two contradictories must be admitted— must be true. For example, we can neither conceive, on the one hand, an ultimate minimum of space or of time; nor can we, on the other, conceive their infinite divisibi- lity. In like manner, we cannot conceive the abso- lute commencement of time, or the utmost limit of space, And are yet equally unable to conceive them without any commencement or limit. The absurdity that would result from the assertion, that all that is inconceivable is impossible, is thus obvious ; and so far Reid's criticism is jusi, though not new H. [10 i, 1-02] the famous Wolfius has given it in the pas- sage above quoted, we shall have a short road to the determination of every question about the possibility or impossibility of things. We need only look into our own breast, and that, like the Urim and Thummim, will give an infallible answer. If we can conceive the thing, it is possible ; if not, it is impossible. And, surely, every man may know whether he can conceive what is affirmed or not. Other philosophers have been, satisfied with one half of the maxim of Wolfius. They say, that whatever we can conceive is possible ; but they do not say that whatever we cannot conceive is impossible. I cannot help thinking even this to be a mistake, which philosophers have been un- warily led into, from the causes before men- tioned. My reasons are these : — [402] 1. Whatever is said to be possible or ira-r possible, is expressed by a proposition. Now, what is it to conceive a proposition ? I think it is no more than to understand distinctly its meaning.* I know no more * In this sense of the word Conception, I make bold to say that there is no philosopher who ever held an opinion different from that of our author. The whole dispute arises from Reid giving a wider signification to this term than that which it has generally received. In his view, it has two mean- ings ; in that of the philosophers whom he attacks, it has only one. To illustrate this, take the proposi- tion — a circle is square. Here we easily understand the meaning of the affirmation, because what is neces- sary to an act of judgment is merely that the subject and predicate should be brought into a unity of rela- tion. A judgment is therefore possible, even where the two terms are contradictory. But the philosophers never expressed, by the term conception, this under, standing of the purport of a proposition. What they meant by conception was not the unity of relation, but the unity of representation ; and this unity of representation they made the criterion of logical pos- sibility. To take the example already given : they did not say a circle may possibly be square, because we can understand the meaning of the proposition, a circle is square ; but, on the contrary, they said it is impossible that a circle can be square, and the pro- position affirming this is necessarily false, because we cannot, in consciousness, bring to a unity of repre- sentation the repugnant notions, circle and square- that is, conceive- the notion of square circle. Reid's mistake in this matter is so palpable that it is not more surprising that he should have committed it, than that so many should not only have followed him in the opinion, but even have lauded it as the refuta- tion of an important error. To shew how com- pletely Reid mistook the philosophers, it will be suf- ficient to quote a passage from Wolf's vernacular Logic, which I take from the English translation, (one, by the by, of the few tolerable versions we have of German philosophical works,) published in 1770: — " It is carefully to be observed, that we have not always the notion of the thing present to us, or in view, when we speak or think of it ; but are satisfied when we imagine we sufficiently understand what we speak, if we think we recollect that we have had, at another time, the notion which is to be joined tothis or the other word;' and thus we represent to our- selves, as at a distance only, or obscurely, the thing denoted by the term. ,n] same sense. On this account, if one should say that the whiteness of this sheet is the whiteness of another sheet, every man per- ceives this to be absurd ; but when he says both sheets are white, this is true and per- fectly understood. The conception of white- ness implies no existence ; it would remain the same though everything in the universe that is white were annihilated. [449] It appears, therefore, that the general names of qualities, as well as of other at- tributes, are applicable to many individuals in the same sense, which cannot be if there be not general conceptions signified by such names. If it should be asked, how early, or at what period of life men begin to form general conceptions ? I answer, As soon as a child can say, with understanding, that he has two brothers or two sisters — as soon as he can use the plural number — he must have general conceptions ; for no individual can have a plural number. As there are not two individuals in nature that agree in everything, so there are very few that do not agree in some things. We take pleasure from very early years in ob- serving such agreements. One great branch of what we call wit, which, when innocent, gives pleasure to every good-natured man, consists in discovering unexpected agree- ments in things. The author of Hudibras could discern a property common to the morning and a boiled lobster — that both turn from black to red. Swift could see something common to wit and an old cheese, Such unexpected agreements may shew wit ; but there are innumerable agreements of things which cannot escape the notice of the lowest understanding ; such as agree- ments in colour, magnitude, figure, features, time, place, age, and so forth. These agree- ments are the foundation of so many com- mon attributes, which are found in the rudest languages. The ancient philosophers called these universals, or predicables, and endeavoured to reduce them to five classes — to wit, Genus, Species, Specific Difference, Pro- perties, and Accidents. Perhaps there may be more classes of universals or attributes — for enumerations, so very general, are s sel- dom complete : but every attribute, common to several individuals, may be expressed by a general term, which is the sign of a general conception. [450] How prone men are to form general con- ceptions we may see from the use of meta- phor, and of the other figures of speech grounded on similitude. Similitude is no- thing else than an agreement of the objects compared in one or more attributes , and if there be no attribute common to both, there can be no similitude. The similitudes and analogies between 396 ON THE INTELLECTUAL POWERS. Q ESSAY V. the various objects that nature presents to us, are infinite and inexhaustible. They not only please, when displayed by the poet or wit in works of taste, but they are highly useful in the ordinary communication of our thoughts and sentiments by language. In the rude languages of barbarous nations, similitudes and analogies supply the want of proper words to express men's sentiments, so much that in such languages there is hardly a sentence without a metaphor ; and, if we examine the most copious and polished languages, we shall* find that a great pro- portion of the words and phrases which are accounted the most proper, may be said to be the progeny of metaphor. As foreigners, who settle in a nation as their home, come at last to be incorporated and lose the denomination of foreigners, so words and phrases, at first borrowed and figurative, by long use become denizens in the language, and lose the denomination of figures of speech. When we speak of the extent of knowledge, the steadiness of virtue, the tenderness of affection, the perspicuity of expression, no man conceives these to be metaphorical expressions ; they are as pro- per as any in the language : yet it appears upon the very face of them, that they must have been metaphorical in those who vised them first ; and that it is by use and prescription that they have lost the deno- mination of figurative, and acquired a right to be considered as proper words. This observation will be found to extend to a great part, perhaps the greatest part of the words of the most perfect languages. Some- times the name of an individual is given to a general conception, and thereby the in- dividual in a manner generalised ; as when the Jew Shy lock, in Shakespeare, says — " A Daniel come to judgment ; yea, a Daniel !" In this speech, " a Daniel" is an attribute, or an universal. The character of Daniel, as a man of singular wisdom, is abstracted from his person, and considered as capable of being attributed to other per- sons. [451] Upon the whole, these two operations of abstracting and generalising appear com- mon to all men that have understanding. The practice of them is, and must be, fami- liar to every man that uses language ; but it is one thing to practise them, and another to explain how they are performed ; as it is one thing to see, another to explain how we see. The first is the province of all men, and is the natural and easy operation of the faculties which God hath given us. The second is the province of philosophers, and, though a matter of no great difficulty in it- self, has been much perplexed by the ambi- guity of words, and still more by the hypotheses of philosophers. Thus, when I consider a billiard ball, its colour is one attribute, which I signify by calling it white ; its figure is another, which is signified by calling it spherical , the firm cohesion of its parts is signified by calling it hard ; its recoiling, when it strikes a hard body, is signified by its being called elastic ; its origin, as being part of the tooth of an elephant, is signified by calling it ivory ; and its use by calling it a billiard ball. The words by which each of those attri- butes is signified, have one distinct meaning, and in this meaning are applicable to many individuals. They signify not any indivi- dual thing, but attributes common to many individuals ; nor is it beyond the capacity of a child to understand them perfectly, and to apply them properly to every individual in which they are found. As it is by analysing a complex object into its several attributes that we acquire our simplest abstract conceptions, it may be proper to compare this analysis with that which a chemist makes of a compounded body into the ingredients which enter into its composition ; for, although there be such an analogy between these two operations, that we give to both the name of analysis or resolution, there is, at the same time, so great a dissimilitude in some respects, that we may be led into error, by applying to one what belongs to the other. [452] It is obvious that the chemical analysis is an operation of the hand upon matter, by various material instruments. The an- alysis we are now explaining, is purely an operation of the understanding, which re- quires no material instrument, nor produces any change upon any external thing ; we shall, therefore, call it the intellectual or mental analysis. In the chemical analysis, the compound body itself is the subject analysed. A sub- ject so imperfectly known that it may be compounded of various ingredients, when to our senses it appears perfectly simple ;* and even when we are able to analyse it into the different ingredients of which it is composed, we know not how or why the combination of those ingredients produces such a body. Thus, pure sea-salt is a body, to appear- ance as simple as any in nature. Every the least particle of it, discernible by our senses, is perfectly similar to every other particle in all its qualities. The nicest taste, the quick- est eye, can discern no mark of its being made up of different ingredients; yet, by the chemical art, it can be analysed into an acid and an alkali, and can be again pro- duced by the combination of those two in- gredients. But how this combination pro- duces sea-salt, no man has been able to dis- cover. The ingredients are both as unlike * Something seems wanting in this clause.— H. [451 **2] chap, in.] CONCEPTIONS FORMED BY ANALYSING OBJECTS 397 the compound as any bodies we know. No man could have guessed, before the thing was known, that sea-salt is compounded of those two ingredients ; no man could have guessed that the union of those two ingre- dients should produce such a compound as sea-salt. Such, in many cases, are the phsenomena of the chemical analysis of a compound body. [453] If we consider the intellectual analysis of an object, it is evident that nothing of this kind can happen ; because the thing ana- lysed is not an external object imperfectly known ; it is a conception of the mind it- self. And, to suppose that there can be anything in a conception that is not con- ceived, is a contradiction. The reason of observing this difference between those two kinds of analysis is, that some philosophers, in order to support their systems, have maintained that a complex idea may have the appearance of the most perfect simplicity, and retain no similitude of any of the simple ideas of which it is compounded ; just as a white colour may appear perfectly simple, and retain no similitude to any of the seven primary colours of which it is compounded ; or as a chemical composition may appear perfectly simple, and retain no similitude to any of the ingredients. From which those philosophers have drawn this important conclusion, that a cluster of the ideas of sense, properly combined, may make the idea of a mind ; and that all the ideas which Mr Locke calls ideas of re- flection, are only compositions of the ideas which we have by our five senses. From this the transition is easy, that, if a proper composition of the ideas of matter may make the idea of a mind, then a proper composition of matter itself may make a mind, and that man is only a piece of matter curiously formed. In this curious system, the whole fabric rests upon this foundation, that a complex idea, which is made up of various simple ideas, may appear to be perfectly simple, and to have no marks of composition, be- cause a compound body may appear to our senses to be perfectly simple. Upon this fundamental proposition of this system I beg leave to make two re- marks. [454] 1. Supposing it to be true, it affirms only what may be. We are, indeed, in most cases very imperfect judges of what may be. But this we know, that, were we ever so certain that a thing may be, this is no good reason for believing that it really is. A may -be is a mere hypothesis, which may furnish matter of investigation, but is not entitled to the least degree of belief. The transition from what may be to what really is, is familiar and easy to those who have a [453-455] predilection for a hypothesis ; but to a man who seeks truth without prejudice or pre- possession, it is a very wide and difficult step, and he will never pass from the one to the other, without evidence not only that the thing may be, but that it really is. 2. As far as I am able to judge, this, which it is said may be, cannot be. That a complex idea should be made up of simple ideas ; so that to a ripe understanding re- flecting upon that idea, there should be no appearance of composition, nothing similar to the simple ideas of which it is com- pounded, seems to me to involve a contra- diction. The idea is a conception of the mind. If anything more than this is meant by the idea, I know not what it is ; and I wish both to know what it is, and to have proof of its existence. Now, that there should be anything in the conception of an object which is not conceived, appears to me as manifest a contradiction as that there should be an existence which does not exist, or that a thing should be con- ceived and not conceived at the same time. But, say these philosophers, a white colour is produced by the composition of the primary colours, and yet has no resem- blance to any of them. I grant it. But what can be inferred from this with regard to the composition of ideas ? To bring this argument home to the point, they must say, that because a white colour is com- pounded of the primary colours, therefore the idea of a white colour is compounded of the ideas of the primary colours. This reasoning, if it was admitted, would lead to innumerable absurdities. An opaque fluid may be compounded of two or more pellucid fluids. Hence, we might infer, with equal force, that the idea of an opaque fluid may be compounded of the idea of two or more pellucid fluids. [455] Nature's way of compounding bodies, and our way of compounding ideas, are so different in many respects, that we cannot reason from the one to the other, unless it can be found that ideas are combined by fermentations and elective attractions, and may be analysed in a furnace by the force of fire and of menstruums. Until this dis- covery be made, we must hold those to be simple ideas, which, upon the most atten- tive reflection, have no appearance of com- position ; and those only to be the ingre- dients of complex ideas, which, by attentive reflection, can be perceived to be contained in them. If the idea of mind and its operations, may be compounded of the ideas of matter and its qualities, why may not the idea of matter be compounded of the ideas of mind ? There is the same evidence for the last may-be as for the first. And why may not the idea of sound be compounded of the 398 ON THE INTELLECTUAL POWERS. [essay v. ideas of colour ; or the idea of colour of those of sound ? Why may not the idea of wisdom be compounded of ideas of folly ; or the idea of truth of ideas of absurdity ? But we leave these mysterious may-bes to them that have faith to receive them. CHAPTER IV. OF GENERAL CONCEPTIONS FORMED BV COM- BINATION. As, by an intellectual analysis of objects, we form general conceptions of single attri- butes, (which, of all conceptions that enter into the human mind, are the most simple,) so, by combining several of these into one parcel, and giving a name to that combina- tion, we form general conceptions that may be very complex, and, at the same time, very distinct. [456] Thus, one who, by analysing extended objects, has got the simple notions of a point, a line, straight or curve, an angle, a surface, a solid, can easily conceive a plain surface, terminated by four equal straight lines, meeting in four points at right angles. To this species of figure he gives the name of a square. In like manner, he can con- ceive a solid terminated by six equal squares, and give it the name of a cube. A square, a cube, and every name of mathematical figure, is a general term, expressing a com- plex general conception, made by a certain combination of the simple elements into which we analyse extended bodies. Every mathematical figure is accurately defined, by enumerating the simple ele- ments of which it is formed, and the man- ner of their combination. The definition contains the whole essence of it. And every property that belongs to it may be deduced by demonstrative reasoning from its definition. It is not a thing that exists, for then it would be an individual ; but it is a thing that is conceived without regard to existence. A farm, a manor, a parish, a county, a kingdom, are complex general conceptions, formed by various combinations and modi- fications of inhabited territory, under cer- tain forms of government. Different combinations of military men form the notions of a company, a regiment, an army. The several crimes which are the objects of criminal law, such as theft, murder, robbery, piracy, what are they but certain combinations of human actions and inten- tions, which are accurately defined in criminal law, and which it is found con- venient to comprehend under one name, and consider as one thing ? When we observe that nature, in her animal, vegetable, and inanimate produc- tions, has formed many individuals that agree in many of their qualities and attri- butes, we are led by natural instinct to expect their agreement in other qualities, which we have not had occasion to perceive. [457] Thus, a child who has once burnt his finger, by putting it in the flame of one candle, expects the same event if he puts it in the flame of another candle, or in any flame, and is thereby led to think that the quality of burning belongs to all flame. This instinctive induction is not justified by the rules of logic, and it sometimes leads men into harmless mistakes, which expe- rience may afterwards correct ; but it pre- serves us from destruction in innumerable dangers to which we are exposed. The reason of taking notice of this prin- ciple in human nature in this place is, that the distribution of the productions of na- ture into genera and species becomes, on account of this principle, more generally useful. The physician expects that the rhubarb which has never yet been tried will have like medical virtues with that which he has prescribed on former occasions. Two par- cels of rhubarb agree in certain sensible qualities, from which agreement they are both called by the same general name rhubarb. Therefore it is expected that they will agree in their medical virtues. And, as experience has discovered certain virtues in one parcel, or in many parcels, we presume, without experience, that the same virtues belong to all parcels of rhubarb that shall be used. If a traveller meets a horse, an ox, or a sheep, which he never saw before, he is under no apprehension, believing these ani- mals to be of a species that is tame and in- offensive. But he dreads a lion or a tiger, because they are of a fierce and ravenous species. We are capable of receiving innumerable advantages, and are exposed to innumer- able dangers, from the various productions of nature, animal, vegetable, and inanimate. The life of man, if an hundred times longer than it is, would be insufficient to learn from experience the useful and hurtful qua- lities of every individual production of na- ture taken singly. [458] The Author of Nature hath made pro- vision for our attaining that knowledge of his works which is necessary for our subsist- ence and preservation, partly by the consti- tution of the productions of nature, and partly by the constitution of the human mind. For, first, In the productions of nature, great numbers of individuals are made so like to one another, both in their obvious and in their more occult qualities, that we are not only enabled, but invited, as it were, [456-458/ chap, iv.] CONCEPTIONS FORMED BY COMBINATION. 399 to reduce them into classes, and to give a general name to a class ; a name which is common to every individual of the class, because it comprehends in its signification those qualities or attributes only that are common to all the individuals of that class. Secondly, The human mind is so framed, that, from the agreement of individuals in the more obvious qualities by which we reduce them into one class, we are naturally led to expect that they will be found to agree in their more latent qualities — and in this we are seldom disappointed. We have, therefore, a strong and rational inducement, both to distribute natural sub- stances into classes, genera and species, under general names, and to do this with all the accuracy and distinctness we are able. For the more accurate our divisions are made, and the more distinctly the several species are denned, the more securely we may rely that the qualities we find in one or in a few individuals will be found in all of the same species. Every species of natural substances which has a name in language, is an attribute of many individuals, and is itself a combination of more simple attributes, which we observe to be common to those individuals. [459] We shall find a great part of the words of every language — nay, I apprehend, the far greater part — to signify combinations of more simple general conceptions, which men have found proper to be bound up, as it were, in one parcel, by being designed by one name. Some general conceptions there are, which may more properly be called compositions or works than mere combinations. Thus, one may conceive a machine which never existed. He may conceive an air in music, a poem, a plan of architecture, a plan of government, a plan of conduct in public or in private life, a sentence, a discourse, a treatise. Such compositions are things conceived in the mind of the author, not individuals that really exist ; and the same general conception which the author had, may be communicated to others by language. Thus, the " Oceana" of Harrington was conceived in the mind of its author. The materials of which it is composed are things conceived, not things that existed. His senate, his popular assembly, his magis- trates, his elections, are all conceptions of his mind, and the whole is one complex conception. And the same may be said of every work of the human understanding. Very different from these are the works of God, which we behold. They are works of creative power, not of understanding only. They have a real existence. Our best conceptions of them are partial and imperfect. But of the works of the -human understanding our conception may be per- [459-461] feet and complete. They are nothing but what the author conceived, and what he can express by language, so as to convey his conception perfectly to men like himself. Although such works are indeed complex general conceptions, they do not so properly belong to our present subject. They are more the objects of judgment and of taste, than of bare conception or simple appre- hension. [460] To return, therefore, to those complex conceptions which are formed merely by combining those that are more simple. Nature has given us the power of combin- ing such simple attributes, and such a num- ber of them as we find proper ; and of giving one name to that combination, and considering it as one object of thought. The simple attributes of things, which fall under our observation, are not so nume- rous but that they may all have names in a copious language. But to give names to all the combinations that can be made of two, three, or more of them, would be im- possible. The most copious languages have names but for a very small part. It may likewise be observed, that the combinations that have names are nearly, though not perfectly, the same in the dif- ferent languages of civilized nations that have intercourse with one another. Hence it is, that the Lexicographer, for the most part, can give words in one language answer- ing perfectly, or very nearly, to those of another ; and what is written in a simple style in one language, can be translated al- most word for word into another. • From these observations we may con- clude that there are either certain common principles of human nature, or certain com- mon occurrences of human life, which dis- pose men, out of an infinite number that might be formed, to form certain combina- tions rather than others. Mr Hume, in order to account for this phenomenon, has recourse to what he calls the associating qualities of ideas ; to wit, causation, contiguity in time and place, and similitude. He conceives — "That one of the most remarkable effects of those associa- ting qualities, is the complex ideas which are the common subjects of our thoughts. That this also is the cause why languages so nearly correspond to one another; Nature in a manner pointing out to every one those ideas which are most proper to be united into a complex one." [461] I agree with this ingenious author, that Nature in a manner points out those simple ideas which are most proper to be united into a complex one : but Nature does this, not solely or chiefly by the relations between the simple ideas of contiguity, causation, * This is only strictly true of the words relative to objects of sense.— H. 400 ON THE INTELLECTUAL POWERS. [essay causation, and resemblance ; but rather by the fitness of the combinations we make, to aid our own conceptions, and to convey them to others by language easily and agreeably. The end and use of language, without regard to the associating qualities of ideas, WW* lead men that have common under- standing to form such complex notions as are proper for expressing their wants, their thoughts, and their desires : and in every language we shall find these to be the com- plex notions that have names. In the rudest state of society, men must have occasion to form the general notions of man, woman, father, mother, son, daughter, sister, brother, neighbour, friend, enemy, and many others, to express the common relations of one person to another. If they are employed in hunting, they must have general terms to express the various implements and operations of the chase. Their houses and clothing, however simple, will furnish another set of general terms, to express the materials, the work- manship, and the excellencies and defects of those fabrics. If they sail upon rivers or upon the sea, this will give occasion to a great number of general terms, which other- wise would never have occurred to their thoughts. The same thing may be said of agricul- ture, of pasturage, of every art they prac- tise, and of every branch of knowledge they attain. The necessity of general terms for communicating our sentiments is obvious ; and the invention of them, as far as we find them necessary, requires no other talent but that degree of understanding which is common to men. [462] The notions of debtor and creditor, of profit and loss, of account, balance, stock on hand, and many others, are owing to commerce. The notions of latitude, longi- tude, course, distance, run, and those of ships, and of their various parts, furniture, and operations, are owing to navigation. The anatomist must have names for the various similar and dissimilar parts of the human body, and words to express their figure, position, structure, and use. The physician must have names for the various diseases of the body, their causes, symp- toms, and means of cure. The like may be said of the grammarian, the logician, the critic, the rhetorician, the moralist, the naturalist, the mechanic, and every man that professes any art or science. When any discovery is made in art or in nature, which requires new combinations and new words to express it properly, the in- ' vention of these is easy to those who have a distinct notion of the thing to be expressed ; and such words will readily be adopted, and receive the public sanction. If, on the other hand, any man of emi- nence, through vanity or want of judgment, should invent new words, to express com- binations that have neither beauty nor utility, or which may as well be expressed in the current language, his authority may give them currency for a time with servile imitators or blind admirers ; but the judi- cious will laugh at them, and they will soon lose their credit. So true was the observa- tion made by Fomponius Marcellus, an ancient grammarian, to Tiberius Caesar : — " You, Ccesar, have power to make a man a denizen of Rome, but not to make a word a denizen of the Roman language."* Among nations that are civilized, and have intercourse with one another, the most necessary and useful arts will be common ; the important parts of human knowledge will be common ; their several languages will be fitted to it, and consequently to one another. [463] New inventions of general use give an easy birth to new complex notions and new names, which spread as far as the inven- tion does. How many new complex notions have been formed, and names for them invented in the languages of Europe, by the modern inventions of printing, of gun- powder, of the mariner's compass, of opti- cal glasses ? The simple ideas combined in those complex notions, and the associat- ing qualities of those ideas, are very an- cient ; but they never produced those com- plex notions until there was use for them. What is peculiar to a nation in its cus- toms, manners, or laws, will give occasion to complex notions and words peculiar to the language of that nation. Hence it is easy to see why an impeachment, and an attainder, in the English language, and ostracism in the Greek language, have not names answering to them in other lan- guages. I apprehend, therefore, that it is utility, and not the associating qualities of the ideas, that has led men to form only certain com- binations, and to give names to them in language, while they neglect an intnite number that might be formed. The common occurrences of life, in the intercourse of men, and in their occupa- tions, give occasion to many complex no- tions. We see an individual occurrence, which draws our attention more or less, and may be a subject of conversation. Other occurrences, similar to this in many respects, have been observed, or may be expected. It is convenient that we should be able to speak of what is common to them all, leaving out the unimportant cir- ',* «'Tu, Cffisar, civitatem .dare potes horainibus, verbis non potes." See Suetonius Be IUust-Gram- nuxtyC. 82.— H. [462, 463] chap, iv.] CONCEPTIONS FORMED BY COMBINATION, 401 cumstances of time, place, and persons. This we can do with great ease, by giving a name to what is common to all those individual occurrences. Such a name is a great aid to language, because it compre- hends, in one word, a great number of simple notions, which it would be very tedious to express in detail. {464] Thus, men have formed the complex notions of eating, drinking, sleeping, walk- ing, riding, running, buying, selling, plough- ing, sowing, a dance, a feast, war, a battle, victory, triumph ; and others, without number. Such things must frequently be the sub- ject of conversation ; and, if we had not a more compendious way of expressing them than by a detail of all the simple notions they comprehend, we should lose the benefit of speech. The different talents, dispositions, and habits of men in society, being interesting to those who have to do with them, will in every language have general names — such as wise, foolish, knowing, ignorant, plain, cunning. In every operative art, the tools, instruments, materials, the work produced, and the various excellencies and defects of these, must have general names. The various relations of persons, and of things which cannot escape the observation of men in society, lead us to many complex general notions ; such as father, brother, friend, enemy, master, servant, property, theft, rebellion. The terms of art in the sciences make another class of general names of complex notions ; as in mathematics, axiom, defini- tion, problem, theorem, demonstration. I do not attempt a complete enumeration even of the classes of complex general con- ceptions. Those I have named as a speci- men, I think, are mostly comprehended under what Mr Locke calls mixed modes and relations; which, he justly observes, have names given them in language, in preference to innumerable others that might be formed ; for this reason only, that they are useful for the purpose of communicat- ing our thoughts by language. [465] In all the languages of mankind, not only the writings and discourses of the learned, but the conversation of the vulgar, is almost entirely made up of general words, which are the signs of general conceptions, either simple or complex. And in every language, we find the terms signifying complex no- tions to be such, and only such, as the use of language requires. There remains a very large class of com- plex general terms, on which I shall make some observations ; I mean those by which we name the species, genera, and tribes of natural substances. It is utility, indeed, that leads us to give [464-406] ' general names to the various species of na- tural substances ; but, in combining the attributes which are included under the specific name, we are more aided and di- rected by nature than in forming other com- binations of mixed modes and relations. In the last, the ingredients are brought to- gether in the occurrences of life, or in the actions or thoughts of men. But, in the first, the ingredients are united by nature in many individual substances which God has made. We form a general notion of those attributes wherein many individuals agree. We give a specific name to this combina- tion, which name is common to all sub- stances having those attributes, which either do or may exist. The specific name comprehends neither more nor fewer attri- butes than we find proper to put into its definition. It comprehends not time, nor place, nor even existence, although there can be no individual without these. This work of the understanding is abso- lutely necessary for speaking intelligibly of the productions of nature, and for reaping the benefits we receive, and avoiding the dangers we are exposed to from them. The individuals are so many, that to give a proper name to each would be beyond the power of language. If a good or bad qua- lity was observed in an individual, of how small use would this be, if there was not a species in which the same quality might be expected ! [466] Without some general knowledge of the qualities of natural substances, human life could not be preserved. And there can be no general knowledge of this kind without reducing them to species under specific names. For this reason, among the rudest nations, we find names for fire, water, earth, air, mountains, fountains, rivers • for the kinds of vegetables they use ; of animals they hunt or tame, or that are found useful or hurtful. Each of those names signifies in general a substance having a certain combination of attributes. The name, therefore, must be common to all substances in which those attributes are found. Such general names of substances being found in all vulgar languages, before philo- sophers began to make accurate divisions and less obvious distinctions, it is not to be expected that their meaning should be more precise than is necessary for the common purposes of life. As the knowledge of nature advances, more species of natural substances are observed, and their useful qualities dis- covered. In order that this important part of human knowledge may be communicated, and handed down to future generations, it is not sufficient that the species have names. Such is the fluctuating state of language, 2 D 402 ON THE INTELLECTUAL POWERS. [essay V that a general name will not always retain the same precise signification, unless it have a definition in wluch men are disposed to acquiesce- There was undoubtedly a great fund of natural knowledge among the Greeks and Romans in the time of Pliny. There is a great fund in his Natural History ; but much of it is lost to us — for this reason among others, that we know not what species of substance he means by such a name. Nothing could have prevented this loss but an accurate definition of the name, by which the species might have been distin- guished from all others as long as that name and its definition remained. [467] To prevent such loss in future times, modern philosophers have very laudably attempted to give names and accurate defin- itions of all the known species of sub- stances wherewith the bountiful Creator hath enriched our globe. This is necessary, in order to form a copious and distinct language concerning them, and, consequently, to facilitate our knowledge of them, and to convey it to future generations. Every species that is known to exist ought to have a name ; and that name ought to be defined by such attributes as serve best to distinguish the species from all others. Nature invites to this work, by having formed things so as to make it both easy and important. For, first, We perceive numbers of indi- vidual substances so like in their obvious qualities, that the most unimproved tribes of men consider them as of one species, and give them one common name. Secondly, The more latent qualities of substances are generally the same in all the individuals of a species ; so that what, by observation or experiment, is found in a few individuals of a species, is presumed and commonly found to belong to the whole. By this we are enabled, from par- ticular facts, to draw general conclusions. This kind of induction is, indeed, the mas- ter-key to the knowledge of Nature, without which we could form no general conclu- sions in that branch of philosophy. And, thirdly, By the very constitution of our nature, we are led, without reason- ing, to ascribe to the whole species what we have found to belong to the individuals. It is thus we come to know that fire burns and water drowns ; that bodies gravitate and bread nourishes. [468] The species of two of the kingdoms of Nature— to wit, the animal and the vege- table — seem to be fixed by Nature, by the power they have of producing their like. And, in these, men, in all ages and nations, have accounted the parent and the progeny of the same species. The differences among Naturalists, with regard to the species of these two kingdoms, are very inconsider- able, and may be occasioned by the changes produced by soil, climate, and culture, and sometimes by monstrous productions, which are comparatively rare. In the inanimate kingdom we have not the same means of dividing thingo into species, and, therefore, the limits of species seem to be more arbitrary. But, from the progress already made, there is ground to hope that, even in this kingdom, as the knowledge of it advances, the various species may be so well distinguished and defined as to answer every valuable pur- pose. When the species are so numerous as to burden the memory, it is greatly assisted by distributing them into genera, the genera into tribes, the tribes into orders, and the orders into classes. Such a regular distribution of natural substances, by divisions and subdivisions, has got the name of a system. It is not a system of truths, but a system of general terms, with their definitions ; and it is not only a great help to memory, but facilitates very much the definition of the terms. For the definition of the genus is common to all the species of that genus, and so is understood in the definition of each species, without the trouble of repeti- tion. In like manner, the definition of a tribe is understood in the definition of every genus, and every species of that tribe ; and the same may be said of every superior division. [469] The effect of such a systematical distri- bution of the productions of Nature is seen in our systems of zoology, botany, and min- eralogy ; in which a species is commonly defined accurately in a line or two, which, without the systematical arrangement, could hardly be defined in a page. With regard to the utility of systems of this kind, men have gone into contrary ex- tremes ; some have treated them with con- tempt, as a mere dictionary of words ; others, perhaps, rest in such systems as all that is worth knowing in the works of Nature. On the one hand, it is not the intention of such systems to communicate all that is known of the natural productions which they describe. The properties most fit for defining and distinguishing the several species, are not always those that are most useful to be known. To discover and to communicate the uses of natural substances in life and in the arts, is, no doubt, that part of the business of a naturalist which is the most important ; and the systematical arrangement of them is chiefly to be valued [467-469] chap. v.] OF NAMES GIVEN TO GENERAL NOTIONS. 403 for its subserviency to this end. This every judicious naturalist will grant. But, on the other hand, the labour is not to be despised, by which the road to an use- ful and important branch of knowledge is made easy in all time to come; especially when this labour requires both extensive knowledge and great abilities. The talent of arranging properly and defining accurately, is so rare, and at the same time so useful, that it may very justly be considered as a proof of real genius, and as entitled to a high degree of praise. There is an intrinsic beauty in arrangement, which captivates the mind, and gives pleasure, even abstracting from its utility ; as in most other things, so in this particularly, Nature has joined beauty with utility. The arrange- ment of an army in the day of battle is a grand spectacle. The same men crowded in a fair, have no such effect. It is not more strange, therefore, that some men spend their days in studying systems of Nature, than that other men employ their lives in the study of languages. The most important end of those systems, surely", is to form a copious and an unambiguous lan- guage concerning the productions of Nature, by which every useful discovery concerning them may be communicated to the present, and transmitted to all future generations, without danger of mistake. [470] General terms, especially such as are complex in their signification, will never keep one precise meaning, without accurate definition ; and accurate definitions of such terms can in no way be formed so easily and advantageously as by reducing the things they signify into a regular system. Very eminent men in the medical profes- sion, in order to remove all ambiguity in the names of diseases, and to advance the healing art, have, of late, attempted to re- duce into a systematical order the diseases of the human body, and to give distinct names and accurate definitions of the seve- ral species, penera, orders, and classes, into which they distribute them ; and I appre- hend that, in every art and science, where the terms of the art have any ambiguity that obstructs its progress, this method will be found the easiest and most successful for the remedy of that evil. It were eveu to be wished that the gene- ral terms which we find in common lan- guage, as well as those of the arts and sciences, could be reduced to a systematica! arrangement, and defined so as that they might be free from ambiguity ; but, per- haps, the obstacles to this are insurmount- able. I know no man who has attempted it but Bishop Wilkins in his Essay towards a real character and a philosophical language. • * In this attempt Wilkins was preceded by our [470-472] The attempt was grand, and worthy of a man of genius. The formation of such systems, therefore, of the various productions of Nature, in- stead of being despised, ought to be ranked among the valuable improvements of modern ages, and to be the more esteemed that its utility reaches to the most distant future times, and, like the invention of writing, serves to embalm a most important branch of human knowledge, and to preserve it from being corrupted or lost. [471] CHAPTER V. OBSERVATIONS CONCERNING THE NAMES GIVEN TO OUR GENERAL NOTIONS. Having now explained, as well as I am able, those operations of the mind by which we analyse the objects which nature pre- sents to our observation, into their simple attributes, giving a general name to each, and by which we combine any number of such attributes into one whole, and give a general name to that combination, I shall offer some observations relating to our general notions, whether simple or complex. I apprehend that the names given to them by modern philosophers, have contri- buted to darken our speculations about them, and to render them difficult and abstruse. We call them general notions, concep- tions, ideas. The words notion and con- ception, in their proper and most common sense, signify the act or operation of the mind in conceiving an object. In a figura- tive sense, they are sometimes put for the object conceived. And I think they are rarely, if ever, used in this figurative sense, except when we speak of what we call general notions or general conceptions. The word idea, as it is used in modern times, has the same ambiguity. Now, it is only in the last of these senses, and not in the first, that we can be said to have general notions or conceptions. The generality is in the object conceived, and not in the act of the mind by which it is conceived. Every act of the mind is an in- dividual act, which does or did exist. [472] But we have power to conceive things which neither do nor ever did exist. We have power to conceive attributes without regard to their existence. The conception of such an attribute is a real and individual act of the mind ; but the attribute conceived is common to many individuals that do or may exist. We are too apt to confound an ob- ject of conception with the conception of countryman Dalgarno ; and from Dalgarno it is highly probable that Wilkins borrowed the idea. But even Dalgarno was not the first who conceived the project.— H. 2 D 2 404 ON THE INTELLECTUAL POWERS. [essay v. that object. But the danger of doing this must be much greater when the object of conception is called a conception. The Peripatetics gave to such objects of conception the names of universals, and of predicables. Those names had no ambi- guity, and I think were much more fit to express what was meant by them than the names we use. It is for this reason that I have so often used the word attribute, which has the same meaning with predicable. And, for the same reason, I have thought it necessary repeat- edly to warn the reader, that when, in com- pliance with custom, I speak of general notions or general conceptions, I always mean things conceived, and not the act of the mind in conceiving them. The Pythagoreans and Platonists gave the name of ideas to such general objects of conception, and to nothing else. As we borrowed the word idea from them, so that it is now familiar in all the languages of Europe, I think it would have been happy if we had also borrowed their meaning, and had used it only to signify what they meant by it. I apprehend we want an unambigu- ous word to distinguish things barely con- ceived from things that exist. If the word idea was used for this purpose only, it would be restored to its original meaning, and supply that want. We may surely agree with the Platonists in the meaning of the word idea, without adopting their theory concerning ideas. We need not believe, with them, that ideas are eternal and self-existent, and that they have a more real existence than the things we see and feel. [473] They were led to give existence to ideas, from the common prejudice that everything which is an object of conception must really exist ; and, having once given exist- ence to ideas, the rest of their mysterious system about ideas followed of course ; for things merely conceived have neither be- ginning nor end, time nor place ; they are subject to no change ; they are the patterns and exemplars according to which the Deity made everything that he made ; for the work must be conceived by the artificer before it is made. These are undeniable attributes of the ideas of Plato ; and, if we add to them that of real existence, we have the whole myste- rious system of Platonic ideas. Take away the attribute of existence, and suppose them not to be things that exist, but things that are barely conceived, and all the mystery is removed ; all that remains is level to the human understanding. The word essence came to be much used among the schoolmen, and what the Pla- tonists called the idea of a species, they called its essence. The word essentia is said to have been made by Cicero ; but even his authority could not give it cur- rency, until long after his time. It came at last to be used, and the schoolmen fell into much the same opinions concerning essences, as the Platonists held concerning ideas. The essences of things were held to be uncreated, eternal, and immutable. Mr Locke distinguishes two kinds of essence, the real and the nominal. By the real essence, he means the constitution of an individual, which makes it to be what it is. This essence must begin and end with the individual to which it belongs. It is not, therefore, a Platonic idea. But what Mr Locke calls the nominal essence, is the constitution of a species, or that which makes an individual to be of such a species ; and this is nothing but that combination of attributes which is signified by the name of the species, and which we conceive without regard to existence. [474] The essence of a species, therefore, is what the Platonists called the idea of the species. If the word idea be restricted to the meaning which it bore among the Plato- nists and Pythagoreans, many things which Mr Locke has said with regard to ideas will be just and true, and others will not. It will be true that most words (in- deed all general words) are the signs of ideas ; but proper names are not : they signify individual things, and not ideas. It will be true not only that there are general and abstract ideas, but that all ideas are general and abstract. It will be so far from the truth, that all our simple ideas are got immediately, either from sensation or from consciousness, that no simple idea is got by either, without the co-opera- tion of other powers. The objects of sense, of memory, and of consciousness, are not ideas but individuals ; they must be anal- ysed by the understanding into their simple ingredients, before we can have simple ideas ; and those simple ideas must be again combined by the understanding, in distinct parcels, with names annexed, in order to give us complex ideas. It will be probable not only that brutes have no ab- stract ideas, but that they have no ideas at all. I shall only add that the learned author of the origin and progress of language, and, perhaps, his learned friend, Mr Harris, are the only modern authors I have met with who restrict the word idea to this meaning. Their acquaintance with ancient philosophy led them to this. What pity is it that a word which, in ancient philosophy, had a distinct meaning, and which, if kept to that meaning, would have been a real ac- quisition to our language, should be used by the moderns in so vague and ambiguous a manner, that it is more apt to perplex [473, 474] CHAP. VI.] OPINIONS ABOUT UNIVERSALS. 405 and darken our speculations, than to convey useful knowledge ! From all that has been said about ab- stract and general conceptions, I think we may draw the following conclusions con- cerning them. [475] First, That it is by abstraction that the mind is furnished with all its most simple and most distinct notions. The simplest objects of sense appear both complex and indistinct, until by abstraction they are analysed into their more simple elements ; and the same may be said of the objects of memory and of consciousness. Secondly, Our most distinct complex notions are those that are formed by com- pounding the simple notions got by abstrac- tion. Thirdly, Without the powers of abstract- ing and generalising, it would be impossible to reduce things into any order and method, by dividing them into genera and species. Fourthly, Without those powers there could be no definition ; for definition can only be applied to universals, and no indi- vidual can be defined. Fifthly, Without abstract and general notions there can neither be reasoning nor language. Sixthly, As brute animals shew no signs of being able to distinguish the various attributes of the same subject; of being able to class things into genera and species ; to define, to reason, or to communicate their thoughts by artificial signs, as men do — I must think, with Mr Locke, that they have not the powers of abstracting and generalising, and that, in this particular, nature has made a specific difference be- tween them and the human species. CHAPTER VI. OPINIONS OF PHILOSOPHERS ABOUT UNIVERSALS. In the ancient philosophy, the doctrine of universals — that is, of things which we ex- press by general terms — makes a great figure. The ideas of the Pythagoreans and Pla- tonists, of which so much has been already said, were universals. [476] All science is employed about universals as its object. It was thought that there can be no s-cience, unless its object be something real and immutable ; and therefore those who paid homage to truth and science, maintained that ideas or universals have a real and immutable existence. The sceptics, on the contrary, (for there were sceptical philosophers in those early days,) maintained that all things are mu- table and in a perpetual fluctuation ; and, from this principle, inferred that there is [475-177] no science, no truth ; that all is uncertain opinion. Plato, and his masters of the Pythagorean school, yielded this with regard to objects of sense, and acknowledged that there could be no science or certain knowledge con- cerning them. But they held that there are objects of intellect of a superior order and nature, which are permanent and im- mutable. These are ideas, or universal natures, of which the objects of sense are only the images and shadows. To these ideas they ascribed, as I have already observed, the most magnificent attributes. Of man, of a rose, of a circle, and of every species of things, they believed that there is one idea or form, which ex- isted from eternity, before any individual of the species was formed ; that this idea is the exemplar or pattern, according to which the Deity formed the individuals of the species ; that every individual of the species participates of this idea, which constitutes its essence ; and that this idea is likewise an object of the human intellect, when, by due abstraction, we discern it to be one in all the individuals of the species. Thus the idea of every species, though one and immutable, might be considered in three different views or respects : first, As having an eternal existence before there was any individual of the species ; secondly, As existing in every individual of that spe- cies, without division or multiplication, and making the essence of the species ; and, thirdly, As an object of intellect and of science in man. [477] Such I take to be the doctrine of Plato, as far as I am able to comprehend it. His disciple Aristotle rejected the first of these views of ideas as visionary, but differed little from his master with regard to the two last. He did not admit the existence of universal natures antecedent to the ex- istence of individuals : but he held that every individual consists of matter and form ; that the form (which I take to be what Plato calls the idea) is common to all the individuals of the species ; and that the human intellect is fitted to receive the forms of things as objects of contemplation. Such profound speculations about the nature of universals, we find even in the first ages of philosophy.* I wish I could make them more intelligible to myself and to the reader. The division of universals into five classes — to wit, genus, species, specific difference, properties, and accidents — is likewise very ancient, and I conceive was borrowed by the Peripatetics from the Pythagorean school. + * Different philosophers have maintained that' Aristotle was a Realist, a Conceptualist, and a No- minalist, in the strictest sense. — H. + This proceeds on the supposition that the sup. I osititious Pythagorean treatises are genuine.— H. 406 ON THE INTELLECTUAL POWERS. [essay Porphyry has given us a very distinct treatise upon these, as an introduction to Aristotle's categories. But he has omitted the intricate metaphysical questions that were agitated about their nature : such as, whether genera and species do really exist in nature, or whether they are only con- ceptions of the human mind. If they exist in nature, whether they are corporeal or incorporeal ; and whether they are inherent in the objects of sense, or disjoined from them. These questions, he tells us, for brevity's sake, he omits, because they are very profound, and require accurate discus- sion. It is probable that these questions exercised the wits of the philosophers till about the twelfth century. [478] About that time, Roscelinus or Rusce- linus, the master of the famous Abelard, introduced a new doetrine — that there is nothing universal but words or names. For this, and other heresies, he was much persecuted. However, by his eloquence and abilities, and those of his disciple Abe- lard, the doctrine spread, and those who followed it were called Nominalists.* His antagonists, who held that there are things that are really universal, were called Realists. The scholastic philosophers, from the be- ginning of the twelfth century, were divided into these two sects. Some few took a middle road between the contending parties- That universality which the Realists held to be in things themselves, Nominalists in names only, they held to be neither in things nor in names only, but in our conceptions. On this account they were called Concep- tualists : but, being exposed to the batteries of both the opposite parties, they made no great figure, -f When the sect of Nominalists was like to expire, it received new life and spirit from Occam, the disciple of Scotus, in the fourteenth century. Then the dispute about universals, a parte rei, was revived with the greatest animosity in the schools of Britain, France, and Germany, and carried on, not by arguments only, but by bitter reproaches, blows, and bloody affrays, until the doctrines of Luther and the other Re- formers turned the attention of the learned world to more important subjects. After the revival of learning, Mr Hobbes adopted the opinion of the Nominalists. £ * Abelard was not a Nominalist like Roscelinus ; but held a doctrine, intermediate between absolute Nominalism and Healism, corresponding to the opinion since called Conceptualism. A flood of light has been thrown upon Abclard's doctrines, by M. Cousin's introduction to his recent publication of the unedited works of that illustrious thinker. — H. t The later Nominalists, of the school of Occam, were really Conceptualists in our sense of the term. — H. t Hobbes is justly said by Leibnitz to have been *ps>'s A'ominalibus nominalior. Tltcy were really Conceptualists.— H. * Human Nature," chap 5, § 6—" It is plain, therefore," says he, "that there is no- thing universal but names." And in his " Leviathan," part i chap 4, " There being nothing universal but names, proper names bring to mind one thing only ; universals recall any one of many." Mr Locke, according to the division be- fore mentioned, I think, may be accounted a Conceptualist. He does not maintain that there are things that are universal ; but that we have general or universal ideas which we form by abstraction ; and this power of forming abstract and general ideas, he conceives to be that which makes the chief distinction in point of understanding, between men and brutes. [479] Mr Locke's doctrine about abstraction has been combated by two very powerful antagonists, Bishop Berkeley and Mr Hume, who have taken up the opinion of the Nom- inalists. The former thinks, " That the opinion that the mind hath a power of form- ing abstract ideas or notions of things, has had a chief part in rendering speculation intricate and perplexed, and has occasioned innumerable errors and difficulties in almost all parts of knowledge." That " abstract ideas are like a fine and subtile net, which has miserably perplexed and entangled the minds of men, with this peculiar circum- stance, that by how much the finer and more curious was the wit of any man, by so much the deeper was he like to be en- snared, and faster held therein." That, " among all the false principles that have obtained in the world, there is none hath a more wide influence over the thoughts of speculative men, than this of abstract gene- ral ideas." The good bishop, therefore, in twenty- four pages of the introduction to his " Prin- ciples of Human Knowledge," encounters this principle with a zeal proportioned to his apprehension of its malignant and ex- tensive influence. That the zeal of the sceptical philosopher against abstract ideas was almost equal to that of the bishop, appears from his words, " Treatise of Human Nature," Book I. part i. § 7 : — " A very material question has been started concerning abstract or general ideas — whether they be general or particular, in the mind's conception of them. A great philosopher" (he means Dr Berke- ley) " has disputed the received opinion in this particular, and has asserted that all general ideas are nothing but particular ones annexed to a certain term, which gives them a more extensive signification, and makes them recall, upon occasion, other individuals which are similar to them. As I look upon this to be one of the greatest and most valuable discoveries that have been made of late years in the republic of letters, I [478. ¥19] CHAP. VI.] OPINIONS ABOUT UNIVERSALE 407 shall here endeavour to confirm it by some arguments, which, I hope, will put it beyond all doubt and controversy." [480] I shall make an end of this subject, with some reflections on what has been said upon it by these two eminent philosophers. 1. First, I apprehend that we cannot, with propriety, be said to have abstract and general ideas, either in the popular or in the philosophical sense of that word. In the popular sense, an idea is a thought ; it is the act of the mind in thinking, or in con- ceiving any object. This act of the mind is always an individual act, and, therefore, there can be no general idea in this sense. In the philosophical sense, an idea is an image in the mind, or in the brain, which, in Mr Locke's system, is the immediate ob- ject of thought ; in the system of Berkeley and Hume, the only object of thought. I believe there are no ideas of this kind, and, therefore, no abstract general ideas. In- deed, if there were really such images in the mind or in the brain, they could not be general, because everything that really exists is an individual. Universals are neither acts of the mind, nor images in the mind. As, therefore, there are no general ideas in either of the senses in which the word idea is used by the moderns, Berkeley and Hume have, in this question, an advantage over -Mr Locke ; and their arguments against him are good ad hominem. They saw farther than he did into the just conse- quences of the hypothesis concerning ideas, which was common to them and to him ; and they reasoned justly from this hypo- thesis when they concluded from it, that there is neither a material world, nor any such power in the human mind as that of abstraction. [481] A triangle, in general, or any other uni- versal, might be called an idea by a Plato- nist ; but, in the style of modern philo- sophy, it is not an idea, nor do we ever ascribe to ideas the properties of triangles. It is never said of any idea, that it has three sides and three angles. We do not speak of equilateral, isosceles, or scalene ideas, nor of right-angled, acute-angled, or obtuse-angled ideas. And, if these attri- butes do not belong to ideas, it follows, necessarily, that a triangle is not an idea. The same reasoning may be applied to every other universal. Ideas are said to have a real existence in the mind, at least while we think of them ; but universals have no real existence. When we ascribe existence to them, it is not an existence in time or place, but exist- ence in some individual subject ; and this existence means no more but that they are truly attributes of such a subject. Their existence is nothing but predicability, or the [430-432] capacity of being attributed to a subject. The name of predicables, which was given them in ancient philosophy, is that which most properly expresses their nature. 2. I think it must be granted, in the second place, that universals cannot be the objects of imagination, when we take that word in its strict and proper sense. " I find," says Berkeley, " I have a faculty of imagining or representing to myself the ideas of those particular things I have per- ceived, and of variously compounding and dividing them. I can imagine a man with two heads, or the upper parts of a man joined to the body of a horse. I can imagine the hand, the eye, the nose, each by itself, abstracted or separated from the rest of the body. But then, whatever hand or eye I imagine, it must have some particular shape or colour. Likewise, the idea of a man that I frame to myself must be either of a white, or a black, or a tawny ; a straight or a crooked ; a tall, or a low, or a middle-sized man." I believe every man will find in himself what this ingenious author found — that he cannot imagine a man without colour, or stature, or shape. [482] Imagination, as we before observed, pro- perly signifies a conception of the appear- ance an object would make to the eye if actually seen.* An universal is not an object of any external sense, and therefore cannot be imagined ; but it may be dis- tinctly conceived. When Mr Pope says, " The proper study of mankind is man," I conceive his meaning distinctly, though I neither imagine a black or a white, a crooked or a straight man. The distinction between conception and imagination is real, though it be too often overlooked, and the words taken to be synonimous. I can con- ceive a thing that is impossible,-]- but I cannot distinctly imagine a thing that is impossible. I can conceive a proposition or a demonstration, but I cannot imagine either. I can conceive understanding and will, virtue and vice, and other attributes of mind, but I cannot imagine them. In like manner, I can distinctly conceive uni- versals, but I cannot imagine them. J As to the manner how we conceive uni- versals, I confess my ignorance. I know not how I hear, or see, or remember, and as little do I know how I conceive things that have no existence. In all our original * See above, p. 366, a, note.— H. t See above, p. 377, b, note. — H. X Imagination and Conception are distinguished, but the latter ought not to be used in the vague and extensive signification of Reid. The discrimination in question is best made in the German language of philosophy, where the terms Begriffe (Conceptions) are strongly contrasted with Anschauungen (Intui- tions), Bilden (Images), &c. See above, p. 360, a, note t ; p. 365, b, note -f. The reader may compare Stewart's " Elements," I. p. 196.— H. 403 ON THE INTELLECTUAL POWERS. [essay y. faculties, the fabric and manner of operation is, I apprehend, beyond our comprehension, and perhaps is perfectly understood by him only who made them. But we ought not to deny a fact of which we are conscious, though we know not how it is brought about. And I think we may be certain that universals are not conceived by means of images of them in our minds, because there can be no image of an uni- versal. 3. It seems to me, that on this question Mr Locke and his two antagonists have divided the truth between them. He saw very clearly, that the power of forming ab- stract and general conceptions is one of the most distinguishing powers of the human mind, and puts a specific difference between man and the brute creation. But he did not see that this power is perfectly irrecon- cileable to his doctrine concerning ideas. [483] His opponents saw this inconsistency ; but, instead of rejecting the hypothesis of ideas, they explain away the power of ab- straction, and leave no specific distinction between the human understanding and that of brutes. 4. Berkeley,* in his reasoning against abstract general ideas, seems unwillingly or unwarily to grant all that is necessary to support abstract and general concep- tions. *' A man," he says, " may consider a figure merely as triangular, without attend- ing to the particular qualities of the angles, or relations of the sides- So far he may abstract. But this will never prove that he can frame an abstract general inconsist- ent idea of a triangle." If a man may consider a figure merely as triangular, he must have some concep- tion of this object of his consideration ; for no man can consider a thing which he does not conceive. He has a conception, there- fore, of a triangular figure, merely as such. I know no more that is meant by an abstract general conception of a triangle. He that considers a figure merely as tri- angular, must understand what is meant by the word triangular. If, to the conception he joins to this word, he adds any particu- lar quality of angles or relation of sides, he misunderstands it, and does not consider the figure merely as triangular. Whence, I think, it is evident, that he who considers a figure merely as triangular must have the conception of a triangle, abstracting from any quality of angles or relation of sides. The Bishop, in like manner, grants, " That we may consider Peter so far forth as man, or so far forth as animal, without * On Reid's criticUm of Berkelev, <-ee Stewart, [Elpnents, II. i>. lit), >q.)— H. framing the forementioned abstract idea, in as much as all that is perceived is not considered." It may here be observed, that he who considers Peter so far forth as man, or so far forth as animal, must con- ceive the meaning of those abstract general words man and animal, and he who con- ceives the meaning of them has an abstract general conception. [484] From these concessions, one would be apt to conclude that the Bishop thinks that we can abstract, but that we cannot frame abstract ideas ; and in this I should agree with him. But I cannot reconcile his con- cessions with the general principle he lays down before. " To be plain," says he, ''I deny that I can abstract one from another, or conceive separately those qualities which it is impossible should exist so separated." This appears to me inconsistent with the concessions above mentioned, and incon- sistent with experience. If we can consider a figure merely as triangular, without attending to the parti- cular quality of the angles or relation of the sides, this, I think, is conceiving separately things which cannot exist so separated ; for surely a triangle cannot exist without a particular quality of angles and relation of sides. And it is well known, from ex- perience, that a man may have a distinct conception of a triangle, without having any conception or knowledge of many of the properties without which a triangle cannot exist. Let us next consider-the Bishop's notion of generalising.* He does not absolutely deny that there are general ideas, but only that there are abstract general ideas. "An idea," he says, " which, considered in it- self, is particular, becomes general, by be- ing made to represent or stand for all other particular ideas of the same sort. To make this plain by an example : Suppose a geo- metrician is demonstrating the method of cutting a line in two equal parts. He draws, for instance, a black line, of an inch in length. This, which is in itself a parti- cular line, is, nevertheless, with regard to its signification, general ; since, as it is there used, it represents all particular lines whatsoever ; so that what is demonstrated of it, is demonstrated of all lines, or, in other words, of a line in general. And as that particular line becomes general by be- ing made a sign, so the name line, which, taken absolutely, is particular, by being a sign, is made general." [485] Here I observe, that when a particular idea, is made a sign to represent and stand for all of a sort, this supposes a distinction of things into sorts or species. To be of a sort implies having those attributes which * See Stewart, {FAanatis, II p. 125.)— H. [183-485] CHAP. VI.] OPINIONS ABOUT UNIVERSALS. 409 characterise the sort, and are common to all the individuals that belong to it. There cannot, therefore, be a sort without general attributes, nor can there be any conception of a sort without a conception of those general attributes which distinguish it. The conception of a sort, therefore, is an ab- stract general conception. The particular idea cannot surely be made a sign of a thing of which we have no con- ception. I do not say that you must have an idea of the sort, but surely you ought to understand or conceive what it means, when you make a particular idea a repre- sentative of it ; otherwise your particular idea represents, you know not what. When I demonstrate any general pro- perty of a triangle, such as, that the three angles are equal to two right angles, I must understand or conceive distinctly what is common to all triangles. I must distinguish the common attributes of all triangles from those wherein particular triangles may differ. And, if I conceive distinctly what is common to all triangles, without confounding it with what is not so, this is to form a general con- ception of a triangle. And without this, it is impossible to know that the demonstra- tion extends to all triangles. The Bishop takes particular notice of this argument, and makes this answer to it : — "' Though the idea I have in view, whilst I make the demonstration, be, for instance, that of an isosceles rectangular triangle, whose sides are of a determinate length, I may nevertheless be certain that it extends to all other rectilinear triangles, of what sort or bigness soever; and that because neither the right angle, nor the equality or determinate length of the sides, are at all concerned in the demonstration." [486] But, if he do not, in the idea he has in view, clearly distinguish what is common to all triangles from what is not, it would be impossible to discern whether something that is not common be concerned in the demonstration or not. In order, therefore, to perceive that the demonstration extends to all triangles, it is necessary to have a distinct conception of what is common to all triangles, excluding from that concep- tion all that is not common. And this is all I understand by an abstract general conception of a triangle. Berkeley catches an advantage to his side of the question, from what Mr Locke ex- presses (too strongly indeed) of the difficulty of framing abstract general ideas, and the pains and skill necessary for that purpose. From which the Bishop infers, that a thing so difficult cannot be necessary for com- munication by language, which is so easy and familiar to all sorts of men. There may be some abstract and general conceptions that are difficult, or even be- [48G-4.8S-] yond the reach of persons of weak under- standing ; but there are innumerable which are not beyond the reach of children. It is impossible to learn language without acquiring general conceptions ; for there cannot be a single sentence without them. I believe the forming these, and being able to articulate the sounds of language, make up the whole difficulty that children find in learning language at first. But this difficulty, we see, they are able to overcome so early as not to remember the pains it cost them. They have the strongest inducement to exert all their labour and skill, in order to understand and to be understood ; and they no doubt do so. [437] The labour of forming abstract notions, is the labour of learning to speak, and to understand what is spoken. As the words of every language, excepting a few proper names, are general words, the minds of children are furnished with general con- ceptions, in proportion as they learn the meaning of general words. I believe most men have hardly any general notions but those which are expressed by the general words they hear and use in conversation. The meaning of some of these is learned by a definition, which at once conveys a distinct and accurate general conception. The meaning of other general words we collect, by a kind of induction, from the way in which we see them used on various occasions by those who understand the language. Of these our conception is often less distinct, and in different persons is perhaps not perfectly the same. " Is it not a hard thing," says the Bishop, " that a couple of children cannot prate to- gether of their sugar-plumbs and rattles, and the rest of their little trinkets, till they have first tacked together numberless in- consistencies, and so formed in their minds abstract general ideas, and annexed them to every common name they make use of ?" However hard a thing it may be, it is an evident truth, that a couple of children, even about their sugar- plumbs and their rattles, cannot prate so as to understand and be understood, until they have learned to conceive the meaning of many general words — and this, I think, is to have general conceptions. 5. Having considered the sentiments of Bishop Berkeley on this subject, let us next attend to those of Mr Hume, as they are expressed Part I. § 7> " Treatise of Human Nature." He agrees perfectly with the Bishop, " That all general ideas are nothing but particular ones annexed to a certain term, which gives them a more extensive signification, and makes them recall, upon occasion, other individuals which are similar to them. [488] A particular 410 ON THE INTELLECTUAL POWERS. [essay v. idea becomes general, by being annexed to a general term ; that is, to a term, which, from a customary conjunction, has a rela- tion to many other particular ideas, and readily recalls them in the imagination. Abstract ideas are therefore in themselves individual, however they may become general in their representation. The image in the mind is only that of a particular object, though the application of it in our reason- ing be the same as if it was universal." Although Mr Hume looks upon this to be one of the greatest and most valuable discoveries that has been made of late years in the republic of letters, it appears to be no other than the opinion of the nominal- ists, about which so much dispute was held, from the beginning of the twelfth century down to the Reformation, and which was afterwards supported by Mr Hobbes. I shall briefly consider the argu- ments by which Mr Hume hopes to have put it beyond all doubt and controversy. First, He endeavours to prove, by three arguments, that it is utterly impossible to conceive any quantity or quality, without forming a precise notion of its degrees; This is indeed a great undertaking ; but, if he could prove it, it is not sufficient for his purpose — for two reasons. First, Because there are many attributes of things, besides quantity and quality ; and it is incumbent upon him to prove that it is impossible to conceive any attribute, without forming a precise notion of its degree. Each of the ten categories of Aristotle is a genus, and may be an attri- bute. And, if he should prove of two of them — to wit, quantity and quality — that there can be no general conception of them ; there remain eight behind, of which this must be proved. [489 J The other reason is, because, though it were impossible to conceive any quantity or quality, without forming a precise notion of its degree, it does not follow that it is impossible to have a general conception even of quantity and quality. The con- ception of a pound troy is the conception of a quantity, and of the precise degree of that quantity ; but it is an abstract general conception notwithstanding, because it may be the attribute of many individual bodies, and of many kinds of bodies. He ought, therefore, to have proved that we cannot conceive quantity or quality, or any other attribute, without joining it inseparably to some individual subject. This remains to be proved, which will be found no easy matter. For instance, I conceive what is meant by a Japanese as distinctly as what is meant by an English- man or a Frenchman. It is true, a Japan- ese is neither quantity nor quality, but it is an attribute common to every individual of a populous nation. I never saw an in- dividual of that nation ; and, if I can trust my consciousness, the general term does not lead me to imagine one individual of the sort as a representative of all others. Though Mr Hume, therefore, undertakes much, yet, if he could prove all he under- takes to prove, it would by no means be sufficient to shew that we have no abstract general conceptions. Passing this, let us attend to his argu- ments for proving this extraordinary posi- tion, that it is impossible to conceive any quantity or quality, without forming a pre- cise notion of its degree. The first argument is, that it is impossi- ble to distinguish things that are not ac- tually separable. " The precise length of a line is not different or distinguishable from the line." [490] I have before endeavoured to shew, that things inseparable in their nature may be distinguished in our conception. And we need go no farther to be convinced of this, than the instance here brought to prove the contrary. The precise length of a line, he says, is not distinguishable from the line. When I say, This is a line, I say and mean one thing. When I say, It is a line of three inches, I say and mean another thing. If this be not to distinguish the precise length of the line from the line, I know not what it is to distinguish. Second argument — " Every object of sense — that is, every impression — is an in- dividual, having its determinate degrees of quantity and quality. But whatever is true of the impression is true of the idea, as they differ in nothing but their strength and vivacity." The conclusion in this argument is, in- deed, justly drawn from the premises. If it be true that ideas differ in nothing from objects of sense, but in strength and viva- city, as it must be granted that all the ob- jects of sense are individuals, it will cer- tainly follow that all ideas are individuals. Granting, therefore, the justness of this conclusion, I beg leave to draw two other conclusions from the same premises, which will follow no less necessarily. First, If ideas differ from the objects of sense only in strength and vivacity, it will follow, that the idea of a lion is a lion of less strength and vivacity. And hence may arise a very important question, Whether the idea of a lion may not tear in pieces, and devour the ideas of sheep, oxen, and horses, and even of men, women, and children ? Secondly, If ideas differ only in strength and vivacity from the objects of sense, it will follow that objects merely conceived, are not ideas ; for such objects differ from the objects of sense in respects of a very [489, 490] VI.] OPINIONS ABOUT UNIVERSALS. 411 different nature from strength and vivacity. [491] Every object of sense must have a real existence, and time and place. But things merely conceived may neither have existence, nor time nor place ; and, there- fore, though there should be no abstract ideas, it does not follow that things abstract aud general may not be conceived. The third argument is this : — " It is a principle generally received in philosophy, that everything in nature is individual ; and that it is utterly absurd to suppose a tri- angle really existent which has no precise proportion of sides and angles. If this, therefore, be absurd in fact and reality, it must be absurd in idea, since nothing of which we can form a clear and distinct idea is absurd or impossible." I acknowledge it to be impossible that a triangle should really exist which has no precise proportion of sides and angles ; and impossible that any being should exist which is not an individual being ; for, I think, a being and an individual being mean the same thing : but that there can be no attributes common to many indivi- duals I do not acknowledge. Thus, to many figures that really exist it may be common that they are triangles ; and to many bodies that exist it may be common that they are fluid. Triangle and fluid are not beings, they are attributes of beings. As to the principle here assumed, that nothing of which we can form a clear and distinct idea is absurd or impossible, I refer to what was said upon it, chap. 3, Essay IV. It is evident that, in every mathema- tical demonstration, ad absurdum, of which kind almost one-half of mathematics con- sists, we are required to suppose, and, con- sequently, to conceive, a thing that is im- possible. From that supposition we reason, until we come to a conclusion that is not only impossible but absurd. From this we infer that the proposition supposed at first is impossible, and, therefore, that its con- tradictory is true. [492] As this is the nature of all demonstra- tions, ad absurdum, it is evident, (I do not say that we can have a clear and distiuct idea,) but that we can clearly and distinctly conceive things impossible. The rest of Mr Hume's discourse upon this subject is employed in explaining how an individual idea, annexed to a general term, may serve all the purposes in reason- ing which have been ascribed to abstract general ideas. " 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 we may observe in the degrees of their quantity and quality, and whatever other differences may appear among them. After we have acquired a [491-493] custom of this kind, the hearing of that name revives the idea of one of these ob- jects, and makes the imagination conceive it, with all its circumstances and propor- tions." But, along with this idea, there is a readiness to survey any other of the indi- viduals to which the name belongs, and to observe that no conclusion be formed con- trary to any of them. If any such conclu- sion is formed, those individual ideas which contradict it immediately crowd in upon us, and make us perceive the falsehood of the proposition. If the mind suggests not al- ways these ideas upon occasion, it proceeds from some imperfection in its faculties ; and such a one as is often the source of false reasoning and sophistry. This is, in substance, the way in which he accounts for what he calls " the fore- going paradox, that some ideas are parti- cular in their nature, but general in their representation." Upon this account I shall make some remarks. [493] 1. He allows that we find a resemblance among several objects, and such a resem- blance as leads us to apply the same name to all of them. This concession is suffi- cient to shew that we have general concep- tions. There can be no resemblance in objects that have no common attribute ; and, if there be attributes belonging in com- mon to several objects, and in man a fa- culty to observe and conceive these, and to give names to them, this is to have general conceptions. I believe, indeed, we may have an indis- tinct perception of resemblance without knowing wherein it lies. Thus, I may see a resemblance between one face and an- other, when I cannot distinctly say in what feature they resemble ; but, by analysing the two faces, and comparing feature with feature, I may form a distinct notion of that which is common to both. A painter, being accustomed to an analysis of this kind, would have formed a distinct notion of this resemblance at first sight ; to another man it may require some attention. There is, therefore, an indistinct notion of resemblance when we compare the objects only in gross : and this I believe brute ani- mals may have. There is also a distinct notion of resemblance when we analyse the objects into their different attributes, and perceive them to agree in some while they differ in others. It is in this case only that we give a name to the attributes wherein they agree, which must be a common name, because the thing signified by it is common. Thus, when I compare cubes of different matter, I perceive them to have this attri- bute in common, that they are compre- hended under six equal squares, and this attribute only is signified by applying the name of cube to them all. When I com- 412 ON THE INTELLECTUAL POWERS. [essay v. pare clean linen with snow, I perceive them to agree in colour ; and when I apply the name of white to both, this name signifies neither snow nor clean linen, but the attri- bute which is common to both. 2. The author says, that when we have found a resemblance among several objects, we apply the same name to all of them. [494] It must here be observed, that there are two kinds of names which the author seems to confound, though they are very different in nature, and in the power they have in language. There are proper names, and there are common names or appellatives. The first are the names of individuals. The same proper name is never applied to several individuals on account of their simi- litude, because the very intention of a pro- per name is to distinguish one individual from all others ; and hence it is a maxim in grammar that proper names have no plural number. A proper name signifies nothing but the individual whose name it is ; and, when we apply it to the individual, we neither affirm nor deny anything con- cerning him. A common name or appellative is not the name of any individual, but a general term, signifying something that is or may be common to several individuals. Common names, therefore, signify common attri- butes. Thus, when I apply the name of son or brother to several persons, this sig- nifies and affirms that this attribute is common to all of them. From this, it is evident that the apply- ing the same name to several individuals on account of their resemblance, can, in consistence with grammar and common sense, mean nothing else than the express- ing, by a general term, something that is common to those individuals, and which, therefore, may be truly affirmed of them all. 3. The author says, " It is certain that we form the idea of individuals whenever we use any general term. The word raises up an individual idea, and makes the ima- gination conceive it, with all its particular circumstances and proportions." This fact he takes a great deal of pains to account for, from the effect of custom. [495] But the fact should be ascertained before we take pains to account for it. I can see no reason to believe the fact ; and I think a farmer can talk of his sheep and his black cattle, without conceiving, in his imagina- tion, one individual, with all its circum- stances and proportions. If this be true, the whole of his theory of general ideas falls to the ground. To me it appears, that when a general term is well understood, it is only by accident if it suggest some indi- vidual of the kind ; but this effect is by no means constant. I understand perfectly what mathemati- cians call a line of the fifth order ; yet I never conceived in my imagination anyone of the kind hi all its circumstances and pro- portions. Sir Isaac Newton first formed a distinct general conception of lines of the third order ; and afterwards, by great labour and deep penetration, found out and de- scribed the particular species comprehended under that general term. According to Mr Hume's theory, he must first have been acquainted with the particulars, and then have learned by custom to apply one general name to all of them. The author observes, " That the idea of an equilateral triangle of an inch perpen- dicular, may serve us in talking of a figure, a rectilinear figure, a regular figure, a tri- angle, and an equilateral triangle." I answer, the man that uses these general terms either understands their meaning, or he does not. If he does not understand their meaning, all his talk about them will be found only without sense, and the par- ticular idea mentioned cannot enable him to speak of them with understanding. If he understands the meaning of the general terms, he will find no use for the particular idea. 4. He tells us gravely, " That in a globe of white marble the figure and the colour are undistinguishable, and are in effect the same." [496] How foolish have mankind been to give different names, in all ages andinall languages, to things undistinguish- able, and in effect the same ? Henceforth, in all books of science and of entertainment, we may substitute figure for colour, and colour for figure. By this we shall make numberless curious discoveries, without danger of error. * [497] * The whole controversy of Nominalism and Con- ceptualisra is founded on the ambiguity of the terms employed. The opposite partus are substantially at one. Had our British philosophers been aware of the Leibnitzian distinction of Intuitive and Symboli- cal knowledge ; and had we, like the Germans, different terms, like Begriff w&Anschauung, to de- note different kinds of thought, there would have been as little difference of opinion in regard to the nature of general notions in this country as in the Empire. V\ ith us, Idea, Notion, Concqction, Ike. are confounded, or applied by different philosophers in different senses. 1 must put the reader on his guard against Dr Thomas Brown's speculations on this subject. His own doctrine of universals, in so far as it is peculiar, is self-c .ntradictory j and nothing can be more erroneous than his statement of the doc- trine held by others, especially by tfce Nominalists. [494-497] niAP. i."] OF JUDGMENT IN GENERAL. 413 ESSAY VI. OF JUDGMENT CHAPTER I. OF JUDGMENT IN GENERAL. Judging is an operation of the mind so familiar to every man who hath understand- ing, and its name is so common and so well understood, that it needs no definition. As it is impossible by a definition to give a notion of colour to a man who never saw colours ; so it is impossible by any defini- tion to give a distinct notion of judgment to a man who has not often judged, and who is not capable of reflecting attentively upon this act of his mind. The best use of a de- finition is to prompt him to that reflection ; and without it the best definition will be apt to mislead him. The definition commonly given of judg- ment, by the more ancient writers in logic, was, that it is an act of the mind, where! y ono thing is affirmed or denied of another. I believe this is as good a definition of it as can be given. Why I prefer it to some later definitions, will afterwards appear. "Without pretending to give any other. I shall make two remarks upon it, and then offer some general observations on this subject. [498] 1. It is true that it is by affirmation or denial that we express our judgments ; but there may be judgment which is not ex- pressed. It is a solitary act of the mind, and the expression of it by affirmation or denial is not at all essential to it. It may be tacit, and not expressed. Nay, it is well known that men may judge contrary to what they affirm or deny ; the definition therefore must be understood of mental af- firmation or denial, which indeed is only another name for judgment. 2. Affirmation and denial is very often the expression of testimony, which is a dif- ferent act of the mind, and ought to be distinguished from judgment. A judge asks of a witness what he knows of such a matter to which he was an eye or ear-witness. He answers, by affirming or denying something But his answer does not express his judgment; it is his testimony. Again, I ask a man his opinion in a matter of science or of criticism. His answer is not testimony ; it is the expres- sion of his judgment. Testimony is a social act, and it is essen [498, 499] tial to it to be expressed by words or signs. A tacit testimony is a contradiction : but there is no contradiction in a tacit judgment ; it is complete without being expressed. In testimony a man pledges his veracity for what he affirms ; so that a false testi- mony is a lie : but a wrong judgment is not a lie ; it is only an error. I believe, in all languages, testimony and judgment are expressed by the same form of speech. A proposition affirmative or negative, with a verb in what is called the indicative mood, expresses both. To dis- tinguish them by the form of speech, it would be necessary that verbs should have two indicative moods, one for testimony, and another to express judgment. [499] I know not that this is found in any lan- guage. And the reason is — not surely that the vulgar cannot distinguish the two, for every man knows the difference between a lie and an error of judgment — but that, from the matter and circumstances, we can easily see whether a man intends to give his tes- timony, or barely to express his judgment. Although men must have judged in many cases before tribunals of justice were erected, yet it is very probable that there were tribunals before men began to specu- late about judgment, and that the word may be borrowed from the practice of tribunals. As a judge, after taking the proper evidence, passes sentence in a cause, and that sent- ence is called his judgment, so the mind, with regard to whatever is true or false, passes sentence, or determines according to the evidence that appears. Some kinds of evidence leave no room for doubt. Sent- ence is passed immediately, without seek- ing or hearing any contrary evidence, because the thing is certain and notorious. In other cases, there is room for weighing evidence on both sides, before sentence is passed. The analogy between a tribunal of justice, and this inward tribunal of the mind, is too obvious to escape the notice of any man who ever appeared before a judge. And it is probable that the word judgment, as well as'many other words we use in speak- ing of this operation of mind, are grounded on this analogy. Having premised these things, that it may be clearly understood what I mean by judgment, I proceed to make some general observations concerning it. 14 OX THE INTELLECTUAL POWERS. [ess.ay VI. First, Judgment is an act of the mind, specifically different from simple apprehen- sion, or the bare conception of a thing.* It would be unnecessary to observe this, if some philosophers had not been led by their theories to a contrary opinion. [500] Although there can be no judgment with- out a conception of the things about which we judge, yet conception may be without any judgment. -f* Judgment can be expressed by a proposition only, and a proposition is a complete sentence ; but simple apprehen- sion may be expressed by a word or words, which make no complete sentence. When simple apprehension is employed about a proposition, every man knows that it is one thing to apprehend a proposition — that is, to conceive what it means — but it is quite another thing to judge it to be true or false. It is self-evident that every judgment must be either true or false \ but simple apprehension, or conception, can neither be true nor false, as was shewn before. One judgment may be contradictor}' to another ; and it is impossible for a man to have two judgments at the same time, which he perceives to be contradictory. But con- tradictory propositions may be conceived^ at the same time without any difficulty. That the sun is greater than the earth, and that the sun is not greater than the earth, are contradictory propositions. He that apprehends the meaning of one, apprehends the meaning of both. But it is impossible for him to judge both to be true at the same time. He knows that, if the one is true, the other must be false. For these reasons, I hold it to be certain that judgment and simple apprehension are acts of the mind specifically different* Secondly, There are notions or ideas that ought to be referred to the faculty of judg- ment as their source ; because, if we had not that faculty, they could not enter into our minds; and to those that have that faculty, and are capable of reflecting upon its operations, they are obvious and familiar. Among these we may reckon the notion of judgment itself ; the notions of a propos- ition — of its subject, predicate, and copula ; of affirmation and negation, of true and false ; of knowledge, belief, disbelief, opi- nion, assent, evidence. From no source could we acquire these notions, but from reflecting upon our judgments. Relations of things make one great class of our notions or ideas ; and we cannot have the idea of any relation without some exercise of judg- ment, as will appear afterwards. [501] Thirdly, In persons come to years of * Which, however, implies a judgment affirming its subjective reality— an existential judgment.— H. t See last note, and above, p. *43, a, note *. and p. 37 5, a, notet— H. • « + See above, p. 377, b, note.— H understanding, judgment necessarily accom- panies all sensation, perception by the senses, consciousness, and memory, but not conception.* I restrict this to persons come to the years of understanding, because it may be a ques- tion, whether infants, in the first period of life, have any judgment or belief at all.* The same question may be put with regard to brutes and some idiots. This question is foreign to the present subject ; and I say nothing here about it, but speak only of persons who have the exercise of judg- ment. In them it is evident that a man who feels pain, judges and believes that he is really pained. The man who perceives an object, believes that it exists, and is what he distinctly perceives it to be ; nor is it in his power to avoid such judgment. And the like may be said of memory, and of consciousness. Whether judgment ought to be called a necessary concomitant of these operations, or rather a part or in- gredient of them, I do not dispute ; but it is certain that all of them are accompanied with a determination that something is true or false, and a consequent belief. If this determination be not judgment, it is an operation that has got no name ; for it is not simple apprehension, neither is it reasoning ; it is a mental affirmation or negation ; it may be expressed by a propo- sition affirmative or negative, and it is accompanied with the firmest belief. These are the characteristics of judgment ; and I must call it judgment, till I can find another name to it. The judgments we form are either of things necessary, or of things contingent. That three times three is nine, that the whole is greater than a part, are judg- ments about things necessary. [502] Our assent to such necessary propositions is not grounded upon any operation of sense, of memory, or of consciousness, nor does it require their concurrence ; it is unaccom- panied by any other operation but that of conception, which must accompany all judg- ment ; we may therefore call this judgment of things necessary pure judgment. Our judgment of things contingent must always rest upon some other operation of the mind, such as sense, or memory, or consciousness, or credit in testimony, which is itself grounded upon sense. That I now write upon a table covered with green cloth, is a contingent event, which I judge to be most undoubtedly true. My judgment is grounded upon my percep- tion, and is a necessary concomitant or in- gredient of my perception. That I dined * In so far as there can be Consciousness, there must be Judgment— H. [500-502 1 I.] OF JUDGMENT IN GENERAL. 415 with such a company yesterday, I judge to be true, because I remember it ; and my judgment necessarily goes along with this remembrance, or makes a part of it. There are many forms of speech in com- mon language which shew that the senses, memory and consciousness, are considered as judging faculties. We say that a man judges of colours by his eye, of sounds by his ear. We speak of the evidence of sense, the evidence of memory, the evidence of consciousness. Evidence is the ground of judgment ; and when we see evidence, it is impossible not to judge. When we speak of seeing or remember- ing anything, we, indeed, hardly ever add that we judge it to be true. But the rea- son of this appears to be, that such an addition would be mere superfluity of speech, because every one knows that what I see or remember, I must judge to be true, and cannot do otherwise. And, for the same reason, in speaking of anything that is self-evident or strictly de- monstrated, we do not say that we judge it to be true. This would be superfluity of speech, because every man knows th^.t we must judge that to be true which we hold self-evident or demonstrated. [503] When you say you saw such a thing, or that you distinctly remember it, or when you say of any proposition that it is self- evident, or strictly demonstrated, it would be ridiculous after this to ask whether you judge it to be true ; nor would it be less ridiculous in you to inform us that you do. It would be a superfluity of speech of the same kind as if, not content with saying that you saw such an object, you should add that you saw it with your eyes. There is, therefore, good reason why, in speaking or writing, judgment should not be expressly mentioned, when all men know it to be necessarily implied ; that is, when there can be no doubt. In such cases, we barely mention the evidence. But when the evidence mentioned leaves room for doubt, then, without any superfluity or tau- tology, we say we judge the thing to be so, because this is not implied in what was said before. A woman with child never says, that, going such a journey, she carried her child along with her. We know that, while it is in her womb, she must carry it along with her. There are some operations of mind that may be said to carry judgment in their womb, and can no more leave it behind them than the pregnant woman can leave her child. Therefore, in speaking of such operations, it is not expressed. Perhaps this manner of speaking may have led philosophers into the opinion that, in perception by the senses, in memory, and in consciousness, there is no judgment at all. Because it is not mentioned in [503-505] speaking of these faculties, they conclude that it does not accompany them ; that they are only different modes of simple appre- hension, or of acquiring ideas ; and that it is no part of their office to judge. [504] I apprehend the same cause has led Mr Locke into a notion of judgment which I take to be peculiar to him. He thinks that the mind has two faculties conversant about truth and falsehood. Fhst, knowledge; and, secondly, judgment. In the first, the perception of the agreement or disagree- ment of the ideas is certain. In the second, it is not certain, but probable only. According to this notion of judgment, it is not by judgment that I perceive that two and three make five ; it is by the faculty of knowledge. I apprehend there can be no kaowledge without judgment, though there may be judgment without that certainty which we commonly call knowledge. Mr Locke, in another place of his Essay, tells us, " That the notice we have by our senses of the existence of things without us, though not altogether so certain as our in- tuitive knowledge, or the deductions of our reason about abstract ideas, yet is an as- surance that deserves the name of know- ledge." I think, by this account of it, and by his definitions before given of knowledge and judgment, it deserves as well the name of judgment. That I may avoid disputes about the meaning of words, I wish the reader to un- derstand, that I give the name of judgment to every determination of the mind con- cerning what is true or what is false. This, I think, is what logicians, from the days of Aristotle, have called judgment. Whether it be called one faculty, as I think it has always been, or whether a philosopher chooses to split it into two, seems not very material. And, if it be granted that, by our senses, our memory, and consciousness, we not only have ideas or simple apprehen- sions, but form determinations concerning what is true and what is false — whether these determinations ought to be called knowledge or judgment, is of small moment. [505] The judgments grounded upon the evi- dence of sense, of memory, and of conscious- ness, put all men upon a level. The phi- losopher, with regard to these, has no pre- rogative above the illiterate, or even above the savage. Their reliance upon the testimony of these faculties is as firm and as well grounded as his. His superiority is in judgments of another kind — in judgments about things abstract and necessary. And he is unwilling to give the name of judg- ment to that wherein the most ignorant and unimproved of the species are his equals. 416 ON THE INTELLECTUAL POWERS. [essay vt„ But philosophers have never been able to give any definition of judgment which does not apply to the determinations of our senses, our memory, and conscious- ness, nor any definition of simple appre- hension which can comprehend those deter- minations. Our judgments of this kind are purely the gift of Nature, nor do they admit of improvement by culture. The memory of one man may be more tenacious than that of another ; but both rely with equal assur- ance upon what they distinctly remember. One man's sight may be more acute, or his feeling more delicate, than that of another; but both give equal credit to the distinct testimony of their sight and touch. And, as we have this belief by the con- stitution of our nature, without any effort of our own, so no effort of ours can over- turn it. The sceptic may perhaps persuade him- self, in general, that he has no . ground to believe his senses or his memory : but, in particular cases that are interesting, his disbelief vanishes, and he finds himself under a necessity of believing both. [506] These judgments may, in the strictest sense, be called judgments of nature. Na- ture has subjected us to them, whether we will or not. They are neither got, nor can they be lost by any use or abuse of our faculties ; and it is evidently necessary for our preservation that it should be so. For, if belief in our senses and in our memory were to be learned by culture, the race of men would perish before they learned this lesson. It is necessary to all men for their being and preservation, and therefore is unconditionally given to all men by the Author of Nature. I acknowledge that, if we were to rest in those judgments of Nature of which we now speak, without building others upon them, they would not entitle us to the deno- mination of reasonable beings. But yet they ought not to be despised, for they are the foundation upon which the grand super- structure of human knowledge must be raised. And, as in other superstructures the foundation is commonly overlooked, so it has been in this. The more sublime attainments of the human mind have at- tracted the attention of philosophers, while they have bestowed but a careless glance upon the humble foundation on which the whole fabric rests. A fourth observation is, that some exer- cise of judgment is necessary in the forma- tion of all abstract and general conceptions, whether more simple or more complex ; in dividing, in defining, and, in general, in forming all clear and distinct conceptions of things, which are the only fit materials of reasoning. These operations are allied to each other, and therefore I bring them under one ob- servation. They are more allied to cur rational nature than those mentioned in the last observation, and therefore are consi- dered by themselves. That I may not be mistaken, it may be observed that I do not say that abstract notions, or other accurate notions of things, after they have been formed, cannot be barely conceived without any exercise of judgment about them. I doubt not that they may : but what I say is, that, in their formation in the mind at first, there must be some exercise of judgment. [507] It is impossible to distinguish the different attributes belonging to the same subject, without judging that they are really different and distinguishable, and that they have that relation to the subject which logicians ex- press, by saying that they may be predicated of it. We cannot generalise, without judg- ing that the same attribute does or may be- long to many individuals. It has been shewn that our simplest general notions are formed by these two operations of dis- tinguishing and generalising ; judgment therefore is exercised in forming the simplest general notions. In those that are more complex, and which have been shewn to be formed by combining the more simple, there is another act of the judgment required ; for such combinations are not made at random, but for an end ; and judgment is employed in fitting them to that end. We form complex general notions for conveniency of arrang- ing our thoughts in discourse and reasoning ; and, therefore, of an infinite number of com- binations that might be formed, we choose only those that are useful and necessary. That judgment must be employed in dividing as well as in distinguishing, ap- pears evident. It is one thing to divide a subject properly, another to cut it in pieces. Hocnon est divider e, sed fr anger e rem, said Cicero, when he censured an improper division of Epicurus. Reason has discovered rules of division, which have been known to logicians more than two thousand years. There are rules likewise of definition of no less antiquity and authority. A man may no doubt divide or define properly with- out attending to the rules, or even without knowing them. But this can only be when he has judgment to perceive that to be right in a particular case, which the rule de- termines to be right in all cases. I add in general, that, without some de- gree of judgment, we can form no accurate aud distinct notions of things ; so that one province of judgment is, to aid us in form- ing clear and distinct conceptions of things, which are the only fit materials for reason- ing. [508] [506-508] CHAP, «•] OF JUDGMENT IN GENERAL. 417 This will probably appear to be a paradox to philosophers, who have always considered the formation of ideas of every kind as be- longing to simple apprehension ; and that the sole province of judgment is to put them together in affirmative or negative proposi- tions ; and therefore it requires some con- firmation. Fin-t, I think it necessarily follows, from what has been already said in this observa- tion. For if, without some degree of judg- ment, a man can neither distinguish, nor divide, nor define, nor form any general notion, simple or eomplex, he surely, with- out some degree of judgment, cannot have in his mind the materials necessary to reasoning. There cannot be any proposition in lan- guage which does not involve some general conception. The proposition, that I exist, which Des Cartes thought the first of all truths, and the foundation of all knowledge, cannot be conceived without the conception of existence, one of the most abstract general conceptions A man cannot believe his own existence, or the existence of anything he sees or remembers, until he has so much judgment as to distinguish things that really exist from things which are only conceived. He sees a man six feet high ; he conceives a man sixty feet high : he judges the first object to exist, because he sees it ; the second he does not judge to exist, because he only conceives it. Now, I would ask, Whether he can attribute existence to the first object, and not to the second, without knowing what existence means ? It is im- possible. How early the notion of existence enters into the mind, I cannot determine ; but it must certainly be in the mind as soon as we ean affirm of anything, with understand- ing, that it exists. [509] In every other proposition, the predicate, at least, must be a general notion — a pre- dicable and an universal being one and the same. Besides this, every proposition either affirms or denies. And no man can have a distinct conception of a proposition, who does not understand distinctly the meaning of affirming or denying. But these are very general conceptions, and, as was before observed, are derived from judgment, as their source and origin. I am sensible that a strong objection may be made to this reasoning, and that it may seem to lead to an absurdity or a contra- diction. It may be said, that every judg- ment is a mental affirmation or negation. If, therefore, some previous exercise of judgment be necessary to understand what is meant by affirmation or negation, the exercise of judgment must go before any judgment which is absurd. In like manner, every judgment may be [509,510] expressed by a proposition, and a proposi- tion must be conceived before we can judge of it. If, therefore, we cannot conceive the meaning of a proposition without a previous exercise of judgment, it follows that judg- ment must be previous to the conception of any proposition, and at the same time that the conception of a proposition must be pre- vious to all judgment, which is a contra- diction. The reader may please to observe, that I have limited what I have said to distinct conception, and some degree of judgment ; and it is by this means I hope to avoid this labyrinth of absurdity and contradiction. The faculties of conception and judgment have an infancy and a maturity as man has. What I have said is limited to their mature state. I believe in their infant state they are very weak and indistinct ; and that, by imperceptible degrees, they grow to ma- turity, each giving aid to the other, and receiving aid from it. But which of them first began this friendly intercourse, is be- yond my ability to determine. It is like the question concerning the bird and the egg. [510] In the present state of things, it is true that every bird comes from an egg, and every egg from a bird ; and each may be said to be previous to the other. But, if we go back to the origin of things, there must have been some bird that did not come from any egg, or some egg that did not come from any bird. In like manner, in the mature state of man, distinct conception of a proposition supposes some previous exercise of judg- ment, and distinct judgment supposes dis- tinct conception. Each may truly be said to come from the other, as the bird from the egg, and the egg from the bird. But, if we trace back this succession to its origin — that is, to the first proposition that was ever conceived by the man, and the first judgment he ever formed — I determine no- thing about them, nor do I know in what order, or how, they were produced, any more than how the bones grow in the womb of her that is with child. The first exercise of these faculties of conception and judgment is hid, like the sources of the Nile, in an unknown region. The necessity of some degree of judg- ment to clear and distinct conceptions of things, may, I think, be illustrated by this similitude. An artist, suppose a carpenter, cannot work in his art without tools, and these tools must be made by art. The exercise of the art, therefore, is necessary to make the tools, and the tools are necessary to the exercise of the art. There is the same appearance of contradiction, as in what I have advanced concerning the necessity of 2 E 418 ON THE INTELLECTUAL POWERS. [essay VI. some degree of judgment, in order to form clear and distinct conceptions of things. These are the tools we must use in judging and in reasoning, and without them must make very bungling work ; yet these tools cannot be made without some exercise of judgment [511] The necessity of some degree of judg- ment in forming accurate and distinct no- tions of things will farther appear, if we consider attentively what notions we can form, without any aid of judgment, of the objects of sense, of the operations of our own minds, or of the relations of things. To begin with the objects of sense. It is acknowledged, on all hands, that the first notions we have of sensible objects are got by the external senses only, and probably before judgment is brought forth ; but these first notions are neither simple, nor are they accurate and distinct : they are gross and indistinct, and, like the chaos, a rudis indigestaque moles. Before we can have any distinct notion of this mass, it must be analysed ; the heterogeneous parts must be separated in our conception, and the simple elements, which before lay hid in the com- mon mass, must first be distinguished, and then put together into one whole. In this way it is that we form distinct notions even of the objects of sense ; but this process of analysis and composition, by habit, becomes so easy, and is performed so readily, that we are apt to overlook it, and to impute the distinct notion we have formed of the object to the senses alone ; and this we are the more prone to do because, when once we have distinguished the sensible qualities of the object from one another, the sense gives testimony to each of them. You perceive, for instance, an object white, round, and a foot in diameter. I grant that you perceive all these attributes of the object by sense ; but, if you had not been able to distinguish the colour from the figure, and both from the magnitude, your senses would only have given you one complex and confused notion of all these mingled together. A man who is able to say with under- standing, or to determine in his own mind, that this object is white, must have distin- guished whiteness from other attributes. If he has not made this distinction, he does not understand what he says. [512] Suppose a cube of brass to be presented at the same time to a child of a year old and to a man. The regularity of the figure will attract the attention of both. Both have the senses of sight and of touch in equal perfection ; and, therefore, if any- thing be discovered in this object by the man, which cannot be discovered by the child, it must be owing, not to the senses, but to some other faculty which the child has not yet attained. First, then, the man can easily distin- guish the body from the surface which terminates it ; this the child cannot do. Secondly, The man can perceive that this surface is made up of six planes of the same figure and magnitude ; the child cannot discover this. Thirdly, The man perceives that each of these planes has four equal sides and four equal angles ; and that the opposite sides of each plane and the oppo- site planes are parallel. It will surely be allowed, that a man of ordinary judgment may observe all this in a cube which he makes an object of con- templation, and takes time to consider ; that he may give the name of a square to a plane terminated by four equal sides and four equal angles ; and the name of a cube to a solid terminated by six equal squares •. all this is nothing else but analysing the figure of the object presented to his senses into its simplest elements, and again com- pounding it of those elements. By this analysis and composition two effects are produced. First, From the one complex object which his senses presented, though one of the most simple the senses can present, he educes many simple and distinct notions of right lines, angles, plain surface, solid, equality, parallelism ; notions which the child has not yet faculties to attain. Secondly, When he considers the cube as compounded of these elements, put together in a certain order, he has then, and not before, a distinct and scientific notion of a cube. The child neither con- ceives those elements, nor in what order they must be put together in order to make a cube ; and, therefore, has no accurate notion of a cube which can make it a sub- ject of reasoning. [513] Whence I think we may conclude, that the notion which we have from the senses alone, even of the simplest objects of sense, is indistinct and incapable of being either described or reasoned upon, until it is ana- lysed into its simple elements, and con- sidered as compounded of those elements. If we should apply this reasoning to more complex objects of sense, the conclusion would be still more evident. A dog may be taught to turn a jack, but he can never be taught to have a distinct notion of a jack. He sees every part as well as a man ; but the relation of the parts to one another and to the whole, he has not judgment to comprehend. A distinct notion of an object, even of sense, is never got in an instant ; but the sense performs its office in an instant. Time is not required to see it better, but to analyse it, to distinguish the different parts, and their relation to one another and to the whole. [511-513] CHAP. I.] OF JUDGMENT IN GENERAL. 419 Hence it is that, when any vehement passion or emotion hinders the cool applica- tion of judgment, we get no distinct notion of an object, even though the sense be long directed to it. A man who is put into a panic, by thinking he sees a ghost, may stare at it long without having any distinct notion of it ; it is his understanding, and not his sense, that is disturbed by his horror. If he can lay that aside, judgment immedi- ately enters upon its office, and examines the length and breadth, the colour, and figure, and distance of the object. Of these, while his panic lasted, he had no distinct notion, though his eyes were open all the time. When the eye of sense is open, but that of judgment shut by a panic, or any violent emotion that engrosses the mind, we see things confusedly, and probably much in the same manner that brutes and perfect idiots do, and infants before the use of judgment. [514] There are, therefore, notions of the objects of sense which are gross and indistinct, and there are others that are distinct and scienti- fic. The former may be got from the senses alone, but the latter cannot be obtained with- out some degree of judgment. The clear and accurate notions which geometry presents to us of a point, a right line, an angle, a square, a circle, of ratios direct and inverse, and others of that kind, can find no admittance into a mind that has not some degree of judgment. They are not properly ideas of the senses, nor are they got by compounding ideas of the senses, but by analysing the ideas or no- tions we get by the senses into their simplest elements, and again combining these ele- ments into various accurate and elegant forms, which the senses never did nor can exhibit. Had Mr Hume attended duly to this, it ought to have prevented a very bold attempt, which he has prosecuted through fourteen pages of his " Treatise of Human Nature," to prove that geometry is founded upon ideas that are not exact, and axioms that are not precisely true. A mathematician might be tempted to think that the man who seriously under- takes this has no great acquaintance with geometry ; but I apprehend it is to be im- puted to another cause, to a zeal for his own system. We see that even men of genius may be drawn into strange paradoxes, by an attachment to a favourite idol of the understanding, when it demands so costly a sacrifice. We Protestants think that the devotees of the Roman Church pay no small tribute to her authority when they renounce their five senses in obedience to her decrees. Mr Hume's devotion to his system carries him 1 514-516"] even to trample upon mathematical demon- stration. [515] The fundamental articles of his system are, that all the perceptions of the human mind are either impressions or ideas, and that ideas are only faint copies of impres- sions. The idea of a right line, therefore, is only a faint copy of some line that has been seen, or felt by touch ; and the faint copy cannot be more perfect than the original. Now of such right lines, it is evident that the axioms of geometry are not precisely true ; for two lines that are straight to our sight or touch may include a space, or they may meet in more points than one. If, therefore, we cannot form any notion of a straight line more accurate than that which we have from the senses of sight and touch, geometry has no solid foundation. If, on the other hand, the geometrical axioms are precisely true, the idea of a right line is not copied from any impression of sight or touch, but must have a different origin and a more perfect standard. As the geometrician, by reflecting only upon the extension and figure of matter, forms a set of notions more accurate and scientific than any which the senses exhi- bit, so the natural philosopher, reflecting upon other attributes of matter, forms another set, such as those of density, quan- tity of matter, velocity, momentum, fluidity, elasticity, centres of gravity, and of oscilla- tion. These notions are accurate and scientific ; but they cannot enter into a mind that has not some degree of judg- ment, nor can we make them intelligible to children, until they have some ripeness of understanding. In navigation, the notions of latitude, longitude, course, leeway, cannot be made intelligible to children ; and so it is with regard to the terms of every science, and of every art about which we can reason. They have had their five senses as perfect as men for years before they are capable of distinguishing, comparing, and perceiv- ing the relations of things, so as to be able to form such notions. They acquire the intellectual powers by a slow progress, and by imperceptible degrees ; and by means of them, learn to form distinct and accurate notions of things, which the senses could never have imparted. [516] Having said so much of the notions we get from the senses alone of the objects of sense, let us next consider what notions we can have from consciousness alone of the operations of our minds. Mr Locke very properly calls conscious- ness an internal sense. It gives the like immediate knowledge of things in the mind — that is, of our own thoughts and feelings — as the senses give us of things external. There is this difference, however, that an 2 K 2 420 ON THE INTELLECTUAL POWERS. [essay VI. external object may be at rest, and the sense may be employed about it for some time. But the objects of consciousness are never at rest : the stream of thought flows like a river, without stopping a mo- ment ; the whole train of thought passes in succession under the eye of consciousness, which is always employed about the present. But is it consciousness that analyses com- plex operations, distinguishes their different ingredients, and combines them in distinct parcels under general names ? This surely is not the work of consciousness, nor can it be performed without reflection,* recollect- ing and judging of what we were conscious of, and distinctly remember. This reflec- tion does not appear in children. Of all the powers of the mind, it seems to be of the latest growth, whereas consciousness is coeval with the earliest. *t* Consciousness, being a kind of internal sense, can no more give us distinct and accurate notions of the operations of our minds, than the external senses can give of external objects. Reflection upon the operations of our minds is the same kind of operation with that by which we form dis- tinct notions of external objects. They differ not in their nature, but in this only, that one is employed about external, and the other about internal objects ; and both may, with equal propriety, be called reflec- tion. [517] Mr Locke has restricted the word reflec- * See above, p. 2 J 2, a, note *.— H. t See above, p. 239, b.— As a corollary of this truth, Mr Stewart makes the following observations, in which he is supported by every competent authority in education. The two northern universities have long withdrawn themselves from the reproach of placing Physics last in their curriculum of arts. In that of Edinburgh, no order is prescrnVd; but in St Andrew's and Glasgow, the class of Physics still stands after those of Mental Philosophy. This absurdity is, it is to be observed, altogether of a modern intro- duction For, when our Scottish universities were founded, and long after, the philosophy of mind was taught by the Professor of Physics. " I apprehend," says Mr Stewart, "that the study of the mind should form the last branch of the education of youth ; an order which nature herself seems to point out, by what I have already remarked with respect to the developement of our faculties. After the under, standing is well stored with particular facts, and has been conversant with particular scientific pur. suits, it will be enabled to speculate concerning its own powers with additional advai tage, and will run no hazard in indulging too far in such inquiries. Nothing can be more absurd, on this as well as on many other accounts, than the common practice which is followed in our universities, [in some only,] of beginning a course of philosophical education with the study of Logic. If this order were completely re- versed ; and if the study of Logic were delayed till after the mind of "he student was well stored with particular facts in Physics, in Chemistry, in Natural and Civil History, his attention might be led with the most important advantage, and without any dan- ger to his po'-ver of observation, to an examination of his own faculties, which, besides opening to him a new and pleasing field of speculation, would enable him to form an estimate of his own powers, of the acquisitions he has made, of the habits he has formed, and of the farther improvements of which his mind is susceptible."— H. tion to that which is employed about the operations of our minds, without any authority, as I think, from custom, the arbiter of language. For, surely, I may reflect upon what I have seen or heard, as well as upon what I have thought.* The word, in its proper and common meaning, is equally applicable to objects of sense, and to objects of consciousness. -|- He has likewise confounded reflection with con- sciousness, and seems not to have been aware that they are different powers, and appear at very different periods of life % If that eminent philosopher had been aware of these mistakes about the meaning of the word reflection, he would, I think, have seen that, as it is by reflection upon the operations of our own minds that we can form any distinct and accurate notions of them, and not by consciousness without reflection, so it is by reflection upon the objects of sense, and not by the senses without reflection, that we can form dis- tinct notions of them. Reflection upon any- thing, whether external or internal, makes it an object of our intellectual powers, by which we survey it on all sides, and form such judgments about it as appear to be just and true. I proposed, in the third place, to consi- der our notions of the relations of things : and here I think, that, without judg- ment, we cannot have any notion of rela- tions. There are two ways in which we get the notion of relations. The first is, by com- paring the related objects, when we have before had the conception of both. By this comparison, we perceive the relation, either immediately, or by a process of reasoning. That my foot is longer than my finger, 1 perceive immediately ; and that three is the half of six. This immediate perception is immediate and intuitive judgment. That the angles at the base of an isosceles triangle are equal, I perceive by a process of reason- ing, in which it will be acknowledged there is judgment. Another way in which we get the notion of relations (which seems not to have occur- red to Mr Locke) is, when, by attention to one of the related objects, we perceive or judge that it must, from its nature, have a certain relation to something else, which before, perhaps, we never thought of; and thus our attention to one of the related ob- * See note before, last, arid note at p. 347, b.— H. t Mr Stewart makes a curious mistarement of the meaning attached by Reid to the word Reflection, if this passage and others are taken into account. — See Elements* I. p. 106, note f-— H. % Consciousness and Reflection cannot be analysed into different powers. Reflection is only, in Locke's meaning of the word, (and this is the more correct,) Consciousness, concentrated by an act of Will on the phEenomena of mind— i. e., internal Attention ; in Reid's, what is it but Attention in general ?— H. [517] ■] OF COMMON SENSE. 42J jects produces the notion of a correlate, and of a certain relation between them. [518] Thus, when I attend to colour, figure, weight, I cannot help judging these to be qualities which cannot exist without a sub- ject ; that is, something which is coloured, figured, heavy. If I had not perceived such things to be qualities, I should never have had any notion of their subject, or of their relation to it. By attending to the operations of think- ing, memory, reasoning, we perceive or judge that there must be something which thinks, remembers, and reasons, which we call the mind. When we attend to any change that happens in Nature, judgment informs us that there must be a cause of this change, which had power to produce it ; and thus we get the notions of cause and effect, and of the relation between them. When we attend to body, we per- ceive that it cannot exist without space ; hence we get the notion of space, (which is neither an object of sense nor of conscious- ness,) and of the relation which bodies have to a certain portion of unlimited space, as their place. I apprehend, therefore, that all our no- tions of relations may more properly be ascribed to judgment as their source and origin, than to any other power of the mind. We must first perceive relations by our judgment, before we can conceive them without judging of them ; as we must first perceive colours by sight, before we can conceive them without seeing them. I think Mr Locke, when he comes to speak of the ideas of relations, does not say that they are ideas of sensation or reflection, but only that they terminate in, and are concerned about, ideas of sensation or re- flection. [519] The notions of unity and number are so abstract, that it is impossible they should enter into the mind until it has some degree of judgment. We see with what difficulty, and how slowly, children learn to use, with understanding, the names even of small numbers, and how they exult in this acqui- sition when they have attained it. Every number is conceived by the relation which it bears to unity, or to known combinations of units ; and upon that account, as well as on account of its abstract nature, all distinct notions of it require some degree of judgment- In its proper place, I shall have occasion to shew that judgment is an ingredient in all determinations of taste, in all moral determinations, and in many of our pas- sions and affections. So that this opera- tion, after we come to have any exercise of judgment, mixes with most of the operations of our minds, and, in analysing them, cannot be overlooked without confusion and error. [518-520] CHAPTER II. OF COMMON SENSE.* The word sense, in common language, seems to have a different meaning from that which it has in the writings of philosophers ; and those different meanings are apt to be confounded, and to occasion embarrassment | and error. Not to go back to ancient philosophy upon this point, modern philosophers consider sense as a power that has nothing to do with j udgment. Sense they consider as the power by which we receive certain ideas of im- pressions from objects ; and judgment as the power by which we eompare those ideas, and perceive their necessary agree- ments and disagreements. [ 520 ] The external senses give us the idea of colour, figure, sound, and other qualities of body, primary or secondary. Mr Locke gave the name of an internal sense to con- sciousness, because by it we have the ideas of thought, memory, reasoning, and other operations of our own minds. Dr Hutche- son of Glasgow, conceiving that we have simple and original ideas which cannot be imputed either to the external senses or to consciousness, introduced other internal senses ; such as the sense of harmony, the sense of beauty, and the moral sense. Ancient philosophers also spake of internal senses, of which memory was accounted one. But all these senses, whether external or internal, have been represented by philo- sophers as the means of furnishing our minds with ideas, without including any kind of judgment. Dr Hutcheson defines a sense to be a determination of the mind to receive any idea from the presence of an object independent on our will. " By this term (sense) philosophers, in general, have denominated those faculties in consequence of which we are liable to feelings relative to ourselves only, and from which they have not pretended to draw any conclusions concerning the nature of things ; whereas truth is not relative, but absolute and real — (Dr Priestlv's " Examination of Dr Reid,"&c, p. 123".) On the contrary, in common language, sense always implies judgment. A man of sense is a man of judgment. Good sense is good judgment. Nonsense is what is evidently contrary to right judgment. Com- mon sense is that degree of judgment which is common to men with whom we «an con- verse and transact business. Seeing and hearing, by philosophers, are called senses, because we have ideas by * On Common Sense, name and thine, see Note A. — H. 422 ON THE INTELLECTUAL POWERS. [essay VI. them ; by the vulgar they are called senses, because we judge by them. We judge of colours by the eye ; of sounds by the ear ; of beauty and deformity by taste ; of right and wrong in conduct, by our moral sense or conscience. [521] Sometimes philosophers, who represent it as the sole province of sense to furnish us with ideas, fall unawares into the popu- lar opinion that they are judging faculties. Thus Locke, Book IV. chap. 2 :— " And of this, (that the quality or accident of colour doth really exist, and hath a being without me,) 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." This popular meaning of the word sense is not peculiar to the English language. The corresponding words in Greek, Latin, and, I believe, in all the European languages, have the same latitude. The Latin words sentire, sententia, sensa* sensus, from the last of which the English word sense is borrowed, express judgment or opinion, and are applied indifferently to objects of exter- nal sense, of taste, of morals, and of the understanding. I cannot pretend to assign the reason why a word, which is no term of art, which is familiar in common conversation, should have so different a meaning in philosophical writings. I shall only observe, that the philosophical meaning corresponds perfectly with the account which Mr Locke and other modern philosophers give of judgment. For, if the sole province of the senses, external and internal, be to furnish the mind with the ideas about which we judge and reason, it seems to be a natural consequence, that the sole province of judgment should be to compare those ideas, and to perceive their necessary relations. These two opinions seem to be so con- nected, that one may have been the cause of the other. I apprehend, however, that, if both be true, there is no room left for any knowledge or judgment, either of the real existence of contingent things, or of their contingent relations. To return to the popular meaning of the word sense. I believe it would be much more difficult to find good authors who never use it in that meaning, than to find such as do. [522] We may take Mr Pope as good authority for the meaning of an English word. He uses it often, and, in his " Epistle to the Earl of Burlington," has made a little de- scant upon it. * What does sensa mean ? Is it an erratum, or does he refer to sensa, once only, I believe, employed by Cicero, and interpreted by Nonius Marcellus, as '« quae sentiuntur ?"— H. ,c Oft have you "hinted to your brother Peer, A certain truth, which many buy too dear: Something there is more needful than expense, And something previous ev'n to taste— 'tis sense. Good sense, w.uch only is the gift-of heaven, And, though no science, fairly worth the seven ; A light which in yourself you must perceive, Jones and Le Notre have it not to give." This inward light or sense is given by heaven to different persons in different de- grees. There is a certain degree of it which is necessary to our being subjects of law and government, capable of managing our own affairs, and answerable for our conduct towards others : this is called common sense, because it is common to all men with whom we can transact business, or call to account for their conduct. The laws of all civilised nations distin- guish those who have this gift of heaven, from those who have it not. The last may have rights which ought not to be violated, but, having no understanding in themselves to direct their actions, the laws appoint them to be guided by the understanding of others. It is easily discerned by its effects in men's actions, in their speeches, and even in their looks ; and when it is made a question whether a man has this natural gift or not, a judge or a jury, upon a short conversation with him, can, for the most part, determine the question with great assurance. The same degree of understanding which makes a man capable of acting with com- mon prudence in the conduct of life, makes him capable of discovering what is true and what is false in matters that are self-evident, and which he distinctly apprehends. [523] All knowledge, and all science, must be built upon principles that are self-evident ; and of such principles every man who has common sense is a competent judge, when he conceives them distinctly. Hence it is, that disputes very often terminate in an appeal to common sense. While the parties agree in the first prin- ciples on which their arguments are ground- ed, there is room for reasoning ; but when one denies what to the other appears too evident to need or to admit of proof, rea- soning seems to be at an end ; an appeal is made to common sense, and each party is left to enjoy his own opinion. There seems to be no remedy for this, nor any way left to discuss such appeals, unless the decisions of common sense can be brought into a code in which all reason- able men shall acquiesce. This, indeed, if it be possible, would be very desirable, and would supply a desideratum in logic ; and why should it be thought impossible that reasonable men should agree in things that are self-evident ? All that is intended in this chapter is to explain the meaning of common sense, that it may not be treated, as it has been by some, as a new principle, or as a word with- [521-523] CHAP. II. J OF COMMON SENSE. 423 out any meaning. I have endeavoured to shew that sense, in its most common, and therefore its most proper meaning, signifies judgment, though philosophers often use it in another meaning. From this it is natural to think that common sense should mean common judgment ; and so it really does. What the precise limits are which divide common judgment from what is beyond it on the one hand, and from what falls short of it on the other, may be difficult to de- termine ; and men may agree in the mean- ing of the word who have different opinions about those limits, or who even never thought of fixing them. This is as intel- ligible as, that all Englishmen should mean the same thing by the county of York, though perhaps not a hundredth part of them can point out its precise limits. [524] Indeed, it seems to me, that common sense is as unambiguous a word and as well understood as the county of York. We find it in innumerable places in good writers ; we hear it on innumerable occasions in con- versation ; and, as far as I am able to judge, always in the same meaning. And this is probably the reason why it is so seldom defined or explained. Dr Johnson, in the authorities he gives, to shew that the word sense signifies under- standing, soundness of faculties, strength of natural reason, quotes Dr Bentley for what may be called a definition of common sense, though probably not intended for that pur- pose, but mentioned accidentally : " God hath endowed mankind with power and abilities, which we call natural, light and reason, and common sense." It is true that common sense is a popular and not a scholastic word ; and by most of those who have treated systematically of the powers of the understanding, it is only occasionally mentioned, as it is by other writers. But I recollect two philosophical writers, who are exceptions to this remark. One is Buffier, who treated largely of com- mon sense, as a principle of knowledge, above fifty years ago. The other is Bishop Berkeley, who, I think, has laid as much stress upon common sense, in opposition to the doctrines of philosophers, as any philo- sopher that has come after him. If the reader chooses to look back to Essay II. chap. 10, he will be satisfied of this, from the quotations there made for another pur- pose, which it is unnecessary here to repeat. Men rarely ask what common sense is ; because every man believes himself pos- sessed of it, and would take it for an imput- ation upon his understanding to be thought unacquainted with it. Yet I remember two very eminent authors who have put this question ; and it is not improper to hear their sentiments upon a subject so frequently mentioned, and so rarely canvassed. [525] f524-526] It is well known that Lord Shaftesbury gave to one of his Treatises the title of " Sensus Communis; an Essay on the Freedom of Wit and Humour, in a Letter to a Friend ;" in which he puts his friend in mind of a free conversation with some of their friends on the subjects of morality and religion. Amidst the different opinions started and maintained with great life and ingenuity, one or other would, every now and then, take the liberty to appeal to common sense. Every one allowed the appeal ; no one would offer to call the authority of the court in question, till a gentleman whose good understanding was never yet brought in doubt, desired the company, very gravely, that they would tell him what common sense was. " If," said he, "■ by the word sense, we were to understand opinion and judgment, and by the word common, the generality or any considerable part of mankind, it would be hard to discover where the subject of common sense could lie ; for that which was according to the sense of one part of mankind, was against the sense of another. And if the majority were to determine com- mon sense, it would change as often as men changed. That in religion, common sense was as hard to determine as catholic or orthodox. What to one was absurdity^ to another was demonstration. " In policy, if plain British or Dutch sense were right, Turkish and French must certainly be wrong. And as mere non- sense as passive obedience seemed, we found it to be the common sense of a great party amongst ourselves, a greater party in Europe, and perhaps the greatest part of all the world besides. As for morals, the difference was still wider ; for even the philosophers could never agree in one and the same system. And some even of our most admired modern philosophers had fairly told us that virtue and vice had no other law or measure than mere fashion and vogue." [526] This is the substance of the gentleman's speech, which, I apprehend, explains the meaning of the word perfectly, and contains all that has been said or can be said against the authority of common sense, and the propriety of appeals to it. As there is no mention of any answer immediately made to this speech, we might be apt to conclude that the noble author adopted the sentiments of the intelligent gentleman whose speech he recites. But the contrary is manifest, from the title of Sensus Communis given to his Essay, from his frequent use of the word, and from the whole tenor of the Essay. The author appears to have a double in- tention in that Essay, corresponding to the double title prefixed to it. One intention 424: ON THE INTELLECTUAL POWERS. [essay VI. is, to justify the use of wit, humour, and ridicule, in discussing among friends the gravest subjects. " I can very well sup- pose," says he, " men may be frighted out of their wits ; but I have no apprehen- sion they should be laughed out of them. I can hardly imagine that, in a pleasant way, they should ever be talked out of their love for society, or reasoned out of humanity and common sense." The other intention, signified by the title Sensus Communis, is carried on hand in hand with the first, and is to shew that common sense is not so vague and uncertain a thing as it is represented to be in the sceptical speech before recited. " I will try," says he, " what certain knowledge or assurance of things may be recovered in that very way, (to wit, of humour,) by which all certainty, you thought, was lost, and an endless scepticism introduced." [527] He gives some criticisms upon the word sensus communis in Juvenal, Horace, and Seneca ; and, after shewing, in a facetious way throughout the treatise, that the fun- damental principles of morals, of politics, of criticism, and of every branch of knowledge, are the dictates of common sense, he sums up the whole in these words : — " That some moral and philosophical truths there are so evident in themselves that it would be easier to imagine half mankind run mad, and joined precisely in the same species of folly, than to admit anything as truth which should be advanced against such natural knowledge, fundamental reason, and common sense. " And, on taking leave, he adds : — " And now, my friend, should you find I had moralised in any tolerable manner, according to common sense, and without canting, I should be satisfied with my performance." Another eminent writer who has put the question what common sense is, is Fenelon, the famous Archbishop of Cambray. That ingenious and pious author, having had an early prepossession in favour of the Cartesian philosophy, made an attempt to establish, on a sure foundation, the meta- physical arguments which Des Cartes had invented to prove the being of the Deity. For this purpose, he begins with the Carte- sian doubt. He proceeds to find out the truth of his own existence, and then to ex- amine wherein the evidence and certainty of this and other such primary truths con- sisted. This, according to Cartesian prin- ciples, he places in the clearness and dis- tinctness of the ideas. On the contrary, he places the absurdity of the contrary pro- positions, in their being repugnant to his clear and distinct'ideas. To illustrate this, he gives various ex- amples of questions manifestly absurd and ridiculous, which every man of common understanding would, at first sight, perceive to be so ; and then goes on to this purpose. " What is it that makes these questions ridiculous ? Wherein does this ridicule precisely consist ? It will, perhaps, be replied, that it consists in this, that they shock common sense. But what is this same common sense ? It is not the first notions that all men have equally of the same things. [528] This common sense, which is always and in all places the same ; which prevents inquiry ; which makes in- quiry in some cases ridiculous ; which, in- stead of inquiring, makes a man laugh whether he will or not ; which puts it out of a man's power to doubt : this sense, which only waits to be consulted — which shews itself at the first glance, and imme- diately discovers the evidence or the absurd- ity of a question — is not this the same that I call my ideas ? " Behold, then, those ideas or general notions, which it is not in my power either to contradict or examine, and by which I examine and decide in every case, insomuch that I laugh instead of answering, as often as anything is proposed to me, which is evi- dently contrary to what these immutable ideas represent." I shall only observe upon this passage, that the interpretation it gives of Des Cartes' criterion of truth, whether just or not, is the most intelligible and the most favourable I have met with. I beg leave to mention one passage from Cicero, and to add two or three from late writers, which shew that this word is not become obsolete, nor has changed its meaning. "De Oratore," lib. 3 — "Omnes enim tacito quodam sensu, sine ulla arte aut ratione, in artibus ac rationibus, recta ac prava dijudicant. Idque cum faciant in picturis, et in signis, et in aliis operibus, ad quorum intelligentiam a natura minus hab- ent instrumenti, turn multo ostendunt magis in verborum, numerorum, vocumque judi- cio ; quod ea sint in communibus infixa sensibus ; neque earum rerum quemquam funditus natura voluit expert em." " Hume's " Essays and Treatises," vol. I. p. 5 "But a philosopher who proposes only to represent the common sense of mankind in more beautiful and more engag- ing colours, if by accident he commits a mistake, goes no farther, but, renewing his appeal to common sense, and the natural sentiments of the mind, returns into the right path, and secures himself from any dangerous illusion." [529] Hume's " Enquiry concerning the Prin- ciples of Morals," p. 2 " Those who have refused the reality of moral distinctions may be ranked among the disingenuous dis- putants. The only way of converting an [527-529] CHAP. JI.J OF COMMON SENSE. 425 antagonist of this kind is to leave him to himself : for, finding that nobody keeps up the controversy with him, it is probable he will at last, of himself, from mere weariness, come over to the side of common sense and reason." Priestley's " Institutes," Preliminary Essay, vol. i. p. 27 — " Because common sense is a sufficient guard against many errors in religion, it seems to have been taken for granted that that common sense is a sufficient instructor also, whereas in fact, without positive instruction, men would naturally have been mere savages with respect to religion ; as, without similar in- struction, they would be savages with re- spect to the arts of life and the sciences. Common sense can only be compared to a judge; but what can a judge do without evidence and proper materials from which to form a judgment ?" Priestley's '' Examination of Dr Reid," &c. page 127. — " But should we, out of complaisance, admit that what has hitherto been called judgment may be called sense, it is making too free with the established signification of words to call it common sense, which, in common acceptation, has long been appropriated to a very different thing — viz., to that capacity for judging of common things that persons of middling capacities are capable of." Page 129. — " I should, therefore, expect that, if a man was so totally deprived of common sense as not to be able to distinguish truth from false- hood in one case, he would be equally in- capable of distinguishing it in another." [530] From this cloud of testimonies, to which hundreds might be added, I apprehend, that whatever censure is thrown upon those who have spoke of common sense as a prin- ciple of knowledge, or who have appealed to it in matters that are self-evident, will fall light, when there are so many to share in it. Indeed, the authority of this tribunal is too sacred and venerable, and has pre- scription too long in its favour to be now tvi.-ely called in question. Those who are disposed to do so, may remember the shrewd saying of Mr Hobbes — " When reason is against a man, a man will be against rea- son." This is equally applicable to com- mon sense. From the account I nave given of the meaning of this term, it is easy to judge both of the proper use and of the abuse of it. It is absurd to conceive that there can be any opposition between reason and com- mon sense.* It is indeed the first-born of fc Reason ; and, as they are commonly joined * See above, p. loo, b, note t j and Mr Stewart's " Elements," II. p. 92.— H. [530, 531] together in speech and in writing, they are inseparable in their nature. We ascribe to reason two offices, or two degrees. The first is to judge of things self-evident ; the second to draw conclusions that are not self-evident from those that are. The first of these is the province, and the sole province, of common sense ; and, therefore, it coincides with reason in its whole extent, and is only another name for one branch or one degree of reason. Per- haps it may be said, Why then should you give it a particular name, since it is acknow- ledged to be only a degree of reason ? It would be a sufficient answer to this, Why do you abolish a name which is to be found in the language of all civilized nations, and has acquired a right by prescription ? Such an attempt is equally foolish and ineffectual. Every wise man will be apt to think that a name which is found in all languages as far back as we can trace them, is not with- out some use. [531] But there is an obvious reason why this degree of reason should have a name ap- propriated to it ; and that is, that, in the greatest part of mankind, no other degree of reason is to be found. It is this degree that entitles them to the denomination of reasonable creatures. It is this degree of reason, and this only, that makes a man capable of managing his own affairs, and answerable for his conduct towards others. There is therefore the best reason why it should have a name appropriated to it. These two degrees of reason differ in other respects, which would be sufficient to entitle them to distinct names. The first is purely the gift of Heaven. And where Heaven has not given it, no education can supply the want. The se- cond is learned by practice and rules, when the first is not wanting. A man who has common sense may be taught to reason. But, if he has not that gift, no teaching will make him able either to judge of first prin- ciples or to reason from them. I have only this farther to observe, that the province of common sense is more ex- tensive in refutation than in confirmation. A conclusion drawn by a train of just rea- soning from true principles cannot possibly contradict any decision of common sense, because truth will always be consistent with itself. Neither can such a conclu- sion receive any confirmation from com- mon sense, because it is not within its juris- diction. But it is possible that, by setting out from false principles, or by an error in reasoning, a man may be led to a conclu- sion that contradicts the decisions of com- mon sense. In this case, the conclusion is within the jurisdiction of common sense, though the reasoning on which it was 426 ON THE INTELLECTUAL POWERS. [essay VI. grounded be not ; and a man of common sense may fairly reject the conclusion with- out being able to shew the error of the rea- soning that led to it- [532] Thus, if a mathematician, by a process of intricate demonstration, in which some false step was made, should be brought to this conclusion, that two quantities, which are both equal to a third, are not equal to each other, a man of common sense, with- out pretending to be a judge of the demon- stration, is well entitled to reject the con- clusion, and to pronounce it absurd. CHAPTER III. SENTIMENTS OF PHILOSOPHERS CONCERNING JUDGMENT. A difference about the meaning of a word ought not to occasion disputes among philosophers ; but it is often very proper to take notice of such differences, in order to prevent verbal disputes. There are, in- deed, no words in language more liable to ambiguity than those by which we express the operations of the mind ; and the most candid and judicious may sometimes be led into different opinions about their precise meaning. I hinted before what I take to be a pecu- liarity in Mr Locke with regard to the •meaning of the word judgment, and men- tioned what, I apprehend, may have led him into it. But let us hear himself, Essay, book iv. chap. 14 : — " The faculty which God has given to man to supply the want of clear and certain knowledge, where that cannot be had, is judgment ; whereby the mind takes its ideas to agree or disagree ; or, which is the same, any proposition to be true or false, without perceiving a de- monstrative evidence in the proofs. Thus the mind has two faculties conversant about truth and falsehood. First, Knowledge, whereby it certainly perceives, and is un- doubtedly satisfied of, the agreement or disagreement of any ideas. Secondly, Judgment, which is the putting ideas to- gether, or separating them from one an- other in the mind, when their certain agree- ment or disagreement is not perceived, but presumed to be so" [533] Knowledge, I think, sometimes signifies things known ; sometimes that act of the mind by which we know them. And in like manner opinion sometimes signifies things believed ; sometimes the act of the mind by which we believe them. But judgment is the faculty which is exercised in both these acts of the mind. In knowledge, we judge without doubting ; in opinion, with some mixture of doubt. But I know no authority, besides that of Mr Locke, for calling knowledge a faculty, any more than for calling opinion a faculty. Neither do I think that knowledge is confined within the narrow limits which Mr Locke assigns to it; because the far greatest part of what all men call human knowledge, is in things which neither ad- mit of intuitive nor of demonstrative proof. I have all along used the word judgment in a more extended sense than Mr Locke does in the passage above-mentioned. I understand by it that operation of mind by which we determine, concerning anything that may be expressed by a proposition, whether it be true or false. Every propo- sition is either true or false ; so is every judgment. A proposition may be simply conceived without judging of it. But when there is not only a conception of the pro- position, but a mental affirmation or nega- tion, an assent or dissent of the understand- ing, whether weak or strong, that is judg- ment. I think that, since the days of Aristotle, logicians have taken the word in that sense, and other writers, for the most part, though there are other meanings, which there is no danger of confounding with this. [534] We may take the authority of Dr Isaac Watts, as a logician, as a man who under- stood English, and who had a just esteem of Mr Locke's Essay. Logic. Introd. page 5 — " Judgment is that operation of the mind, wherein we join two or more ideas together by one affirmation or negation; that is, we either affirm or deny this to be that. So: this tree is high ; that horse is not swift ; the mind of man is a thinking being; mere matter has no thought belonging to it; God is just; good men are of ten miserable in this world ; a righteous governor will make a difference betwixt the evil and the good; which sentences are the effect of judgment, and are called propositions." And, Part II. chap. ii. § 9 — " The evidence of sense is, when we frame a proposition according to the dictate of any of our senses. So we judge that grass is green ; that a trumpet gives a pleasant sound; that fire burns wood; water is soft ; and iron hard.'" In this meaning, judgment extends to every kind of evidence, probable or certain and to every degree of assent or dissent. It extends to all knowledge as well as to all opinion ; with this difference only, that in knowledge it is more firm and steady, like a house founded upon a rock. In opinion it stands upon a weaker foundation, and is more liable to be shaken and overturned. These differences about the meaning of words are not mentioned as if truth was on one side and error on the other, but as an apology for deviating, in this instance, from the phraseology of Mr Locke, which is, for [532-534] chap, in.] SENTIMENTS CONCERNING JUDGMENT. 427 the most part, accurate and distinct ; and because attention to the different meanings that are put upon words by different authors, is the best way to prevent our mistaking verbal differences for real differences of opinion. The common theory concerning ideas naturally leads to .a theory concerning judgment, which may be a proper test of its truth ; for, as they are necessarily con- nected, they must stand or fall together. Their connection is thus expressed by Mr Locke, Book IV. chap. 1 — " Since the mind, in all its thoughts and reasonings, hath no other immediate object but its own ideas, which it alone does or can con- template, it is evident that our knowledge is only conversant about them. Knowledge then seems to me to be nothing but the perception of the connection and agreement, or disagreement and repugnancy, of any of our ideas. In this alone it consists." [535] There can only be one objection to the justice of this inference ; and that is, that the antecedent proposition from which it is inferred seems to have some ambiguity ; for, in the first clause of that proposition, the mind is said to have no other immediate object but its own ideas ; in the second, that it has no other object at all ; that it does or can contemplate ideas alone.* If the word immediate in the first clause be a mere expletive, and be not intended to limit the generality of the proposition, then the two clauses will be perfectly consistent, the second being only a repetition or expli- cation of the first ; and the inference that our knowledge is only conversant about ideas will be perfectly just and logical. But, if the word immediate in the first clause be intended to limit the general pro- position, and to imply that the mind has other objects besides its own ideas, though no other immediate objects, then it will not be true that it does or can contemplate ideas alone ; nor will the inference be justly drawn that our knowledge is only conversant about ideas. Mr Locke must either have meant his antecedent proposition, without any limita- tion by the word immediate, or he must have meant to limit it by that word, and to signify that there are objects of the mind which are not ideas. The first of these suppositions appears to me most probable, for several reasons. [536] First, Because, when he purposely de- fines the word idea, in the introduction to the Essay, he says it is whatsoever is the * In reference to the polemic that follows, see, for a solution, what has been said above in regard to the ambiguity of the term object, and Note B. In regard to the doctrine of Ideas, as held by the philosophers, see above, and Note C, &c— H. [535-537] object of the understanding when a man thinks, or whatever the mind can be em- ployed about in thinking. Here there is no room left for objects of the mind that are not ideas. The same definition is often repeated throughout the Essay. Some- times, indeed, the word immediate is added, as in the passage now under consideration ; but there is no intimation made that it ought to be understood when it is not expressed. Now, if it had really been his opinion that there are objects of thought which are not ideas, this definition, which is the ground- work of the whole Essay, would have been very improper, and apt to mislead his reader. Secondly, He has never attempted to shew how there can be objects of thought which are not immediate objects ; and, indeed, this seems impossible. For, what- ever the object be, the man either thinks of it, or he does not. There is no medium between these. If he thinks of it, it is an immediate object of thought while he thinks of it. If he does not think of it, it is no object of thought at all. Every object of thought, therefore, is an immediate object of thought, and the word immediate, joined to objects of thought, seems to be a mere expletive. Thirdly, Though Malebranche and Bishop Berkeley believed that we have no ideas of minds, or of the operations of minds, and that we may think and reason about them without ideas, this was not the opinion of Mr Locke. He thought that there are ideas of minds, and of their operations, as well as of the objects of sense ; that the mind perceives nothing but its own ideas, and that all words are the signs of ideas. A fourth reason is, That to suppose that he intended to limit the antecedent proposi- tion by the word immediate, is to impute to him a blunder in reasoning, which I do not think Mr Locke could have committed; for what can be a more glaring paralogism than to infer that, since ideas are partly, though not solely, the objects of thought, it is evident that all our knowledge is only conversant about them. If, on the con- trary, he meant that ideas are the only ob- jects of thought, then the conclusion drawn is perfectly just and obvious ; and he might very well say, that, since it is ideas only that the mind -does or can contemplate, it is evi- dent that our knowledge is only conversant about them. [537] As to the conclusion itself, I have only to observe, that, though he extends it only to what he calls knowledge, and not to what he calls judgment, there is the same reason for extending it to both. It is true of judgment, as well as of knowledge, that it can only be conversant about objects of the mind, or about things 428 ON THE INTELLECTUAL POWERS. ESSAY VI. which the mind can contemplate. Judg- ment, as well as knowledge, supposes the conception of the object about which we judge ; and to judge of objects that never were nor can be objects of the mind, is evi- dently impossible. This, therefore, we may take for granted, that, if knowledge be conversant about ideas only, because there is no other object of the mind, it must be no less certain that judg- ment is conversant about ideas only, for the same reason. Mr Locke adds, as the result of his rea- soning, " Knowledge, then, seems to me to be nothing but the perception of the con- nection and agreement, or disagreement and repugnancy, of any of our ideas. In this alone it consists." This is a very important point, not only on its own account, but on account of its necessary connection with his system con- cerning ideas, which is such as that both must stand or fall together ; for, if there is any part of human knowledge which does not consist in the perception of the agree- ment or disagreement of ideas, it must fol- low that there are objects of thought and of contemplation which are not ideas. [538] This point, therefore, deserves to be care- fully examined. With this view, let us first attend to its meaning, which, I think, can hardly be mistaken, though it may need some explication. Every point of knowledge, and every judgment, is expressed by a proposition, wherein something is affirmed or denied of the subject of the proposition. By perceiving the connection or agree- ment of two ideas, I conceive, is meant per- ceiving the truth of an affirmative proposi- tion, of which the subject and predicate are ideas. In like manner, by perceiving the disagreement and repugnancy of any two ideas, I conceive is meant perceiving the truth of a negative proposition, of which both subject and predicate are ideas. This I take to be the only meaning the words can bear, and it is confirmed by what Mr Locke says in a passage already quoted in this chapter, that " the mind, taking its ideas to agree or disagree, is the same as taking any proposition to be true or false." Therefore, if the definition of knowledge given by Mr Locke be a just one, the sub- ject, as well as the predicate of every pro- position, by which any point of knowledge is expressed, must be an idea, and can be nothing else ; and the same must hold of every proposition by which judgment is expressed, as has been shewn above. Having ascertained the meaning of this definition of human knowledge, we are next to consider how far it is just. First, I would observe that, if the word idea be taken in the meaning which it had at first among the Pythagoreans and Pla- tonists, and if by knowledge be meant only abstract and general knowledge, (which I believe Mr Locke had chiefly in his view,) I think the proposition is true, that such knowledge consists solely in perceiving the truth of propositions whose subject and predicate are ideas. [539] By ideas here I mean things conceived abstractly, without regard to their existence. We commonly call them abstract notions, abstract conceptions, abstract ideas — the Feripatetics called them universals ; and the Platonists, who knew no other ideas, called them ideas without addition. Such ideas are both subject and predicate in every proposition which expresses ab- stract knowledge. The whole body of pure mathematics is an abstract science ; and in every mathe- matical proposition, both subject and pre- dicate are ideas, in the sense above explained. Thus, when I say the side of a square is not commensurable to its diagonal — in this proposition the side and the diagonal of a square are the subjects, (for, being a rela- tive proposition, it must have two subjects.) A square, its side, and its diagonal, are ideas, or universals ; they are not indivi- duals, but things predicable of many indi- viduals. Existence is not included in their definition, nor in the conception we form of them. The predicate of the proposition is commensurable, which must be an univer- sal, as the predicate of every proposition is so. In other branches of knowledge, many abstract truths may be found, but, for the most part, mixed with others that are not abstract. I add, that I apprehend that what is strictly called demonstrative evidence, is to be found in abstract knowledge only. This was the opinion of Aristotle, of Plato, and, I think, of all the ancient philosophers ; and I be- lieve in this they judged right. It is true, we often meet with demonstration in astro- mony, in mechanics, and in other branches of natural philosophy ; but, I believe, we shall always find that such demonstrations are grounded upon principles of supposi- tions, which have neither intuitive nor demonstrative evidence. [540] Thus, when we demonstrate that the path of a projectile in vacuo is a parabola, we suppose that it is acted upon with the same force and in the same direction through its whole path by gravity. This is not intuitively known, nor is it demon- strable ; and, in the demonstration, we rea- son from the laws of motion, which are principles not capable of demonstration, but grounded on a different kind of evidence. Ideas, in the sense above explained, are creatures of the mind ; they are fabricated [538-540] HI.] SENTIMENTS CONCERNING JUDGMENT. 429 by its rational powers ; we know their nature and their essence — for they are nothing more than they are conceived to be ; — and, because they are perfectly known, we can reason about them with the highest degree of evidence. And, as they are not things that exist, but things conceived, they neither have place nor time, nor are they liable to change. When we say that they are in the mind, this can mean no more but that they are conceived by the mind, or that they are objects of thought. The act of conceiving them is, no doubt, in the mind ; the things conceived have no place, because they have not existence. Thus, a circle, considered abstractly, is said figuratively to be in the mind of him that conceives it ; but in no other sense than the city of London or the kingdom of France is said to be in his mind when he thinks of those objects. Place and time belong to finite things that exist, but not to things that are barely con- ceived. They may be objects of concep- tion to intelligent beings in every place and at all times. Hence the Pythagoreans and Platonists were led to think that they are eternal and omnipresent. If they had ex- istence, they must be so ; for they have no relation to any one place or time, which they have not to every place and to every time. The natural prejudice of mankind, that what we conceive must have existence, led those ancient philosophers to attribute ex- istence to ideas ; and by this they were led into all the extravagant and mysterious parts of their system. When it is purged of these, I apprehend it to be the only in- telligible and rational system concerning ideas. [541] I agree with them, therefore, that ideas are immutably the same in all times and places ; for this means no more but that a circle is always a circle, and a square always a square. I agree with them that ideas are the pat- terns or exemplars by which everything was made that had a beginning : for an intelligent artificer must conceive his work before it is made ; he makes it according to that conception ; and the thing conceived, before it exists, can only be an idea. I agree with them that every species of things, considered abstractly, is an idea; and that the idea of the species is in every individual of the species, without division or multiplication. This, indeed, is expressed somewhat mysteriously, according to the manner of the sect ; but it may easily be explained. Every idea is an attribute ; and it is a common way of speaking to say, that the attribute is in every subject of which it may [541-54.3] truly be affirmed. Thus, to he above fifty years of age is an attribute or idea. This attribute may be in, or affirmed of, fifty different individuals, and be the same in all, without division or multiplication. I think that not only every species, but every genus, higher or lower, and every attribute considered abstractly, is an idea. These are things conceived without regard to existence ; they are universals, and, there- fore, ideas, according to the ancient mean- ing of that word. [542] It is true that, after the Platonists en- tered into disputes with the Peripatetics, in order to defend the existence of eternal ideas, they found it prudent to contract the line of defence, and maintained only that there is an idea of every species of natural things, but not of the genera, nor of things artificial. They were unwilling to multiply beings beyond what was necessary ; but in this, I think, they departed from the genuine principles of their system. The definition of a species is nothing but the definition of the genus, with the addition of a specific difference ; and the division of things into species is the work of the mind, as well as their division into genera and classes. A species, a genus, an order, a class, is only a combination of at- tributes made by the mind, and called by one name. There is, therefore, the same reason for giving the name of idea to every attribute, and to every species and genus, whether higher or lower : these are only more complex attributes, or combinations of the more simple. And, though it might be improper, without necessity, to multiply beings which they believed to have a real existence, yet, had they seen that ideas are not things that exist, but things that are conceived, they would have appre- hended no danger nor expense from thei* number. Simple attributes, species and genera, lower or higher, are all things conceived without regard to existence ; they are uni- versals ; they are expressed by general words ; and have an equal title to be called by the name of ideas. I likewise agree with those ancient phi- losophers that ideas are the object, and the sole object, of science, strictly so called— that is, of demonstrative reasoning. And, as ideas are immutable, so their agreements and disagreements, and all their relations and attributes, are immutable. All mathematical truths are immutably true. Like the ideas about which they are conversant, they have no relation to time or place, no dependence upon existence or change. That the angles of a plane tri- angle are equal to two right angles always was, and always will be, true, though no triangle had ever existed. [543] 430 ON THE INTELLECTUAL POWERS [essay VI. The same may be said of all abstract truths : on that account they have often been called eternal truths ; and, for the same reason, the Pythagoreans ascribed eternity to the ideas about which they are conversant. They may very properly be called necessary truths ; because it is im- possible they should not be true at all times and in all places. Such is the nature of all truth that can be discovered, by perceiving the agreements and disagreements of ideas, when we take that word in its primitive sense. And that Mr Locke, in his definition of knowledge, had chiefly in his view abstract truths, we may be led to think from the examples he gives to illustrate it. But there is another great class of truths, which are not abstract and necessary, and, therefore, cannot be perceived in the agree- ments and disagreements of ideas. These are all the truths we know concerning the real existence of things — the truth of our own existence— of the existence of other things, inanimate, animal, and rational, and of their various attributes and relations. These truths may be called contingent truths. I except only the existence and attributes of the Supreme Being, which is the only necessary truth I know regarding existence. All other beings that exist depend for their existence, and all that belongs to it, upon the will and power of the first cause ; therefore, neither their existence, nor their nature, nor anything that befalls them, is necessary, but contingent. But, although the existence of the Deity be necessary, I apprehend we can only de- duce it from contingent truths. The only arguments for the existence of a Deity which I am able to comprehend, are ground- ed upon the knowledge of my own existence, and the existence of other finite beings. But these are contingent truths. [544] I believe, therefore, that by perceiving agreements and disagreements of ideas, no contingent truth whatsoever can be known, nor the real existence of anything, not even our own existence, nor the existence of a Deity, which is a necessary truth. Thus I have endeavoured to shew what knowledge may, and what cannot be attained, by per- ceiving the agreements and disagreements of ideas, when we take that word in its primitive sense. We are, in the next place, to consider, whether knowledge consists in perceiving the agreement or disagreement of ideas, taking ideas in any of the senses in which the word is used by Mr Locke and other modern philosophers. 1. Very often the word idea is used so, that to have the idea of anything is a peri- phrasis for conceiving it. In this sense, an idea is not an object of thought, it is thought itself. It is the act of the mind by which we conceive any object. And it is evident that this could not be the meaning which Mr Locke had in view in his definition of knowledge. 2. A second meaning of the word idea is that which Mr Locke gives in the intro- duction to his Essay, when he is making an apology for the frequent use of it : — " It be- ing that term, I think, which serves best to stand for whatsoever is the object of the understanding when a man thinks, or what- ever it is which a man can be employed about in thinking." By this definition, indeed, everything that can be the object of thought is an idea. The objects of our thoughts may, I think, be reduced to two classes. The first class comprehends all those objects which we not only can think of, but which we believe to have a real existence : such as the Creator of all things, and all his creatures that fall within our notice. [545] I oan think of the sun and moon, the earth and sea, and of the various animal, vegetable, and inanimate productions with which it hath pleased the bountiful Creator to enrich our globe. I can think of myself, of my friends and acquaintance. I think of the author of the Essay with high esteem. These, and such as these, are objects of the understanding which we believe to have real existence. A second class of objects of the under- standing which a man may be employed about in thinking, are things which we either believe never to have existed, or which we think of without regard to their existence. Thus, I can think of Don Quixote, of the Island of Laputa, of Oceana, and of Utopia, which I believe never to have ex- isted. Every attribute, every species, and every genus of things, considered abstractly, without any regard to their existence or non-existence, may be an object of the understanding. To this second class of objects of the understanding, the name of idea does very properly belong, according to the primitive sense of the word, and I have already con- sidered what knowledge does and what does not consist in perceiving the agree- ments and disagreements of such ideas. But, if we take the word idea in so ex- tensive a sense as to comprehend, not only the second, but also the first class of objects of the understanding, it will undoubtedly be true that all knowledge consists in per- ceiving the agreements and disagreement of ideas : for it is impossible that there can be any knowledge, any judgment, any opinion, true or false, which is not employed about the objects of the understanding. But whatsoever is an object of the under- f544, 545] chap, in.] SENTIMENTS CONCERNING JUDGMENT. 431 standing is an idea, according to this second meaning of the word. Yet I am persuaded that Mr Locke, in his definition of knowledge, did not mean that the word idea should extend to all those things which we commonly consider as ob- jects of the understanding. [546] Though Bishop Berkeley believed that eun, moon, and stars, and all material things, are ideas, and nothing but ideas, Mr Locke nowhere professes this opinion. He be- lieved that we have ideas of bodies, but not that bodies are ideas. In like manner, he believed that we have ideas of minds, but not that minds are ideas. When he in- quired so carefully into the origin of all our ideas, he did not surely mean to find the origin of whatsoever may be the object of the understanding, nor to resolve the origin of everything that may be an object of understanding into sensation and reflec- tion. 3. Setting aside, therefore, the two mean- ings of the word idea, before mentioned, as meanings which Mr Locke could not have in his view in the definition he gives of knowledge, the only meaning that could be intended in this place is that which I before called the philosophical meaning of the word idea, which hath a reference to the theory commonly received about the manner in which the mind perceives external objects, and in which it remembers and conceives objects that are not present to it. It is a very ancient opinion, and has been very generally received among philosophers, that we can- not perceive or think of such objects im- mediately, but by the medium of certain images or representatives of them really existing in the mind at the time. To those images the ancients gave the name of species and phantasms. Modern philosophers have given them the name of ideas. " 'Tis evident," says Mr Locke, book iv., chap. 4, "themindknows not things immediately, but only by the intervention of the ideas it has of them." And in the same paragraph he puts this question : " How shall the mind, when it perceives nothing but its own ideas, know that they agree with things themselves ?" [547] This theory I have already considered, in treating of perception, of memory, and of conception. The reader will there find the reasons that lead me to think that it has no solid foundation in reason, or in attentive reflection upon those operations of our minds ; that it contradicts the im- mediate dictates of our natural faculties, which are of higher authority than any theory ; that it has taken its rise from the same prejudices which led all the ancient philosophers to think that the Deity could not make this world without some eternal matter to work upon, and which led the [546-548] Pythagoreans and Platonists to think that he could not conceive the plan of the world he was to make without eternal ideas really existing as patterns to work by ; and that this theory, when its necessary consequences are fairly pursued, leads to absolute scep- ticism, though those consequences were not seen by most of the philosophers who have adopted it. I have no intention to repeat what nas before been said upon those points ; but only, taking ideas in this sense, to make some observations upon the definition which Mr Locke gives of knowledge. First, If all knowledge consists in per- ceiving the agreements and disagreements of ideas — that is, of representative images of things existing in the mind — it obviously follows that, if there be no such ideas, there can be no knowledge. So that, if there should be found good reason for giving up this philosophical hypothesis, all knowledge must go along with it. I hope, however, it is not so : and that, though this hypothesis, like many others, should totter and fall to the ground, know- ledge will continue to stand firm upon a more permanent basis. [548] The cycles and epicycles of the ancient astronomers were for a thousand years thought absolutely necessary to explain the motions of the heavenly bodies. Yet now, when all men believe them to have been mere fictions, astronomy has not fallen with them, but stands upon a more rational foundation than before. Ideas, or images of things existing in the mind, have, for a longer time, been thought necessary for explaining the operations of the understand- ing. If they should likewise at last be found to be fictions, human knowledge and judgment would suffer nothing by being disengaged from an unwieldy hypothesis. Mr Locke surely did not look upon the ex- istence of ideas as a philosophical hypo- thesis. He thought that we are conscious of their existence, otherwise he would not have made the existence of all our know- ledge to depend upon the existence of ideas. Secondly, Supposing this hypothesis to be true, I agree with Mr Locke that it is an evident and necessary consequence that our knowledge can be conversant about ideas only, and must consist in perceiving their attributes and relations. For nothing can be more evident than this, that all knowledge, and all judgment and opinion, must be about things which are or may be immediate objects of our thought. What cannot be the object of thought, or the object of the mind in thinking, cannot be the object of knowledge or of opinion. Everything we can know of any object, must be either some attribute of the object, or some relation it bears to some other 432 ON THE INTELLECTUAL POWERS. [essay VI. object or objects. By the agreements and disagreements of objects, I apprehend Mr Locke intended to express both their attri- butes and their relations. If ideas then be the only objects of thought, the consequence is necessary, that they must be the only objects of knowledge, and all knowledge must consist in perceiving their agreements and disagreements — that is, their attributes and relations. The use I would make of this conse- quence, is to shew that the hypothesis must be false, from which it necessarily follows. For if we have any knowledge of things that are not ideas, it will follow no less evidently, that ideas are not the only objects of our thoughts. [549] Mr Locke has pointed out the extent and limits of human knowledge, in his fourth book, with more accuracy and judgment than any philosopher had done before ; but he has not confined it to the agreements and disagreements of ideas. And I cannot help thinking that a great part of that book is an evident refutation of the principles laid down in the beginning of it. Mr Locke did not believe that he himself was an idea ; that his friends and acquaint- ance were ideas ; that the Supreme Being, to speak with reverence, is an idea ; or that the sun and moon, the earth and the sea, and other external objects of sense, are ideas. He believed that he had some cer- tain knowledge of all those objects. His knowledge, therefore, did not consist solely in perceiving the agreements and disagree- ments of his ideas ; for, surely, to perceive the existence, the attributes, and relations of things, which are not ideas, is not to per- ceive the agreements and disagreements of ideas. And, if things which are not ideas be objects of knowledge, they must be objects of thought. On the contrary, if ideas be the only objects of thought, there can be no knowledge, either of our own existence, or of the existence of external objects, or of the existence of a Deity. This consequence, as far as concerns the existence of external objects of sense, was afterwards deduced from the theory of ideas by Bishop Berkeley with the clearest evi- dence ; and that author chose rather to adopt the consequence than to reject the theory on which it was grounded. But, with regard to the existence of our own minds, of other minds, and of a Supreme Mind, the Bishop, that he might avoid the consequence, rejected a part of the theory, and maintained that we can think of minds, of their attributes and relations, without ideas. [550 J Mr Hume saw very clearly the conse- quences of this theory, and adopted them in his speculative moments ; but candidly acknowledges that, in the common busi- ness of life, he found himself under a neces- sity of believing with the vulgar. His " Treatise of Human Nature" is the only system to which the theory of ideas leads ; and, in my apprehension, is, in all its parts, the necessary consequence of that theory. Mr Locke, however, did not see all the consequences of that theory ; he adopted it without doubt or examination, carried along by the stream of philosophers that w r ent before him ; and his judgment and good sense have led him to say many things, and to believe many things, that cannot be re- conciled to it. He not only believed his own existence, the existence of external things, and the existence of a Deity ; but he has shewn very justly how we come by the knowledge of these existences. It might here be expected that he should have pointed out the agreements and dis- agreements of ideas from which these exist- ences are deduced ; but this is impossible, and he has not even attempted it. Our own existence, he observes, we know intuitively; but this intuition is not a percep- tion of the agreement or disagreement of ideas ; for the subject of the proposition, / exist, is not an idea, but a person. The knowledge of external objects of sense, he observes, we can have only by sensa- tion. This sensation he afterwards expresses more clearly by the testimony of our senses, which are the proper and sole judges of this thing; whose testimony is the greatest assur- ance we can possibly have, and to which our faculties can attain. This is perfectly agreeable to the common sense of mankind, and is perfectly understood by those who never heard of the theory of ideas. Our senses testify immediately the existence, and many of the attributes and relations of external material beings ; and, by our con- stitution, we rely with assurance upon their testimony, without seeking a reason for doing so. This assurance, Mr Locke ac- knowledges, deserves the name of know- ledge. But those external things are not ideas, nor are their attributes and relations the agreements and disagreements of ideas, but the agreements and disagreements of things which are not ideas. [551] To reconcile this to the theory of ideas, Mr Locke says, That it is the actual receiv- ing of ideas from without that gives us notice of the existence of those external things. This, if understood literally, would lead us back to the doctrine of Aristotle, that our ideas or species come from without from the external objects, and are the image or form of those objects. But Mr Locke, I believe, meant no more by it, but that our ideas of sense must have a cause, and that we are not the cause of them our- [549-551] chap, in.] SENTIMENTS CONCERNING JUDGMENT. 433 Bishop Berkeley acknowledges all this, and shews very clearly that it does not afford the least shadow of reason for the belief of any material object — nay, that there can be nothing external that has any resemblance to our ideas but the ideas of other minds. It is evident, therefore, that the agree- ments and disagreements of ideas can give us no knowledge of the existence of any material thing. If any knowledge can be attained of things which are not ideas, that knowledge is a perception of agreements and: disagreements ; not of ideas, but of things that are not ideas. As to the existence of a deity, though Mr Locke was aware that Des Cartes, and many after him, had attempted to prove it merely from the agreements and disagree- ments of ideas ; yet " he thought it an ill way of establishing that truth, and si- lencing Atheists, to lay the whole stress of so important a point upon that sole founda- tion." And, therefore, he proves this point, with great sti-ength and solidity, from our own existence, and the existence of the sensible parts of the universe. [552] By memory, Mr Locke says, we have the knowledge of the past existence of several things. But all conception of past exist- ence, as well as of external existence, is irreconcileable to the theory of ideas ; be- cause it supposes that there may be imme- diate objects of thought, which are not ideas presently existing in the mind. I conclude, therefore, that, if we have any knowledge of our own existence, or of the existence of what we see about us, or of the existence of a Supreme Being, or if we have any knowledge of things past by memory, that knowledge cannot consist in perceiving the agreements and disagree- ments of ideas. This conclusion, indeed, is evident of itself. For, if knowledge consists solely in the perception of the agreement or disagree- ment of ideas, there can be no knowledge of any proposition, which does not express some agreement or disagreement of ideas ; consequently, there can be no knowledge of any proposition, which expresses either the existence, or the attributes or relations of things, which are not ideas. If, therefore, the theory of ideas be true, there can be no knowledge of anything but of ideas. And, on the other hand, if we have any know- ledge of anything besides ideas, that theory must be false. There can be no knowledge, no judgment or opinion about things which are not im- mediate objects of thought. This I take to be self-evident. If, therefore, ideas be the only immediate objects of thought, they must be the only things in nature of which we can have any knowledge, and about [552-55i~] which we can have any judgment or opinion. This necessary consequence of the com- mon doctrine of ideas Mr Hume saw, and has made evident in his " Treatise of Human Nature ;" but the use he made of it was not to overturn the theory with which it is necessarily connected, but to overturn all knowledge, and to leave no ground to believe anything whatsoever. If Mr Locke had seen this consequence, there is reason to think that he would have made another use of it. [553] That a man of Mr Locke's judgment and penetration did not perceive a consequence so evident, seems indeed very strange ; and I know no other account that can be given of it but this — that the ambiguity of the word idea has misled him in this, as in several other instances. Having at first defined ideas to be whatsoever is the object of the understanding when we think, he takes it very often in that unlimited sense ; and so everything that can be an object of thought is an idea. At other times, he uses the word to signify certain representative images of things in the mind, which philosophers have supposed to be immediate objects of thought. At other times, things conceived abstractly, without regard to their exist- ence, are called ideas. Philosophy is much indebted to Mr Locke for his observations on the abuse of words. It is pity he did not apply these observations to the word idea, the ambiguity and abuse of which has very much hurt his excellent Essay. There are some other opinions of philo- sophers concerning judgment, of which I think it unnecessary to say much. Mr Hume sometimes adopts Mr Locke's opinion, that it is the perception of the agreement or disagreement of our ideas ; sometimes he maintains that judgment and reasoning resolve themselves into concep- tion, and are nothing but particular ways of conceiving objects ; and he says, that an opinion or belief may most accurately be defined, a lively idea related to or associated wish a present impression. — Treatise of Hu-- man Nature, vol. I. page 172. I have endeavoured before, in the first chapter of this Essay, to shew that judgment is an operation of mind specifically distinct from the bare conception of an obj ect. I have also considered his notion of belief, in treating of the theories concerning memory. [554] Dr Hartley says — " That assent and dis- sent must come under the notion of ideas, being only those very complex internal feelings which adhere by association to such clusters of words as are called propositions in general, or affirmations and negations in particular." This, if 1 understand its meaning, agrees with the opinion of Mr Hume, above meu- 2f 434 ON THE INTELLECTUAL POWERS. [essay VI. tioned, and has therefore been before con- sidered. Dr Priestly has given another definition of judgment: — "It is nothing more than the perception of the universal concurrence, or the perfect coincidence of two ideas ; or the want of that concurrence or coinci- dence." This, I think, coincides with Mr Locke's definition, and therefore has been already considered. There are many particulars which deserve to be known, and which might very properly be considered in this Essay on judgment ; concerning the various kinds of propositions by which our judgments are expressed ; their subjects and predicates ; their con- versions and oppositions : but as these are to be found in every system of logic, from Aristotle down to the present age, I think it unnecessary to swell this Essay with the repetition of what has been said so often. The remarks which have occurred to me upon what is commonly said on these points, as well as upon the art of syllogism ; the utility of the school logic, and the improve- ments that may be made in it, may be found in a " Short Account of Aristotle's Logic, with Remarks," which Lord Kames has honoured with a place in his " Sketches of the History of Man." [555] CHAPTER IV. OF FIRST PRINCIPLES IN GENERAL. One of the most important distinctions of our judgments is, that some of them are intuitive, others grounded on argument. It is not in our power to judge as we will. The judgment is carried along neces- sarily by the evidence, real or seeming, which appears to us at the time. But, in propositions that are submitted to our judgment, there is this great difference — some are of such a nature that a man of ripe understanding may apprehend them distinctly, and perfectly understand their meaning, without finding himself under any necessity of believing them to be true or false, probable or improbable. The judg- ment remains in suspense, until it is in- clined to one side or another by reasons or arguments. But there are other propositions which are no sooner understood than they are be- lieved. The judgment follows the appre- hension of them necessarily, and both are equally the work of nature, and the result of our original powers. There is no search- ing for evidence, no weighing of arguments ; the proposition is not deduced or inferred from another ; it has the light of truth in itself, and has no occasion to borrow it from another. Propositions of the last kind, when they are used in matters of science, have com- monly been called axioms ; and on what- ever occasion they are used, are called first principles, principles of common sense, com- mon notions, self-evident truths. Cicero calls them natures judicia, judicia communi- bus hominum sensibus xnfixa. Lord Shaftes- bury expresses them by the words, natural knowledge, fundamental reason, and common sense. [556] What has been said, I think, is Sufficient to distinguish first principles, or intuitive judgments, from those which may be as- cribed to the power of reasoning ; nor is it a just objection against this distinction, that there may be some judgments concerning which we may be dubious to which class they ought to be referred. There is a real distinction between persons within the house, and those that are without ; yet it may be dubious to which the man belongs that stands upon the threshold. The power of reasoning — that is, of draw- ing a conclusion from a chain of premises — may with some propriety be called an art. " All reasoning," says Mr Locke, " is search and casting about, and requires pains and application." It resembles the power of walking, which is acquired by use and exercise. Nature prompts to it, and has given the power of acquiring it ; but must be aided by frequent exercise before we are able to walk. After repeated efforts, much stumbling, and many falls, we learn to walk ; and it is in a similar manner that we learn to reason. But the power of judging in self-evident propositions, which are clearly understood, may be compared to the power of swallow- ing our food. It is purely natural, and there- fore common to the learned and the un- learned, to the trained and the untrained. It requires ripeness of understanding, and freedom from prejudice, but nothing else. I take it for granted that there are self- evident principles. Nobody, I think, de- nies it. And if any man were so sceptical as to deny that there is any proposition that is self-evident, I see not how it would be possible to convince him by reasoning. But yet there seems to be great difference of opinions among philosophers about first principles. What one takes to be self-evi- dent, another labours to prove by argu- ments, and a third denies altogether. [557] Thus, before the time of Des Cartes, it was taken for a first principle, that there is a sun and a moon, an earth and sea, which really exist, whether we think of them or not. Des Cartes thought that the exist- ence of those, things ought to be proved by argument ; and in this he has been follow- ed by Malebranche, Arnauld, and Locke. They have all laboured to prove, by very [555-5571 CHAP. IV.] OF FIRST PRINCIPLES IN GENERAL. 435 weak reasoning, the existence of external objects of sense; and Berkeley and Hume, sensible of the weakness of their arguments, have been led to deny their existence alto- gether. The ancient philosophers granted, that all knowledge must be grounded on first principles, and that there is no reasoning w.thout them. The Peripatetic philosophy was redundant rather than deficient in fist principles. Perhaps the abuse of them in that ancient system may have brought them into discredit in modern times ; for, as the best things may be abused, so that abuse is apt to give a disgust to the thing itself ; and as one extreme often leads into the opposite, this seems to have been the case in the respect paid to first principles in ancient and modern times. Des Cartes thought one principle, express- ed in one word, coyito, a sufficient foundation for his whole system, and asked no more. Mr Locke seems to think first principles of very small use. Knowledge consisting, according to him, in the perception of the agreement or disagreement of our ideas ; when we have clear ideas, and are able to compare them together, we may always fa- bricate first principles as often as we have occasion for them. Such differences we find among philosophers about first principles. It is likewise a question of some moment, whether the differences among men about first principles can be brought to any issue ? When in disputes one man maintains that to be a first principle which another denies, commonly both parties appeal to common sense, and so the matter rests. Now, is there no way of discussing this appeal ? Is there no mark or criterion, whereby first principles that are truly such, may be dis- tinguished from those that assume the cha- racter without a just title ? I shall humbly offer in the following propositions what appears to me to be agreeable to truth in these matters, always ready to change my opinion upon conviction. [558] 1. First, I hold it to be certain, and even demonstrable, that all knowledge got by reasoning must be built upon first princi- ples.* This is as certain as that every house must have a foundation. The power of reasoning, in this respect, resembles the mechanical powers or engines ; it must have a fixed point to rest upon, otherwise it spends its force in the air, and produces no effect. When we examine, in the way of ana- lysis, the evidence of any proposition, either we find it self-evident, or it rests upon one or more propositions that support it. The same thing may be said of the propositions * So Aristotle, pluries.—H. [558, 559] that support it, and of those that support them, as far back as we can go. But we cannot go back in this track to infinity. Where then must this analysis stop ? It is evident that it must stop only when we come to propositions which support all that are built upon them, but are themselves supported by none — that is, to self-evident propositions. Let us again consider a synthetical proof of any kind, where we begin with the premises, and pursue a train of consequences, until we come to the last conclusion or thing to be proved. Here we must begin, either with self-evident propositions or with such as have been already proved. When the last is the case, the proof of the propositions, thus as- sumed, is a part of our proof; and the proof is deficient without it. Suppose then the deficiency supplied, and the proof com- pleted, is it not evident that it must set out with self-evident propositions, and that the whole evidence must rest upon them ? So that it appears to be demonstrable that, without first principles, analytical reasoning could have no end, and synthetical reason- ing could have no beginning ; and that every conclusion got by reasoning must rest with its whole weight upon first princi- ples, as the building does upon its founda- tion. [559] 2. A second proposition is, That some first principles yield conclusions that are certain, others such as are probable, in va- rious degrees, from the highest probability to the lowest. In just reasoning, the strength or weak- ness of the conclusion will always corre- spond to that of the principles on which it is grounded. In a matter of testimony, it is self-evi- dent that the testimony of two is better than that of one, supposing them equal in character, and in their means of knowledge ; yet the simple testimony may be true, and that which is preferred to it may be false. When an experiment has succeeded in several trials, and the circumstances have been marked with care, there is a self-evi- dent probability of its succeeding in a new trial ; but there is no certainty. The pro- bability, in some cases, is much greater than in others ; because, in some cases, it is much easier to observe all the circum- stances that may have influence upon the event than in others. And it is possible that, after many experiments made with care, our expectation may be frustrated in a succeeding one, by the variation of some circumstance that has not, or perhaps could not be observed. Sir Isaac Newton has laid it down as a first principle in natural philosophy, that a property which has been found in all bodies upon which we have had access to make 2f2 436 ON THE INTELLECTUAL POWERS. ("essay vt. experiments, and which has always been found in its quantity to be in exact propor- to the quantity of matter in every body, is to be held as an universal property of mat- ter. [560] This principle, as far as I know, has never been called in question. The evi- dence we have, that all matter is divisible, movable, solid, and inert, is resolvable into this principle ; and, if it be not true, we cannot have any rational conviction that all matter has those properties. From the same principle that great man has shewn that we have reason to conclude that all bodies gravitate towards each other. This principle, however, has not that kind of evidence which mathematical axioms have. It is not a necessary truth, whose contrary is impossible ; nor did Sir Isaac ever conceive it to be such. And, if it should ever be found, by just experiments, that there is any part in the composition of some bodies which has not gravity, the fact, if duly ascertained, must be admitted as an exception to the general law of gra- vitation. In games of chance, it is a first principle that every side of a die has an equal chance to be turned up ; and that, in a lottery, every ticket has an equal chance of being drawn out. From such first principles as these, which are the best we can have in such matters, we may deduce, by demon- strative reasoning, the precise degree of probability of every event in such games. But the principles of all this accurate and profound reasoning can never yield a certain conclusion, it being impossible to supply a defect in the first principles by any accuracy in the reasoning that is grounded upon them. As water, by its gravity, can rise no higher in its course than the foun- tain, however artfully it be conducted ; so no conclusion of reasoning can have a greater degree of evidence than the first principles from which it is drawn. From these instances, it is evident that, as there are some first principles that yield conclusions of absolute certainty, so there are others that can only yield probable con- clusions ; and that the lowest degree of probability must be grounded on first prin- ciples as well as absolute certainty.* [561] 3. A third proposition is, That it would contribute greatly to the stability of human knowledge, and consequently to the im- provement of it, if the first principles upon which the various parts of it are grounded were pointed out and ascertained. We have ground to think so, both from facts, and from the nature of the thing. There are two branches of human know- . * Compare Stewart's "Elements," ii. p. 38.— H. ledge in which this method has been followed — to wit, mathematics and natural philoso- phy ; in mathematics, as far back as we have books. It is in this science only, that, for more than two thousand years since it be- gan to be cultivated, we find no sects, no contrary systems, and hardly any disputes ; or, if there have been disputes, they have ended as soon as the animosity of par- ties subsided, and have never been again revived. The science, once firmly esta- blished upon the foundation of a few axioms and definitions, as upon a rock, has grown from age so age, so as to become the loftiest and the most solid fabric that human rea- son can boast.* Natural philosophy, till less than two hundred years ago, remained in the same fluctuating state with the other sciences. Every new system pulled up the old by the roots. The system-builders, indeed, were always willing to accept of the aid of first principles, when they were of their side ; but, finding them insufficient to sup- port the fabric which their imagination had raised, they were only brought in as auxi- liaries, and so intermixed with conjectures, and with lame inductions, that their sys- tems were like Nebuchadnezzar's image, whose feet were partly of iron and partly of clay. Lord Bacon first delineated the only so- lid foundation on which natural philoso- phy can be built ; and Sir Isaac Newton reduced the principles laid down by Bacon into three or four axioms, which he calls regulcB philosophandi. From these, toge- ther with the phenomena observed by the senses, which he likewise lays down as first principles, he deduces, by strict rea- soning, the propositions contained in the third book of his "Principia," and in his " Optics ;" and by this means has raised a fabric in those two branches of natural philosophy, which is not liable to be shaken by doubtful disputation, but stands im- movable upon the basis of self-evident principles. [562] This fabric has been carried on by the accession of new discoveries ; but is no more subject to revolutions. The disputes about materia prima, sub- stantial forms, Nature's abhorring a va- cuum, and bodies having no gravitation in their proper place, are now no more. The builders in this work are not put to the necessity of holding a weapon in one hand while they build with the other ; their whole employment is to carry on the work. Yet it seems to be very probable, that, if natural philosophy had not been reared upon this solid foundation of self-evident princi- ples, it would have been to this day a field * See Stewart's «' Elements," ii. p. 43— H. [560, 562] chap, iv.] OF FIRST PRINCIPLES IN GENERAL. 437 of battle, wherein every inch of ground would have been disputed, and nothing fixed and determined. I acknowledge that mathematics and na- tural philosophy, especially the former, have this advantage of most other sciences, that it is less difficult to form distinct and determinate conceptions of the objects about which they are employed ; but, as this difficulty is not insuperable, it affords a good reason, indeed, why other sciences should have a longer infancy ; but no rea- son at all why they may not at last arrive at maturity, by the same steps as those of quicker growth. The facts I have mentioned may there- fore lead us to conclude, that, if in other branches of philosophy the first principles were laid down, as has been done in ma- thematics and natural philosophy, and the subsequent conclusions grounded upon them, this would make it much more easy to dis- tinguish what is solid and well supported from the vain fictions of human fancy. [563] But, laying aside facts, the nature of the thing leads to the same conclusion. For, wfien any system is grounded upon first principles, and deduced regularly from them, we have a thread to lead us through the labyrinth. The j udgment has a distinct and determinate object. The heterogeneous parts being separated, can be examined each by itself. The whole system is reduced to axioms, definitions, and deductions. These are ma- terials of very different nature, and to be measured by a very different standard ; and it is much more easy to judge of each, taken by itself, than to judge of a mass wherein they are kneaded together without distinc- tion. Let us consider how we judge of each of them. First, As to definitions, the matter is very easy. They relate only to words, and differ- ences about them may produce different ways of speaking, but can never produce different ways of thinking, while every man keeps to his own definitions. But, as there is not a more plentiful source of fallacies in reasoning than men's using the same word sometimes in one sense and at other times in another, the best means of preventing such fallacies, or of detecting them when they are committed, is defi- nitions of words as accurate as can be given. Secondly, As to deductions drawn from principles granted on both sides, I do not see how they can long be a matter of dis- pute among men who are not blinded by prejudice or partiality ; for the rules of reasoning by which inferences may be drawn from premises have been for two thousand years fixed with great unanimity. No man pretends to dispute the rules of reasoning [563-5G5] laid down by Aristotle and repeated by every writer in dialectics. [564] And we may observe by the way, that the reason why logicians have been so una- nimous in determining the rules of reason- ing, from Aristotle down to this day, seems to be, that they were by that great genius raised, in a scientific manner, from a few definitions and axioms. It may farther be observed, that, when men differ about a deduction, whether it follows from certain premises, this I think is always owing to their differing about some first principle. I shall explain this by an example. Suppose that, from a thing having begun to exist, one man infers that it must have had a cause ; another man does not admit the inference. Here it is evident, that the first takes it for a self-evident principle, that everything which begins to exist must have a cause. The other does not allow this to be self-evident. Let them settle this point, and the dispute will be at an end. Thus, I think, it appears, that, in matters of science, if the terms be properly explained, the first principles upon which the reason- ing is grounded be laid down and exposed to examination, and the conclusions re- gularly deduced from them, it might be expected that men of candour and capacity, who love truth, and have patience to ex- amine things coolly, might come to unani- mity with regard to the force of the deduc- tions, and that their differences might be reduced to those they may have about first principles. 4. A fourth proposition is, That Nature hath not left us destitute of means whereby the candid and honest part of mankind may be brought to unanimity when they happen to differ about first principles. [565] When men differ about things that are taken to be first principles or self-evident truths, reasoning seems to be at an end. Each party appeals to common sense. When one man's common sense gives one deter- mination, another man's a contrary deter- mination, there seems to be no remedy but to leave every man to enjoy his own opinion. This is a common observation, and, I be- lieve, a just one, if it be rightly understood. It is in vain to reason with a man who denies the first principles on which the rea- soning is grounded. Thus, it would be in vain to attempt the proof of a proposition in Euclid to a man who denies the axioms. Indeed, we ought never to reason with men who deny first principles from obstinacy and unwillingness to yield to reason. But is it not possible, that men who really love truth, and are open to conviction, may differ about first principles ? I think it is possible, and that it cannot, without great want of charity, be denied to be possible- 438 ON THE INTELLECTUAL POWERS. [ES9AY VI. When this happens, every man who be- lieves that there is a real distinction between truth and error, and that the faculties which God has given us are not in their nature fallacious, must be convinced that there is a defect or a perversion of judgment on the one side or the other. A man of candour and humility will, in such a case, very naturally suspect his own judgment, so far as to be desirous to enter into a serious examination, even of what he has long held as a first principle. He will think it not impossible, that, although his heart be upright, his judgment may have been perverted, by education, by authority, by party zeal, or by some other of the com- mon causes of error, from the influence of which neither parts nor integrity exempt the human understanding. [566] In such a state of mind, so amiable, and so becoming every good man, has Nature left him destitute of any rational means by which he may be enabled, either to correct his judgment if it be wrong, or to confirm it if it be right ? I hope it is not so. I hope that, by the means which nature has furnished, con- troversies about first principles may be brought to an issue, and that the real lovers of truth may come to unanimity with regard to them. It is true that, in other controversies, the process by which the truth of a propo- sition is discovered, or its falsehood detected, is, by shewing its necessary connection with first principles, or its repugnancy to them It is true, likewise, that, when the contro- versy is, whether a preposition be itself a first principle, this process cannot be ap- plied. The truth, therefore, in controversies of this kind, labours under a peculiar dis- advantage. But it has advantantages of another kind to compensate this. 1. For, in the first place, in such con- troversies, every man is a competent judge; and therefore it is difficult to impose upon mankind. To judge of first principles, requires no more than a sound mind free from preju- dice, and a distinct conception of the question. The learned and the unlearned, the phi- losopher and the day-labourer, are upon a level, and will pass the same judgment, when they are not misled by some bias, or taught to renounce their understanding from some mistaken religious principle. In matters beyond the reach of common understanding, the many are led by the few, and willingly yield to their authority. But, in matters of common sense, the few must yield to the many, when local and temporary prejudices are removed. No man is now moved by the subtle arguments of Zeno against motion, though, perhaps, he knows not how to answer them. [567] The ancient sceptical system furnishes a remarkable instance of this truth. That system, of which Pyrrho*was reputed the father, was carried down, through a succes- sion of ages, by very able and acute philo- sophers, who taught men to believe nothing at all, and esteemed it the highest pitch of human wisdom to withhold assent from every proposition whatsoever. It was sup- ported with very great subtilty and learning, as we see from the writings of Sextus Eiu- piricus, the only author of that sect whose writings have come down to our age. The assault of the sceptics against all science seems to have been managed with more art and address than the defence of the dog- matists. Yet, as this system was an insult upon the common sense of mankind, it died away of itself; and it would be in vain to attempt to revive it. The modern scepticism is very different from the ancient, otherwise it would not have been allowed a hearing ; and, when it has lost the grace of novelty, it will die away also, though it should never be refuted. The modern scepticism, I mean that of Mr Hume, is built upon principles which were very generally maintained by philo- sophers, though they did not see that they led to scepticism. Mr Hume, by tracing, with great acuteness and. ingenuity, the con- sequences of principles commonly received, has shewn that they overturn all knowledge, and at last overturn themselves, and leave the mind in perfect suspense. 2. Secondly, We may observe that opin- ions which contradict first principles, are distinguished, from other errors, by this : — That they are not only false but absurd ; and, to discountenance absurdity, Nature hath given us a particular emotion — to wit, that of ridicule — which seems intended for this very purpose of putting out of counte- nance what is absurd, either in opinion or practice. [568] This weapon, when properly applied, cuts with as keen an edge as argument. Nature hath furnished us with the first to expose absurdity ; as with the last to refute error. Both are well fitted for their several offices, and are equally friendly to truth when pro- perly used. Both may be abused to serve the cause of error ; but the same degree of judgment which serves to detect the abuse of argu- ment in false reasoning, serves to detect the abuse of ridicule when it is wrong directed. Some have, from nature, a happier talent for ridicule than others ; and the same thing holds with regard to the talent of reasoning. Indeed, I conceive there is hardly any absurdity, which, when touched with the pencil of a Lucian, a Swift, or a Voltaire, would not be put out of counte- nance, when there is not some religious [566-568] CHAP. IV.] OF FIRST PRINCIPLES IN GENERAL. 439 panic, or very powerful prejudice, to blind the understanding. But it must be acknowledged that the emotion of ridicule, even when most natu- ral, may be stifled by an emotion of a con- trary nature, and cannot operate till that is removed. Thus, if the notion of sanctity is annexed to an object, it is no longer a laughable matter ; and this visor must be pulled off before it appears ridiculous. Hence we see, that notions which appear most ridicu- lous to all who consider them coolly and in- differently, have no such appearance to those who never thought of them but under the impression of religious awe and dread. Even where religion is not concerned, the novelty of an opinion to those who are too fond of novelties ; the gravity and solemnity with which it is introduced ; the opinion we have entertained of the author ; its apparent connection with principles already embraced, or subserviency to in- terests which we have at heart ; and, above all, its being fixed in our minds at that time of life when we receive implicitly what we are taught — may cover its absurdity, and fascinate the understanding for a time. [5G9] But, if ever we are able to view it naked, and stripped of those adventitious circum- stances from which it borrowed its import- ance and authority, the natural emotion of ridicule will exert its force. An absurdity can be entertained by men of sense no longer than it wears a mask. When any man is found who has the skill or the boldness to pull off the mask, it can no longer bear the light ; it slinks into dark corners for a while, and then is no more heard of, but as an ob- ject of ridicule. Thus I conceive, that first principles, which are really the dictates of common sense, and directly opposed to absurdities in opinion, will always, from the constitu- tion of human nature, support themselves, and gain rather than lose ground among mankind. 3. Thirdly, It may be observed, that, al- though it is contrary to the nature of first principles to admit of direct or apodictical proof ; yet there are certain ways of reason- ing even about them, by which those that are just and solid may be confirmed, and those that are false may be detected. It may here be proper to mention some of the topics from which we may reason in matters of this kind. First, It is a good argument ad hominem, if it can be shewn that a first principle which a man rejects, stands upon the same footing with others which he admits : for, when this is the case, he must be guilty of an inconsistency who holds the one and rejects the other. [569-571] Thus the faculties of consciousness, of memory, of external sense, and of reason, are all equally the gifts of nature. No good reason can be assigned for receiving the testimony of one of them, which is not of equal force with regard to the others. The greatest sceptics admit the testimony of consciousness, and allow that what it testi- fies is to be held as a first principle. If, therefore, they reject the immediate testi- mony of sense or of memory, they are guilty of an inconsistency. [570] Secondly, A first principle may admit of a proof ad absurdum e In this kind of proof, which is very com- mon in mathematics, we suppose the con- tradictory proposition to be true. We trace the consequences of that supposition in a train of reasoning ; and, if we find any of its necessary consequences to be manifestly absurd, we conclude the supposition from which it followed to be false ; and, there* fore its contradictory to be true. There is hardly any proposition, especially of those that may claim the character of first principles, that stands alone and un- connected. It draws many others along with it in a chain that cannot be broken. He that takes it up must bear the burden of all its consequences ; and, if that is too heavy for him to bear, he must not pretend to take it up. Thirdly, I conceive that the consent of ages and nations, of the learned and un- learned, ought to have great authority with regard to first principles, where every man is a competent judge. Our ordinary conduct in life is built upon first principles, as well as our speculations in philosophy ; and every motive to action supposes some belief. When we find a general agreement among men, in principles that concern human life, this must have great authority with every sober mind that loves truth. It is pleasant to observe the fruitless pains which Bishop Berkeley takes to shew that his system of the non-existence of a material world did not contradict the senti- ments of the vulgar, but those only of the philosophers. With good reason he dreaded more to oppose the authority of vulgar opinion in a matter of this kind, than all the schools of philosophers. [571] Here, perhaps, it will be said. What has authority to do in matters of opinion ? Is truth to be determined by most votes ? Or is authority to be again raised out of its grave to tyrannise over mankind ? I am aware that, in this age, an advo- cate for authority has a very unfavourable plea ; but I wish to give no more to author- ity than is its due. Most justly do we honour the nan" 140 ON THE INTELLECTUAL POWERS. [essay those benefactors to mankind who have con- tributed more or less to break the yoke of that authority which deprives men of the natural, the unalienable right of judging for themselves; but, while we indulge a just animosity against this authority, and against all who would subject us to its tyranny, let us remember how common the folly is, of going from one faulty extreme into the opposite. Authority, though a very tyrannical mis- tress to private judgment, may yet, on some occasions, be a useful handmaid. This is all she is entitled to, and this is all I plead in her behalf. The justice of this plea will appear by putting a case in a science, in which, of all sciences, authority is acknowledged to have least weight. Suppose a mathematician has made a discovery in that science which he thinks important ; that he has put his demonstra- tion in just order ; and, after examining it with an attentive eye, has found no flaw in it, I would ask, Will there not be still in his breast some diffidence, some jealousy, lest the ardour of invention may have made him overlook some false step ? This must be granted. [572] He commits his demonstration to the ex- amination of a mathematical friend, whom he esteems a competent judge, and waits with impatience the issue of his judgment. Here I would ask again, Whether the verdict of his friend, according as it is favourable or unfavourable, will not greatly increase or diminish his confidence in his own judgment? Most certainly it will, and it ought. If the judgment of his friend agree with his own, especially if it be confirmed by two or three able judges, he rests secure of his discovery without farther examination ; but, if it be unfavourable, he is brought back into a kind of suspense, until the part that is suspected undergoes a new and a more rigorous examination. I hope what is supposed in this case is agreeable to nature, and to the. experience of candid and modest men on such occa- sions ; yet here we see a man's judgment, even in a mathematical demonstration, con- scious of some feebleness in itself, seeking the aid of authority to support it, greatly strengthened by that authority, and hardly able to stand erect against it, without some new aid. Society in judgment, of those who are esteemed fair and competent judges, has effects very similar to those of civil society : it gives strength and courage to every indi- vidual ; it removes that timidity which is as naturally the companion of solitary judg- ement, as of a solitary man in the state of 63$ure. £$£us judge for ourselves, therefore ; but let us not disdain to take that aid from the authority of other competent judges, which a mathematician thinks it necessary to take in that science which, of all sciences, has least to do with authority. In a matter of common sense, every man is no less a competent judge than a mathe- matician is in a mathematical demonstra- tion ; and there must be a great presump- tion that the judgment of mankind, in such a matter, is the natural issue of those facul- ties which God hath given them. Such a judgment can be erroneous only when there is some cause of the error, as general as the error is. When this can be shewn to be the case, I acknowledge it ought to have its due weight. But, to suppose a general devia- tion from truth among mankind in things self-evident, of which no cause can be assigned, is highly unreasonable. [573] Perhaps it may be thought impossible to collect the general opinion of men upon any point whatsoever ; and, therefore, that this authority can serve us in no stead in examining first principles. But I appre- hend that, in many cases, this is neither impossible nor difficult. Who can doubt whether men have uni- versally believed the existence of a mate- rial world ? Who can doubt whether men have universally believed that every change that happens in nature must have a cause ? Who can doubt whether men have uni- versally believed, that there is a right and a wrong in human conduct ; some things that merit blame, and others that are en- titled to approbation ? The upiversality of these opinions, and of many such that might be named, is suf- ficiently evident, from the whole tenor of human conduct, as far as our acquaintance reaches, and from the history of all ages and nations of which we have any records. There are other opinions that appear to be universal, from what is common in the structure of all languages. Language is the express image and pic- ture of human thoughts ; and from the picture we may draw some certain conclu- sions concerning the original. We find in all languages the same parts of speech ; we find nouns, substantive and adjective; verbs, active and passive, in their various tenses, numbers, and moods. Some rules of syntax are the same in all languages. Now, what is common in the structure of languages, indicates an uniformity of opinion in those things upon which that structure is grounded. [574] The distinction between substances, and the qualities belonging to them ; between thought and the being that thinks ; be- tween thought and the objects of thought ; is to be found in the structure of all lan- [572-571] chap, v.] FIRST PRINCIPLES OF CONTINGENT TRUTHS. 441 guages. And, therefore, systems of philo- sophy, which abolish those distinctions, wage war with the common sense of mankind. We are apt to imagine that those who formed languages were no metaphysicians ; but the first principles of all sciences are the dictates of common sense, and lie open to all men ; and every man who has con- sidered the structure of language in a phi- losophical light, will find infallible proofs that those who have framed it, and those who use it with understanding have the power of making accurate distinctions, and of form- ing general conceptions, as well as philoso- phers. Nature has given those powers to all men, and they can use them when occa- sions require it, but they leave it to the philosophers to give names to them, and to descant upon their nature. In like manner, nature has given eyes to all men, and they can make good use of them ; but the struc- ture of the eye, and the theory of vision, is the business of philosophers. Fourthly^ Opinions that appear so early in the minds of men that they cannot be the effect of education or of false reason- ing, have a good claim to be considered as first principles. Thus, the belief we have, that the persons about us are living and in- telligent beings, is a belief for which, per- haps, we can give some reason, when we are. able to reason ; but we had this belief before we could reason, and before we could learn it by instruction. It seems, there- fore, to be an immediate effect of our con- stitution. The last topic I shall mention is, when an opinion is so necessary in the conduct of life, that, without the belief of it, a man must be led into a thousand absurdities in practice, such an opinion, when we can give no other reason for it, may safely be taken for a first principle. [575] Thus I have endeavoured to shew, that, although first principles are not capable of direct proof, yet differences, that may hap- pen with regard to them among men of candour, are not without remedy; that Nature has not left us destitute of means by which we may discover errors of this kind ; and that there are ways of reason- ing, with regard to first principles, by which those that are truly such may be distin- guished from vulgar errors or prejudices. CHAPTER V. THE FIRST PRINCIPLES OF CONTINGENT TRUTHS. " Surely," says Bishop Berkeley, " it is a work well deserving our pains to make a strict inquiry concerning the first princi- ples of knowledge ; to sift and examine [575, 576] them on all sides." What was said in the last chapter is intended both to shew the importance of this inquiry, and to make it more easy. But, in order that such an inquiry may ba actually made, it is necessary that the first principles of knowledge be distinguished from other truths, and presented to view, that they may be sifted and examined on all sides. In order to this end, I shall attempt a detail of those I take to be such, and of the reasons why I think them entitled to that character. [576] If the enumeration should appear to some redundant, to others deficient, and to others both— if things which I conceive to be first principles, should to others appear to be vulgar errors, or to be truths which derive their evidence from other truths, and there- fore not first principles - in these things every man must judge for himself. I shall rejoice to see an enumeration more perfect in any or in all of those respects ; being persuaded that the agreement of men of judgment and candour in first principles would be of no less consequence to the ad- vancement of knowledge in general, than the agreement of mathematicians in the axioms of geometry has been to the ad- vancement of that science. The truths that fall within the compass of human knowledge, whether they be self- evident, or deduced from those that are self-evident, may be reduced to two classes. They are either necessary and immutable truths, whose contrary is impossible; or they are contingent and mutable, depend- ing upon some effect of will and power, which had a beginning, and may have an end. That a cone is the third part of a cylin- der of the same base and the same altitude, is a necessary truth. It depends not upon the will and power of any being. It is im- mutably true, and the contrary impossible. That the sun is the centre about which the earth, and the other planets of our system, perform their revolutions, is a truth ; but it is nut a necessary truth. It depends upon the power and will of that Being who made the sun and all the planets, and who gave them those motions that seemed best to him. If all truths were necessary truths, there would be no occasion for different tenses in the verbs by which they are expressed. What is true in the present time, would be true in the past and future; and there would be no change or variation of anything in nature. We use the present tense in expressing necessary truths; but it is only because there is no flexion of the verb which in ejhides all times. When I say that t^ is the half of six, I use the preser' 442 ON THE INTELLECTUAL POWERS. [essay VI. only ; but I mean to express not only what now is, but what always was, and always will be ; and so every proposition is to be under- stood by which we mean to express a neces- sary truth. Contingent truths are of an- other nature. As they are mutable, they may be true at one time, and not at an- other ; and, therefore, the expression of them must include some point or period of time. [577] If language had been a contrivance of philosophers, they would probably have given some flexion to the indicative mood of verbs, which extended to all times past, present, and future ; for such a flexion only would be fit to express necessary proposi- tions, which have no relation to time. But there is no language, as far as I know, in which such a flexion of verbs is to be found. Because the thoughts and discourse of men are seldom employed about necessary truths, but commonly about such as are contin- gent, languages are fitted to express the last rather than the first. The distinction commonly made between abstract truths, and those that express mat- ters of fact, or real existences, coincides in a great measure, but not altogether, with that between necessary and contingent truths. The necessary truths that fall within our knowledge are, for the most part, abstract truths. We must except the ex- istence and nature of the Supreme Being, which is necessary. Other existences are the effects of will and power. They had a beginning, and are mutable. Their nature is such as the Supreme Being was pleased to give them. Their attributes and rela- tions must depend upon the nature God has given them, the powers with which he has endowed them, and the situation in which he hath placed them. The conclusions deduced by reasoning from first principles, will commonly be ne- cessary or contingent, according as the principles are from which they are drawn. On the one hand, I take it to be certain, that whatever can, by just reasoning, be inferred from a principle that is necessary, must be a necessary truth, and that no contingent truth can be inferred from prin- ciples that are necessary. • [578] Thus, as the axioms in mathematics are all necessary truths, so are all the conclu- sions drawn from C;em ; that is, the whole body of that science. But from no mathe- matical truth can we deduce the existence of anything ; not even of the objects of the science. On the other hand, I apprehend there are very few cases in which we can, from principles that are contingent, deduce truths that are necessary. I can only recollect * See Stewart's '* Elements," ii. p. 33. One instance of this kind — namely — that, from the existence of things contingent and mutable, we can infer the existence of an immutable and eternal cause of them. As the minds of men are occupied much more about truths that are contingent than about those that are necessary, I shall first endeavour to point out the principles of the former kind. 1. First, then, I hold, as a first principle, the existence of everything of which I am conscious. Consciousness is an operation of the understanding of its own kind, and cannot be logically defined. The objects of it are our present pains, our pleasures, our hopes, our fears, our desires, our doubts, our thoughts of every kind ; in a word, all the passions, and all the actions and operations of our own minds, while they are present. We may remember them when they are past ; but we are conscious of them only while they are present. When a man is conscious of pain, he is certain of its existence ; when he is con- scious that he doubts or believes, he is certain of the existence of those operations. But the irresistible conviction he has of the reality of those operations is not the effect of reasoning ; it is immediate and intuitive. The existence therefore of those passions and operations of our minds, of which we are conscious, is a first principle, which nature requires us to believe upon her authority. [579] If I am asked to prove that I cannot be deceived by consciousness — to prove that it is not a fallacious sense — I can find nc proof. I cannot find any antecedent truth from which it is deduced, or upon which its evi- dence depends. It seems to disdain any such derived authority, and to claim my assent in its own right. If any man could be found so frantic as to deny that he thinks, while he is conscious of it, I may wonder, I may laugh, or I may pity him, but I cannot reason the matter with him. We have no common principles from which we may reason, and therefore can never join issue in an argument. This, I think, is the only principle of common sense that has never directly been called in question. * It seems to be so firmly rooted in the minds of men, as to retain its authority with the greatest sceptics. Mr Hume, after annihilating body and mind, time and space, action and causation, and even his own mind, acknowledges the reality of the thoughts, sensations, and passions of which he is conscious. * It could not possibly be called in question. For, in doubting the fact of his consciousness, the sceptic must at leas' affirm the fact of his doubt ; but to affirm a doubt is to affirm the consciousness of it ; the doubt would, therefore, be self-contradictory— i. e., annihilate itself. — H. [577-579] chap. v.J FIRST PRINCIPLES OF CONTINGENT TRUTHS. 443 No philosopher has attempted, by any Hypothesis, to account for this consciousness of our own thoughts, and the certain know- ledge of their real existence which accom- panies it. By this they seem to acknow- ledge that this at least is an original power of the mind ^ a power by which we not only have ideas, but original judgments, and the knowledge of real existence. I cannot reconcile this immediate know- ledge of the operations of our own minds with Mr Locke's theory, that all know- ledge consists in perceiving the agreement and disagreement of ideas. What are the ideas, from whose comparison the knowledge of our own thoughts results ? Or what are the agreements or disagreements which con- vince a man that he is in pain when he feels it ? [580] Neither can I reconcile it with Mr Hume's theory, that to believe the existence of any- thing, is nothing else than to have a strong and lively conception of it ; or, at most, that belief is only some modification of the idea which is the object of belief. For, not to mention that propositions, not ideas, are the object of belief, in all that variety of thoughts and passions of which we are con- scious we believe the existence of the weak as well as of the strong, the faint as well as the lively. No modification of the opera- tions of our minds disposes us to the least doubt of their real existence. As, therefore, the real existence of our thoughts, and of all the operations and feel- ings of our own minds, is believed by all men — as we find ourselves incapable of doubting it, and as incapable of offering any proof of it — it may justly be considered as a first principle, or dictate of common sense. But, although this principle rests upon no other, a very considerable and import- ant branch of human knowledge rests upon it. For from this source of consciousness is derived all that we know, and indeed all that we can know, of the structure and of the powers of our own minds ; from which we may conclude, that there is no branch of knowledge that stands upon a firmer foundation ; for surely no kind of evidence can go beyond that of consciousness. How does it come to pass, then, that in this branch of knowledge there are so many and so contrary systems ? so many subtile controversies that are never brought to an issue ? and so little fixed and determined ? Is it possible that philosophers should differ most where they have the surest means of agreement — where everything is built upon a species of evidence which all men ac- quiesce in, and hold to be the most certain ? [581] This strange phsenomenon may, I think, be accounted for, if we distinguish between [580-582] consciousness and reflection, which are often improperly confounded * The first is common to all men at all times ; but is insufficient of itself to give us clear and distinct notions of the opera- tions of which we are conscious, and of their mutual relations and minute distinc- tions. The second — to wit, attentive reflec- tion upon those operations, making them objects of thought, surveying them atten- tively, and examining them on all sides — is so far from being common to all men, that it is the lot of very few. The greatest part of men, either through want of capacity, or from other causes, never reflect attentively upon the operations of their own minds. The habit of this reflection, even in those whom nature has fitted for it, is not to be at- tained without much pains and practice. We can know nothing of the immediate objects of sight, but by the testimony of our eyes ; and I apprehend that, if mankind had found as great difficulty in giving at- tention to the objects of sight, as they find in attentive reflection upon the operations of their own minds, our knowledge of the first might have been in as backward a state as our knowledge of the last. But this darkness will not last for ever. Light will arise upon this benighted part of the intellectual globe. When any man is so happy as to delineate the powers of the human mind as they really are in nature, men that are free from prejudice, and cap- able of reflection, will recognise their own features in the picture ; and then the wonder will be, how things so obvious could be so long wrapped up in mystery and darkness ; how men could be carried away by false theories and conjectures, when the truth was to be found in their own breasts if they had but attended to it. 2. Another first principle, I think, is, That the thoughts of which I am cnnsci>vs, are the thoughts of a being which I call MYSELF, my MIND, mi/ PERSON. [582] The thoughts and feelings of which we are conscious are continually changing, and the thought of this moment is not the thought of the last ; but something which I call my- self, remains under this change of thought. This self has the same relation to all the successive thoughts I am conscious of — they are all my thoughts ; and every thought which is not my thought, must be the thought of some other person. If any man asks a proof of this, I confess I can give none ; there is an evidence in the proposition itself which I am unable to re- sist. Shall I think that thought can stand by itself without a thinking being ? or that ideas can feel pleasure or pain ? My nature dictates to me that it is impossible. * Compare above, pp. b,258,a — H. 444 ON THE INTELLECTUAL POWERS. [essay VI, And that nature has dictated the same to all men, appears from the structure of all languages : for in all languages men have expressed thinking, reasoning, willing, lov- ing, hating, by personal verbs, which, from their nature, require a person who thinks, reasons, wills, loves, or hates. From which it appears, that men have been taught by nature to believe that thought requires a thinker, reason a reasoner, and love a lover. Here we must leave Mr Hume, who con- ceives it to be a vulgar error, that, besides the thoughts we are conscious of, there is a mind which is the subject of those thoughts. If the mind be anything else than impres- sions and ideas, it must be a word without a meaning. The mind, therefore, accord- ing to this philosopher, is a word which signifies a bundle of perceptions ; or, when he defines it more accurately — " It is that succession of related ideas and impressions, of which we have an intimate memory and consciousness." I am, therefore, that succession of related ideas and impressions of which I have the intimate memory and consciousness. But who is the / that has this memory and consciousness of a succession of ideas and impressions ? Why, it is nothing but that succession itself. [583] Hence, I learn, that this succession of ideas and impressions intimately remembers, and is conscious of itself. I would wish to be farther instructed, whether the impres- sions remember and are conscious of the ideas, or the ideas remember and are con- scious of the impressions, or if both remem- ber and are conscious of both ? and whether the ideas remember those that come after them, as well as those that were before them ? These are questions naturally arising from this system, that have not yet been explained. This, however, is clear, that this succes- sion of ideas and impressions, not only re- members and is conscious, but that it judges, reasons, affirms, denies — nay, that it eats and drinks, and is sometimes merry and sometimes sad. If these things can be ascribed to a suc- cession of ideas and impressions, in* a con- sistency with common sense, I should be very glad to know what is nonsense. The scholastic philosophers have been wittily ridiculed, by representing them as disputing upon ihis question — Numchimcera bombinans in vacuo possit comedere secun- das intentiones ? and I believe the wit of man cannot invent a more ridiculous ques- tion. But, if Mr Hume's philosophy be admitted, this question deserves to be treated more gravely : for if, as we learn from this philosophy, a succession of ideas and impressions may eat, and drink, and be merry, I see no good reason why a chimera,- which, if not the same is of kin to an idea, may not chew the cud upon that kind of food which the schoolmen call second intentions.* 3. Another first principle I take to be — That- those things did really/happen which I distinct if rememher. [584] This has one of the surest marks of a first principle ; for no man ever pretended to prove it, and yet no man in his wits calls it in question : the testimony of memory, like that of consciousness, is immediate ; it claims our assent upon its own authority, -f- Suppose that a learned counsel, in defence of a client against the concurring testimony of witnesses of credit, should insist upon a new topic to invalidate the testimony. " Admitting," says he, " the integrity of the witnesses, and that they distinctly re- member what they have given in evidence- it does not follow that the prisoner is guilty. It has never been proved that the most distinct memory may not be fallacious. Shew me any necessary connection between that act of the mind which we call memory, and the past existence of the event remem- bered. No man has ever offered a shadow of argument to prove such a connection ; yet this is one link of the chain of proof against the prisoner ; and, if it have no strength, the whole proof falls to the ground : until this, therefore, be made evident — until it can be proved that we may safely rest upon the testimony of memory for the truth of past events — no judge or jury can justly take away the life of a citizen upon so doubtful a point." I believe we may take it for granted, that this argument from a learned counsel would have no other effect upon the judge or jury, than to convince them that he was dis- ordered in his judgment. Counsel is allowed to plead everything for a client that is fit to persuade or to move ; yet I believe no counsel ever had the boldness to plead this topic. And for what reason ? For no other reason, surely, but because it is absurd. Now, what is absurd at the bar, is so in the philosopher's chair. What would be ridi- culous, if delivered to a jury of honest sen- sible citizens, is no less so when delivered gravely in a philosophical dissertation. Mr Hume has not, as far as I remember, directly called in question the testimony of * All this criticism of Hume proceeds upon the erroneous hypothesis that he was a Dogmatist. He was a Sceptic— that is, he accepted the principles as- sertedfby the prevalent Dogmatism ; and only shewed that such and such coi. elusions were, on these prin- ciples, inevitable. The absurdity was not Hume's, but Locke's. This is the kind of criticism, however, with which Hume is generally assailed. — H. f The datum of Memory does not stand upon^the same ground as the.datum of simple Consciousness. In so far as memory- is consciousness, it cannot he denied We cannot, without contradiction, deny the fact of memory as a present consciousness; but we may, without contradiction, suppose that the past given therein, is only an illusion of the present.— H. f 583, 584] cnAP. v.] FIRST PRINCIPLES OF CONTINGENT TRUTHS. 445 memory ; but he has laid down the premises by which its authority is overturned, leav- ing it to his reader to draw the conclu- sion. [585] He labours to shew that the belief or assent which always attends the memory and senses is nothing but the vivacity of those perceptions which they present. He shews very clearly, that this vivacity gives no ground to believe the existence of ex- ternal objects. And it is obvious that it can give as little giound to believe the past existence of the objects of memory. Indeed the theory concerning ideas, so generally received by philosophers, destroys all the authority of memory, as well as the authority of the senses. Des Cartes, Ma- lebranche, and Locke, were aware that this theory made it necessary for th m to find out arguments to prove the existence of ex- ternal objects, which the vulgar believe upon the bare authority of their senses ; but those philosophers were not aware that this theory made it equally necessary for them to find arguments to prove the exist- ence of things past, which Ave remember, and to support the authority of memory. All the arguments they advanced to sup- port the authority of our senses, were easily refuted by Bishop Berkeley and Mr Hume, being indeed" very weak and inconclusive. And it would have been as.eusy to answer every argument they could have brought, consistent with their theory, to support the authority of memory. For, according to that theory, the im- mediate object of memory, as well as of every other operation of the understanding, is an idea present in the mind. And, from the present existence of this idea of me- mory I am left to infer, by reasoning, that, six months or six years ago, there did ex- ist an object similar to, this idea. [586] But what is there in the idea that can lead me to this conclusion ? What mark does it bear of the date of its archetype ? Or what evidence have I that it had an archetype, and that it is not the first of its kind? Perhaps it will be said, that this idea or image in the mind must have had a cause." I admit that, if there is such an image in the mind, it must have had a cause, and a cause able to produce the effect ;• but what can we infer from its having a cause ? Does it follow that the effect is a type, an image, a copy of its cause ? Then it will follow, that a picture is an image of the painter, and a coach of the coachmaker. A past event may be known by reasoning ; but that is not remembering it. When I remember a thing distinctly, I disdain equally to hear reasons for it or against it. And so I think does every man in his £585-58? ] 4. Another first principle is, Our own per- sonal identity and continued existence, as far back as we remember anything distinctly. This we know immediately, and not by reasoning. It seems, indeed, to be a part of the testimony of memory. Every- thing we remember has such a relation to ourselves as to imply necessarily our ex- istence at the time remembered. And there cannot be a more palpable absurdity than that a man should remember what happened before he existed. He must therefore have existed as far back as he re- members anything distinctly, if his memory be not fallacious. This principle, there- fore, is so connected with the last mention- ed, that it may be doubtful whether both ought not to be included in one. Let every one judge of this as heN THE INTELLECTUAL POWERS. kind ; because, whether his account of it be just or not, (and I think it is not,) yet, as this belief is universal among mankind, and is not grounded upon any antecedent rea- soning, but upon the constitution of the mind itself, it must be acknowledged to be a first principle, in the sense in which I use that word. I do not at all affirm, that those I have mentioned are all the first principles from which we may reason concerning contingent truths. Such enumerations, even when made after much reflection, are seldom per- fect. [605] CHAPTER VI. FIRST PRINCIPLES OP NECESSARY TRUTHS. About most of the first principles of ne- cessary truths there has been no dispute, and therefore it is the less necessary to dwell upon them. It will be sufficient to divide them into different classes ; to men- tion some, by way of specimen, in each class ; and to make some remarks on those of which the truth has been called in ques- tion. They may, I think, most properly be divided according to the sciences to which they belong. 1. There are some first principles that may be called grammatical . such as, That every adjective in a sentence must belong to some substantive expressed or understood ; That every complete sentence must have a verb. Those who have attended to the struc- ture of language, and formed distinct no- tions of the nature and use of the various parts of speech, perceive, without reasoning, that these, and many other such principles, are necessarily true. 2. There are logical axioms : such as, That any contexture of words which does not make a proposition, is neither true nor false ; That' every proposition is either true or false ; That no proposition can be both true and false at the same time ; That reasoning in a circle proves nothing ; That whatever may be truly affirmed of a genus, may be truly affirmed of all the species, and all the individuals belonging to that genus. [606] 3. Every one knows there axe mathematical axioms.* Mathematicians have, from the days of Euclid, very wisely laid down the axioms or first principles on which they reason. And the effect which this appears to have had upon the stability and happy progress of this science, gives no small en- couragement to attempt to lay the founda- tion of other sciences in a similar manner, as far as we are able. * See Stewart's " Elements," ii. p. 3S, sq.— H. Mr Hume hath discovered, as he appre- hends, a weak side, even in mathematical axioms ;• and thinks that it is not strictly true, for instance, that two right lines can cut one another in one point only. The principle he reasons from is, That every simple idea is a copy of a preceding impression ; and therefore in its precision and accuracy, can never go beyond its ori- ginal. From which he reasons in this man- ner : No man ever saw or felt a line so straight that it might not cut another, equally straight, in two or more points. Therefore, there can be no idea of such a line. The ideas that are most essential to geo- metry — such as those of equality, of a straight line, and of a square surface, are far, he says, from being distinct and deter- minate; and the definitions destroy the pretended demonstrations. Thus, mathe- matical demonstration is found to be a rope of sand. I agree with this acute author, that, if we could form no notion of points, lines, and surfaces, more accurate than those we see and handle, there could be no mathematical demonstration. " But every man that has understanding, by analysing, by abstracting, and compound- ing the rude materials exhibited by his senses, can fabricate, in his own mind, those elegant and accurate forms of mathe- matical lines, surfaces, and solids. [607] If a man finds himself incapable of form- ing a precise and determinate notion of the figure which mathematicians call a cube, he not only is no mathematician, but is in- capable of being one. But, if he has a pre- cise and determinate notion of that figure, he must perceive that it is terminated by six mathematical surfaces, perfectly square and perfectly equal. He must perceive that these surfaces are terminated by twelve mathematical lines, perfectly straight and perfectly equal, and that those lines are ter- minated by eight mathematical points. When a man is conscious of having these conceptions distinct and determinate, as every mathematician is, it is in vain to bring metaphysical arguments to convince him that they are not distinct. You may as well bring arguments to convince a man racked with pain that he feels no pain. Every theory that is inconsistent with our having accurate notions of mathematical lines, surfaces, and solids, must be false. Therefore it follows, that they are not copies of our impressions. The Medicean Venus is not a copy of the block of marble from which it was made. It is true, that the elegant statue was formed out of the rude block, and that, too, by a manual operation, which, in a literal sense, we may call abstraction. Mathe- T605-607] chap, vi.] FIRST PRINCIPLES OF NECESSARY TRUTHS. 453 matical notions are formed in the under- standing by an abstraction of another kind, out of the rude perceptions of our senses. As the truths of natural philosophy are not necessary truths, but contingent, de- pending upon the will of the Maker of the world, the principles from which they are deduced must be of the same nature, and, therefore, belong not to this class. [608] 4. I think there are axioms, even in matters of taste. Notwithstanding the variety found among men, in taste, there are, I apprehend, some common principles, even in matters of this kind. I never heard of any man who thought it a beauty in a human face to want a nose, or an eye, or to have the mouth on one side. How many ages have passed since the days of Homer ! Yet, in this long tract of ages, there never was found a man who took Thersites for a beauty. The fine arts are very properly called the arts of taste, because the principles of both are the same ; and, in the fine arts, we find no less agreement among those who practise them than among other artists. No work of taste can be either relished or understood by those who do not agree with the author in the principles of taste. Homer and Virgil, and Shakspeare and Milton, had the same taste ; and all men who have been acquainted with their writ- ings, and agree in the admiration of them, must have the same taste. The fundamental rules of poetry and music, and painting, and dramatic action and eloquence, have been always the same, and will be so to the end of the world. The variety we find among men in matters of taste, is easily accounted for, consistently with what we have advanced. There is a taste that is acquired, and a taste that is natural. This holds with re- spect both to the external sense of taste and the internal. Habit and fashion have a powerful influence upon both. Of tastes that are natural, there are some that may be called rational, others that are merely animal. Children are delighted with brilliant and gaudy colours, with romping and noisy mirth, with feats of agility, strength, or cunning ; and savages have much the same tas + e as children. [609] But there are tastes that are more intel- lectual. It is the dictate of our rational na- ture, that love and admiration are misplaced when there is no intrinsic worth in the object. In those operations of taste which are ra- tional, we judge of the real worth and ex- cellence of the object, and our love or admiration is guided by that judgment. In such operations there is judgment as well as feeling, and the feeling depends upon the judgment we form ot the object. [608-610] I do not maintain that taste, so far as it is acquired, or so far as it is merely animal, can be reduced to principles. But, as far as it is founded on judgment, it certainly may. The virtues, the graces, the muses, have a beauty that is intrinsic. It lies not in the feelings of the spectator, but in the real excellence of the object. If we do not perceive their beauty, it is owing to the de- fect or to the perversion of our faculties. And, as there is an original beauty in cer- tain moral and intellectual qualities, so there is a borrowed and derived beauty in the natural signs and expressions of such qualities. The features of the human face, the mo- dulations of the voice, and the proportions, attitudes, and gesture of the body, are all natural expressions of good or bad quali- ties of the person, and derive a beauty or a deformity from the qualities which they express. Works of art express some quality of the artist, and often derive an additional beauty from their utility or fitness for their end. Of such things there are some that ought to please, and others that ought to displease. If they do not, it is owing to some defect in the spectator. But what has real excellence will always please those who have a correct judgment and a sound heart. [610] The sum of what has been said upon this subject is, that, setting aside the tastes which men acquire by habit and fashion, there is a natural taste, which is partly animal, and partly rational. With regard to the first, all we can say is, that the Author of nature, for wise rea- sons, has formed us so as to receive plea- sure from the contemplation of certain objects, and disgust from others, before we are capable of perceiving any real ex- cellence in one or defect in the other. But that taste which we may call ration- al, is that part of our constitution by which we are made to receive pleasure from the contemplation of what we con- ceive to be excellent in its kind, the plea- sure being annexed to this judgment, and regulated by it. This taste may be true or false, according as it is founded on a true or false judgment. And, if it may be true or false, it must have first principles. 5. There are also first principles in mo- rals. That an unjust action has more demerit than an ungenerous one : That a generous action has more merit than a merely just one : That no man ought to be blamed for what it was not in his power to hinder : That we ought not to do to others what we would think unjust or unfair to be done to us in like circumstances. These are moral axioms, 454 ON THE INTELLECTUAL POWERS. [essay VI. and many others might be named which ap- pear to me to have no less evidence than those of .mathematics. Some perhaps may think that our de- terminations, either in matters of taste or in morals, ought not to be accounted ne- cessary truths : That they are grounded upon the constitution of that faculty which we call taste, and of that which we call the moral sense or conscience ; which fa- culties might have been so constituted as to have given determinations different, or even contrary to those they now give : That, as there is nothing sweet or bitter in itself, but according as it agrees or dis- agrees with the external sense called taste ; so there is nothing beautiful or ugly in it- self, but according as it agrees or dis- agrees with the internal sense, which we also call taste ; and nothing morally good or ill in itself, but according as it agrees or disagrees with our moral sense. [611] This indeed is a system, with regard to morals and taste, which hath been supported in modern times by great authorities. And if this system be true, the consequence must be, that there can be no principles, either of taste or of morals, that are neces- sary truths. For, according to this system, all our determinations, both with regard to matters of taste, and with regard to morals, are reduced to matters of fact — I mean to such as these, that by our constitution we have on such occasions certain agreeable feelings, and on other occasions certain dis- agreeable feelings. But I cannot help being of a contrary opinion, being persuaded that a man who determined that polite behaviour has great deformity, and that there is great beauty in rudeness and ill-breeding, would judge wrong, whatever his feelings were. In like manner, I cannot help thinking that a man who determined that there is more moral worth in cruelty, perfidy, and injustice, than in generosity, justice, pru- dence, and temperance, would judge wrong, whatever his constitution was. And, if it be true that there is judgment in our determinations of taste and of morals, it must be granted that what is true or false in morals, or in matters of taste, is necessarily so. For this reason, I have ranked the first principles of morals and of taste under the class of necessary truths. 6. The last class of first principles I shall mention, we may call metaphysical. I shall particularly consider three of these, because they have been called in question by Mr Hume. [612] The first is, That the qualities which we perceive by our senses must have a subject, which we call body, and that the thoughts we are conscious of must have a subject, which we call mind. It is not more evident that two and two make four, than it is that figure cannot exist, unless there be something that is figured, nor motion without something that is moved. I not only perceive figure and motion, but I perceive them to be qualities. They have a necessary relation to some- thing in which they exist as their subject. The difficulty which some philosophers have found in admitting this, is entirely owing to the theory of ideas. A subject of the sen- sible qualities which we perceive by our senses, is not an idea either of sensation or of consciousness ; therefore say they, we have no such idea. Or, in the style of Mr Hume, from what impression is the idea of substance derived ? It is not a copy of any impression ; therefore there is no such idea. The distinction between sensible quali- ties, and the substance to which they belong, and between thought and the mind that thinks, is not the invention of philosophers ; it is found in the structure of all languages, and therefore must be common to all men who speak with understanding. And I believe no man, however sceptical he may be in speculation, can talk on the common affairs of life for half an hour, without say- ing things that imply his belief of the reality of these distinctions. Mr Locke acknowledges, " That we can- not conceive how simple ideas of sensible qualities should subsist alone ; and there- fore we suppose them to exist in, and to be supported by, some common subject." In his Essay, indeed, some of his expressions seem to leave it dubious whether this belief, that sensible qualities must have a subject, be a true judgment or a vulgar prejudice. [613] But in his first letter to the Bishop of Worcester, he removes this doubt, and quotes many passages of his Essay, to shew that he neither denied nor doubted of the existence of substances, both thinking and material ; and that he believed their ex- istence on the same ground the Bishop did — to wit, " on the repugnancy to our conceptions, that modes and accidents should subsist by themselves." He offers no proof of this repugnancy ; nor, I think, can any proof of it be given, because it is a first principle. It were to be wished that Mr Locke, who inquired so accurately and so laudably into the origin, certainty, and extent of human knowledge, had turned his attention more particularly to the origin of these two opinions which he firmly believed ; to wit, that sensible qualities must have a subject which we call body, and that thought must have a subject which we call mind. A due attention to these two opinions which go- vern the belief of all men, even of sceptics in the practice of life, would probably have led him to perceive, that sensation and f611-6l3] chap, vi.] FIRST PRINCIPLES OF NECESSARY TRUTHS. 455 consciousness are not the only sources of human knowledge ; and that there are prin- ciples of belief in human nature, of which we can give no other account but that they necessarily result from the constitution of our faculties ; and that, if it were in our power to throw off their influence upon our practice and conduct, we could neither speak nor act like reasonable men. We cannot give a reason why we believe even our sensations to be real and not fal- lacious ; why we believe what we are con- scious of ; why we trust any of our natural faculties. We say, it must be so, it cannot be otherwise. This expresses only a strong belief, which is indeed the voice of nature, and which therefore in vain we attempt to resist. But if, in spite of nature, we resolve to go deeper, and not to trust our faculties, without a reason to shew that they cannot be fallacious, I am afraid, that, seeking to become wise, and to be as gods, we shall become foolish, and, being unsatisfied with the lot of humanity, we shall throw off com- mon sense. The second metaphysical principle I men- tion is — That ivhatever begins to exist, must have a cause which produced it.* [614] Philosophy is indebted to Mr Hume in this respect among others, that, by calling in question many of the first principles of human knowledge, he hath put speculative men upon inquii'ing more carefully than was done before into the nature of the evidence upon which they rest. Truth can never suffer by a fair inquiry ; it can bear to be seen naked and in the fullest light ; and the strictest examination will always turn out in the issue to its advantage. I believe Mr Hume was the first who ever called in question whether things that begin to exist must have a cause. With regard to this point, we must hold one of these three things, either that it is an opinion for which we have no evidence, and which men have foolishly taken up without ground ; or, secondly^ That it is capable of direct proof by argument ; or, thirdly, That it is self-evident, and needs no proof, but ought to be received as an axiom, which cannot, by reasonable men, be called in question. The first of these suppositions would put an end to all philosophy, to all religion, to all reasoning that would carry us beyond the objects of sense, and to all prudence in the conduct of life. As to the second supposition, that this principle may be proved by direct reason- ing, I am afraid we shall find the proof extremely difficult, if not altogether im- possible. I know only of three or four arguments * See below, " Essays on the Active Powers," p. 30, rq.— H. [614-616] that have been urged by philosophers, in the way of abstract reasoning, to prove that things which begin to exist must have a cause. One is offered by Mr Hobbes, another by Dr Samuel Clarke, another by Mr Locke. Mr Hume, in his " Treatise of Human Nature," has examined them all ;* and, in my opinion, has shewn that they take for granted the thing to be proved ; a kind of false reasoning, which men are very apt to fall into when they attempt to prove what is self-evident. [615] It has been thought, that, although thia principle does not admit of proof from abstract reasoning, it may be proved from experience, and may be justly drawn by induction, from instances that fall within our observation. I conceive this method of proof will leave us in great uncertainty, for these three reasons : 1st, Because the proposition to be proved is not a contingent but a necessary proposi- tion. It is not that things which begin to exist commonly have a cause, or even that they always in fact have a cause ; but that they must have a cause, and cannot begin to exist without a cause. Propositions of this kind, from their nature, are incapable of proof by induction. Experience informs us only of what is or has been, not of what must be ; and the conclusion must be of the same nature with the premises. -f- For this reason, no mathematical propo- sition can be proved by induction. Though it should be found by experience in a thou- sand cases, that the area of a plane triangle is equal to the rectangle under the altitude and half the base, this would not prove that it must be so in all cases, and cannot be otherwise ; which is what the mathematician affirms. £ In like manner, though we had the most ample experimental proof that things which have begun to exist had a cause, this would not prove that they must have a cause. Experience may shew us what is the esta- blished course of nature, but can never shew what connections of things are in their nature necessary. Idly, General maxims, grounded on ex- perience, have only a degree of probability proportioned to the extent of our experience, and ought always to be understood so as to leave room for exceptions, if future expe- rience shall discover any such. [616] The law of gravitation has as full a proof from experience and induction as any prin- ciple can be supposed to have. Yet, if any philosopher should, by clear experiment, * Vol. j. p. 144-146.— H. t See below, p. 627 ; and " Active Powers," p. 31, and alove, p. 323, a, note *.— H. i So Aristotle.— H. 456 ON THE INTELLECTUAL POWERS. [essay vi. shew that there is a kind of matter in some bodies which does not gravitate, the law of gravitation ought to be limited by that exception. Now, it is evident that men have never considered the principle of the necessity of causes, as a truth of this kind which may admit of limitation or exception ; and there- fore it has not been received upon this kind of evidence. 3dly, I do not see that experience could satisfy us that every change in nature act- ually has a cause. In the far greatest part of the changes in nature that fall within our observation, the causes are unknown ; and, therefore, from experience, we cannot know whether they have causes or not. Causation is not an object of sense. The enly experience we can have of it, is in the consciousness we have of exerting some power in ordering our thoughts and actions. But this experience is surely too narrow a foundation for a general conclusion, that all things that have had or shall have a be- ginning, must have a cause. For these reasons, this principle cannot be drawn from experiance, any more than from abstract reasoning. The third supposition is — That it is to be admitted as a first or self-evident principle. Two reasons may be urged for this. 1. The universal consent of mankind, not of philosophers only, but of the rude and un- learned vulgar. Mr Hume, as far as I know, was the first that ever expressed any doubt of this prin- ciple.* And when we consider that he has re- jected every principle of human knowledge, excepting that of consciousness, and has not even spared the axioms of mathematics, his authority is of small weight. [617] Indeed, with regard to first principles, there is no reason why the opinion of a philosopher should have more authority than that of another man of common sense, who has been accustomed to judge in such cases. The illiterate vulgar are competent judges ; and the philosopher has no preroga- tive in matters of this kind ; but he is more liable than they to be misled by a favourite system, especially if it is his own. Setting aside the authority of Mr Hume, what has philosophy been employed in since men first began to philosophise, but in the investigation of the causes of things ? This it has always professed, when we trace it to its cradle. It never entered into any man's thought, before the philosopher we have mentioned, to put the previous ques- tion, whether things have a cause or not ? Had it been thought possible that they might not, it may be presumed that, in the * Hume was not the first.— H. variety of absurd and contradictory causes assigned, some one would have had recourse to this hypothesis. They could conceive the world to arise from an egg, from a struggle between love and strife, between moisture and drought, between heat and cold ; but they never sup- posed that it had no cause. We know not any atheistic sect that ever had recourse to this topic, though by it, they might have evaded every argument that could be brought against them, and answered all objections to their system. But rather than adopt such an absurdity, they contrived some imaginary cause — such as chance, a concourse of atoms, or neces- sity — as the cause of the universe. [618] The accounts which philosophers have given of particular pheenomena, as well as of the universe in general, proceed upon the same principle. That every phaeno- menon must have a cause, was always taken for granted. Nil turpius physico, says Cicero, quam fieri sine causa quicquam dicere. Though an Academic, he was dog- matical in this. And Plato, the father of the Academy, was no less so. " Dem ya.g ottviiotrov x a i'S otWiou yititriv i%uv : it IS impos- sible that anything should have its origin without a cause." — Tim^us. I believe Mr Hume was the first who ever held the contrary.* This, indeed, he avows, and assumes the honour of the dis- covery. " It is," says he, " a maxim in philosophy, that whatever begins to exist, must have a cause of existence. This is commonly taken for granted in all reason- ings, without any proof given or demanded. It is supposed to be founded on intuition, and to be one of those maxims which, though they may be denied with the lips, it is impossible for men in their hearts really to doubt of. But, if we examine this maxim by the idea of knowledge above explained, we shall discover in it no mark of such intuitive certainty." The meaning of this seems to be, that it did not suit with his theory of intuitive certainty, and, there- fore, he excludes it from that privilege. The vulgar adhere to this maxim as firmly and universally as the philosophers. Their superstitions have the same origin- as the systems of philosophers — to wit, a desire to know the causes of things. Felix qui potuit rerum cognoscere causas, is the universal sense of men ; but to say that anything can happen without a cause, shocks the common sense of a savage. This universal belief of mankind is easily accounted for, if we allow that the neces- sity of a cause of every event is obvious to the rational powers of a man. But it is impossible to account for it otherwise. It * See last note.— H. [617, G18] ohap vi.] FIRST PRINCIPLES OF NECESSARY TRUTHS. 457 cannot be ascribed to education, to systems of philosophy, or to priestcraft. One would think that a philosopher who takes it to be a general delusion or prejudice, would endeavour to shew from what causes in human nature such a general error may take its rise. But I forget that Mr Hume might answer upon his own principles, that since things may happen without a cause — this error and delusion of men may be uni- versal without any cause. [619] 2. A second reason why I conceive this to be a first principle, is, That mankind not only assent to it in speculation, but that the practice of life is grounded upon it in the most important matters, even in cases where experience leaves us doubtful ; and it is impossible to act with common prudence if we set it aside. In great families, there are so many bad things done by a certain personage, called Nobody, that it is proverbial that there is a Nobody about every house who does a great deal of mischief ; and even where there is the exactest inspection and govern- ment, many events will happen of which no other author can be found ; so that, if we trust merely to experience in this matter, No- body will be found to be a very active person, and to have no inconsiderable share in the management of affairs. But whatever coun- tenance this system may have from experi- ence, it is too shocking to common sense to impose upon the most ignorant. A child knows that, when his top, or any of his play- things, are taken away, it must be done by somebody. Perhaps it would not be diffi- cult to persuade him that it was done by some invisible being, but that.it should be done by nobody he cannot believe. Suppose a man's house to be broke open, his money and jewels taken away. Such things have happened times innumerable without any apparent cause ; and were he only to reason from experience in such a case, how must he behave ? He must put in one scale the instances wherein a cause was found of such an event, and in the other scale the instances where no cause was found, and the preponderant scale must determine whether it be most probable that there was a cause of this event, or that there was none. Would any man of com- mon understanding have recourse to such an expedient todirect his judgment? [620] Suppose a man to be found dead on the highway, his skull fractured, his body pierced with deadly wounds, his watch and money carried off. The coroner's jury sits upon the body ; and the question is put, What was the cause of this man's death ? — was it accident, or felo de se, or murder by persons unknown ? Let us suppose an adept in Mr Hume's philosophy to make one of the jury, and that he insists upon the [619-621] previous question, whether there was any cause of the event, and whether it happened without a cause. Surely, upon Mr Hume's principles, a great deal might be said upon this point ; and, if the matter is to be determined by past experience, it is dubious on which side the weight of argument might stand. But we may venture to say, that, if Mr Hume had been of such a jury, he would have laid aside his philosophical principles, and acted according to the dictates of common pru- dence. Many passages might be produced, even in Mr Hume's philosophical writings, in which he, unawares, betrays the same in- ward conviction of the necessity of causes which is common to other men. I shall mention only one, in the " Treatise of Hu- man Nature," and in that part of it where he combats this very principle : — " As to those impressions," says he, " which arise from the senses, their ultimate cause is, in my opinion, perfectly inexplicable by hu- man reason ; and it will always be impos- sible to decide with certainty whether they arise immediately from the object, or are produced by the creative power of the mind, or are derived from the Author of our being." Among these alternatives, he never thought of their not arising from any cause.* [621] The arguments which Mr Hume offers to prove that this is not a self-evident prin- ciple, are three. First, That all certainty arises from a comparison of ideas, and a discovery of their unalterable relations, none of which relations imply this proposi- tion, That whatever has a beginning must have a cause of existence. This theory of certainty has been examined before. The second argument is, That whatever we can conceive is possible. This has like- wise been examined. The thirda.rgiwient is, That what we call a cause, is only something antecedent to, and always conjoined with, the effect. This is also one of Mr Hume's peculiar doctrines, which we may have occasion to consider afterwards. It is sufficient here to observe, that we may learn from it that night is the cause of day, and day the cause of night : for no two things have more constantly followed each other since the beginning of the world. The [third and] lad metaphysical prin- ciple I mention, which is opposed by the same author, is, That design and intelli- gence in the cause may be inferred, with certainty, from marks or signs of it in the effect. * See above, p. 444, note *. It is the triumph of scepticism to shew that speculation and practice are irreconcilable. — H. 458 ON THE INTELLECTUAL POWERS. [essay VI. Intelligence, design, and skill, are not objects of the external senses, nor can we be conscious of them in any person but our- selves. Even in ourselves, we cannot, with propriety, be said to be corscious of the natural or acquired talents we possess. We are conscious only of the operations of mind in which they are exerted. Indeed, a man comes to know his own mental abilities, just as he knows another man's, by the effects they produce, when there is occasion to put them to exercise. A man's wisdom is known to us only by the signs of it in his conduct ; his eloquence by the signs of it in his speech. In the same manner, we judge of his virtue, of his forti- tude, and of all his talents and virtues. [622] Yet it is to be observed, that we judge of men's talents with as little doubt or hesita- tion as we judge of the immediate objects of sense. One person, we are sure, is a perfect idiot ; another, who feigns idiocy to screen himself from punishment, is found, upon trial, to have the understanding of a man, and to be accountable for his conduct. We perceive one man to be open, another cun- ning; one to be ignorant, another very knowing ; one to be slow of understanding, another quick. Every man forms such judgments of those he converses with ; and the common affairs of life depend upon such judgments. We can as little avoid them as we can avoid seeing what is before our eyes. From this it appears, that it is no less a part of the human constitution, to judge of men's characters, and of their intellectual powers, from the signs of them in their actions and discourse, than to judge of cor- poreal objects by our senses ; that such judgments are common to the whole human race that are endowed with understanding ; and that they are absolutely necessary in the conduct of life. Now, every judgment of this kind we form, is only a particular application of the general principle, that intelligence, wisdom, and other mental qualities in the cause, may be inferred from their marks or signs in the effect. The actions and discourses of men are effects, of which the actors and speakers are the causes. The effects are perceived by our senses ; but the causes are behind the scene. We only conclude their exist- ence and their degrees from our observa- tion of the effects. From wise conduct, we infer wisdom in the cause ; from brave actions, we infer courage ; and so in other cases. [623] This inference is made with perfect secu- rity by all men. We cannot avoid it ; it is necessary in the ordinary conduct of life ; it has therefore the strongest marks of being a first principle. Perhaps some may think that this prin- ciple may be learned either by reasoning or by experience, and therefore that there is no ground to think it a first principle. If it can be shewn to be got by reasoning, by all, or the greater part of those who are governed by it, I shall very readily ac- knowledge that it ought not to be esteemed a first principle. But I apprehend the con- trary appears from very convincing argu- ments. First, The principle is too universal to be the effect of reasoning. It is common to philosophers and to the vulgar ; to the learned and to the most illiterate ; to the civilized and to the savage. And of those who are governed by it, not one in ten thousand can give a reason for it. Secondly, We find philosophers, ancient and modern, who can reason excellently in subjects that admit of reasoning, when they have occasion to defend this principle, not offering reasons for it, or any medium of proof, but appealing to the common sense of mankind ; mentioning particular instan- ces, to make the absurdity of the contrary opinion more apparent, and sometimes using the weapons of wit and ridicule, which are very proper weapons for refuting ab- surdities, but altogether improper in points that are to be determined by reasoning. To confirm this observation, I shall quote two authors, an ancient and a modern, who have more expressly undertaken the defence of this principle than any others I remem- ber to have met with, and whose good sense and ability to reason, where reasoning is proper, will not be doubted. [624] The first is Cicero, whose words, {lib. 1. cap. 13. De Divinalione,) may be thus translated. " Can anything done by chance have all the marks of design ? Four dice may by chance turn up four aces ; but do you think that four hundred dice, thrown by chance, will turn up four hundred aces ? Colours thrown upon canvas without design may have some similitude to a human face ; but do you think they might make as beautiful a picture as that of the Coan Venus ? A hog turning up the ground with his nose may make something of the form of the let- ter A ; but do you think that a hog might describe on the ground the Andromache of Ennius ? Carneades imagined that, in the stone quarries at Chios, he found, in a stone that was split, a representation of the head of a little Pan, or sylvan deity. I believe he might find a figure not unlike ; but surely not such a one as you would say had been formed by an excellent sculptor like Scopas. For so, verily, the case is, that chance never perfectly imitates design." Thus Cicero.* * See also Cicero " Dc Natura Dcorum" *L ii. c. [622-624] chap. vi.J FIRST PRINCIPLES OF NECESSARY TRUTHS. 459 Now, in all this discourse, I see very good sense, and what is apt to convince every unprejudiced mind ; but I see not in the whole a single step of reasoning. It is barely an appeal to every man's common sense. * Let us next see how the same point is handled by the excellent Archbishop Tillot- son. (1st Sermon, vol. i.) "For I appeal to any man of reason, whether anything can be more unreasonable than obstinately to impute an effect to chance which carries in the face of it all the argu- ments and characters of design ? Was ever any considerable work, in which there was required a great variety of parts, and an orderly and regular adjustment of these parts, done by chance ? Will chance fit means to ends, and that in ten thousand instances, and not fail in any one ? [625] How often might a man, after he had j umbled a set of letters in a bag, fling them out upon the ground before they would fall into an exact poem, yea, or so much as make a good discourse in prose ? And may not a little book be as easily made as this great volume of the world ? How long might a man sprinkle colours upon canvass with a careless hand, before they would make the exact picture of a man ? And is a man easier made by chance than his picture ? How long might twenty thousand blind men, which should be sent out from the remote parts of England, wander up and down be- fore they would all meet upon Salisbury plains, andfall into rank and file in the exact order of an army ? And yet this is much more easy to be imagined than how the innumerable blind parts of matter should rendezvous themselves into a word. A man that sees Henry VI I. 's chapel at West- minster might, with as good reason, main- tain, (yea, and much better, considering the vast difference between that little structure and the huge fabric of the world,) that it was never contrived or built by any man, but that the stones did by chance grow into those curious figures into which we see them to have been cut and graven ; and that, upon a time, (as tales usually begin,) the mate- rials of that building — the stone, mortar, timber, iron, lead, and glass — happily met together, and very fortunately ranged them- selves into that delicate order in which we see them now, so close compacted that it must be a very great chance that parts them again. What would the world think of a man that should advance such an opinion as this, and write a book for it ? If they would do him right, they ought to look upon him as mad. But yet he might maintain this opinion with a little more reason than any man can have to say that the world was made by chance, or that the first men grew out of the earth, as plants do now ; for, can [625-627] anything be more ridiculous and against all reason, than to ascribe the production of men to the first fruitfulness of the earth, without so much as one instance or experi- ment in any age or history to countenance so monstrous a supposition ? The thing is at first sight so gross and palpable, that no discourse about it can make it more appa- rent. A.nd yet these shameful beggars of principles, who give this precarious account of the original of things, assume to them- selves to be the men of reason, the great wits of the world, the only cautious and wary persons, who hate to be imposed upon, that must have convincing evidence for every- thing, and can admit nothing without a clear demonstration for it. [626] In this passage, the excellent author takes what I conceive to be the proper method of refuting an absurdity, by exposing it in dif- ferent lights, in which every man of common understanding conceives it to be ridiculous. And, although there is much good sense, as well as wit, in the passage I have quoted, I cannot find one medium of proof in the whole. I have met with one or two respectable authors who draw an ax*gument from the doctrine of chances, to shew how impro- bable it is that a regular arrangement of parts should be the effect of chance, or that it should not be the effect of design. I do not object to this reasoning ; but I would observe that the doctrine of chances is a branch of mathematics little more than an hundred years old. But the conclusion drawn from it has been held by all men from the beginning of the world. It cannot, therefore, be thought that men have been led to this conclusion by that reasoning. Indeed, it may be doubted whether the first principle upon which all the mathematical reasoning about chances is grounded, is more self-evident than this conclusion drawn from it, or whether it is not a particular instance of that general conclusion. We are next to consider whether we may not learn this truth from experience, That effects which have all the marks and tokens of design, must proceed from a designing cause. [627] I apprehend that we cannot learn this truth from experience for two reasons. First, Because it is a necessary truth, not a contingent one. It agrees with the experience of mankind since the beginning of the world, that the area of a triangle is equal to half the rectangle under its base and perpendicular. It agrees no less with experience, that the sun rises in the east and sets in the west. So far as experience goes, these truths are upon an equal footing. But every man perceives this distinction between them — that the first is a necessary truth, and that it is impossible it should not 460 ON THE INTELLECTUAL POWERS. [essay VI. be true ; but the last is not necessary, but contingent, depending upon the will of Him who made the world. As we cannot learn from experience that twice three must ne- cessarily make six, so neither can we learn from experience that certain effects must proceed from a designing and intelligent cause. Experience informs us only of what has been, but never of what must be.* Secondly, It may be observed, that ex- perience can shew a connection between a sign and the thing signified by it, in those cases only where both the sign and thing signified are perceived and have always been perceived in conjunction. But, if there be any case where the sign only is per- ceived, experience can never shew its con- nection with the thing signified. Thus, for example, thought is a sign of a thinking principle or mind. But how do we know that thought cannot be without a mind ? If any man should say that he knows this by experience, he deceives himself. It is im- possible he can have any experience of this ; because, though we have an immediate knowledge of the existence of thought in ourselves by consciousness, yet we have no immediate knowledge of a mind. The mind is not an immediate object either of sense or of consciousness. We may, therefore, justly conclude, that the necessary con- nection between thought and a mind, or thinking being, is not learned from expe- rience. [628] The same reasoning may be applied to the connection between a work excellently fitted for some purpose, and design in the author or cause of that work. One of these — to wit, the work — may be an immediate object of perception. But the design and purpose of the author cannot be an imme- diate object of perception ; and, therefore, experience can never inform us of any con- nection between the one and the other, far less of a necessary connection. Thus, I think, it appears, that the prin- ciple we have been considering — to wit, that from certain signs or indications in the effect, we may infer that there must have been intelligence, wisdom, or other intel- lectual or moral qualities in the cause, is a principle which we get, neither by reason- ing nor by experience ; and, therefore, if it be a true principle, it must be a first prin- ciple. There is in the human understand- ing a light, by which we see immediately the evidence of it, when there is occasion to apply it. Of how great importance this principle is in common life, we have already observed. And I need hardly mention its importance in natural theology. The clear marks and signatures of wis- * See abovep. t515; and " Active Powero,"p. 31.— H. dom, power, and goodness, in the consti- tution and government of the world, is, of all arguments that have been advanced for the being and providence of the Deity, that which in all ages has made the strongest impression upon candid and thinking minds ; an argument, which has this peculiar ad- vantage, that it gathers strength as human knowledge advances, and is more convincing at present than it was some centuries ago. King Alphonsus might say, that he could contrive a better planetary system than that which astronomers held in his day.* That system was not the work of God, but the fiction of men. [629] But since the true system of the sun, moon, and planets, has been discovered, no man, however atheistically disposed, has pretended to shew how a better could be contrived. When we attend to the marks of good contrivance which appear in the works of God, every discovery we make in the con- stitution of the material or intellectual system becomes a hymn of praise to the great Creator and Governor of the world. And a man who is possessed of the genuine spirit of philosophy will think it impiety to contaminate the divine workmanship, by mixing it with those fictions of human fancy, called theories and hypotheses, which will always bear the signatures of human folly, no less than the other does of divine wis- dom. I know of no person who ever called in question the principle now under our consi- deration, when it is applied to the actions and discourses of men. For this would be to deny that we have any means of discerning a wise man from an idiot, or a man that is illiterate in the highest degree from a man of knowledge and learning, which no man has the effrontery to deny. But, in all ages, those who have been unfriendly to the principles of religion, have made attempts to weaken the force of the argument for the existence and perfec- tions of the Deity, which is founded on this principle. That argument has got the name of the argument from final causes ; and as the meaning of this name is well understood, we shall use it. The argument from final causes, when re- duced to a syllogism, has these two premises : — First, That design and intelligence in the cause, may, with certainty, be inferred from marks or signs of it in the effect. This is the principle we have been considering, and * Alphonso X. of Castile. He flourished in the thirteenth century— a great mathematician and as- tronomer. To him we owe the Alphonsine Tables. His saying was not so pious and philosophical as Reid states ; but that, " Had he been present with God at the creation, he could have supplied some useful hmrs towards the better ordering of the universe." U. [628, 629] chap, vi.] FIRST PRINCIPLES OF NECESSARY TRUTHS. 451 we may call it the maj w proposition of the argument. The seeing which we call the minor proposition, is, That there are in fact the clearest marks of design and wisdom in ihe works of nature ; and the conclusion is, That the works of nature are the effects of a wise and intelligent Cause. One must either assent to the conclusion, or deny one or other of the premises. [630] Those among the ancients who denied a God or a Providence, seem to me to have yielded the major proposition, and to have denied the minor ; conceiving that there are not in the constitution of things such marks of wise contrivance as are sufficient to put the conclusion beyond doubt. This, I think, we may learn, from the reasoning of Cotta the academic, in the third book of Cicero, of the Nature of the Gods. The gradual advancement made in the knowledge of nature, hath put this opinion quite out of countenance. When the structure of the human body was much less known than it is now, the famous Galen saw such evident marks of wise contrivance in it, that, though he had been educated an Epicurean, he renounced that system, and wrote his book of the use of the parts of the human body, on purpose to convince others of what appeared so clear "to himself, that it was impossible that such admirable contrivance should be the effect of chance. Those, therefore, of later times, who are dissatisfied with this argument from final causes, have quitted the stronghold of the ancient atheists, which had become un- tenable, and have chosen rather to make a defence against the major proposition. Des Cartes seems to have led the way in this, though he was no atheist. But, having invented some new arguments for the being of God, he was, perhaps, led to disparage those that had been used before, that he might bring more credit to his own. Or perhaps he was offended with the Peripa- tetics, because they often mixed final causes with physical, in order to account for the phsenomena of nature. [631 ] He maintained, therefore, that physical causes only should be assigned for phaeno- mena ; that the philosopher has nothing to do with final causes ; and that it is pre- sumption in us to pretend to determine for what end any work of nature is framed. Some of those who were great admirers of Des Cartes, and folio wed him in many points, differed from him in this, particu- larly Dr Henry More and the pious Arch- bishop Fenelon : but others, after the ex- ample of Des Cartes, have shewn a contempt of all reasoning from final causes. Among these, I think, we may reckon Maupertuis and Buffon. But the most direct attack has been made upon this principle by Mr [630-632] Hume, who puts an argument in the mouth of an Epicurean, on which he seems to lay great stress. The argument is, That the universe is a singular effect, and, therefore, we can draw no conclusion from it, whether it may have been made by wisdom or not. * If I understand the force of this argu- ment, it amounts to this, That, if we had been accustomed to see worlds produced, some by wisdom and others without it, and had observed that such a world as this which we inhabit was always the effect of wisdom, we might then, from past experi- ence, conclude that this world was made by wisdom; but, having no such experi- ence, we have no means of forming any conclusion about it. That this is the strength of the argument appears, because, if the marks of wisdom seen in one world be no evidence of wisdom, the like marks seen in ten thousand will give as little evidence, unless, in time past, we perceived wisdom itself conjoined with the tokens of it ; and, from their perceived conjunction in time past, conclude that, al- though, in the present world, we see only one of the two, the other must accompany it. [632] W hence it appears that this reasoning of Mr Hume is built on the supposition that our inferring design from the strongest marks of it, is entirely owing to our past experience of having always found these two things conjoined. But I hope I have made it evident that this is not the case. And, indeed, it is evident that, according to this reasoning, we can have no evidence of mind or design in any of our fellow- men. How do I know that any man of my ac- quaintance has understanding ? I never saw his understanding. I see only cer- tain effects, which my judgment leads me to conclude to be marks and tokens of it. But, says the sceptical philosopher, you can conclude nothing from these tOKens ; un- less past experience has informed you that such tokens are always joined with under- standing. Alas ! sir, it is impossible I can ever have this experience. The understand- ing of another man is no immediate object of sight, or of any other faculty which God hath given me ; and unless I can conclude its existence from tokens that are visible, I have no evidence that there is understand- ing in any man. It seems, then, that the man who main- tains that there is no force in the argument from final causes, must, if he will be con- sistent, see no evidence of the existence of any intelligent being but himself. * See Stewart's " Elements," ii. p. 579.— H. 462 ON THE INTELLECTUAL POWERS. [essay VI. CHAPTER VII. OPINIONS, ANCIENT AND MODERN, ABOUT FIRST PRINCIPLES. I know no writer who has treated ex- pressly of first principles before Aristotle ; but it is probable that, in the ancient Py- thagorean school, from which both Plato and Aristotle borrowed much, this subject had not been left untouched. [633] Before the time of Aristotle, considerable progress had been made in the mathema- tical sciences, particularly in geometry. The discovery of the forty-seventh pro- position of the first book of Euclid, and of the five regular solids, is, by antiquity, ascribed to Pythagoras himself; and it is impossible he could have made those dis- coveries without knowing many other pro- positions in mathematics. Aristotle men- tions the incommensurability of the diagonal of a square to its side, and gives a hint of the manner in which it was demonstrated. We find likewise some of the axioms of geometry mentioned by Aristotle as axioms, and as indemonstrable principles of mathe- matical reasoning. It is probable, therefore, that, before the time of Aristotle, there were elementary treatises of geometry, which are now lost ; and that in them the axioms were distin- guished from the propositions which require I roof. To suppose that so perfect a system as that of Euclid's " Elements" was produced by one man, without any preceding model or materials, would be to suppose Euclid more than a man. We ascribe to him as much as the weakness of human under- standing will permit, if we suppose that the inventions in geometry, which had been made in a tract of preceding ages, were by him not only carried much farther, but digested into so admirable a 6ystem that his work obscured all that went before it, and made them be forgot and lost. Perhaps, in like manner, the writings of Aristotle with regard to first principles, and with regard to many other abstract subjects, may have occasioned the loss of what had been written upon those subjects by more ancient philosophers. [634] Whatever may be in this, in his second book upon demonstration, he has treated very fully of first principles ; and, though he has not attempted any enumeration of them, he shews very clearly that all demonstra- tion must be built upon truths which are evident of themselves, but cannot be de- monstrated. His whole doctrine of syllo- gisms is grounded upon a few axioms, from which he endeavours to demonstrate the rules of syllogism in a mathematical way ; | and in his topics he points out many of the first principles of probable reasoning. As long as the philosophy of Aristotle prevailed, it was held as a fixed point, that all proof must be drawn from principles already known and granted. We must observe, however, that, in that philosophy, many things were assumed as first principles, which have no just claim to that character : such as, that the earth is at rest ; that nature abhors a vacuum ; that there is no change in the heavens above the sphere of the moon ; that the heavenly bodies move in circles, that being the most perfect figure ; that bodies do not gravitate in their proper place ; and many others. The Peripatetic philosophy, therefore, instead of being deficient in first principles, was redundant ; instead of rejecting those that are truly such, it adopted, as first principles, many vulgar prejudices and rash judgments : and this seems in general to have been the spirit of ancient philosophy. * It is true, there were among the ancients sceptical philosophers, who professed to have no principles, and held it to be the greatest virtue in a philosopher to withhold assent, and keep his judgment in a perfect equil - brium between contradictory opinions. But, though this sect was defended by some per- sons of great erudition and acuteness, it died of itself, and the dogmatic philosophy of Aristotle obtained a complete triumph over it. [635] What Mr Hume says of those who are sceptical with regard to moral distinctions seems to have had its accomplishment in the ancient sect of Sceptics. " The only way," says he, " of converting antagonists of this kind is to leave them to themselves ; for, finding that nobody keeps up the con- troversy with them, it is probable they will at last of themselves, from mere weariness, come over to the side of common sense and reason." Setting aside this small sect of the Scep- tics, which was extinct many ages before the authority of Aristotle declined, I know of no opposition made to first principles among the ancients. The disposition was, as has been observed, not to oppose, but to mul- tiply them beyond measure. Men have always been prone, when they leave one extreme, to run into the opposite ; and this spirit, in the ancient philosophy, to multiply first principles beyond reason, was a strong presage that, when the authority of the Peripatetic system was at an> end, * The Peripatetic philosophy did not assume any such principles as original and self-evident ; but pro- fessed to establish them all upon induction and gene- ralization. In practice its induction of instances might be imperfect, and its generalization from par- ticulars rash : but in theory, at least, it was correct, — H. [633-6351 chap, vir.] OPINIONS ABOUT FIRST PRINCIPLES. 463 the next reigning system would diminish their number beyond reason. This, accordingly, happened in that great revolution of the philosophical republic brought about by Des Cartes. That truly great reformer in philosophy, cautious to a*void the snare in which Aristotle was taken, of admitting things as first principles too rashly, resolved to doubt of everything, and to withhold his assent, until it was forced by the clearest evidence.* Thus Des Cartes brought himself into that very state of suspense which the an- cient Sceptics recommended as the highest perfection of a wise man, and the only road to tranquillity of mind. But he did not remain long in this state ; his doubt did not arise from despair of finding the truth, but from caution, that he might not be im- posed upon, and embrace a cloud instead of a goddess. [636] His very doubting convinced him of his own existence ; for that which does not exist can neither doubt, nor believe, nor reason. Thus he emerged from universal scepti- cism by this short enthymeme, Cogito, ergo sum. This enthymeme consists of an antece- dent proposition, I think, and a conclusion drawn from it, therefore I exist. If it should be asked how Des Cartes came to be certain of the antecedent proposi- tion, it is evident that for this he trusted to the testimony of consciousness. He was con- scious that he thought, and needed no other argument. So that the first principle which he adopts in this famous enthymeme is this, That those doubts, and thoughts, and reasonings, of which he was conscious, did certainly exist, and that his consciousness put their exist- ence beyond all doubt. It might have been objected to this first principle of Des Cartes, How do you know that your consciousness cannot deceive you ? You have supposed that all you see, and hear, and handle, may be an illusion. Why, therefore, should the power of conscious- ness have this prerogative, to be believed implicitly, when all our other powers are supposed fallacious ? To this objection I know no other answer that can be made but that we find it im- possible to doubt of things of Avhich we are conscious. The constitution of our nature forces this belief upon us irresistibly. This is true, and is sufficient to justify Des Cartes in assuming, as a first principle, the existence of thought, of which he was conscious. [637] He ought, however, to have gone farther in this track, and to have considered whe- ther there may not be other first principles * On the Cartesian doubt, see Note R.— H. f636-638] which ought to be adopted for the same reason. But he did not see this to be ne- cessary, conceiving that, upon this on3 first principle, he could support the whole fabric of human knowledge. To proceed to the conclusion of Des Cartes's enthymeme. From the existence of his thought he infers his own existence. Here he assumes another first principle, not a contingent, but a necessary one ; to wit, that, where there is thought, there must be a thinking being or mind. Having thus established his own exist- ence, he proceeds to prove the existence of a supreme and infinitely perfect Being; and, from the perfection of the Deity, he infers that his senses, his memory, and the other faculties which God had given him, are not fallacious. Whereas other men, from the beginning of the world, had taken for granted, as a first principle, the truth and reality of what they perceive by their senses, and from thence inferred the existence of a Supreme Author and Maker of the world, Des Cartes took a contrary course, conceiving that the tes- timony of our senses, and of all our facul- ties, excepting that of consciousness, ought not to be taken for granted, but to be proved by argument. Perhaps some may think that Des Car- tes meant only to admit no other first prin- ciple of contingent truths besides that of consciousness ; but that he allowed the axi- oms of mathematics, and of other necessary truths, to be received without proof. [638] But I apprehend this was not his inten- tion ; for the truth of mathematical axioms must depend upon the truth of the faculty by which we judge of them. If the faculty be fallacious, we may be deceived by tri, st- ing to it. Therefore, as he supposes that all our faculties, excepting consciousness, may be fallacious, and attempts to prove by argument that they are not, it follows that, according to his principles, even ma- thematical axioms require proof. Neither did he allow that there are any necessary truths, but maintained, that the truths which are commonly so called, depend up- on the will of God. And we find his fol- lowers, who may be supposed to under- stand his principles, agree in maintaining, that the knowledge of our own existence is the first and fundamental principle from which all knowledge must be deduced by one who proceeds regularly in philosophy. There is, no doubt, a beauty in raising a large fabric of knowledge upon a few first principles. The stately fabric of mathema- tical knowledge, raised upon the foundation of a few axioms and definitions, charms every beholder. Des Cartes, who was well acquainted with this beauty in the mathe- matical sciences, seems to have been am • 464 ON THE INTELLECTUAL POWERS. [essay VI. bitious to give the same beautiful simplicity to his system of philosophy ; and therefore sought only one first principle as the founda- tion of all our knowledge, at least of con- tingent truths. And so far has his authority prevailed, that those who came after him have almost universally followed him in this track. This, therefore, may be considered as the spirit of modern philosophy, to allow of no first principles of contingent truths but this one, that the thoughts and opera- tions of our own minds, of which we are conscious, are self-evidently real and true ; but that everything else that is contingent is to be proved by argument. The existence of a material world, and of what we perceive by our senses, is not self-evident, according to this philosophy. Des Cartes founded it upon this argument, that God, who hath given us our senses, and all our faculties, is no deceiver, and therefore they are not fallacious. [639] I endeavoured to shew that, if it be not admitted as a first principle, that our facul- ties are not fallacious, nothing else can be admitted ; and that it is impossible to prove this by argument, unless God should give us new faculties to sit in judgment upon the old. Father Malebranche agreed with Des Cartes, that the existence of a material world requires proof ; but, being dissatisfied with Des Cartes's argument from the per- fection of the Deity, thought that the only solid proof is from divine revelation. Arnauld, who was engaged in controversy with Malebranche, approves of his anta- gonist in offering an argument to prove the existence of the material world, but objects to the solidity of his argument, and offers other arguments of his own. Mr Norris, a great admirer of Des Cartes and of Malebranche, seems to have thought all the arguments offered by them and by Arnauld to be weak, and confesses that we have, at best, only probable evidence of the existence of the material world. Mr Locke acknowledges that the evidence we have of this point is neither intuitive nor demonstrative ; yet he thinks it may be called knowledge, and distinguishes it by the name of sensitive knowledge ; and, as the ground of this sensitive knowledge, he offers some weak arguments, which would rather tempt one to doubt than to believe. At last, Bishop Berkeley and Arthur Collier, without any knowledge of each other, as far as appears by their writings, undertook to prove, that there neither is nor can be a material world. The excel- lent style and elegant composition of the former have made his writings to be known and read, and this system to be attributed to him only, as if Collier had never ex- isted. [6401 Both, indeed, owe so much to Male- branche, that, if we take out of his system the peculiarities of our seeing all things in God, and our learning the existence of an external world from divine revelation, what remains is just the system of Bishop Berke- ley. I make this observation, by the way, in justice to a foreign author, to whom British authors seem not to have allowed all that is due.* Mr Hume hath adopted Bishop Berke- ley's arguments against the existence of matter, and thinks them unanswerable. We may observe, that this great meta- physician, though in general he declares in favour of universal scepticism, and there- fore may seem to have no first principles at all, yet, with Des Cartes, he always acknow- ledges the reality of those thoughts and operations of mind of which we are con- scious.-}- So that he yields the antecedent of Des Cartes's enthymeme cogito, but denies the conclusion ergo sum, the mind being, according to him, nothing but that train of impressions and ideas of which we are conscious. Thus, we see that the modern philosophy, of which Des Cartes may justly be ac- counted the founder, being built upon the ruins of the Peripatetic, has a spirit quite opposite, and runs into a contrary extreme. The Peripatetic not only adopted as first principles those which mankind have always rested upon in their most important trans- actions, but, along with them, many vulgar prejudices ; so that this system was founded upon a wide bottom, but in many parts unsound. The modern system has nar- rowed the foundation so much, that every superstructure raised upon it appears top- heavy. From the single principle of the exist- ence of our own thoughts, very little, if any thing, can be deduced by just reasoning, especially if we suppose that all our other faculties may be fallacious. Accordingly, we find that Mr Hume was not the first that was led into scepticism by the want of first principles. For, soon after Des Cartes, there arose a sect in France called Egoists, who maintained that we have no evidence jof the existence of any- thing but ourselves. % [641] Whether these egoists, like Mr Hume, * If I recollect aright, (I write this note at a di>s- tance from books,) Locke explicitly anticipates the Berkeleian idealism in his "Examination of Father Malebranche's Opinion." This was also done Dy Bayle. In fact, Malebranche, and many others be- fore him, would inevitably have become Idealists, had they not been Catholics. But an Idealist, as I have already observed, no consistent Catholic could be. See above, p. 2S5, note t> and p. 35S, note *. — H. f See above, p. 442, b, not^. — H. % See above p. 269, a, note \ ; and p. 293, b, note *.— H. [639-641] chap, vii.] OPINIONS ABOUT FIRST PRINCIPLES. 465 believed themselves to be nothing but a train of ideas and impressions, or to have a more permanent existence, I have not learned, having never seen any of their writings ; nor do I know whether any of this sect did write in support of their principles. One would think they who did not believe that there was any person to read, could have little inducement to write, unless they were prompted by that inward monitor which Persius makes to be the source of genius and the teacher of arts. There can be no doubt, however, of the existence of such a sect, as they are mentioned by many authors, and refuted by some, particularly by Buffier, in his treatise of first principles. Those Egoists and Mr Hume seem to me to have reasoned more consequentially from Des Cartes' principle than he did him- self ; and, indeed, I cannot help thinking, that all who have followed Des Cartes' method, of requiring proof by argument of everything except the existence of their own thoughts, have escaped the abyss of scepticism by the help of weak reasoning and strong faith more than by any other means. And they seem to me to act more consistently, who, having rejected the first principles on which belief must be grounded, have no belief, than they, who, like the others, rejecting first principles, must yet have a system of belief, without any solid foundation on which it may stand. The philosophers I have hitherto men- tioned, after the time of Des Cartes, have all followed his method, in resting upon the truth of their own thoughts as a first principle, but requiring arguments for the proof of every other truth of a contingent nature; but none of them, excepting Mr Locke, has expressly treated of first princi- ples, or given any opinion of their utility or inutility. We only collect their opinion from their following Des Cartes in requir- ing proof, or pretending to offer proof of the existence of a material world, which surely ought to be received as a first princi- ple, if anything be, beyond what we are conscious of. [642] I proceed, therefore, to consider what Mr Locke has said on the subject of first principles or maxims. I have not the least doubt of this author's candour in what he somewhere says, that his essay was mostly spun out of his own thoughts. Yet, it is certain, that, in many of the notions which we are wont to ascribe to him, others were before him, particularly pes Cartes, Gassendi, and Hobbes. Nor is it at all to be thought strange, that inge- nious men, when they are got into the same track, should hit upon the same things. But, in the definition which he gives of knowledge in general, and in his notions [642, 643] concerning axioms or first principles, 1 know none that went before him, though he has been very generally followed in both. His definition of knowledge, that it con- sists si lely in the perception of the agree- ment or disagreement of our ideas, has been already considered. But supposing it to be just, still it would be true, that some agree- ments and disagreements of ideas must be immediately perceived ; and such agree- ments or disagreements, when they are expressed by affirmative or negative propo- sitions, are first principles, because their truth is immediately discerned as soon as they are understood. This, I think, is granted by Mr Locke, book 4, chap. 2. " There is a part of our knowledge," says he, " which we may call intuitive. In this the mind is at no pains of proving or examining, but perceives the truth as the eye does light, only by being directed toward it. And this kind of know- ledge is the clearest and most certain that human frailty is capable of. This part of knowledge is irresistible, and, like bright sunshine, forces itself immediately to be perceived, as soon as ever the mind turns its view that way." [643] He farther observes — " That this intui- tive knowledge is necessary to connect all the steps of a demonstration."* From this, I think, it necessarily follows, that, in every branch of knowledge, we must make use of truths that are intuitively known, in order to deduce from them such as require proof. But I cannot reconcile this with what he says, § 8, of the same chapter : — " The necessity of this intuitive knowledge in every step of scientifical or demonstrative reason- ing gave occasion, I imagine, to that mis- taken axiom, that all reasoning was^.v pne- ccguitis et prceconcessis, which, how far it is mistaken, I shall have occasion to shew more at large, when I come to consider propositions, and particularly those proposi- tions which are called maxims, and to shew that it is by a mistake that they are sup- posed to be the foundation of all our know- ledge and reasonings." 1 have carefully considered the chapter on maxims, which Mr Locke here refers to ; and, though one would expect, from the quotation last made, that it should run con- trary to what I have before delivered con- cerning first principles, I find only two or three sentences in it, and those chiefly inci- dental, to which I do not assent ; and I am always happy in agreeing with a philoso- pher whom I so highly respect. He endeavours to shew that axioms or intuitive truths are not innate. -J* * See Stewart's " Elements," ii. p. 49.— H. t He does more. He attempts to shew that they are all generalizations from experience ; whereas ex- 2 n 466 ON THE INTELLECTUAL POWERS. [essay VI. To this I agree. I maintain only, that when the understanding is ripe, and when we distinctly apprehend such truths, we immediately assent to them. [644] He observes, that self-evidence is not peculiar to those propositions which pass under the name of axioms, and have the dignity of axioms ascribed to them. ' I grant that there are innumerable self- evident propositions, which have neither dignity nor utility, and, therefore, deserve not the name of axioms, as that name is commonly understood to imply not only self-evidence, but some degree of dignity or utility. That a man is a man, and that a man is not a horse, are self-evident propo- sitions ; but they are, as Mr Locke very justly calls them, trifling propositions. Til- lotson very wittily says of such propositions, that they are so surfeited with truth, that they are good for nothing ; and as they de- serve not the name of axioms, so neither do they deserve the name of knowledge. He observes, that such trifling self-evi- dent propositions as we have named are not derived from axioms, and therefore that all our knowledge is not derived from axioms. I grant that they are not derived from axioms, because they are themselves self- evident. But it is an abuse of words to call them knowledge, as it is, to call them axioms ; for no man can be said to be the wiser or more knowing for having millions of them in store. He observes, that the particular propo- sitions contained under a general axiom are no less self-evident than the general axiom, and that they are sooner known and under- stood. Thus, it is as evident that my hand is less than my body, as that a part is less than the whole ; and I know the truth of the particular proposition sooner than that of the general. This is true. A man cannot perceive the truth of a general axiom, such as, that a part is less than the whole, until he has the general notions of a part and a whole formed in his mind ; and, before he has these general notions, he may perceive that his hand is less than his body. [645] A great part of this chapter on maxims is levelled against a notion, which, it seems, some have entertained, that all our know- ledge is derived from these two maxims — to wit, whatever is, is ; and it is impossible for the same thing to be, and not to be. * This I take to be a ridiculous notion, justly deserving the treatment which Mr perience on'y affords the occasions on which the native (not innate) or a priori cognitions, virtually possessed by the mind, actually manifest their exist, ence.— H. * These are called, the principle of Identity, and the principle of Contradiction, or. more properly, Non. contradiction.— H. Locke has given it, if it at all merited his notice. These are identical propositions ; they are trifling, and surfeited with truth. No knowledge can be derived from them. Having mentioned how far I agree with Mr Locke concerning maxims or first prin- ciples, I shall next take notice of two or three things, wherein I cannot agree with him. In the seventh section of this chapter, he says, That, concerning the real existence of all other beings, besides ourselves and a first cause, there are no maxims. I have endeavoured to shew that there are maxims, or first principles, with regard to other existences. Mr Locke acknowledges that we have a knowledge of such existences, which, he savs, is neither intuitive nor de- monstrative, and which, therefore, he calls sensitive knowledge. It is demonstrable, and was long ago demonstrated by Aristotle, that every proposition to which we give a rational assent, must either have its evi- dence in itself, or derive it from some ante- cedent proposition. And the same thing may be said of the antecedent proposition. As, therefore, we cannot go back to ante- cedent propositions without end, the evi- dence must at last rest upon propositions, one or more, which have their evidence in themselves — that is, upon first principles. As to the evidence of our own existence, and of the existence of a first cause, Mr Locke does not say whether it rests upon first principles or not. But it is manifest, from what he has said upon both, that it does. [646] With regard to our own existence, says he, we perceive it so plainly and so cer- tainly that it neither needs nor is capable of any proof. This is as much as to say that our own existence is a first principle ; for it is applying to this truth the very definition of a first principle. He adds, that, if I doubt, that very doubt makes me perceive my own existence, and will not suffer me to doubt of that. If I feel pain, I have as certain perception of my existence as of the pain I feel. Here we have two first principles plainly implied — First, That my feeling pain, or being conscious of pain, is a certain evidence of the real existence of that pain ; and, secondly, That pain cannot exist without a mind or being that is pained. That these are first principles, and incapable of proof, Mr Locke acknowledges. And it is certain, that, if they are not true, we can have no evidence of our own existence ; for, if we may feel pain when no pain really exists, or if pain may exist without any being that is pained, then it is certain that our feeling pain can give us no evidence of our ex- istence. Thus, it appears that the evidence of our [644-646] chap, vii.] OPINIONS ABOUT FIRST PRINCIPLES. 467 own existence, according to the view that Mr Locke gives of it, is grounded upon two of those first principles which we had occa- sion to mention. If we consider the argument he has given for the existence of a first intelligent cause, it is no less evident that it is grounded upon other two of them. The first, That what begins to exist must have a cause of its ex- istence ; and the second, That an unintelli- gent and unthinking being cannot be the cause of beings that are thinking and in- telligent. Upon these two principles, he argues, very convincingly, for the existence of a first intelligent cause of things. And, if these principles are not true, we can have no proof of the existence of a first cause, either from our own existence, or from the existence of other things that fall within our view. [647] Another thing advanced by Mr Locke upon this subject is, that no science is or hath been built upon maxims. Surely Mr Locke was not ignorant of geometry, which hath been built upon maxims prefixed to the elements, as far back as we are able to trace it. - But, though they had not been prefixed, which was a matter of utility rather than necessity, yet it must be granted that every demonstra- tion in geometry is grounded either upon propositions formerly demonstrated, or upon self-evident principles. Mr Locke farther says, that maxims are not of use to help men forward in the ad- vancement of the sciences, or new dis- coveries of yet unknown truths ; that New- ton, in the discoveries he has made in his never- enough-to-be-admired book, has not been assisted by the general maxims — what- ever is, is ; or, the whole is greater than a part ; or the like. I answer, the first of these is, as was be- fore observed, an identical trifling proposi- tion, of no use in mathematics, or in any other science. The second is often used by Newton, and by all mathematicians, and many demonstrations rest upon it. In general, Newton, as well as all other mathe- maticians, grounds his demonstrations of mathematical propositions upon the axioms laid down by Euclid, or upon propositions which have been before demonstrated by help of those axioms. [643] But it deserves to be particularly observed, that Newton, intending, in the third book of his " Principia," to give a more scientific form to the physical part of astronomy, which he had at first composed in a popular form, thought proper to follow the example of Euclid, and to lay down first, in what he * Compare Stewart's " Elements," ii. pp. 38, 43, 196. On this subject, "satius est silerequam parum dicere."— H. £647-649] calls " Rcgulce Philosnphandi" and in his " Phenomena" the first principles which he assumes in his reasoning. Nothing, therefore, could have been more unluckily adduced by Mr Locke to support his aversion to first principles, than the ex- ample of Sir Isaac Newton, who, by laying down the first principles upon which he rea- sons in those parts of natural philosophy which he cultivated, has given a stability to that science which it never had before, and which it will retain to the end of the world. I am now to give some account of a philo- sopher, who wrote expressly on the subject of first principles, after Mr Locke. Pere Buffier, a French Jesuit, first pub- lished his " Traite des premiers Veritez, et de la Source de nos Jugements" in 8vo, if I mistake not, in the year 1724. It was afterwards published in folio, as a part of his " Cours des- Sciences." Paris, 1732. He defines first principles to be proposi- tions so clear that they can neither be proved nor combated by those that are more clear. The first source of first principles he men- tions, is, that intimate conviction which every man has of his own existence, and of what passes in his own mind. Some philo- sophers, he observes, admitted these as first principles, who were unwilling to admit any others ; and he shews the strange conse- quences that follow from this system. A second source of first principles he makes to be common sense ; which, he ob- serves, philosophers have not been wont to consider. He defines it to be the disposi- tion which Nature has planted in all men, or the far greater part, which leads them, when they come to the use of reason, to form a common and uniform judgment upon objects which are not objects of conscious- ness, nor are founded on any antecedent judgment. [649] He mentions, not as a full enumeration, but as a specimen, the following principles of common sense. 1. That there are other beings and other men in the universe, besides myself. 2. That there is in them something that is called truth, wisdom, prudence ; and that these things are not purely arbitrary. 3. That there is something in me which I call intelligence, and something which is not that intelligence, which I call my body ; and that these things have different pro- perties. 4. That all men are not in a conspiracy to deceive me and impose upon my cre- dulity. 5. That what has not intelligence cannot produce the effects of intelligence, nor can pieces of matter thrown together by chance form any regular work, such as a clock or watch. 2 h2 468 ON THE INTELLECTUAL POWERS. [essay VI. He explains very particularly the several parts of his definition of common sense, and shews how the dictates of common sense may be distinguished from common prejudices ; and then enters into a particular consideration of the primary truths that concern being in general ; the truths that concern thinking beings ; those that concern body ; and those on which the various branches of human knowledge are grounded. I shall not enter into a detail of his sen- timents on these subjects. I think there is more which I take to be original in this treatise than in most books of the meta- physical kind I have met with ; that many of his notions are solid; and that others, which I cannot altogether approve, are ingenious. [650] The other writers I have mentioned, after Des Cartes, may, I think, 'without impropriety, be called Cartesians. For, though they differ from Des Cartes in some things, and contradict him in others, yet they set*out from the same principles, and follow the same method, admitting no other first principle with regard to the existence of things but their own existence, and the existence of those operations of mind of which they are conscious, and requiring that the existence of a material world, and the existence of other men and things, should be proved by argument. This method of philosophising is common to Des Cartes, Malebranche, Arnauld, Locke, Norris, Collier, Berkeley, and Hume ; and, as it was introduced by Des Cartes, I call it the Cartesian system, and those who follow it Cartesians, not intending any dis- respect by this term, but to signify a parti- cular method of philosophising common to them all, and begun by Des Cartes. Some of these have gone the utmost length in scepticism, leaving no existence in nature but that of ideas and impressions. Some have endeavoured to throw off the belief of a material world only, and to leave us ideas and spirits. All of them have fallen into very gross paradoxes, which can never sit easy upon the human understand- ing, and which, though adopted in the closet, men find themselves under a ne- cessity of throwing off and disclaiming when they enter into society. Indeed, in my judgment, those who have reasoned most acutely and consequentially upon this system, are they that have gone deepest into scepticism. Father Buffier, however, is no Cartesian in this sense. He seems to have perceived the defects of the Cartesian system while it was in the meridian of its glory, and to have been aware that a ridiculous scepticism is the natural issue of it, and therefore nobly attempted to lay a broader founda- tion for human knowledge, and has the honour of being the first, as far as I know, after Aristotle, who has given the world a just treatise upon first principles. [651] Some late writers, particularly Dr Os- wald, Dr Beattie, and Dr Campbell, have been led into a way of thiuking somewhat similar to that of Buffier ; the two former, as I have reason to believe, without any in- tercourse with one another, or any know- ledge of what Buffier had wrote on the sub- ject. Indeed, a man who thinks, and who is acquainted with the philosophy of Mr Hume, will very naturally be led to appre- hend, that, to support the fabric of human knowledge, some other principles are neces- sary than those of Des Cartes and Mr Locke. Buffier must be acknowledged to have the merit of having discovered this, before the consequences of the Cartesian system were so fully displayed as they have been by Mr Hume. But I am apt to think that the man who does not see this now, must have but a superficial knowledge of these subjects.* The three writers above mentioned have ray high esteem and affection as men ; but I intend to say nothing of them as writers upon this subject, that I may not incur the censure of partiality. Two of them have been joined so closely with me in the anim- adversions of a celebrated writer, -f- that we may be thought too near of kin to give our testimony of one another. CHAPTER VIII. OF PREJUDICES, THE CAUSES OF ERROR. Our intellectual powers are wisely fitted by the Author of our nature for the disco- very of truth,. as far as suits our present state. Error is not their natural issue, any more than disease is of the natural structure of the body. Yet, as we are liable to vari- ous diseases of body from accidental causes, external and internal ; so we are, from like causes, liable to wrong judgments. [652] Medical writers have endeavoured to enu- merate the diseases of the body, and to re- duce them to a system, under the name of nosology ; and it were to be wished that we had also a nosology of the human under- standing. When we know a disorder of the body, we are often at a loss to find the proper remedy ; but in most cases the disorders of the understanding point out their remedies so plainly, that he who knows the one must know the other. Many authors have furnished useful ma- terials for this purpose, and some have en- deavoured to reduce them to a system. I * See Note A.— H. t Priestley.— H. [650-852] cuap. viii.] OF PIIEJUDICES, THE CAUSES OF ERROR. 469 like best the general division given of thein by Lord Bacon, in his fifth book " De Aug- tnevJis Scientiarum" and more fully treated in his " Novum Organutn." He divides them into four classes — idola tribus, idola specus, idola fori, and idola theatri. The names are perhaps fanciful ; but I think the division judicious, like most of the pro- ductions of that wonderful genius. And as this division was first made by him, he may be indulged the privilege of giving names to its several members. I propose in this chapter to explain the several members of this division, according to the meaning of the author, and to give instances of each, without confining myself to those which Lord Bacon has given, and without pretending to a complete enumera- tion. To every bias of the understanding, by which a man may be misled in judging, or drawn into error, Lord Bacon gives the name of an idol. The understanding, in its natural and best state, pays its homage to truth only. The causes of error are considered by him as so many false deities, who receive the homage which is due only to truth. [653] A. The first class are the idola tribus. The.-e are such as beset the whole human species ,' so that every man is in danger from them. They arise from principles of the human constitution, which are highly useful and necessary in our present state ; but, by their excess or defect, or wrong direction, may lead us into error. As the active principles of the human frame are wisely contrived by the Author of our being for the direction of our ac- tions, and yet, without proper regulation and restraint, are apt to lead us wrong, so it is also with regard to those parts of our constitution that have influence upon our opinions. Of this we may take the follow- ing instances : — 1. First, — Men are prone to be led too much by authority in their opinions. In the first part of life, we have no other guide ; and, without a disposition to receive implicitly what we are taught, we should be incapable of instruction, and incapable of improvement. When judgment is ripe, there are many things in which we are incompetent judges. In such matters, it is most reasonable to rely upon the judgment of those whom we believe to be competent and disinterested. The highest court of judicature in the nation relies upon the authority of lawyers and physicians in matters belonging to their respective professions. Even in matters which we have access to know, authority always will have, and ought to have, more or less weight, in pro- portion to the evidence on which our own [> 53- 65 5] judgment rests, and the opinion we have of the judgment and candour of those who differ from us, or agree with us The modest man, conscious of his own fal- libility in judging, is in danger of giving too much to authority; the arrogant of giving too little. [654] In all matters belonging to our cog- nizance, every man must be determined by his own final judgment, otherwise he does not act the part of a rational being. Authority may add weight to one scale ; but the man holds the balance, and judges what weight he ought to allow to authority. If a man should even claim infallibility, we must judge of his title to that preroga- tive. If a man pretend to be an ambassa- dor from heaven, we must judge of his credentials. No claim can _ deprive us of this right, or excuse us for neglecting to exercise it. As, therefore, our regard to authority may be either too great or too small, the bias of human nature seems to lean to the first of these extremes ; and I believe it is good for men in general that it should do so. When this bias concurs with an in differ. ence about truth, its operation will be the more powerful. The love of truth is natural to man, and strong in every well-disposed mind. But it may be overborne by party zeal, by vanity, by the desire of victory, or even by laziness. When it is superior to these, it is a manly virtue, and requires the exer- cise of industry, fortitude, self-denial, can- dour, and openness to conviction. As there are persons in the world of so mean and abject a spirit that they rather choose to owe their subsistence to the charity of others, than by industry to ac- quire some property of their own ; so there are many more who may be called mere beggars with regard to their opinions. Through laziness and indifference about truth, they leave to others the drudgery of digging for this commodity ; they can have enough at second hand to serve their occa- sions. Their concern is not to know what is true, but what is said and thought on such subjects ; and their understanding, like their clothes, is cut according to the fashion. [655] This distemper of the understanding has taken so deep root in a great part of man- kind, that it can hardly be said that they use their own judgment in things that do not concern their temporal interest. Nor is it peculiar to the ignorant ; it infects all ranks. We may guess their opinions when we know where they were born, of what parents, how educated, and what company they have kept. These circumstances de- termine their opinions in religion, in politics, and in philosophy. 470 ON THE INTELLECTUAL POWERS. [essay VI. 2. A second general prejudice arises from a disposition to measure things less known and less familiar, by those that are better known and more familiar. This is the foundation of analogical rea- soning, to which we have a great proneness by nature, and to it indeed we owe a great part of our knowledge. It would be absurd to lay aside this kind of reasoning altogether, and it is difficult to judge how far we may venture upon it. The bias of human nature is to judge from too slight analogies. The objects of sense engross our thoughts m the first part of life, and are most fami- liar through the whole of it. Hence, in all ages men have been prone to attribute the human figure and human passions and frail- ties to superior intelligences, and even to the Supreme Being. There is a disposition in men to mate- rialize everything, if I may be allowed the expression ; that is, to apply the notions we have of material objects to things of another nature. Thought is considered as analogous to motion in a body ; and as bodies are put in motion by impulses, and by impressions made upon them by contiguous objects, we are apt to conclude that the mind is made to think by impressions made upon it, and that there must be some kind of contiguity between it and the objects of thought. Hence the theories of ideas and impressions have so generally prevailed. [656] Because the most perfect works of human artists are made after a model, and of ma- terials that before existed, the ancient phi- losophers universally believed that the world was made of a pre-existent uncreated matter ; and many of them, that there were eternal and uncreated models of every species of things which God made. The mistakes in common life, which are owing to this prejudice, are innumerable, and cannot escape the slightest observation. Men judge of other men by themselves, or by the small circle of their acquaintance. The selfish man thinks all pretences to be- nevolence and public spirit to be mere hypocrisy or self-deceit. The generous and open-hearted believe fair pretences too easily, and are apt to think men better than they really are. The abandoned and pro- fligate can hardly be persuaded that there is any such thing as real virtue in the world. The rustic forms his notions of the man- ners and characters of men from those of his country village, and is easily duped when he comes into a great city. It is commonly taken for granted, that this narrow way of judging of men is to be cured only by an extensive intercourse with men of different ranks, professions, and nations ; and that the man whose acquaint- ance has been confined within a narrow ^ircle, must have many prejudices and nar- row notions, which a more extensive inter- course would have, cured. 3. Men are often led into error by the love of simplicity, which disposes us to re- duce things to few principles, and to con- ceive a greater simplicity in nature than there really is.* [ 657 ] To love simplicity, and to be pleased with it wherever we find it, is no imperfection, but the contrary. It is the result of good taste. "We cannot but be pleased to ob- serve, that all the changes of motion pro- duced by the collision of bodies, hard, soft, or elastic, are reducible to three simple laws of motion, which the industry of phi- losophers has discovered. When we consider what a prodigious variety of effects depend upon the law of gravitation ; how many phenomena in the earth, sea, and air, which, in all preceding ages, had tortured the wits of philosophers, and occasioned a thousand vain theories, are shewn to be the necessary consequences of this one law ; how the whole system of sun, moon, planets, primary and secondary, and comets, are kept in order by it, and their seeming irregularities accounted for and reduced to accurate measure — the sim- plicity of the cause, and the beauty and variety of the effects, must give pleasure to every contemplative mind. By this noble discovery, we are taken, as it were, behind the scene in this great drama of nature, and made to behold some part of the art of the divine Author of this system, which, before this discovery, eye had not seen, nor ear heard, nor had it entered into the heart of man to conceive. There is, without doubt, in every work of nature, all the beautiful simplicity that is consistent with the end for which it was made. But, if we hope to discover how nature brings about its ends, merely from this principle, that it operates in the simplest and best way, we deceive ourselves, and forget that the wisdom of nature is more above the wisdom of man, than man's wis- dom is above that of a child. If a child should sit down to contrive how a city is to be fortified, or an army arranged in the day of battle, he would, no doubt, conjecture what, to his understanding, ap- peared the simplest and best way. But could he ever hit upon the true way ? No surely. When he learns from fact how these effects are produced, he will then see how foolish his childish conjectures were. [658] We may learn something of the way in which nature operates from fact and ob- servation ; but, if we conclude that it ope- rates in such a manner, only because to our * See " Inquiry," ch. vii. \ 3, above, p. 206, sqq — H. [656-658] chap, viii.] OF PREJUDICES, THE CAUSES OF ERROR. 471 understanding that appears to be the best and simplest manner, we shall always go wrong. It was believed, for many ages, that all the variety of concrete bodies we find on this globe is reducible to four elements, of which they are compounded, and into which they may be resolved. It was the simpli- city of this theory, and not any evidence from fact, that made it to be so generally received ; for the more it is examined, we find the less ground to believe it. The Pythagoreans and Platonists were carried farther by the same love of sim- plicity. Pythagoras, by his skill in mathe- matics, discovered, that there can be . no more than five regular solid figures, ter- minated by plain surfaces, which are all similar and equal; to wit, the tetrahedron, the cube, the octahedron, the dodecahedron, and the eicosihedron. As nature works in the most simple and regular way, he thought that all the elementary bodies must have one or other of those regular figures ; and that the discovery of the properties and relations of the regular solids would be a key to open the mysteries of nature. This notion of the Pythagoreans and Platonists has undoubtedly great beauty and simplicity. Accordingly it prevailed, at least, to the time of Euclid. He was a Platonic philosopher, and is said to have wrote all the books of his " Elements" in order to discover the properties and rela- tions of the five regular solids. This ancient tradition of the intention of Euclid in writing his " Elements," is countenanced by the work itself. For the last books of the " Elements" treat of the regular solids, and all the preceding are subservient to the last. [659] So that this most ancient mathematical work, which, for its admirable composition, has served as a model to all succeeding writers in mathematics, seems, like the two first books of Newton's "Principia," to have been intended by its author to exhibit the mathematical principles of natural phi- sophy. It was long believed, that all the qualities of bodies,* and all their medical virtues, were reducible to four — moisture and dry- ness, heat and cold; and that there are only four temperaments of the human body — the sanguine, the melancholy, the bilious, and the phlegmatic. The chemical system, of reducing all bodies to salt, sulphur, and mercury, was of the same kind. For how many ages did men believe, that the division of all the objects of thought into ten cate- gories, and of all that can be affirmed or denied of anything, into five universals or predicables, were perfect enumerations ? "~* Only the qualitatcs primes of the Peripatetics.— H. [65f), 66 o] The evidence from reason that could be produced for those systems was next to no- thing, and bore no proportion to the ground they gained in the belief of men ; but they were simple and regular, and reduced things to a few principles ; and this supplied their want of evidence. Of all the systems we know, that of Des Cartes was most remarkable for its sim- plicity.* Upon one proposition, / I '.ink, he builds the whole fabric of human know- ledge. And from mere matter, with a certain quantity of motion given it at first, he accounts for all the phaenomena of the material world. The physical part of this system was mere hypothesis. It had nothing to re- commend it but its simplicity ; yet it had force enough to overturn the system of Aristotle, after that system had prevailed for more than a thousand years. The principle of gravitation, and other attracting and repelling forces, after Sir Isaac Newton had given the strongest evi- dence of their real existence in nature, were rejected by the greatest part of Europe for half a century, because they could not be accounted for by matter and motion. So much were men enamoured with the sim- plicity of the Cartesian system. [660] Nay, I apprehend, it was this love of simplicity, more than real evidence, that led Newton himself to say, in the preface to his " Principia," speaking of the phaenomena of the material world — " Nam multa me movent ut nonnihil suspicer, ea omnia ex viribus quibusdam pendere posse, quibus corporum particular, per causas nondum cognitas, vel in se mutuo impelluntur, et secundum figuras regulares cohaerent, vel ab invicem fugantur et recedunt." For certainly we have no evidence from fact, that all the phaenomena of the material world are produced by attracting or repell- ing forces. With his usual modesty, he proposes it only as a slight suspicion ; and the ground of this suspicion could only be, that he saw- that many of the phaenomena of nature de- pended upon causes of this kind ; and there- fore was disposed, from the simplicity of nature, to think that all do. When a real cause is discovered, the same love of simplicity leads men to attri- bute effects to it which are beyond its pro- vince. A medicine that is found to be of great use in one distemper, commonly has its virtues multiplied, till it becomes a panacea. Those who have lived long, can recollect many instances of this. In other branches of knowledge, the same thing often happens. When the attention of men is turned to any * See above, p. 206, b, note f.— H. 472 ON THE INTELLECTUAL POWERS. [essay VI. particular cause, by discovering it to have remarkable effects, they are in great danger of extending its influence, upon slight evi- dence, to things with which it has no con- nection. Such prejudices arise from the natural desire of simplifying natural causes, and of accounting for many phsenomena from the same principle. [661] 4. One of the most copious sources of error in philosophy is the misapplication of our noblest intellectual power to purposes for which it is incompetent. Of all the intellectual powers of man, that of invention bears the highest price. It resembles most the power of creation, and is honoured with that name. We admire the man who shews a supe- riority in the talent of finding the means of accomplishing an end ; who can, by a happy combination, produce an effect, or make a discovery beyond the reach of other men ; who can draw important conclusions from circumstances that commonly pass unob- served ; who judges with the greatest saga- city of the designs of other men, and the consequences of his own actions. To this superiority of understanding we give the name of genius, and look up with admira- tion to everything that bears the marks of it. Yet this power, so highly valuable in it- self, and so useful in the conduct of life, may be misapplied ; and men of genius, in all ages, have been prone to apply it to pur- poses for which it is altogether incompe- tent. The works of men and the works of Nature are not of the same order. The force of genius may enable a man perfectly to comprehend the former, and see them to the bottom. What is contrived and exe- cuted by one man may be perfectly under- stood by another man. With great proba- bility, he may from a part conjecture the whole, or from the effects may conjecture the causes ; because they are effects of a wisdom not superior to his own. [662] But the works of Nature are contrived and executed by a wisdom and power in- finitely superior to that of man ; and when men attempt, by the force of genius, to dis- cover the causes of the phsenomena of Na- ture, they have only the chance of going wrong more ingeniously. Their conjectures may appear very probable to beings no wiser than themselves ; but they have no chance to hit the truth. They are like the conjectures of a child how a ship of war is built, and how it is managed at sea. Let the man of genius try to make an animal, even the meanest ; to make a plant, or even a single leaf of a plant, or a feather of a bird ; he will find that all his wisdom and sagacity can bear no comparison with the wisdom of Nature, nor his power with the power of Nature. The experience of all ages shews how prone ingenious men have been to invent hypotheses to explain the phsenomena of Nature ; how fond, by a kind of anticipa- tion, to discover her secrets. Instead of a slow and gradual ascent in the scale of na- tural causes, by a just and copious induc- tion, they would shorten the work, and, by a flight of genius, get to the top at once. This gratifies the pride of human under- standing ; but it is an attempt beyond our force, like that of Phaeton to guide the chariot of the sun. When a man has laid out all his inge- nuity in fabricating a system, he views it with the eye of a parent ; he strains phse- nomena to make them tally with it, and make it look like the work of Nature. The slow and patient method of induc- tion, the only way to attain any knowledge of Nature's work, was little understood untd it was delineated by Lord Bacon, and has been little followed since. It humbles the pride of man, and puts him constantly in mind that his most ingenious conjectures with regard to the works of God are pitiful and childish. [663] There is no room here for the favourite talent of invention. In the humble method of information, from the great volume of Nature Ave must receive all our knowledge of Nature. Whatever is beyond a just in- terpretation of that volume is the work of man ; and the work of God ought not to be contaminated by any mixture with it. To a man of genius, self-denial is a diffi- cult lesson in philosophy as well as in reli- gion. To bring his fine imaginations and most ingenious conjectures to the fiery trial of experiment and induction, by which the greater part, if not the whole, will' be found to be dross, is a humiliating task. This is to condemn him to dig in a mine, when he would fly -with the wings of an eagle. In all the fine arts, whose end is to please, genius is deservedly supreme. In the conduct of human affairs, it often does wonders ; but in all inquiries into the con- stitution of Nature, it must act a subor- dinate part, ill-suited to the superiority it boasts. It may combine, but it must not fabricate. It may collect evidence, but must not supply the want of it by conjec- ture. It may display its powers by putting Nature to the question in well-contrived experiments, but it must add nothing to her answers. 5. In avoiding one extreme, men are very apt to rush into the opposite. Thus, in rude ages, men, unaccustomed to search for natural causes, ascribe every uncommon appearance to the immediate interposition of invisible beings ; but when philosophv has discovered natural causes of [661-OGS] chap viii.] OF PREJUDICES, THE CAUSES OF ERROR. 473 many events, which, in the days of ignor- ance, were ascribed to the immediate opera- tion of gods or daemons, they are apt to think that all the phenomena of Nature may be accounted for in the same way. and that there is no need of an invisible Maker and Governor of the world. [664] Rude men are, at first, disposed to ascribe intelligence and active power to everything they see move or undergo any change. " Savages," says the Abbe Raynal, " where- ever they see motion which they cannot account for, there they suppose a soul." When they come to be convinced of the folly of this extreme, they are apt to run into the opposite, and to think that every thing moves only as it is moved, and acts as it is acted upon. Thus, from the extreme of superstition, the transition is easy to that of atheism ; and from the extreme of ascribing activity to every part of Nature, to that of exclud- ing it altogether, and making even the deter- minations of intelligent beings, the links of one fatal chain, or the wheels of one great machine. The abuse of occult qualities in the Peri- patetic philosophy led Des Cartes and his followers to reject all occult qualities, to pretend to explain all the phenomena of Nature by mere matter and motion, and even to fix disgrace upon the name of occult quality. 6. Men's judgments are often perverted oy their affections and passions. This is so commonly observed, and so universally acknowledged, that it needs no proof nor illustration. B. The second class of idols in Lord Bacon's division are the idola specus. These are p.ejudices which have their origin, not from the constitution of human nature, but from some thing peculiar to the individual. As in a cave objects vary in their appear- ance according to the form of the cave and the manner in which it receives the light. Lord Bacon conceives the mind of every man to resemble a cave, which has its par- ticular form, and its particular manner of being enlightened ; and, from these circum- stances, often gives false colours and a delu- sive appearance to objects seen in it. * [665] For this'reason he gives the name oi idola specus to those prejudices which arise from the particular way in which a man has been trained,, from his being addicted to some particular profession, or from something particular in the turn of his mind. A man whose thoughts have been con- * If Bacon took- his similcof the cave.from Plato, lie has perverted it Irom its proper meaning; for, in the Platon : c signification, the- idola specus should denote the prejudices. of the species, and not of the individual — that is, expre-s what Bacon denominates by idola trilnts.— H . [661-666] fined to a certain track by his profession or manner of life, is very apt to judge wrong when he ventures out of that track. He is apt to draw everything within the sphere of his profession, and to judge by its maxims of things that have no relation to it. The mere mathematician is apt to apply measure and calculation to things which do not admit of it. Direct and inverse ratios have been applied by an ingenious author to measure human affections, and the moral worth of actions. An eminent mathemati- cian* attempted to ascertain by calculation the ratio in which the evidence of facts must decrease in the course- of time, and fixed the period when the evidence of the facts on which Christianity is founded shall become evanescent, and when in conse- quence no faith shall be found on the earth. 1 have seen a philosophical dissertation, published by a very good mathematician, wherein, in opposition to the ancient divi- sion of things into ten categories, he main- tains that there arc no more, and can be no more than two categories, to wit, data and qacesita.-f The ancient chemists were wont to ex- plain all the mysteries of Nature, and even of religion, by salt, sulphur, and mercury. Mr Locke, I think, mentions an eminent musician, who believed that God created the world in six days, and rested the se- venth, because there are but seven notes in music. I knew one of that profession, who thought that there could be only three parts in harmony — to wit, bass, tenor, and treble — because there are but three persons in the Trinity. [666] The learned and ingenious Dr Henry More having very elaborately and methodi- cally compiled his " Enchirid'mm Metaphy- sician," and " Enchiridium Eihicum" found all the divisions and subdivisions of both to be allegorically taught in the first chapter of Genesis. Thus even very inge- nious men are apt to make a ridiculous figure, by drawing into the track in which their thoughts have long run, things alto- gether foreign to it. J Different persons, either from temper or from education, have different tendencies of understanding, which, by their excess, are unfavourable to sound judgment. Some have an undue admiration of anti- quity, and contempt of whatever is modern ; others go as far into the contrary extreme. It may be judged, that the former. are per- * Craig.— H. t Reid refers to his uncle, James Gregory, Profes- sor of Mathematics in St Andrew's and Edinburgh. See above, p. 6S, b. . — H. % " Musicians think our souls are harmonies ; Physicians held that they complexions he Epicures make them swarms of atomies, Which do by chance into the body flee. Sir John Davies, in the first and second lints, al ludes to Aristoxcnus and Cialen.— H. 474 ON THE INTELLECTUAL POWERS. [essay VI. sons who value themselves upon their ac- quaintance with ancient authors, and the latter such as have little knowledge of this kind. Some are afraid to venture a step out of the beaten track, and think it safest to go with the multitude ; others are fond of singulari- ties, and of everything that has the air of paradox. Some are desultory and changeable in their opinions ; others unduly tenacious. Most men have a predilection for the tenets of their sect or party, and still more for their own inventions. C. The idolafori are the fallacies arising from the imperfections and the abuse of lan- guage, which is an instrument of thought as well as of the communication of our thoughts. [667] Whether it be the effect of constitution or of habit, I will not take upon me to de- termine ; but, .from one or both of these causes, it happens that no man can pursue a train of thought or reasoning without the use of language. Words are the signs of our thoughts ; and the sign is so associated with the thing signified, that the last can hardly present itself to the imagination, without drawing the other along with it. A man who would compose in any lan- guage must think in that language. If he thinks in one language what he would ex- press in another, he thereby doubles his labour ; and, after all, his expressions will have more the air of a translation than of an original. This shews that our thoughts take their colour in some degree from the language we use ; and that, although language ought always to be subservient to thought, yet thought must be, at some times and in some degree, subservient to language. As a servant that is extremely useful and necessary to his master, by degrees acquires an authority over him, so that the master must often yield to the servant, such is the case with regard to language. Its inten- tion is to be a servant to the understanding ; but it is so useful and so necessary that we cannot avoid being sometimes led by it when it ought to follow. We cannot shake off this impediment — we must drag it along with us ; and, therefore, must direct our course, and regulate our pace, as it permits. Language must have many imperfections when applied to philosophy, because it was not made for that use. In the early periods of society, rude and ignorant men use cer- tain forms of speech, to express their wants, their desires, and their transactions with one another. Their language can reach no farther than their speculations and notions ; and, if their notions be vague and ill-defined, the words by which they express them must be so likewise. It was a grand and noble project of Bishop Wilkins* to invent a philosophical language, which should be free from the imperfections of vulgar languages. Whether this attempt will ever succeed, so far as to be generally useful, I shall not pretend to determine. The great pains taken by that excellent man in this design have hitherto produced no effect. Very few have ever entered minutely into his views ; far less have his philosophical language and his real character been brought into use. [668] He founds his philosophical language and real character upon a systematical division and subdivision of all the things which may be expressed by language ; and, instead of the ancient division into ten categories, has made forty categories, or summa genera. But whether this division, though made by a very comprehensive mind, will always suit the various systems that may be introduced, and all the real improvements that may be made in human knowledge, may be doubted. The difficulty is still greater in the sub- divisions ; so that it is to be feared that this noble attempt of a great genius will prove abortive, until philosophers have the same opinions and the same systems in the various branches of human knowledge. There is more reason to hope that the languages used by philosophers may be gradually improved in copiousness and in distinctness ; and that improvements in knowledge and in language may go hand in hand and facilitate each other. But I fear the imperfections of language can never be perfectly remedied while our knowledge *.is imperfect. However this may be, it is evident that the imperfections of language, and much more the abuse of it, are the occasion of many errors ; and that in many disputes which have engaged learned men, the differ- ence has been partly, and in some wholly, about the meaning of words, Mr Locke found it necessary to employ a fourth part of his " Essay on Human Un- derstanding" about words, their various kinds, their imperfection and abuse, and the remedies of both ; and has made many observations upon these subjects well worthy of attentive perusal. [669] D. The fourth class of prejudices are the idola theatri, by which are meant prejudices arising from the systems or sects in which we have been trained, or which we have adopted. A false system once fixed in the mind, becomes, as it were, the medium through which we see objects : they receive a tinc- ture from it, and appear of another colour than when seen by a pure light. Upon the same subject, a Platonist, a * See above, p. 403, note.— H. [667-669 chap. viii.] OF PREJUDICES, THE CAUSES OF ERROR. 475 Peripatetic, and an Epicurean, will think differently, not only in matters connected with his peculiar tenets, but even in things remote from them. A judicious history of the different sects of philosophers, and the different methods of philosophising, which have obtained among mankind, would be of no small use to direct men in the search of truth. In such a history, what would be of the greatest mo- ment is not so much a minute detail of the dogmata of each sect, as a just delineation of the spirit of the sect, and of that point of view in which things appeared to its founder. This was perfectly understood, and, as far as concerns the theories of mo- rals, is executed with great judgment and candour by Dr Smith in his theory of moral sentiments. As there are certaiD temperaments of the body that dispose a man more to one class of diseases than to another, and, on the other hand, diseases of that kind, when they happen by accident, are apt to induce the temperament that is suited to them — there is something analogous to this in the dis- eases of the understanding. [670] A certain complexion of understanding may dispose a man to one system of opinions more than to another ; and, on the other hand, a system of opinions, fixed in the mind by education or otherwise, gives that com- plexion to the understanding which is suited to them. It were to be wished, that the different systems that have prevailed could be classed according to their spirit, as well as named from their founders. Lord Bacon has dis- tinguished false philosophy into the sophis- tical, the empirical, and the superstitious, and has made judicious observations upon each of these kinds. But I apprehend this sub- ject deserves to be treated more fully by such a hand, if such a hand can be found. [671 ] ESSAY VII OF REASONING. CHAPTER I. OF REASONING IN' GENERAL, AND OF DEMONSTRATION. The power of reasoning is very nearly allied to that of judging ; and it is of little consequence in the common affairs of life to distinguish them nicely. On this account, the same name is often given to both. We include both under the name of reason.* The assent we give to a proposition is called judgment, whether the proposition be self- evident, or derive its evidence by reasoning from other propositions. Yet there is a distinction between rea- soning and judging. Reasoning is the pro- cess by which we pass from one judgment to another, which is the consequence of it. Accordingly our judgments are distinguished into intuitive, which are not grounded upon any preceding judgment, and discursive, which are deduced from some preceding judgment by reasoning. In all reasoning, therefore, there must be a proposition inferred, and one or more from which it is inferred. And this power of inferring, or drawing a conclusion, is only another name for reasoning ; the proposi- tion inferred being called the conclusion, * See Stewart's [670-672] Elements," ii. p. 12.'— H. and the proposition or propositions from which it is inferred, the premises. [672] Reasoning may consist of many steps ; the first conclusion being a premise to a second, that to a third, and so on, till we. come to the last conclusion. A process consisting of many steps of this kind, is so easily distinguished from judgment, that it is never called by that name. But when there is only a single step to the conclusion, the distinction is less obvious, and the pro- cess is sometimes called judgment, some- times reasoning. It is not strange that, in common dis- course, judgment and reasoning should not be very nicely distinguished, since they are in some cases confounded even by logicians. We are taught in logic, that judgment is expressed by one proposition, but that rea- soning requires two or three. But so various are the modes of speech, that what in one mode is expressed by two or three propositions, may, in another mode, be ex- pressed by one. Thus I may say, God is pood ; therefore good men shall be happy. This is reasoning, of that kind which logi- cians call an enthymeme, consisting of an antecedent proposition, and a conclusion drawn from it.* But this reasoning may * Theenthymeuieisamere abbreviation of expres- sion; in the mental process there is no ellipsis. By 476 ON THE INTELLECTUAL POWERS. [essay VII. be expressed by one proposition, thus : — Because God is good, good men shall be happy. This is what they call a causal proposition, and therefore expresses judg- ment ; yet the enthyraeme, which is reason- ing, expresses no more. Reasoning, as well as judgment, must be true or false : both are grounded upon evi- dence which may be probable or demonstra- tive, and both are accompanied with assent or belief. [673] The power of reasoning is justly accounted one of the prerogatives of human nature ; because by it many important truths have been and may be discovered, which with- out it would be beyond our reach ; yet it seems to be only a kind of crutch to a limited understanding. We can conceive an understanding, superior to human, to which that truth appears intuitively, which we can only discover by reasoning. For this cause, though we must ascribe judg- ment to the Almighty, we do not ascribe reasoning to him, because it implies some defect or limitation of understanding. Even among men, to use reasoning in things that are self-evident, is trifling ; like a man going upon crutches when he can walk upon his legs. What reasoning is, can be understood only by a man who has reasoned, and who is capable of reflecting upon this operation of his own mind- We can define it only by synonymous words or phrases, such as in- ferring, drawing a conclusion, and the like. The very notion of reasoning, therefore, can enter into the mind by no other channel than that of reflecting upon the operation of reasoning in our own minds ; and the notions of premises and conclusion, of a syllogism and all its constituent parts, of an enthymeme, sorites, demonstration, pa- ralogism, and many others, have the same origin. It is nature, undoubtedly, that gives us the capacity of reasoning. When this is wanting, no art nor education can supply it. But this capacity may be dormant through life, like the seed of a plant, which, for want of heat and moisture, never vegetates- This is probably the case of some savages. Although the capacity be purely the gift of nature, and probably given in very dif- ferent degrees to different persons ; yet the power of reasoning seems to be got by habit, as much as the power of walking or running. Its first exertions we are not able to recol- lect in ourselves, or clearly to discern in others. They are very feeble, and need to be led by example, and supported by autho- rity. By degrees it acquires strength, chiefly by means of imitation and exer- cise. [674] enthymeme, Aristotle also meant something very dif- ferent trom what is vulgarly supposed.— H. The exercise of reasoning on various sub- jects not only strengthens the faculty, but furnishes the mind with a store of materials. Every train of reasoning, which is familiar, becomes a beaten track in the way to many others. It removes many obstacles which lay in our way, and smooths many roads which we may have occasion to travel in future disquisitions. When men of equal natural parts apply their reasoning power to any subject, the man who has reasoned much on the same or on similar subjects, has a like advantage over him who has not, as the mechanic who has store of tools for his work, has of him who has his tools to make, or even to invent. In a train of reasoning, the evidence of every step, where nothing is left to be sup- plied by the reader or hearer, must be im- mediately discernible to every man of ripe understanding who has a distinct compre- hension of the premises and conclusion, and who compares them together. To be able to comprehend, in one view, a combination of steps of this kind, is more difficult, and seems to require a superior natural ability. In all, it may~be much improved by habit. But the highest talent in reasoning is the invention of proofs; by which, truths re- mote from the premises are brought to light. In all works of understanding, invention has the highest praise : it requires an ex- tensive view of what relates to the subject, and a quickness in discerning those affinities and relations which may be subservient to the purpose. In all invention there must be some end in view : and sagacity in finding out the road that leads to this end, is, I think, what we call invention. In this chiefly, as I ap- prehend, and in clear and distinct concep- tions, consists that superiority of under- standing which we call genius. [675] In every chain of reasoning, the evidence of the last conclusion can be no greater than that of the weakest link of the chain, what- ever may be the strength of the rest. The most remarkable distinction of rea- sonings is, that some are probable, others demonstrative. In every step of demonstrative reason- ing, the inference is necessary, and we per- ceive it to be impossible that the conclusion should not follow from the premises. In probable reasoning, the connection between the premises and the conclusion is not neces- sary, nor do we perceive it to be impossible that the first should be true while the last is false. Hence, demonstrative reasoning has no degrees, nor can one demonstration be stronger than another, though, in relation to our faculties, one may be more easily comprehended than another. Every de- [673-675] chap, i.] OF REASONING, AND OF DEMONSTRATION. 477 monstration gives equal strength to the con- clusion, and' leaves no possibility of its being false. It was, I think, the opinion of all the ancients, that demonstrative reasoning can be applied only to truths that are necessary, and not to those that are contingent. In this, I believe, they judged right. Of all created things, the existence, the attributes, and, consequently, the relations resulting from those attributes, are contingent. They depend upon the will and power of Him who made them. These are matters of fact, and admit not of demonstration. The field of demonstrative reasoning, therefore, is the various relations of things abstract, that is, of things which we con- ceive, without regard to their existence. Of these, as they are conceived by the mind, and are nothing but what they are conceived to be, we may have a clear and adequate comprehension. Their relations and attri- butes are necessary and immutable. They are the things to which the Pythagoreans and Platonists gave the name of ideas. I would beg leave to borrow this meaning of the word idra from those ancient philoso- phers, and then I must agree with them, that ideas are the only objects about which we can reason demonstratively. [676] There are many even of our ideas about which we can carry on no considerable train of reasoning. Though they be ever so well defined and perfectly comprehended, yet their agreements and disagreements are few, and these are discerned at once. We may go a step or two in forming a conclusion with regard to such objects, but can go no farther. There are others, about which we may, by a long train of demonstrative rea- soning, arrive at conclusions very remote and unexpected. The reasonings I have met with that can be called strictly demonstrative, may, I think, be reduced to two classes. They are either metaphysical, or they are mathe- matical. In metaphysical reasoning, the process is always short. The conclusion is but a step or two, seldom more, from the first principle or axiom on which it is grounded, and the different conclusions depend not one upon another. It is otherwise in mathematical reason- ing. Here the field has no limits. One proposition leads on to another, that to a third, and so on without end. If it should be asked, why demonstrative reasoning has so wide a field in mathema- tics, while, in other abstract subjects, it is confined within very narrow limits, I con- ceive this is chiefly owing to the nature of quantity, the object of mathematics. Every quantity, as it has magnitude, and is divisible into parts without end, so, in [676-678] respect of its magnitude, it has a certain ratio to every quantity of the kind. The ratios of quantities are innumerable, such as, a half, a third, a tenth, double, triple. [677] All the powers of number are in- sufficient to express the variety of ratios. For there are innumerable ratios which cannot be perfectly expressed by numbers, such as, the ratio of the side to the diagonal of a square, or of the circumference of a circle to the diameter. Of this infinite variety of ratios, every one may be clearly conceived and distinctly expressed, so as to be in no danger of being mistaken for any other. Extended quantities, such as lines, sur- faces, solids, besides the variety of relations they have in respect of magnitude, have no less variety in respect of figure ; and every mathematical figure may be accurately defined, so as to distinguish it from all others. There is nothing of this kind in other objects of abstract reasoning. Some of them have various degrees ; but these are not capable of measure, nor can be said to have an assignable ratio to others of the kind. They are either simple, or com- pounded of a few indivisible parts ; and therefore, if we may be allowed the expres- sion, can touch only in few points. But mathematical quantities being made up of parts without number, can touch in innu- merable points, and be compared in innu- merable different ways. There have been attempts made to mea- sure the merit of actions by the ratios of the affections and principles of action from which they proceed. 'This may perhaps, in the way of analogy, serve to illustrate what was before known ; but I do not think any truth can be discovered in this way. There are, no doubt, degrees of benevolence, self-love, and other affections ; but, when we apply ratios to them, I apprehend we have no distinct meaning. Some demonstrations are called direct, others indirect. The first kind leads directly to the conclusion to be proved. Of the indirect, some are called demonstrations ad absurd 'um. In these, the proposition con- tradictory to that which is to be proved is demonstrated to be false, or to lead to an absurdity ; whence it follows, that its con- tradictory — that is, the proposition to be proved — is true. This inference is grounded upon an axiom in logic, that of two contra- dictory propositions, if one be false, the other must be true.* [678] Another kind of indirect demonstration proceeds by enumerating all the supposi- tions that can possibly be made concerning the proposition to be proved, and then * This is called the principle of Excluded Middle— riz., between two contradictories. — H 478 ON THE INTELLECTUAL POWERS. [_ESSAY VII. demonstrating that all of them, excepting that which is to be proved, are false ; whence it follows, that the excepted supposition is true. Thus, one line is proved to be equal to another, by proving first that it cannot be greater, and then that it cannot be less : for it must be either greater, or less, or equal ; and two of these suppositions being demon- strated to be false, the third must be true. All these kinds of demonstration are used in mathematics, and perhaps some others. They have all equal strength. The direct demonstration is preferred where it can be had, for this reason only, as I apprehend, because it is the shortest road to the con- clusion. The nature of the evidence, and its strength, is the same in all : ouly we are conducted to it by different roads. CHAPTER II. WHETHER MORALITY BE CAPABLE OF DEMONSTRATION. What has been said of demonstrative reasoning, may help us to judge of an opi- nion of Mr Locke, advanced in several places of his Essay — to wit, " That morality is capable of demonstration as well as mathe- matics." In book III., chap. 11, having observed that mixed modes, especially thcfee belong- ing to morality, being such combinations of ideas as the mind puts together of its own choice, the signification of their names may be perfectly and exactly defined, he adds— [679] Sect. 16. " Upon this ground it is that I am bold to think that morality is capable of demonstration as well as mathematics ; since the precise real essence of the things moral words stand for may be perfectly known, and so the congruity or incongruity of the things themselves be certainly discovered, in which consists perfect knowledge. Nor let any one object, That the names of sub- stances are often to be made use of in mo- rality, as well as those of modes, from which will arise obscurity ; for, as to sub- stances, when concerned in moral dis- courses, their divers natures are not so much inquired into as supposed : v. g. When we say that man is subject to law, we mean nothing by man but a corporeal rational creature : what the real essence or other qualities of that creature are, in this case, is no way considered." Again, in book IV., ch. in., § 18 : — " The idea of a Supreme Being, whose workman- ship we are, and the idea of ourselves, being such as are clear in us, would, I suppose, if duly considered and pursued, afford such foundation of our duty and rules of action as might place morality among the sciences capable of demonstration. The relation of other modes may certainly be perceived, as well as those of number and extension ; and I cannot see why they should not be cap- able of demonstration, if due methods were thought on to examine or pursue their agreement or disagreement." He afterwards gives, as instances, two propositions, as moral propositions of which we may be as certain as of any in mathe- matics ; and considers at large what may have given the advantage to the ideas of quantity, and made them be thought more capable of certainty and demonstration. [ 680 ] Again, in the 12th chapter of the same book, § 7, 8 : — " This, I think, I may say, that, if other ideas that are the real as we'll as nominal essences of their several species were pursued in the way familiar to mathe- maticians, they would carry our thoughts farther, and with greater evidence and clearness, than possibly we are apt to ima- gine. This gave me the confidence to advance that conjecture which I suggest, chap iii viz., That morality is capable of demonstration as well as mathematics." From these passages, it appears that this opinion was not a transient thought, but what he had revolved in his mind on dif- ferent occasions. He offers his reasons for it, illustrates it by examples, and considers at length the causes that have led men to think mathematics more capable of demon- stration than the principles of morals. Some of his learned correspondents, par- ticularly his friend Mr Molyneux, urged and importuned him to compose a system of morals according to the idea he had ad- vanced in his Essay ; and, in his answer to these solicitations, he only pleads other oc- cupations, without suggesting any change of his opinion, or any great difficulty in the execution of what was desired. The reason he gives for this opinion is ingenious ; and his regard for virtue, the highest prerogative of the human species, made him fond of an opinion which seemed to be favourable to virtue, and to have a just foundation in reason. We need not, however, be afraid that the interest of virtue may suffer by a free and candid examination of this question, or in- deed of any question whatever. For the interests of truth and of virtue can never be found in opposition. Darkness and error may befriend vice, but can never be favour- able to virtue. [681] Those philosophers who think that our determinations in morals are not real judg- ments — that right and wrong in human con- duct are only certain feelings or sensations in the person who contemplates the action — must reject Mr Locke's opinion without examination. For, if the principles of mo- rals be not a matter of judgment, but of [679-681] chap, ii.] WHETHER MORALITY BE DEMONSTRABLE. 479 feeling only, there can be no demonstration of them ; nor can any other reason be given for them, but that men are so constituted by the Author of their being as to contem- plate with pleasure the actions we call vir- tuous, and with disgust those we call vicious. It is not, therefore, to be expected that the philosophers of this class should think this opinion of Mr Locke worthy of ex- amination, since it is founded upon what they think a false hypothesis. But if our determinations in morality be real judg- ments, and, like all other judgments, be either true or false, it is not unimportant to understand upon what kind of evidence those judgments rest. The argument offered by Mr Locke, to shew that morality is capable of demon- stration, is, " That the precise real essence of the things moral words stand for, may be perfectly known, and so the congruity or incongruity of the things themselves be perfectly discovered, in -which consists per- fect knowledge." . It is true, that the field of demonstration is the various relations of things conceived abstractly, of which we may have perfect and adequate conceptions. And Mr Locke, taking all the things which moral words stand for to be of this kind, concluded that morality is as capable of demonstration as mathematics. I acknowledge that the names of the virtues and vices, of right and obligation, of liberty and property, stand for things abstract, which may be accurately denned, or, at least, conceived as distinctly and adequatelyas mathematical quantities. And thence, indeed, it follows, that their mutual relations may be perceived as clearly and certainly as mathematical truths. [682] Of this Mr Locke gives two pertinent examples. The first — " Where there is no property, there is no injustice, is," says he, " a proposition as certain as any demon- stration in Euclid." When injustice is defined to be a viola- tion of property, it is as necessary a truth, that there can be no injustice where there is no property, as that you cannot take from a man that which he has not. The second example is, " That no government allows absolute liberty." This is a truth no less certain and necessary. Such abstract truths I would call meta- physical rather than moral. We give the name of mathematical to truths that ex- press the relations of quantities considered abstractly ; all other abstract truths may be called metaphysical. But if those men- tioned by Mr Locke are to be called moral truths, I agree with him that there are many such that are necessarily true, and that have all the evidence that mathemati- cal truths can have. f682, 683] It ought, however, to be remembered, that, as was before observed, the relations of things abstract, perceivable by us, ex- cepting those of mathematical quantities, are few, and, for the most part, immediately discerned, so as not to require that train of reasoning which we call demonstration. Their evidence resembles more that of mathematical axioms than mathematical propositions. This appears in the two propositions given as examples by Mr Locke. The first follows immediately from the definition of injustice ; the second from the definition of government. Their evidence may more properly be called intuitive than demon- strative. And this I apprehend to be the case, or nearly the case, of all abstract truths that are not mathematical, for the reason given in the last chapter. [683] The propositions which I think are pro- perly called moral, are those that affirm some moral obligation to be, or not to be incumbent on one or more individual per- sons. To such propositions, Mr Locke's reasoning does not apply, because the sub- jects of the proposition are not things whose real essence may be perfectly known. They are the creatures of God ; their obligation results from the constitution which God hath given them, and the circumstances in which he hath placed them. That an individual hath such a constitution, and is placed in such circumstances, is not an abstract and necessary, but a contingent truth. It is a matter of fact, and, there- fore, not capable of demonstrative evidence, which belongs only to necessary truths. The evidence which every man hath of his own existence, though it be irresistible, is not demonstrative. And the same thing may be said of the evidence which every man hath, that he is a moral agent, and under certain moral obligations. In like manner, the evidence we have of the exist- ence of other men, is not demonstrative ; nor is the evidence we have of their being endowed with those faculties which make them moral and accountable agents. If man had not the faculty given him by God of perceiving certain things in conduct to be right, and others to be wrong, and of perceiving his obligation to do what is right, and not to do what is wrong, he would not be a moral and accountable being. If man be endowed with such a faculty, there must be some things which, by this faculty, are immediately discerned to be right, and others to be wrong ; and, there- fore, there must be in morals, as in other sciences, first principles which do not de- rive their evidence from any antecedent principles, but may be said to be intuitively discerned. Moral truths, therefore, may be divided 480 ON THE INTELLECTUAL POWERS. [essay VII. into two classes — to wit, such as are self- evident to every man whose understanding and moral faculty are ripe, and such as are deduced by reasoning from those that are self-evident. If the first be not discerned without reasoning, the last never can be so by any reasoning. [684] If any man could say, with sincerity, that he is conscious of no obligation to consult his own present and future happiness ; to be faithful to his engagements ; to obey his Maker ; to injure no man ; I know not what reasoning, either probable or demon- strative, I could use to convince him of any moral duty. As you cannot reason in mathematics with a man who denies the axioms, as little can you reason with a man in morals who denies the first principles of morals. The man who does not, by the light of his own mind, perceive some things in conduct to be right, and others to be wrong, is as incapable of reasoning about morals as a blind man is about colours. Such a man, if any such man ever wa«, would be no moral agent, nor capable of any moral obligation. Some first principles of morals must be immediately discerned, otherwise we have no foundation on which others can rest, or from which we can reason. Every man knows certainly, that, what he approves in other men, he ought to do in like circumstances, and that he ought not to do what he condemns in other men. Every man knows that he ought, with candour, to use the best means of knowing his duty. To every man who has a conscience, these things are self-evident. They are imme- diate dictates of our moral faculty, which is a part of the human constitution ; and every man condemns himself, whether he w r ill or not, when he knowingly acts contrary to them. The evidence of these fundamental principles of morals, and of others that might be named, appears, therefore, to me to be intuitive rather than demonstrative. The man who acts according to the dic- tates of his conscience, and takes due pains to be rightly informed of his duty, is a per- fect man with regard to morals, and merits no blame, whatever may be the imperfec- tions or errors of his understanding. He who knowingly acts contrary to them, is conscious of guilt, and self-condemned. Every particular action that falls evidently within the fundamental rules of morals, is evidently his duty ; and it requires no rea- soning to convince him that it is so. [685] Thus, I think it appears, that every man of common understanding knows certainly, and without reasoning, the ultimate ends he ought to pursue, and that reasoning is necessary only to discover the most proper means of attaining them ; and in this, in- deed, a good man may often be in doubt. Thus, a magistrate knows that it is his duty to promote the good of the community which hath intrusted him with authority ; and to offer to prove this to him by reason- ing, would be to affront him. But whether such a scheme of conduct in his office, or another, may best serve that end, he may in many cases be doubtful. I believe, in such cases, he can very rarely have demon- strative evidence. His conscience deter- mines the end he ought to pursue, and he has intuitive evidence that his end is good ; but prudence must determine the means of attaining that end ; and prudence can very rarely use demonstrative reasoning, but must rest in what appears most proba- ble. I apprehend, that, in every kind of duty we owe to God or man, the case is similar — that is, that the obligation of the most general rules of duty is self-evident ; that the application of those rules to particular actions is often no less evident ; and that, when it is not evident, but requires reason- ing, that reasoning can very rarely be of the demonstrative, but must be of the pro- bable kind. Sometimes it depends upon the temper, and talents, and circumstances of the man himself; sometimes upon the character and circumstances of others ; sometimes upon both ; and these are things which admit not of demonstration. [686 J Every man is bound to employ the talents which God hath given him to the best pur- pose ; but if, through accidents which he could not foresee, or ignorance which was invincible, they be less usefully employed than they might have been, this will not be imputed to him by his righteous Judge. It is a common and a just observation, that the man of virtue plays a surer game in order to obtain his end than the man of the world. It is not, however, because he reasons better concerning the means of attaining his end ; for the children of this world are often wiser in their generation than the children of light. But the reason of the observation is, that involuntary errors, unforeseen accidents, and invincible ignorance, which affect deeply all the con- cerns of the present world, have no effect upon virtue or its reward. In the common occurrences of life, a man of integrity, who hath exercised his moral faculty in judging what is right and what is wrong, sees his duty without reasoning, as he sees the highway. The cases that require reasoning are few, compared with those that require none ; and a man may be_ very honest and virtuous who cannot reason, and who knows not what demon- stration means. The power of reasoning, in those that have it, may be abused in morals, as in other matters. To a man who uses it with [684-686] CHAP. III.] OF PROBABLE REASONING. 481 an upright heart, and a single eye to find what is his duty, it will be of great use ; but when it is used to justify what a man has a strong inclination to do, it will only serve to deceive himself and others. When a man can reason, his passions will reason, and they are the most cunning sophists we meet with. If the rules of virtue were left to be dis- covered by demonstrative reasoning, or by reasoning of any kind, sad would be the condition of the far greater part of men, who have not the means of cultivating the power of reasoning. As virtue is the busi- ness of all men, the first principles of it are written in their hearts, in characters so legible that no man can pretend ignorance of them, or of his obligation to practise them. [687] Some knowledge of duty and of moral obligation is necessary to all men. With- out it they could not be moral and account- able creatures, nor capable of being mem- bers of civil society. It may, therefore, be presumed that Nature has put this knowledge within the reach of all men. Reasoning and demonstration are weapons which the greatest part of mankind never was able to wield. The knowledge that is necessary to all, must be attainable by all. We see it is so in what pertains to the natural life of man. Some knowledge of things that are useful and things that are hurtful, is so necessary to all men, that without it the species would soon perish. But it is not by reasoning that this knowledge is got, far less by de- monstrative reasoning. It is by our senses, by memory, by experience, by information ; means of knowledge that are open to all men, and put the learned and the unlearned, those who can reason and those who can- not, upon a level. It may, therefore, be expected, from the analogy of nature, that such a knowledge of morals as is necessary to all men should be had by means more suited to the abili- ties of all men than demonstrative reason- ing is. This, I apprehend, is in fact the case. When men's faculties are ripe, the first principles of morals, into which all moral reasoning may be resolved, are perceived intuitively, and in a manner more analogous to the perceptions of sense than to the con- clusions of demonstrative reasoning. [688] Upon the whole, I agree with Mr Locke, that propositions expressing the congruities and incongruities of things abstract, which moral words stand for, may have all the evidence of mathematical truths. But this is not peculiar to things which moral words stand for. It is common to abstract pro- positions of every kind. For instance, you cannot take from a man what he has not. [697-689] A man cannot be bound and perfectly free at the same time. I think no man will call these moral truths ; but they are neces- sary truths, and as evident as any in mathe- matics. Indeed, they are very nearly allied to the two which Mr Locke gives as in- stances of moral propositions capable of demonstration. Of such abstract proposi- tions, I think it may more properly be said that they have the evidence of mathemati- cal axioms, than that they are capable of demonstration. There are propositions of another kind, which alone deserve the name of moral pro- positions. They are such as affirm some- thing to be the duty of persons that really exist. These are not abstract propositions ; and, therefore, Mr Locke's reasoning does not apply to them. The truth Of all such propositions depends upon the constitution and circumstances of the persons to whom they are applied. Of such propositions, there are some that are self-evident to every man that has a conscience ; and these are the principles from which all moral reasoning must be drawn. They may be called the axioms of morals. But our reasoning from these axioms to any duty that is not self-evident can very rarely be demonstrative. Nor is this any detriment to the cause of virtue, because to act against what appears most probable in a matter of duty, is as real a trespass against the first principles of morality, as to act against demonstration ; and, because he who has but one talent in reasoning, and makes the proper use of it, shall be ac- cepted, as well as he to whom God has given ten. [689] CHAPTER III. OF PROBABLE REASONING. The field of demonstration, as has been observed, is necessary truth : the field of probable reasoning is contingent truth — not what necessarily must be at all times, but what is, or was, or shall be. No contingent truth is capable of strict demonstration ; but necessary truths may sometimes have probable evidence. Dr Wallis discovered many important mathematical truths, by that kind of induc- tion which draws a general conclusion from particular premises. This is not strict de- monstration, but, in some cases, gives as full conviction as demonstration itself ; and a man may be certain, that a truth is de- monstrable before it ever has been demon- strated. In other cases, a mathematical proposition may have such probable evi- dence from induction or analogy as en- courages the mathematician to investigate 21 482 ON THE INTELLECTUAL POWERS. [essay VII. its demonstration. But still the reasoning, proper to mathematical and other necessary truths, is demonstration ; and that which is proper to contingent truths, is probable reasoning. These two kinds of reasoning differ in other respects. In demonstrative reason- ing, one argument is as good as a thousand- One demonstration may be more elegant than another ; it may be more easily com- prehended, or it may be more subservient to some purpose beyond the present. On any of these accounts it may deserve a preference : but then it is sufficient by it- self ; it needs no aid from another ; it can receive none. To add more demonstrations of the same conclusion, would be a kind of tautology in reasoning ; because one de- monstration, clearly comprehended, gives all the evidence we are capable of receiv- ing. [690] The strength of probable reasoning, for the most part, depends not upon any one argument, but upon many, which unite their force, and lead to the same conclusion. Any one of them by itself would be insuf- ficient to convince ; but the whole taken together may have a force that is irresistible, so that to desire more evidence would be absurd. Would any man seek new argu- ments to prove that there were such persons as King Charles I. or Oliver Cromwell ? Such evidence may be compared to a rope made up of many slender filaments twisted together. The rope has strength more than sufficient to bear the stress laid upon it, though no one of the filaments of which it is composed would be sufficient for that purpose. It is a common observation, that it is unreasonable to require demonstration for things which do not admit of it. It is no less unreasonable to require reasoning of any kind for things which are known with- out reasoning. All reasoning must be grounded upon truths which are known without reasoning. In every branch of real knowledge there must be first principles whose truth is known intuitively, without reasoning, either probable or demonstrative. They are not grounded on reasoning, but all reasoning is grounded on them. It has been shewn, that there are first principles of necessary truths, and first principles of contingent truths. Demonstrative reason- ing is grounded upon the former, and pro- bable reasoning upon the latter. That we may not be embarrassed by the ambiguity of words, it is proper to observe, that there is a popular meaning of probable evidence, which ought not to be confounded with the philosophical meaning, above ex- plained. [691] In common language, probable evidence is considered as an inferior degree of evi- dence, and is opposed to certainty : so that what is certain is more than probable, and what is only probable is not certain. Phi- losophers consider probable evidence, not as a degree, but as a species of evidence, which is opposed, not to certainty, but to another species of evidence, called demon- stration. Demonstrative evidence has no degrees ; but probable evidence, taken in the philo- sophical sense, has all degrees, from the very least to the greatest, which we call certainty. That there is such a city as Rome, I am as certain as of any proposition in Euclid ; but the evidence is not demonstrative, but of that kind which philosophers call pro- bable. Yet, in common language, it would sound oddly to say, it is probable there is such a city as Rome, because it would imply some degree of doubt or uncertainty. Taking probable evidence, therefore, in the philosophical sense, as it is opposed to demonstrative, it may have any degrees of evidence, from the least to the greatest. I think, in most cases, we measure the degrees of evidence by the effect they have upon a sound understanding, when com- prehended clearly and without prejudice. Every degree of evidence perceived by the mind, produces a proportioned degree of assent or belief. The judgment may be in perfect suspense between two contradictory opinions, when there is no evidence for either, or equal evidence for both. The least preponderancy on one side inclines the judgment in proportion. Belief is mixed with doubt, more or less, until we come to the highest degree of evidence, when all doubt vanishes, and the belief is firm and immovable. This degree of evidence, the highest the human faculties can attain, we call certainty. [692] Probable evidence not only differs in kind from demonstrative, but is itself of different kinds. The chief of these I shall mention, without pretending to make a complete enumeration. The first kind is that of human testimony, upon which the greatest part of human knowledge is built. The faith of history depends upon it, as well as the judgment of solemn tribunals, with regard to men's acquired rights, and with regard to their guilt or innocence, when they are charged with crimes. A great part of the business of the judge, of counsel at the bar, of the historian, the critic, and the antiquarian, is to canvass and weigh this kind of evidence ; and no man can act with common prudence in the ordinary occurrences of life, who has not some competent judgment of it. The belief we give to testimony, in many cases, is not solely grounded upon the vera- [690-692] CHAP, in.] OF PROBABLE REASONING. 483 city of the testifier. In a single testimony, we consider the motives a man might have to falsify. If there be no appearance of any such motive, much more if there be motives on the other side, his testimony has weight independent of his moral character. If the testimony be circumstantial, we con- sider how far the circumstances agree to- gether, and with things that are known. It is so very difficult to fabricate a story which cannot be detected by a judicious examination of the circumstances, that it acquires evidence by being able to bear such a trial. There is an art in detecting false evidence in judicial proceedings, well known to able judges and barristers ; so that I believe few false witnesses leave the bar without suspicion of their guilt. When there is an agreement of many witnesses, in a great variety of circum- stances, without the possibility of a previous concert, the evidence may be equal to that of demonstration. [693] A second kind of probable evidence, is the authority of those who are good judges of the point in question. The supreme court of judicature of the British nation, is often determined by the opinion of lawyers in a point of law, of physicians in a point of medicine, and of other artists, in what re- lates to their several professions. And, in the common affairs of life, we frequently rely upon the judgment of others, in points of which we are not proper judges our- selves. A third kind of probable evidence, is that by which we recognise the identity of things and persons of our acquaintance. That two swords, two horses, or two persons, may be so perfectly alike as not to be distinguish- able by those to whom they are best known, cannot be shewn to be impossible. But we learn either from nature, orfrom experience, that it never happens ; or so very rarely, that a person or thing, well known to us, is immediately recognised without any doubt, when we perceive the marks or signs by which we were in use to distinguish it from all other individuals of the kind. This evidence we rely upon in the most important affairs of life ; and, by this evi- dence, the identity, both of things and of persons, is determined in courts of judica- ture. A fourth kind of probable evidence, is that which we have of men's future actions and conduct, from the general principles of action in man, or from our knowledge of the individuals. Notwithstanding the folly and vice that are to be found among men, there is a certain degree of prudence and probity which we rely upon in every man that is not insane. If it were not so, no man would be safe in the company of another, and there could be [693-695] no society among mankind. If men were as much disposed to hurt as to do good, to lie as to speak truth, they could not live to- gether ; they would keep at as great dis- tance from one another as possible, and the race would soon perish. [694] We expect that men will take some care of themselves, of their family, friends, and reputation ; that they will not injure others without some temptation ; that they will have some gratitude for good offices, and some resentment of injuries. Such maxims with regard to human con- duct, are the foundation of all political rea- soning, and of common prudence in the con- duct of life. Hardly can a man form any project in public or in private life, which does not depend upon the conduct of other men, as well as his own, and which does not go upon the supposition that men will act such a part in such circumstances. This evidence may be probable in a very high degree ; but can never be demonstrative. The best concerted project may fail, and wise counsels may be frustrated, because some individual acted a part which it would have been against all reason to expect. Another kind of probable evidence, the counterpart of the last, is that by which we collect men's characters and designs from their actions, speech, and other external signs. We see not men's hearts, nor the prin- ciples by which they are actuated ; but there are external signs of their principles and dispositions, which, though not certain, may sometimes be more trusted than their professions ; and it is from external signs that we must draw all the knowledge we can attain of men's characters. The next kind of probable evidence I mention, is that which mathematicians call the probability of chances. We attribute some events to chance, be cause we know only the remote cause which must produce some one event of a num- ber ; but know not the more immediate cause which determines a particular event of that number in preference to the others. [695] I think all the chances about which we rea- son in mathematics are of this kind. Thus, in throwing a just die upon a table, we say it is an equal chance which of the six sides shall be turned up ; because neither the person who throws, nor the bystanders, know the precise measure of force and di- rection necessary to turn up any one side rather than another. There are here, there- fore six events, one of which must happen ; and as all are supposed to have equal pro- bability, the probability of any one side being turned up, the ace, for instance, is as one to the remaining number, five. The probability of turning up two aces 2 I 2 484 ON THE INTELLECTUAL POWERS. [essay VII. with two dice is as one to thirty-five ; because here there are thirty-six events, each of which has equal probability. Upon such principles as these, the doc- trine of chances has furnished a field of de- monstrative reasoning of great extent, al- though the events about which this reason- ing is employed be not necesssary, but con- tingent, and be not certain, but probable.- This may seem to contradict a principle before advanced, that contingent truths are not capable of demonstration ; but it does not : for, in the mathematical reasonings about chance, the conclusion demonstrated, is not, that such an event shall happen, but that the probability of its happening bears such a ratio to the probability of its failing ; and this conclusion is necessary upon the suppositions on which it is grounded. The last kind of probable evidence I shall mention, is that by which the known laws of Nature have been discovered, and the effects which have been produced by them in former ages, or which may be expected in time to come. The laws of Nature are the rules by which the Supreme Being governs the world. We deduce them only from facts that fall within our own observation, or are properly attested by those who have observed them. [696] The knowledge of some of the laws of nature is necessary to all men in the con- duct of life. These are soon discovered even by savages. They know that fire burns, that water drowns, that bodies gra- vitate towards the earth. They know that day and night, summer and winter, regu- larly succeed each other. As far back as their experience and information reach, they know that these have happened regu- larly ; and, upon this ground, they are led, by the constitution of human nature, to ex- pect that they will happen in time to come, in like circumstances. The knowledge which the philosopher attains of the laws of Nature differs from that of the vulgar, not in the first principles on which it is grounded, but in its extent and accuracy. He collects with care the phenomena that lead to the same conclu- sion, and compares them with those that seem to contradict or to limit it. He ob- serves the circumstances on which every phenomenon depends, and distinguishes them carefully from those that are accident- ally conjoined with it. He puts natural bodies in various situations, and applies them to one another in various ways, on purpose to observe the effect ; and thus ac- quires from his senses a more extensive knowledge of the course of Nature in a short time, than could be collected by casual ob- servation in many ages. But what is the result of his laborious researches ? It is, that, as far as he has been able to observe, such things have always happened in such circumstances, and such bodies have always been found to have such properties. These are matters of fact, attested by sense, memory, and testimony, just as the few facts which the vulgar know are attested to them. And what conclusions does the philoso. pher draw from the facts he has collected ? They are, that like events have happened in former times in like circumstances, and will happen in time to come ; and these con- clusions are built on the very same ground on which the simple rustic concludes that the sun will rise to-morrow. [697] Facts reduced to general rules, and the consequences of those general rules, are all that we really know of the material world. And the evidence that such general rules have no exceptions, as well as the evidence that they will be the same in time to come as they have been in time past, can never be demonstrative. It is only that species of evidence which philosophers call probable. General rules may have exceptions or limit- ations which no man ever had occasion to observe. The laws of nature may be changed by him who established them. But we are led by our constitution to rely upon their continuance with as little doubt as if it was demonstrable. I pretend not to have made a complete enumeration of all the kinds of probable evidence ; but those I have mentioned are sufficient to shew, that the far greatest part, and the most interesting part of our know- ledge, must rest upon evidence of this kind ; and that many things are certain for which we have only that kind of evidence which philosophers call probable. CHAPTER IV. of mr hume's scepticism with regard to REASON. In the " Treatise of Human Nature," book I. part iv. § 1, the author undertakes to prove two points : — First, That all that is called human knowledge (meaning de- monstrative knowledge) is only probability ; and, secondly, That this probability, when duly examined, evanishes by degrees, and leaves at last no evidence at all : so that, in the issue, there is no ground to believe anyone proposition rather than its contrary ; and " all those are certainly fools who reason or believe anything." [698] According to this account, reason, that boasted prerogative of man, and the light of his mind, is an ignis fatuus, which misleads the wandering traveller, and leaves him at last in absolute darkness. How "unhappy is the condition of man, [696-698] chap, iv.] OF MR HUME'S SCEPTICISM ABOUT REASON. 485 born under a necessity of believing contra- dictions, and of trusting to a guide who con- fesses herself to be a false one ! It is some comfort, that this doctrine can never be seriously adopted by any man iu his senses. And after this author had shewn that " all the rules of logic require a total extinction of all belief and evidence," he himself, and all men that are not insane, must have believed many things, and yielded assent to the evidence which he had ex- tinguished. This, indeed, he is so candid as to acknow- ledge. " He finds himself absolutely and necessarily determined, to live and talk and act like other people in the common affairs of life. And since reason is incapable of dispelling these clouds, most fortunately it happens, that nature herself suffices to that purpose, and cures him of this philosophical melancholy and delirium." See § 7- This was surely a very kind and friendly interposition of nature ; for the effects of this philosophical delirium, if carried into life, must have been very melancholy. But what pity is it, that nature, (what- ever is meant by that personage,) so kind in curing this delirium, should be so cruel as to cause it. Doth the same fountain send forth sweet waters and bitter ? Is it not more probable, that, if the cure was the work of nature, the disease came from another hand, and was the work of the philosopher ? [699] To pretend to prove by reasoning that there is no force in reason, does indeed look like a philosophical delirium. It is like a man's pretending to see clearly, that he himself and all other men are blind. A common symptom of delirium is, to think that all other men are fools or mad. This appears to have been the case of our author, who concluded, " That all those are certainly fools who reason or believe any- thing." Whatever was the cause of this delirium, it must be granted that, if it was real and not feigned, it was not to be cured by rea- soning ; for what can be more absurd than to attempt to convince a man by reasoning who disowns the authority of reason. It was, therefore, very fortunate that Nature found other means of curing it. It may, however, not be improper to inquire, whether, as the author thinks, it. was produced by a just application of the rules of logic, or, as others may be apt to think, by the misapplication and abuse of them. First, Because we are fallible, the author infers that all knowledge degenerates into probability. That man, and probably every created being, is fallible ; and that a fallible being cannot have that perfect comprehension f699-701] and assurance of truth which an infallible being has — I think ought to be granted. It becomes a fallible being to be modest, open to new. light, and sensible that, by some false bias, or by rash judging, he may be misled. If this be called a degree of scep- ticism, I cannot help approving of it, being persuaded that the man who makes the best use he can of the faculties which God has given him, without thinking them more per- fect than they really are, may have all the belief that is necessary in the conduct of life, and all that is necessary to his accept- ance with his Maker. [700] It is granted, then, that human judg- ments ought always to be formed with an humble sense of our fallibility in judging. This is all that can be inferred by the rules of logic from our being fallible. And if this be all that is meant by our know- ledge degenerating into probability, I know no person of a different opinion. But it may be observed, that the author here uses the word probability in a sense for which I know no authority but his own. Philosophers understand probability as op- posed to demonstration ; the vulgar as opposed to certainty ; but this author un- derstands it as opposed to infallibility, which no man claims. One who believes himself to be fallible may still hold it to be certain that two and two make four, and that two contradictory propositions cannot both be true. He may believe some things to be probable only, and other things to be demonstrable, with- out making any pretence to infallibility. If we use words in their proper meaning, it is impossible that demonstration should degenerate into probability from the imper- fection of our faculties. Our judgment can- not change the nature of the things about which we judge. What is really demon- stration, will still be so, whatever judgment we form concerning it- It may, likewise, be observed, that, when we mistake that foi demonstration which really is not, the con- sequence of this mistake is, not that de- monstration degenerates into probability, but that what we took to be demonstration is no proof at all ; for one false step in .a demonstration destroys the whole, but can- not turn it into another kind of proof. [701] Upon the whole, then, this first conclu- sion of our author, That the fallibility of human judgment turns all knowledge into probability, if understood literally, is absurd ; but, if it be only a figure of speech, and means no more but that, in all our judg- ments, we ought to be sensible of our falli- bility, and ought to hold our opinions with that modesty that becomes fallible crea- tures — which I take to be what the author meant — this, I think, nobody denies, nor 486 ON THE INTELLECTUAL POWERS. [essay VII was it necessary to enter into a laborious proof of it. One is never in greater danger of trans- gressing against the rules of logic than in attempting to prove what needs no proof. Of this we have an instance in this very case ; for the author begins his proof, that all human judgments are fallible, with af- firming that some are infallible. " In all demonstrative sciences," says he, " the rules are certain and infallible ; but when we apply them, our fallible and uncertain faculties are very apt to depart from them, and fall into error." He had forgot, surely, that the rules of demonstrative sciences are discovered by our fallible and uncertain faculties, and have no authority but that of human judg- ment. If they be infallible, some human judgments are infallible ; and there are many in various branches of human knowledge which have as good a claim to infallibility as the rules of the demonstrative sciences. We have reason here to find fault with our author for not being sceptical enough, as well as for a mistake in reasoning, when he claims infallibility to certain decisions of the human faculties, in order to prove that all their decisions are fallible. The second point which he attempts to prove is, That this probability, when duly examined, suffers a continual diminution, and at last a total extinction. The obvious consequence of this is, that no fallible being can have good reason to believe anything at all ; but let us hear the proof. [702] " In every judgment, we ought to cor- rect the first judgment derived from the nature of the object, by another judgment derived from the nature of the understand- ing. Beside the original uncertainty inher- ent in the subject, there arises another, derived from the weakness of the faculty which judges. Having adjusted these two uncertainties together, we are obliged, by our reason, to add a new uncertainty, de- rived from the possibility of error in the estimation we make of the truth and fidelity of our faculties. This is a doubt of which, if we would closely pursue our reasoning, we cannot avoid giving a decision- But this decision, though it should be favour- able to our preceding judgment, being founded only on probability, must weaken still farther our first evidence. The third uncertainty must, in like manner be criti- cised by a fourth, and so on without end. " Now, as every one of these uncertainties takes away a part of the original evidence, it must at last be reduced to nothing. Let our first belief be ever so strong, it must in- fallibly perish, by passing through so many examinations, each of which carries off somewhat of its force and vigour. No finite object can subsist under a decrease repeated in infinitum. 11 When I reflect on the natural fallibil- ity of my judgment, I have less confidence in my opinions than when I only consider the objects concerning which I reason. And when I proceed still farther, to turn the scru- tiny against every successive estimation I make of my faculties, all the rules of logic require a continual diminution, and at last a total extinction of belief and evidence." This is the author's Achillean argument against the evidence of reason, from which he concludes, that a man who would govern his belief by reason must believe nothing at all, and that belief is an act, not of the co- gitative, but of the sensitive part of our nature. [703] If there be any such thing as motion, (said an ancient Sceptic,*) the swift-footed Achilles could never overtake an old man in a journey. For, suppose the old man to set out a thousand paces before Achilles, and that, while Achilles has travelled the thousand paces, the old man has gone five hundred ; when Achilles has gone the five hundred, the old man has gone two hun- dred and fifty ; and when Achilles has gone the two hundred and fifty, the old man is still one hundred and twenty-five before him. Repeat these estimations in infinitum, and you will still find the old man foremost ; therefore Achilles can never overtake him ; therefore there can be no such thing as motion. The reasoning of the modern Sceptic against reason is equally ingenious, and equally convincing. Indeed, they have a great similarity. If we trace the journey of Achilles two thousand paces, we shall find the very point where the old man is overtaken. But this short journey, by dividing it into an infinite number of stages, with correspond- ing estimations, is made to appear infinite. In like manner, our author, subjecting every judgment to an infinite number of successive probable estimations, reduces the evidence to nothing. To return then to the argument of the modern Sceptic. I examine the proof of a theorem of Euclid. It appears to me to be strict demonstration. But I may have overlooked some fallacy; therefore I ex- amine it again and again, but can find no flaw in it. I find all that have examined it agree with me. I have now that evidence of the truth of the proposition which I and all men call demonstration, and that belief of it which we call certainty. [704] Here my sceptical friend interposes, and assures me, that the rules of logic reduce * Zeno Eleates. He is improperly called, simpti- citer, Sceptic. — H. [702- 70 1] chap, iv.] OF MR HUME'S SCEPTICISM ABOUT REASON. 487 this demonstration to no evidence at all. I am willing to hear what step in it he thinks fallacious, and why. He makes no objec- tion to any part of the demonstration, but pleads my fallibility in judging. I have made the proper allowance for this already, by being open to conviction. But, says he, there are two uncertainties, the first inherent in the subject, which I have already shewn to have only probable evidence ; the second arising from the weakness of the faculty that j udges. I answer, it is the weakness of the faculty only that reduces this demonstra- tion to what you call probability. You must not therefore make it a second uncer- tainty; for it is the same with the first. To take credit twice in an account for the same article is not agreeable to the rules of logic. Hitherto, therefore, there is but one uncertainty — to wit, my fallibility in judging. But, says my friend, you are obliged by reason to add a new uncertainty, derived from the possibility of error in the estima- tion you make of the truth and fidelity of your faculties. I answer — This estimation is ambiguously ex- pressed ; it may either mean an estimation of my liableness to err by the misapplica- tion and abuse of my faculties ; or it may mean an estimation of my liableness to err by conceiving my faculties to be true and faithful, while they may be false and falla- cious in themselves, even when applied in the best manner. I shall consider this estimation in each of these senses. If the first be the estimation meant, it is true that reason directs us, as fallible crea- tures, to carry along with us, in all our judgments, a sense of our fallibility. It is true also, that we are in greater danger of erring in some cases, and less in others ; and that this danger of erring may, accord- ing to the circumstances of the case, admit of an estimation, which we ought likewise to carry along with us in every judgment we form. [705] When a demonstration is short and plain ; when the point to be proved does not touch our interest or our passions ; when the faculty of judging, in such cases, has acquired strength by much exercise — there is less danger of erring ; when the contrary circumstances take place, there is more. In the present case, every circumstance is favourable to the judgment I have formed. There cannot be less danger of erring in any case, excepting, perhaps, when I judge of a self-evident axiom. The Sceptic farther urges, that this deci- sion, though favourable to my first judg- ment, being founded only on probability, must still weaken the evidence of that judg- ment- Here I cannot help being of a quite con- £705, 706"| trary opinion ; nor can I imagine how an ingenious author could impose upon himself so grossly ; for surely he did not intend to impose upon his reader. After repeated examination of a propo- sition of Euclid, I judge it to be strictly demonstrated ; this is my first judgment. But, as I am liable to err from various causes, I consider how far I may have been misled by any of these causes in this judg- ment. My decision upon this second point is favourable to my first judgment, and therefore, as I apprehend, must strengthen it. To say that this decision, because it is only probable, must weaken the first evi- dence, seems to me contrary to all rules of logic, and to common sense. The first judgment may be compared to the testimony of a credible witness ; the second, after a' scrutiny into the character of the witness, wipes off every objection that can be made to it, and therefore surely must confirm and not weaken his testi- mony. [706] But let us suppose, that, in another case, I examine my first judgment upon some point, and find that it was attended with unfavourable circumstances, what, in rea- son, and according to the rules of logic, ought to be the effect of this discovery ? The effect surely will be, and ought to be, to make me less confident in my first judgment, until I examine the point anew in more favourable circumstances. If it be a matter of importance, I return to weigh the evidence of my first judgment. If it was precipitate before, it must now be deliberate in every point. If, at first, I was in passion, I must now be cool. If I had an interest in the decision, I must place the interest on the other side. It is evident that this review of the sub- ject may confirm my first judgment, not- withstanding the suspicious circumstances that attended it. Though the judge was biassed or corrupted, it does not follow that the sentence was unjust. The rectitude of the decision does not depend upon the cha- racter of the judge, but upon the nature of the case. From that only, it must be deter- mined whether the decision be just. The circumstances that rendered it suspicious are mere presumptions, which have no force against direct evidence. Thus, I have considered the effect of this estimation of our liableness to err in our first judgment, and have allowed to it all the effect that reason and the rules of logic permit. In the case I first supposed, and in every case where we can discover no cause of error, it affords a presumption in favour of the first judgment. In other cases, it may afford a presumption against it. But the rules of logic require, that we should not judge by presumptions, where ON THE INTELLECTUAL POWERS. [essay VII. we have direct evidence. The effect of an unfavourable presumption should only be, to make us examine the evidence with the greater care. [707] The sceptic urges, in the last place, that this estimation must be subjected to another estimation, that to another, and so on, in in- finitum ; and as every new estimation takes away from the evidence of the first judg- ment, it must at last be totally annihilated. I answer, first, It has been shewn above, that the first estimation, supposing it un- favourable, can only afford a presumption against the first judgment ; the second, upon the same supposition, will be only the presumption of a presumption ; and the third, the presumption that there is a pre- sumption of a presumption. This infinite series of presumptions resembles an infinite series of quantities, decreasing in geome- trical proportion, which amounts only to a finite sum. The infinite series of stages of Achilles'sjourney after the old man, amounts only to two thousand paces ; nor can this infinite series of presumptions outweigh one solid argument in favour of the first judg- ment, supposing them all to be unfavour- able to it. Secondly, I have shewn, that the estima- tion of our first judgment may strengthen it ; and the same thing may be said of all the subsequent estimations. It would, there- fore, be as reasonable to conclude, that the first judgment will be brought to infallible certainty when this series of estimations is wholly in its favour, as that its evidence will be brought to nothing by such a series supposed to be wholly unfavourable to it. But, in reality, one serious and cool re- examination of the evidence by which our first judgment is supported, has, and in reason ought to have more force to strengthen or weaken it, than an infinite series of such estimations as our author requires. Thirdly, I know no reason nor rule in logic, that requires that such a series of estimations should follow every particular judgment. [708] A wise man, who has practised reasoning, knows that he is fallible, and carries this conviction along with him in every judg- ment he forms. He knows likewise that he is more liable to err in some cases than in others. He has a scale in his mind, by which he estimates his liableness to err, and by this he regulates the degree of his assent in his first judgment upon any point. The author's reasoning supposes, that a man, when he forms his first judgment, conceives himself to be infallible ; that by a second and subsequent judgment, he dis- covers that he is not infallible ; and that by a third judgment, subsequent to the second, he estimates his liableness to err in such a case as the present. If the man proceed in this order. I grant, that his second judgment will, with good reason, bring down the first from supposed infallibility to fallibility ; and that his third judgment will, in some degree, either strengthen or weaken the first, as it is cor- rected by the second. But every man of understanding proceeds in a contrary order. When about to judge in any particular point, he knows already that he is not infallible. He knows what are the cases in which he is most or least liable to err. The conviction of these things is always present to his mind, and influences the degree of his assent in his first judg- ment, as far as to him appears reasonable. If he should afterwards find reason to suspect his first judgment, and desires to have all the satisfaction his faculties can give, reason will direct him not to form such a series of estimations upon estima- tions, as this author requires, but to examine the evidence of his first judgment carefully and coolly ; and this review may very reason- ably, according to its result, either strengthen or weaken, or totally overturn his first judgment. [709] This infinite series of estimations, there- fore, is not the method that reason directs, in order to form our judgment in any case. It is introduced without necessity, without any use but to puzzle the understanding, and to make us think, that to judge, even in the simplest and plainest cases, is a mat- ter of insurmountable difficulty and endless labour ; just as the ancient Sceptic, to make a journey of two thousand paces appear endless, divided it into an infinite number of stages. But we observed, that the estimation which our author requires, may admit of another meaning, which, indeed, is more agreeable to the expression, but inconsist- ent with what he advanced before. By the possibility of error in the estima- tion of the truth and fidelity of our faculties, may be meant, that we may err by esteem- ing our faculties true and faithful, while they may be false and fallacious, even when used according to the rules of reason and logic. If this be meant, I answer, first, That the truth and fidelity of our faculty of judg- ing is, and must be taken for granted in every judgment and in every estimation. If the sceptic can seriously doubt of the truth and fidelity of his faculty of judging when properly used, and suspend his judg- ment upon that point till he finds proof, his scepticism admits of no cure by reasoning, and he must even continue in it until he have new faculties given him, which shall have authority to sit in judgment upon the old. Nor is there any need of an endless succession of doubts upon this subject ; for the first puts an end to all judgment and [707~709"» chap. iv.J OF MR HUME'S SCEPTICISM ABOUT REASON. 489 reasoning, and to the possibility of convic- tion by that means. The sceptic has here got possession of a stronghold, which is im- pregnable to reasoning, and we must leave him in possession of it till Nature, by other means, makes him give it up. [710] Secondly, I observe, that this ground of scepticism, from the supposed infidelity of our faculties, contradicts what the author before advanced in this very argument — to wit, that " the rules of the demonstrative sciences are certain and infallible, and that truth is the natural effect of reason, and that error arises from the irruption of other causes." But, perhaps, he made these concessions unwarily. He is, therefore, at liberty to retract them, and to rest his scepticism upon this sole foundation, That no reasoning can prove the truth and fidelity of our faculties- Here he stands upon firm ground ; for it is evident that every argument offered to prove the truth and fidelity of our faculties, takes for granted the thing in question, and is, therefore, that kind of sophism which logicians call petitio principii. All we would ask of this kind of sceptic is, that he would be uniform and consistent, and that his practice in life do not belie Ids profession of scepticism, with regard to the fidelity of his faculties ; for the want of faith, as well as faith itself, is best shewn by works. If a sceptic avoid the fire as much as those who believe it dangerous to go into it, we can hardly avoid thinking his scepticism to be feigned, and not real. Our author, indeed, was aware, that neither his scepticism nor that of any other person, was able to endure this trial, and, therefore, enters a caveat against it. " Neither I," savs he, " nor any other per- son was ever sincerely and constantly of that opinion. Nature, by an absolute and uncontrollable necessity, has determined us to judge, as well as to breathe and feel. My intention, therefore," says he, " in display- ing so carefully the arguments of that fan- tastic sect, is only to make the reader sen- sible of the truth of my hypothesis, that all our reasonings concerning causes and effects, are derived from nothing but custom, and that belief is more properly an act of the [710-713] sensitive than of the cogitative part of our nature." [711] We have before considered the first part of this hypothesis, Whether our reasoning about causes be derived only from custom ? The other part of the author's hypothesis here mentioned is darkly expressed, though the expression seems to be studied, as it is put in Italics. It cannot, surely, mean that belief is not an act of thinking. It is not, therefore, the power of thinking that he calls the cogitative part of our nature. Neither can it be the power of judging, for all belief implies judgment ; and to believe a proposition means the same thing as to judge it to be true. It seems, therefore, to be the power of reasoning that he calls the cogitative part of our nature. If this be the meaning, I agree to it in part. The belief of first principles is not an act of the reasoning power ; for all rea- soning must be grounded upon them. We judge them to be true, and believe them without reasoning. But why this power of judging of first principles should be called the sensitive part of our nature, I do not understand. As our belief of first principles is an act of pure judgment without reasoning ; so our belief of the conclusions drawn by rea- soning from first principles, may, I think, be called an act of the reasoning faculty. [712] Upon the whole, I see only two conclu- sions that can be fairly drawn from this profound and intricate reasoning against reason. The first is, That we are fallible in all our judgments and in all our reason- ings. The second. That the truth and fidelity of our faculties can never be proved by reasoning ; and, therefore, our belief of it cannot be founded on reasoning. If the last be what the author calls his hypothesis, I subscribe to it, and think it not an hypo- thesis, but a manifest truth ; though I con- ceive it to be very improperly expressed, by saying that belief is more properly an act of the sensitive than of the cogitative part of our nature.* [713] * In the preceding strictures, the Sceptic »«again too often assailed as a Dogmatist. See above p. 444 note * H. 490 ON THE INTELLECTUAL POWERS. [essay viii. ESSAY VIII, OF TASTE. CHAPTER I. OP TASTE IN GENERAL. That power of the mind by which we are capable of discerning and relishing the beauties of Nature, and whatever is excel- lent in the fine arts, is called taste. The external sense of taste, by which we distinguish and relish the various kinds of food, has given occasion to a metaphorical application of its name to this internal power of the mind, by which we perceive what is beautiful and what is deformed or defective in the various objects that we contemplate. Like the taste of the palate, it relishes some things, is disgusted with others ; with regard to many, is indifferent or dubious ; and is considerably influenced by habit, by associations, and by opinion. These obvious analogies between external and internal taste, have led men, in all ages, and in all or most polished languages,* to give the name of the external sense to this power of discerning what is beautiful with pleasure, and what is ugly and faulty in its kind with disgust. [714] In treating of this as an intellectual power of the mind, I intend only to make some observations, first on its nature, and then on its objects. 1 . In the external sense of taste, we are led by reason and reflection to distinguish between the agreeable sensation we feel, and the quality in the object which occasions it. Both have the same name, and on that ac- count are apt to be confounded by the vulgar, and even by philosophers. The sensation I feel when I taste any sapid body is in my mind; but there is a real quality in the body which is the cause of this sensation. These two things have the same name in language, not from any similitude in their nature, but because the one is the sign of the other, and because there is little occa- sion in common life to distinguish them. This was fully explained in treating of the secondary qualities of bodies. The reason of taking notice of it now is, that the in- ternal power of taste bears a great analogy ra this respect to the external. When a beautiful object is before us, we * 1 his is hardly correct.— H. may distiuguish the agreeable emotion it produces in us, from the quality of the ob- ject which causes that emotion. When I hear an air in music that pleases me, I say, it is fine, it is excellent. This excellence is not in me; it is in the music. But the pleasure it gives is not in the music ; it is in me. Perhaps I cannot say what it is in the tune that pleases my ear, as I cannot say what it is in a sapid body that pleases my palate ; but there is a quality in the sapid body which pleases my palate, and I call it a delicious taste ; and there is a quality in the tune that pleases my taste,, and I call it a fine or an excellent air. This ought the rather to be observed, because it is become a fashion among mo- dern philosophers, to resolve all our percep- tions into mere feelings or sensations in the person that perceives, without anything corresponding to those feelings in the ex- ternal object. [715] According to those philosophers, there is no heat in the fire, no taste in a sapid body ; the taste and the heat being only in the person that feels them.* In like manner, there is no beauty in any object whatsoever ; it is only a sens- ation or feeling in the person that per- ceives it. The language and the common sense of mankind contradict this theory. Even those who hold it, find themselves obliged to use a language that contradicts it. I had occa- sion to shew, that there is no solid founda- tion for it when applied to the secondary qualities of body ; and the same arguments shew equally, that it has no solid foundation when applied to the beauty of objects, or to any of those qualities that are perceived by a good taste. But, though some of the qualities that please a good taste resemble the secondary qualities of body, and therefore may be called occult qualities, as we only feel their effect, and have no more knowledge of the cause, but that it is something which is adapted by nature to produce that effect — this is not always the case. Our judgment of beauty is in many cases more enlightened. A work of art may appear beautiful to the most ignorant, even to a child. It pleases, but he knows not ___^ . * But see, above, p. 205, b, note *, and p. 310, b, note f— H. [714, 715] OF TASTE IN GENERAL. 491 why. To one who understands it perfectly, and perceives how every part is fitted with exact judgment to its end, the beauty is not mysterious ; it is perfectly comprehended ; and he knows wherein it consists, as well as how it affects him. 2. We may observe, that, though all the tastes- we perceive by the palate are either agreeable or disagreeable, or indifferent ; yet, among those that are agreeable, there is great diversity, not in degree only, but in kind. And, as we have not generical names for all the different kinds of taste, we dis- tinguish them by the bodies in which they are found. [716] In like manner, all the objects of our internal taste are either beautiful, or dis- agreeable, or indifferent ; yet of beauty there is a great diversity, not only of degree, but of kind. The beauty of a demonstration, the beauty of a poem, the beauty of a palace, the beauty of a piece of music, the beauty of a fine woman, and many more that might be named, are different kinds of beauty ; and we have no names to distinguish them but the names of the different objects to which they belong. As there is such diversity in the kinds of beauty as well as in the degrees, we need not think it strange that philosophers have gone into different systems in analysing it, and enumerating its simple ingredients. They have made many just observations on the subject ; but, from the love of simplicity, have reduced it to fewer principles than the nature of the thing will permit, having had in their eye some particular kinds of beauty, while they overlooked others. There are moral beauties as well as na- tural ; beauties in the objects of sense, and in intellectual objects ; in the works of men, and in the works of God ; in things inani- mate, in brute animals, and in rational beings ; in the constitution of the body of man, and in the constitution of his mind. There is no real excellence which has not its beauty to a discerning eye, when placed in a proper point of view ; and it is as diffi- cult to enumerate the ingredients of beauty as the ingredients of real excellence. 3. The taste of the palate may be accounted most just and perfect, when we relish the things that are fit for the nourishment of the body, and are disgusted with things of a contrary nature. The manifest intention of nature in giving us this sense, is, that we may discern what it is fit for us to eat and to drink, and what it is not. Brute animals are directed in the choice of their food merely by their taste. [717] Led by this guide, they choose the food that nature intended for them, and seldom make mis- takes, unless they be pinched by hunger, or deceived by artificial compositions. In in- fants likewise the taste is commonly sound [716-718J and uncorrupted, and of the simple produc- tions of nature they relish the things that are most wholesome. In like manner, our internal taste ought to be accounted most just and perfect, when we are pleased with things that are most excellent in their kind, and displeased with the contrary. The intention of nature is no less evident in this internal taste than in the external. Every excellence has a real beauty and charm that makes it an agreeable object to those who have the faculty of discerning its beauty ; and this faculty is what we call a good taste. A man who, by any disorder in his mental powers, or by bad habits, has contracted a relish for what has no real excellence, or what is deformed and defective, has a de- praved taste, like one who finds a more agreeable relish in ashes or cinders than in the most wholesome food. As we must ac- ' knowledge the taste of the palate to be de- praved in this case, there is the same reason to think the taste of the mind depraved in the other. There is therefore a just and rational taste, and there is a depraved and corrupted taste. For it is too evident, that, by bad education, bad habits, and wrong associa- tions, men may acquire a relish for nasti- ness, for rudeness, and ill-breeding, and for many other deformities. To say that such a taste is not vitiated, is no less absurd than to say, that the sickly girl who delights in eating charcoal and tobacco-pipes, has as just and natural a taste as when she is in perfect health. 4. The force of custom, of fancy, and of casual associations, is very great both upon the external and internal taste. An Eski- maux can regale himself with a draught of whale-oil, and a Canadian can feast upon a dog. A Kamschatkadale lives upon putrid fish, and is sometimes reduced to eat the bark of trees. The taste of rum, or of green tea, is at first as nauseous as that of ipeca- cuan, to some persons, who may be brought by use to relish what they once found so disagreeable. [718] When we see such varieties in the taste of the palate produced by custom and as- sociations, and some, perhaps, by constitu- tion, we may be the less surprised that the same causes should produce like varieties in the taste of beauty ; that the African should esteem thick lips and a flat nose ; that other nations should draw out their ears, till they hang over their shoulders ; that in one nation ladies should paint their faces, and in another should make them shine with grease. 5. Those who conceive that there is no standard in nature by which taste may be regulated, and that the common proverb, " That there ought to be no dispute about ON THE INTELLECTUAL POWERS. [essay vm. taste," is to be taken in the utmost latitude, go upon slender and insufficient ground. The same arguments might be used with equal force against any standard of truth. Whole nations by the force of prejudice are brought to believe the grossest absurdi- ties ; and why should it be thought that the taste is less capable of being perverted than the judgment ? It must indeed be acknow- ledged, that men differ more in the faculty of taste than in what we commonly call judgment ; and therefore it may be expected that they should be more liable to have their taste corrupted in matters of beauty and deformity, than their judgment in matters of truth and error. If we make due allowance for this, we shall see that it is as easy to account for the variety of tastes, though there be in nature a standard of true beauty, and con- sequently of good taste, as it is to account for the variety and contrariety of opinions, though there be in nature a standard of of truth, and, consequently, of right judg- ment. [719] 6. Nay, if we speak accurately and strictly, we shall find that, in every opera- tion of taste, there is judgment implied. When a man pronounces a poem or a palace to be beautiful, he affirms something of that poem or that palace ; and every affirmation or denial expresses judgment. For we cannot better define judgment, than by saying that it is an affirmation or denial of one thing concerning another. I had occasion to shew, when treating of judg- ment, that it is implied in every perception of oar external senses. There is an imme- diate conviction and belief of the existence of the quality perceived, whether it be colour, or sound, or figure ; and the same thing holds in the perception of beauty or deformity. If it be said that the perception of beauty is merely a feeling in the mind that per- ceives, without any belief of excellence in the object, the necessary consequence of this opinion is, that when I say Virgil's " Georgics" is a beautiful poem, I mean not to say anything of the poem, but only some- thing concerning myself and my feelings. Why should I use a language that expresses the contrary of what I mean ? My language, according to the necessary rules of construction, can bear no other meaning but this, that there is something in the poem, and not in me, which I call beauty. Even those who hold beauty to be merely a feeling in the person that per- ceives it, find themselves under a necessity of expressing themselves as if beauty were solely a quality of the object, and not of the percipient. No reason can be given why all man- kind should express themselves thus, but that they believe what they say. It is there- fore contrary to the universal sense of mankind, expressed by their language, that beauty is not really in the object, but is merely a feeling in the person who is said to perceive it. Philosophers should be very cautious in opposing the common sense of mankind ; for, when they do, they rarely miss going wrong. [720] Our judgment of beauty is not indeed a dry and unaffecting judgment, like that- of a mathematical or metaphysical truth. By the constitution of our nature, it is accom- panied with an agreeble feeling or emotion, for which we have no other name but the sense of beauty. This sense of beauty, like the perceptions of our other senses, implies not only a feeling, but an opinion of some quality in the object which occasions that feeling. In objects that please the taste, we always judge that there is some real excellence, some superiority to those that do not please. In some cases, that superior ex- cellence is distinctly perceived, and can be pointed out ; in other cases, we have only a general notion of some excellence which we cannot describe. Beauties of the former kind may be compared to the primary qualities perceived by the external senses ; those of the latter kind, to- the secondary. 7- Beauty or deformity in an object, re- sults from its nature or structure. To per- ceive the beauty, therefore, we must per- ceive the nature or structure from which it results. In this the internal sense differs from the external. Our external senses may discover qualities which do not depend upon any antecedent perception. Thus, I can hear the sound of a bell, though I never perceived anything else belonging to it. But it is impossible to perceive the beauty of an object without perceiving the object, or, at least, conceiving it. On this account, Dr Hutcheson called the senses of beauty and harmony reflex or secondary senses ; because the beauty cannot be perceived unless the object be perceived by some other power of the mind. Thus, the sense of harmony and melody in sounds supposes the external sense of hearing, and is a kind of secondary to it. A man born deaf may be a good judge of beauties of another kind, but can have no notion of melody or har- mony. The like may be said of beau- ties in colouring and in figure, which can never be perceived without the senses by which colour and figure are perceived. [721] [719-721J ".] OF NOVELTY. 493 CHAPTER II. OF THE OBJECTS OP TASTE ; AND, FIRST, OF NOVELTY. A philosophical analysis of the objects of taste is like applying the anatomical knife to a fine face. The design of the philoso- pher, as well as of the anatomist, is not to gratify taste, but to improve knowledge. The reader ought to be aware of this, that he may not entertain an expectation in which he will be disappointed. By the objects of taste, I mean those qualities or attributes of things which are, by Nature, adapted to please a good taste. Mr Addison, and Dr Akenside after him, have reduced them to three— to wit, novelty, grandeur, and beauty. This division is sufficient for all I intend to say upon the subject, and therefore I shall adopt it — observing only, that beauty is often taken in so extensive a sense as to comprehend all the objects of taste ; yet all the authors I have met with, who have given a division of the objects of taste, make beauty one species. I take the reason of this to be, that we have specific names for some of the quali- ties that please the taste, but not for all ; and therefore all those fall under the gene- ral name of beauty, for which there is no specific name in the division. There are, indeed, so many species of beauty, that it would be as difficult to enu- merate them perfectly, as to enumerate all the tastes we perceive by the palate. Nor does there appear to me sufficient reason for making, as some very ingenious authors have done, as many different internal senses as there are different species of beauty or deformity. [722] The division of our external senses is taken from the organs of perception, and not from the qualities perceived. We have not the same means of dividing the inter- nal ; because, though some kinds of beauty belong only to objects of the eye, and others to objects of the ear, there are many which we cannot refer to any bodily organ ; and therefore I conceive every division that has been made of our internal senses to be in some degree arbitrary. They may be made more or fewer, according as we have dis- tinct names for the various kinds of beauty and deformity ; and I suspect the most copious languages have not names for them all. Novelty is not properly a quality of the thing to which we attribute it, far less is it a sensation in the mind to which it is new ; it is a relation which the thing has to the knowledge of the person. What is new to one man, may not be so to another ; [722, 723] what is new this moment, may be familiar to the same person some time hence. When an object is first brought to our know- ledge, it is new, whether it be agreeable or not. It is evident, therefore, with regard to novelty, (whatever may be said of other objects of taste,) that it is not merely a sensation in the mind of him to whom the thing is new ; it is a real relation which the thing has to his knowledge at that time. But we are so constituted, that what is new to us commonly gives pleasure upon that account, if it be not in itself disagree- able. It rouses our attention, and occa- sions an agreeable exertion of our facul- ties. The pleasure we receive from novelty in objects has so great influence in human life, that it well deserves the attention of philosophers ; and several ingenious authors — particularly Dr Gerard, in his " Essay on Taste" — have, I think, successfully account- ed for it, from the principles of the human constitution. [723] We can perhaps conceive a being so made, that his happiness consists in a con- tinuance of the same unvaried sensations or feelings, without any active exertion on his part. Whether this be possible or not, it is evident that man is not such a being ; his good consists in the vigorous exertion of his active and intellective powers upon their proper objects ; he is made for action and progress, and cannot be happy without it ; his enjoyments seem to be given by Nature, not so much for their own sake, as to encourage the exercise of his various powers. That tranquillity of soul in which some place human happiness, is not a dead rest, but a regular progressive motion. Such is the constitution of man by the appointment of Nature. This constitution is perhaps a part of the imperfection of our nature ; but it is wisely adapted to our state, which is not intended to be stationary, but progressive. The eye is not satiated with seeing, nor the ear with hearing; something is always wanted. Desire and hope never cease, but remain to spur us on to something yet to be acquired; and, if they could cease, human happiness must end with them. That our desire and hope be properly directed, is our part ; that they can never be extinguished, is the work of Nature. It is this that makes human life so busy a scene. Man must be doing something, good or bad, trifling or important ; and he must vary the employment of his facul- ties, or their exercise will become languid, and the pleasure that attends it sicken of course. The notions of enjoyment, and of activity, 494 ON THE INTELLECTUAL POWERS. [essay viii. considered abstractly, are no doubt very different, and we cannot perceive a necessary connection between them. But, in our con- stitution, they are so connected by the wisdom of Nature, that they must go hand in hand ; and the first must be led and supported by the last. [724] An object at first, perhaps, gave much pleasure, while attention was directed to it with vigour. But attention cannot be long confined to one unvaried object, nor can it be carried round in the same narrow circle. Curiosity is a capital principle in the human constitution, and its food must be what is in some respect new. What is said of the Athenians may, in some degree, be applied to all mankind, That their time is spent in hearing, or telling, or doing some new thing. Into this part of the human constitution, I think, we may resolve the pleasure we have from novelty in objects. Curiosity is commonly strongest in child- ren and in young persons, and accordingly novelty pleases them most. In all ages, in proportion as novelty gratifies curiosity, and occasions a vigorous exertion of any of our mental powers in attending to the new ob- ject, in the same proportion it gives plea- sure. In advanced life, the indolent and inactive have the strongest passion for news, as a relief from a painful vacuity of thought. But the pleasure derived from new objects, in many cases, is not owing solely or chiefly to their being new, but to some other cir- cumstance that gives them value. The new fashion in dress, furniture, equipage, and other accommodations of life, gives plea- sure, not so much, as I apprehend, because it is. new, as because it is a sign of rank, and distinguishes a man from the vulgar. In some things novelty is due, and the want of it a real imperfection. Thus, if an author adds to the number of books with which the public is already overloaded, we expect from him something new ; and, if he says nothing but what has been said before in as agreeable a manner, we are justly disgusted. [725] When novelty is altogether separated from the conception of worth and utility, it makes but a slight impression upon a truly correct taste. Every discovery in nature, in the arts, and in the sciences, has a real value, and gives a rational pleasure to a good taste. But things that have nothing to recommend them but novelty, are fit only to entertain children, or those who are distressed from a vacuity of thought. This quality of objects may therefore be com- pared to the cypher in arithmetic, which adds greatly to the value of significant figures ; but, when put by itself, signifies nothing at all. CHAPTER III. OF GRANDEUR. The qualities which pk ase the taste are not more various in themselves than are the emotions and feelings with which they affect our minds. Things new and uncommon affect us with a pleasing surprise, which rouses and invi- gorates our attention to the object. But this emotion soon flags, if there is nothing but novelty to give it continuance, and leaves no effect upon the mind. The emotion raised by grand objects is awful, solemn, and serious. Of all objects of contemplation, the Su- preme Being, is the most grand. His eternity, his immensity, his irresistible power, his infinite knowledge and unerring wisdom, his inflexible justice and rectitude, his su- preme government, conducting all the movements of this vast universe to the no- blest ends and in the wisest manner — are objects which fill the utmost capacity of the soul, and reach far beyond its comprehension. The emotion which this grandest of all objects raises in the human mind, is what we call devotion ; a serious recollected tem- per, which inspires magnanimity, and dis- poses to the most heroic acts of virtue. [726] The emotion produced by other objects which may be called grand, though iu an inferior degree, is, in its nature and in its effects, similar to that of devotion. It dis- poses to seriousness, elevates the mind above its usual state, to a kind of enthusi- asm, and inspires magnanimity, and a con- tempt of what is mean. Such, I conceive, is the emotion which the contemplation of grand objects raises in us. We are next to consider what this grandeur in objects is. To me it seems to be nothing else but such a degree of excellence, in one kind or another, as merits our admiration. There are some attributes of mind which have a real and intrinsic excellence, com- pared with their contraries, and which, in every degree, are the natural objects of esteem, but, in an uncommon degree, are ob- jects of admiration. We put a value upon them because they are intrinsically valuable and excellent. The spirit of modern philosophy would indeed lead us to think, that the worth and value we put upon things is only a sensation in our minds, and not anything inherent in the object ; and that we might have been so constituted as to put the highest value upon the things which we now despise, and to despise the qualities which we now highly esteem. [724-726 j CHAP. III. ]J OF GRANDEUR. 495 It gives me pleasure to observe, that Dr Price, in his " Review of the Questions concerning Morals," strenuously opposes this opinion, as well as that which resolves moral right and wrong into a sensation in the mind of the spectator. That judicious author saw the consequences which these opinions draw after them, and has traced them to their source — to wit, the account given by Mr Locke, and adopted by the gen- erality of modern philosophers, of the ori- gin of all our ideas, which account he shews to be very defective. [727] This proneness to resolve everything into feelings and sensations, is an extreme into which we have been led by the desire of avoiding an opposite extreme, as common in the ancient philosophy. At first, me are prone by nature and by habit to give all their attention to things external. Their notions of the mind, and its operations, are formed from some analogy they bear to objects of sense ; and an ex- ternal existence is ascribed to things which are only conceptions or feelings of the mind. This spirit prevailed much in the philo- sophy both of Plato and of Aristotle, and produced the mysterious notions of eternal and self-existent ideas, of materia prima, of substantial forms, and others of the like nature. From the time of Des Cartes, philosophy took a contrary turn. That great man dis- covered, that many things supposed to have an external existence, were only conceptions or feelings of the mind. This track has been pursued by his successors to such an extreme as to resolve everything into sens- ations, feelings, and ideas in the mind, and to leave nothing external at all. The Peripatetics thought that heat and cold which we feel to be qualities of external objects. The moderns make heat and cold to be sensations only, and allow no real quality of body to be called by that name : and the same judgment they have formed with regard to all secondary qualities. So far Des Cartes and Mr Locke went. Their successors being put into this track of converting into feelings things that were believed to have an external existence, found that extension, solidity, figure, and all the primary qualities of body, are sensations or feelings of the mind ; and that the material world is a phsenomenon only, and has no existence but in our mind. [728] It was then a very natural progress to con- ceive, that beauty, harmony, and grandeur, the objects of taste, as well as right and wrong, the objects of the moral faculty, are nothing but feelings of the mind. Those who are acquainted with the writings of modern philosophers, can easily trace this doctrine of feelings, from Des [727-729] Cartes down to Mr Hume, who put the finishing stroke to it, by making truth and error to be feelings of the mind, and belief to be an operation of the sensitive part of our nature. To return to our subject, if we hearken to the dictates of common sense, we must be convinced that there is real excellence in some things, whatever our feelings or our constitution be. It depends no doubt upon our constitu- tion, whether we do or do not perceive ex- cellence where it really is : but the object has its excellence from its own constitution, and not from ours. The common judgment of mankind in this matter sufficiently appears in the language of all nations, which uniformly ascribes ex- cellence, grandeur, and beauty to the object, and not to the mind that perceives it. And I believe in this, as in most other things, we shall find the common judgment of man- kind and true philosophy not to be at va- riance. Is not power in its nature more excel- lent than weakness ; knowledge than igno- rance ; wisdom than folly ; fortitude than pusillanimity ? Is there no intrinsic excellence in self- command, in generosity, in public spirit ? Is not friendship a better affection of mind than hatred, a noble emulation than envy ? [729] Let us suppose, if possible, a being so constituted as to have a high respect for ignorance, weakness, and folly; to venerate cowardice, malice, and envy, and to hold the contrary qualities in contempt ; to have an esteem for lying and falsehood ; and to love most those who imposed upon him, and used him worst. Could we believe such a constitution to be anything else than madness and delirium ? It is impossible. We can as easily conceive a constitution, by which one should perceive two and three to make fifteen, or a part to be greater than the whole. Every one who attends to the operations of his own mind will find it to be certainly true, as it is the common belief of mankind, that esteem is led by opinion, and that every person draws our esteem, as far only as he appears either to reason or fancy to be amiable and worthy. There is therefore a real intrinsic excel- lence in some qualities of mind, as in power, knowledge, wisdom, virtue, magnanimity. These, in every degree, merit esteem ; but in an uncommon degree they merit admir- ation ; and that which merits admiration we call grand. In the contemplation of uncommon ex- cellence, the mind feels a noble enthusiasm, which disposes it to the imitation of what it admires. 496 ON THE INTELLECTUAL POWERS. [essay VIII. When we contemplate the character of Cato — his greatness of soul, his superiority to pleasure, to toil, and to danger ; his ar- dent zeal for the liberty of his country ; when we see him standing unmoved in mis- fortunes, the last pillar of the liberty of Rome, and falling nobly in his country's ruin — who would not wish to be Cato rather than Caesar in all his triumph ? [730] Such a spectacle of a great sOUl strug- gling with misfortune, Seneca thought not unworthy of the attention of Jupiter him- self, "Ecce spectaculum Deo dignum, ad quod respiciat Jupiter suo operi intentus, vir fortis cum mala fortuna compositus." As the Deity is, of all objects of thought, the most grand, the descriptions given in holy writ of his attributes and works, even when clothed in simple expression, are acknowledged to be sublime. The expres- sion of Moses, " And God said, Let there be light, and there was light,"* has not escaped the notice of Longinus, a Heathen critic, as an example of the sublime. What we call sublime in description, or in speech of any kind, is a proper expres- sion of the admiration and enthusiasm which the subject produces in the mind of the speaker. If this admiration and enthu- siasm appears to be just, it carries the nearer along with it involuntarily, and by a kind of violence rather than by cool con- viction : for no passions are so infectious as those which hold of enthusiasm. But, on the other hand, if the passion of the speaker appears to be in no degree jus- tified by the subject or the occasion, it pro- duces in the judicious hearer no other emo- tion but ridicule and contempt. The true sublime cannot be produced solely by art in the composition ; it must take its rise from grandeur in the subject, and a corresponding emotion raised in the mind of the speaker. A proper exhibition of these, though it should be artless, is irresistible, like fire thrown into the midst of combustible matter. [731] When we contemplate the earth, the sea, the planetary system, the universe, these are vast objects; it requires a stretch of imagination to grasp them in our minds. But they appear truly grand, and merit the highest admiration, when we consider them as the work of God, who, in the simple style of scripture, stretched out the heavens, and laid the foundation of the earth ; or, in the poetical language of Milton — " In his hand He took the golden compasses, prepar'd In God's eternal store, to circumscribe This universe and all created thiugs. One foot he centr'd, and the other turn'd Round thro' the vast profundity obscure; * Better translated—" Be there light, and light there was " — H. And said, Thus far extend, thus far thy boundi, This be thy just circumference, O world." When we contemplate the world of Epi- curus, and conceive the universe to be a fortuitous jumble of atoms, there is nothing grand in this idea. The clashing of atoms by blind chance has nothing in it fit to raise our conceptions, or to elevate the mind. But the regular structure of a vast system of beings, produced by creating power, and governed by the best laws which perfect wisdom and goodness could contrive, is a spectacle which elevates the understanding, and fills the soul with devout admiration. A great work is a work of great power, great wisdom, and great goodness, well con- trived for some important end. But power, wisdom, and goodness, are properly the at- tributes of mind only. They are ascribed to the work figuratively, but are really inherent in the author : and by the same figure, the grandeur is ascribed to the work, but is properly inherent in the mind that made it. Some figures of speech are so natural and so common in all languages, that we are led to think them literal and proper expressions. Thus an action is called brave, virtuous, generous ; but it is evident, that valour, virtue, generosity, are the attributes of per- sons only, and not of actions. In the action considered abstractly, there is neither val- our, nor virtue, nor generosity. The same action done from a different motive may deserve none of those epithets. [732] The change in this case is not in the action, but in the agent ; yet,in all languages, generosity and other moral qualities are ascribed to actions. By a figure, we assign to the effect a quality which is inherent only in the cause. By the same figure, we ascribe to a work that grandeur which properly is inherent in the mind of the author. When we consider the " Iliad" as the work of the poet, its sublimity was really in the mind of Homer. He conceived great characters, great actions, and great events, in a manner suitable to their nature, and with those emotions which they are naturally fitted to produce ; and he conveys his conceptions and his emotions by the most proper signs. The grandeur of his thoughts is reflected to our eye by his work, and, therefore, it is justly called a grand work. When we consider the things presented to our mind in the " Iliad" without regard to the poet, the grandeur, is properly in Hector and Achilles, and the other great personages, human and divine, brought upon the stage. Next to the Deity and his works, we ad- mire great talents and heroic virtue in men, whether represented in history or in fiction. The virtues of Cato, Aristides, Socrates, [730-732] .P. III.] OF GRANDEUR. 497 Marcus Aurelius, are truly grand. Extra- ordinary talents and genius, whether in poets, orators, philosophers, or lawgivers, are objects of admiration, and therefore grand. We find writers of taste seized with a kind of enthusiasm in the description of such personages. What a grand idea does Virgil give of the power of eloquence, when he compares the tempest of the sea, suddenly calmed by the command of Neptune, to a furious sedition in a great city, quelled at once by a man of authority and eloquence. [733] " Sic ait, ac dicto citius tumida aequora placat : Ac veluti magno in populo, si forte coorta est Seditio, saevitque animis ignobile vulgus ; Jamque faces et saxa volant, furor arma ministrat ; Turn pietate gravem, et meritis, si forte virum quem Conspexere, silent, arrectisque auribus adstant. Ille regit dictis animos, et pectora mulcet. Sic cunctus pelagi cecidit fragor." The wonderful genius of Sir Isaac New- ton, and his sagacity in discovering the laws of Nature, is admirably expressed in that short but sublime epitaph by Pope : — " Na'ure and Nature's laws lay hid in night ; God said, Let Newton be— and all was light." Hitherto we have found grandeur only in qualities of mind ; but, it may be asked, Is there no real grandeur in material objects ? It will, perhaps, appear extravagant to deny that there is ; yet it deserves to be considered, whether all the grandeur we ascribe to objects of sense be not derived from something intellectual, of which they are the effects or signs, or to which they bear some relation or analogy. Besides the relations of effect and cause, of sign and thing signified, there are innu- merable similitudes and analogies between things of very different nature, which lead us to connect them in our imagination, and to ascribe to the one what properly belongs to the other. Every metaphor in language is an instance of this ; and it must be remembered, that a very great part of language, which we now account proper, was originally metaphorical ; for the metaphorical meaning becomes the proper, as soon as it becomes the most usual ; much more, when that which was at first the proper meaning falls into disuse. [734] The poverty of language, no doubt, con- tributes in part to the use of metaphor; and, therefore, we find the most barren and uncultivated languages the most metaphori- cal. But the most copious language may be called barren, compared with the fertility of human conceptions, and can never, with- out the use of figures, keep pace with the variety of their delicate modifications. But another cause of the use of metaphor is, that we find pleasure in discovering rela- tions, similitudes, analogies, and even con- trasts, that are not obvious to every eye. 733-735] All figurative speech presents something of this kind ; and the beauty of poetical lan- guage seems to be derived in a great mea- sure from this source. Of all figurative language, that is the most common, the most natural, and the most agreeable, which either gives a body, if we may so speak, to things intellectual, and clothes them with visible qualities; or which, on the other hand, gives intellectual qualities to the objects of sense. To beings of more exalted faculties, intel- lectual objects may, perhaps, appear to most advantage in their naked simplicity. But we can hardly conceive them but by means of some analogy they bear to the objects of sense. The names we give them are almost all metaphorical or analogical. Thus, the names of grand and sublime, as well as their opposites, mean and low, are evidently borrowed from the dimensions of body ; yet, it must be acknowledged, that many things are truly grand and sublime, to which we cannot ascribe the dimensions of height and extension. Some analogy there is, without doubt, be- tween greatness of dimension, which is an object of external sense, and that grandeur which is an object of taste. On account of this analogy, the last borrows its name from the first ; and, the name being common, leads us to conceive that there is something common in the nature of the things. [735] But we shall find many qualities of mind, denoted by names taken from some quality of body to which they have some analogy, without anything common in their nature. Sweetness and austerity, simplicity and duplicity, rectitude and crookedness, are names common to certain qualities of mind, and to qualities of body to which they have some analogy ; yet he would err greatly who ascribed to a body that sweetness or that simplicity which are the qualities of mind. In like manner, greatness and meanness are names common to qualities perceived by the external sense, and to qualities perceived by taste ; yet he may be in an error, who ascribes to the objects of sense that greatness or that meanness which is only an object of taste. As intellectual objects are made more level to our apprehension by giving them a visible form ; so the objects of sense are dignified and made more august, by ascrib- ing to them intellectual qualities which have some analogy to those they really possess. The sea rages, the sky lowers, the meadows smile, the rivulets murmur, the breezes whisper, the soil is grateful or ungrateful — such expressions are so familiar in common language, that they are scarcely accounted poetical or figurative ; but they give a kind of dignity to inanimate objects, and make our conception of them more agreeable. 2k 498 ON THE INTELLECTUAL POWERS. [essay mil When we consider matter as an inert, extended, divisible, and movable substance, there seems to be nothing in these qualities which we can call grand ; and when weascribe grandeur to any portion of matter, however modified, may it not borrow this quality from something intellectual, of which it is the effect, or sign, or instrument, or to which it bears some analogy ? or, perhaps, because it produces in the mind an emotion that has some resemblance to that admira- tion which truly grand objects raise ? [736] A very elegant writer on the sublime and beautiful,* makes everything grand or sub- lime that is terrible. Might he not be led to this by the similarity between dread and admiration ? Both are grave and solemn passions ; both make a strong impression upon the mind ; and both are very infec- tious. But they differ specifically, in this respect, that admiration supposes some un- common excellence in its object, which dread does not. We may admire what we see no reason to dread ; and we may dread what we do not admire. In dread, there is nothing of that enthusiasm which naturally accompanies admiration, and is a chief in- gredient of the emotion raised by what is truly grand or sublime. Upon the whole, I humbly apprehend that true grandeur is such a degree of ex- cellence as is fit to raise an enthusiastical admiration ; that this grandeur is found, originally and properly, in qualities of mind ; that it is discerned, in objects of sense, only by reflection, as the light we perceive in the moon and planets is truly the light of the sun ; and that those who look for grandeur in mere matter, seek the living among the dead. If this be a mistake, it ought, at least, to be granted, that the grandeur which we perceive in qualities of mind, ought to have a different name from that which belongs properly to the objects of sense, as they are very different in their nature, and produce very different emotions in the mind of the spectator. [737] CHAPTER IV. OF BEAUTY. Beauty is found in things so various and so very different in nature, that it is difficult to say wherein it consists, or what there can be common to all the objects in which it is, found. Of the objects of sense, we find beauty in colour, in sound, in form, in motion. There are beauties of speech, and beauties of thought ; beauties in the arts, and in the * Burke.— H. sciences ; beauties in actions, in affections, and in characters. In things so different and so unlike is there any quality, the same in all, which we may call by the name of beauty ? What can it be that is common to the thought of a mind and the form of a piece of matter, to an abstract theorem and a stroke of wit ? I am indeed unable to conceive any qua- lity in all the different things that are called beautiful, that is the same in them all. There seems to be no identity, nor even similarity, between the beauty of a theorem and the beauty of a piece of music, though both may be beautiful. The kinds of beauty seem to be as various as the objects to which it is ascribed. But why should things so different be called by the same name ? This cannot be without a reason. If there be nothing com- mon in the things themselves, they must have some common relation to us, or to something else, which leads us to give them the same name. [738] All the objects we call beautiful agree in two things, which seem to concur in our sense of beauty. First, When they are perceived, or even imagined, they produce a certain agreeable emotion or feeling in the mind ; and, secondly, This agreeable emotion is accompanied with an opinion or belief of their having some perfection or excellence belonging to them. Whether the pleasure we feel in contem- plating beautiful objects may have any ne- cessary connection with the belief of their excellence, or whether that pleasure be con- joined with this belief, by the good pleasure only of our Maker, I will not determine. The reader may see Dr Price's sentiments upon this subject, which merit considera- tion, in the second chapter of his " Review of the Questions concerning Morals." Though we may be able to conceive these two ingredients of our sense of beauty dis- joined, this affords no evidence that they have no necessary connection. It has in- deed been maintained, that whatever we can conceive, is possible : but I endeavoured, in treating of conception, to shew, that this opinion, though very common, is a mistake. There may be, and probably are, man\ necessary connections of things in nature, which we are too dim-sighted to discover. The emotion produced by beautiful ob- jects is gay and pleasant. It sweetens and humanises the temper, is friendly to every benevolent affection, and tends to allay sullen and angry passions. It enlivens the mind, and disposes it to other agreeable emotions, such as those of love, hope, and joy. It gives a value to the object, ab- stracted from its utility. In things that may be possessed as pro- perty, beauty greatly enhances the price. ,[736-738] (HAP IV.] OF BEAUTY. 499 A beautiful dog or horse, a beautiful coach or house, a beautiful picture or prospect, is valued by its owner and by others, not only for its utility, but for its beauty. [739] If the beautiful object be a person, his company and conversation are, on that ac- count, the more agreeable, and we are dis- posed to love and esteem him. Even in a perfect stranger, it is a powerful recom- mendation, and disposes us to favour and think well of him, if of our own sex, and still more if of the other. " There is nothing," says Mr Addison, " that makes its way more directly to the soul than beauty, which immediately diffuses a secret satisfaction and complacence through the imagination, and gives a finishing to anything that is great and uncommon. The very first discovery of it strikes the mind with an inward joy, and spreads a cheerfulness and delight through all its faculties." As we ascribe beauty, not only to per- sons, but to inanimate things, we give the name of love or liking to the emotion, which beauty, in both these kinds of objects, produces. It is evident, however, that liking to a person is a very different affec- tion of mind from liking to an inanimate thing. The first always implies benevo- lence ; but what is inanimate cannot be the object of benevolence- The two affections, however different, have a resemblance in some respects ; and, on account of that resemblance, have the same name. And perhaps beauty, in these two different kinds of objects, though it has one name, may be as different in its nature as the emotions which it produces in us. Besides the agreeable emotion which beautiful objects produce in the mind of the spectator, they produce also an opinion or judgment of some perfection or excel- lence in the object. This I take to be a second ingredient in our sense of beauty, though it seems not to be admitted by modern philosophers. [740] The ingenious Dr Hutcheson, who per- ceived some of the defects of Mr Locke's system, and made very important improve- ments upon it, seems to have been carried away by it, in his notion of beauty. In his " Inquiry concerning Beauty," § 1, "Let it be observed," says he, "that in the following papers, the word beauty is taken for the idea raised in us, and the sense of beauty for our power of receiving that idea." And again — " Only let it be observed, that, by absolute or original beauty, is not under- stood any quality supposed to be in the object which should, of itself, be beautiful, without relation to any mind which per- ceives it : for beauty, like other names of sensible ideas, properly denotes the per- ception of some mind ; so cold, hot, sweet, [739-741] bitter, denote the sensations in our minds, to which, perhaps, there is no resemblance in the objects which excite these ideas in us ; however, we generally imagine other- wise. Were there no mind, with a sense of beauty, to contemplate objects, I see not how they could be called beautiful." There is no doubt an analogy between the external senses of touch and taste, and the internal sense of beauty. This analogy led Dr Hutcheson, and other modern phi- losophers, to apply to beauty what Des Cartes and Locke had taught concerning the secondary qualities perceived by the external senses. Mr Locke's doctrine concerning the se- condary qualities of body, is not so much an error in judgment as an abuse of words. He distinguished very properly between the sensations we have of heat and cold, and that quality or structure in the body which is adapted by Nature to produce those sensations in us. He observed very justly, that there can be no similitude be- tween one of these and the other. They have the relation of an effect to its cause, but no similitude. This was a very just and proper correction of the doctrine of the Peripatetics, who taught, that all our sens- ations are the very form and image of the quality in the object by which they are produced. [741] What remained to be determined was, whether the words, heat and cold, in com- mon language, signify the sensations we feel, or the qualities of the object which are the cause of these sensations. Mr Locke made heat and cold to signify only the sensations we feel, and not the qualities which are the cause of them. And in this, I apprehend, lay his mistake. For it is evident, from the use of language, that hot and cold, sweet and bitter, are attributes of external objects, and not of the person who perceives them. Hence, it appears a mon- strous paradox to say, there is no heat in the fire, no sweetness in sugar ; but, when explained according to Mr Locke's meaning, it is only, like most other paradoxes, an abuse of words.* The sense of beauty may be analysed in a manner very similar to the sense of sweet- ness. It is an agreeable feeling or emotion, accompanied with an opinion or judgment of some excellence in the object, which is fitted by Nature to produce that feeling. The feeling is, no doubt, in the mind, and so also is the judgment we form of the object : but this judgment, like all others, must be true or false. If it be a true judg- ment, there is some real excellence in the object. And the use of all languages shews that the name of beauty belongs to this ex- * See above, p. 205, b, note *.— H. 2 K 2 500 ON THE INTELLECTUAL POWERS [essay VIII. eeilence of the object, and not to the feel- ings of the spectator. To say that there is, in reality, no beauty in those objects in which all men perceive beauty, is to attribute to man fallacious senses. But we have no ground to think so disrespectfully of the Author of our being ; the faculties he hath given us are not fallacious ; nor is that beauty which he hath so liberally diffused over all the works of his hands, a mere fancy in us, but a real excellence in his works, which express the perfection of their Divine Author. We have reason to believe, not only that the beauties we see in nature are real, and not fanciful, but that there are thousands which our faculties are too dull to perceive. We see many beauties, both of human and divine art, which the brute animals are in- capable of perceiving ; and superior beings may excel us as far in their discernment of true beauty as we excel the brutes. [742] The man who is skilled in painting or statuary sees more of the beauty of a fine picture or statue than a common specta- tor. The same thing holds in all the fine arts. The most perfect works of art have a beauty that strikes even the rude and ig- norant ; but they see only a small part of that beauty which is seen in such works by those who understand them perfectly, and can produce them. This may be applied, with no less justice, to the works of Nature. They have a beauty that strikes even the ignorant and inattentive. But the more we discover of their structure, of their mutual relations, and of the laws by which they are governed, the greater beauty, and the more delightful marks of art, wisdom, and goodness, we discern. Thus the expert anatomist sees number- less beautiful contrivances in the structure of the human body, which are unknown to the ignorant. Although the vulgar eye sees much beauty in the face of the heavens, and in the various motions and changes of the heavenly bodies, the expert astronomer, who knows their order and distances, their periods, the orbits they describe in the vast regions of space, and the simple and beautiful laws by which their motions are governed, and all the appearances of their stations, progressions, and retrogradations, their eclipses, occulta- tions, and transits are produced — sees a beauty, order, and harmony reign through the whole planetary system, which delights the mind. The eclipses of the sun and moon, and the blazing tails of comets, which strike terror into barbarous nations, furnish the most pleasing entertainment to his eve, and a feast to his understanding. [743] In every part of Nature's works, there are numberless beauties, which, on account of our ignorance, we are unable to perceive. Superior beings may see more than we ; but He only who made them, and, upon a re- view, pronounced them all to be very good, can see all their beauty. Our determinations with regard to the beauty of objects, may, I think, be distin- guished into two kinds ; the first we may call instinctive, the other rational. Some objects strike us at once, and ap- pear beautiful at first sight, without any re- flection, without our being able to say why we call them beautiful, or being able to spe- cify any perfection which justifies our judg- ment. Something of this kind there seems to be in brute animals, and in children before the use of reason ; nor does it end with infancy, but continues through life. In the plumage of birds and of butterflies, in the colours and form of flowers, of shells, and of many other objects, we perceive a beauty that delights ; but cannot say what it is in the object that should produce that emotion. The beauty of the object may in such cases be called an occult quality. We know well how it affects our senses ; but what it is in itself we know not. But this, as well as other occult qualities, is a proper subject of philosophical disquisition ; and, by a care- ful examination of the objects to which Na- ture hath given this amiable quality, we may perhaps discover some real excellence in the object, or, at least, some valuable purpose that is served by the effect which it produces upon us. This instinctive sense of beauty, in differ- ent species of animals, may differ as much as the external sense of taste, and in each species be adapted to its manner of life. By this perhaps the various tribes are led to associate with their kind, to dwell among certain objects rather than others, and to construct their habitation in a particular manner. [744] There seem likewise to be varieties in the sense of beauty in the individuals of the same species, by which they are directed in the choice of a mate, and in the love and care of their offspring. "We see," says Mr Addison, "that every different species of sensible creatures has its different notions of beauty, and that each of them is most affected with the beauties of its own kind. This is nowhere more remarkable than in birds of the same shape and proportion, where we often see the mate determined in his courtship by the single grain or tincture of a feather, and never discovering any charms but in the colour of its own species." «« Scit thalamo servare fidcra, sanctasque veretur Connubii leges ; non ilium in pectore candor Sollicitat niveus ; neque pravum accendit amo- rem [742-744] v.] OF BEAUTY. 501 Splendida lanugo, vel honesta in vertice crista ; Purpureusve nitor pennarum ; ast agmina late Fceminea explorat cautus, maculasque requirit Cognatas, paribusque interlita c rpora guttis : Ni faceret, pictis sylvam circura undique mons- tris Confusam aspiceres vulgo, partusque biformes, Et genus ambiguum, et veneris monumenta ne- fanda?. " Hinc raerula in nigro se oblectat nigra marito; Hinc socium lasciva petit philomela canorum, Agnoscitque pare; sonitus ; hinc noclua tetrara Canitiem alarum, etglaucos miratur ocellos. Nempe sibi semper constat, crescitqu- quotannis Laacida progenies., castos contes.-a parentes : Vere novo exultat, plumasque decora j: vent us Explicat ad solem, patriisquecoloribus ardet." In the human kind there are varieties in the taste of beauty, of which we can no more assign a reason than of the variety of their features, though it is easy to perceive that very important ends are answered by both. These varieties are most observable in the judgments we form of the features of the other sex ; and in this the intention of nature is most apparent. [745] As far as our determinations of the com- parative beauty of objects are instinctive, they are no subject of reasoning or of criti- cism ; they are purely the gift of nature, and we have no standard by which they may be measured. But there are judgments of beauty that may be called rational, being grounded on some agreeable quality of the object which is distinctly conceived, and may be specified. This distinction between a rational judg- ment of beauty and that which is instinc- tive, may be illustrated by an instance. In a heap of pebbles, one that is remark- able for brilliancy of colour and regularity of figure, will be picked out of the heap by a child. He perceives a beauty in it, puts a value upon it, and is fond of the property ol it. For this preference, no reason can be given, but that children are, by their con- titution, fond of brilliant colours, and ot regular figures- Suppose again that an expert mechanic views a well constructed machine. He sees all its parts to be made of the fittest mate- rials, and of the most proper form ; no- thing superfluous, nothing deficient ; every part adapted to its use, and the whole fitted in the most perfect manner to the end for which it is intended. He pronounces it to be a beautiful machine. He views it with the same agreeable emotion as the child viewed the pebble ; but he can give a reason for his judgment, and point out the particu- lar perfections of the object on which it is grounded. [746] Although the instinctive and the rational sense of beauty may be perfectly distin- guished in speculation, yet, in passing judg- ment upon particular objects, they are of ,en so mixed and confounded, that it is difficult to assign to each its own province. Nay, it [745 747] may often happen, that a judgment of the beauty of an object, which was at first merely instinctive, shall afterwards become rational, when we discover some latent per- fection of which that beauty in the object is a sign. As the sense of beauty may be distin- guished into instinctive and rational ; so I think beauty itself may be distinguished into original and derived. As some objects shine by their own light, and many more by light that is borrowed and reflected ; so I conceive the lustre of beauty in some objects is inherent and original, and in many others is borrowed and reflected. There is nothing more common in the sentiments of all mankind, and in the lan- guage of all nations, than what may be called a communication of attributes ; that is, transferring an attribute, from the sub- ject to which it properly belongs, to some related or resembling subject. The various objects which nature pre- sents to our view, even those that are most different in kind, have innumerable simili- tudes, relations, and analogies, which we contemplate with pleasure, and which lead us naturally to borrow words and attributes from one object to express what belongs to another. The greatest part of every lan- guage under heaven is made up of words borrowed from one thing, and applied to something supposed to have some relation or analogy to their first signification. [747] The attributes of body we ascribe to mind, and the attributes of mind to material ob- jects. To inanimate things we ascribe life, and even intellectual and moral qualities. And, although the qualities that are thus made common belong to one of the subjects in the proper sense, and to the other meta- phorically, these different senses are often so mixed in our imagination, as to produce the same sentiment with regard to both. It is therefore natural, and agreeable to the strain of human sentiments and of human language, that in many cases the beauty which originally and properly is in the thing signified, should be transferred to the sign ; that which is in the cause to the effect ; that which is in the end to the means ; and that which is in the agent to the instrument. If what was said in the last chapter of the distinction between the grandeur which we ascribe to qualities of mind, and that which we ascribe to material objects, be well founded, this distinction of the beauty of objects will easily be admitted as per- fectly analagous to it. I shall therefore only illustrate it by an example. There is nothing in the exterior of a man more lovely and more attractive than per- fect good breeding. But what is this good 502 ON THE INTELLECTUAL POWERS. [essay vm breeding ? It consists of all the external signs of due respect to our superiors, con- descension to our inferiors, politeness to all with whom we converse or have to do, joined in the fair sex with that delicacy of outward behaviour which becomes them. And how comes it to have such charms in the eyes of all mankind; for this reason only, as I apprehend, that it is a natural sign of that temper, and those affections and sentiments with regard to others, and with regard to ourselves, which are in themselves truly amiable and beautiful. This is the original, of which good breed- ing is the picture ; and it is the beauty of the original that is reflected to our sense by the picture. The beauty of good breed- ing, therefore, is not originally in the ex- ternal behaviour in which it consists, but is derived from the qualities of mind which it expresses. And though there may be good breeding without the amiable qualities of mind, its beauty is still derived from what it naturally expresses. [748] ' Having explained these distinctions of our sense of beauty into instinctive and rational, and of beauty itself into original and derived, I would now proceed to give a general view of those qualities in objects, to which we may justly and rationally ascribe beauty, whether original or derived. But here some embarrassment arises from the vague meaning of the word beauty, which I had occasion before to observe. Sometimes it is extended, so as to include everything that pleases a good taste, and so comprehends grandeur and novelty, as well as what in a more restricted sense is called beauty. At other times, it is even by good writers confined to the objects of sight, when they are either seen, or remem- bered, or imagined. Yet it is admitted by all men, that there are beauties in music ; that there is beauty as well as sublimity in composition, both in verse and in prose ; that there is beauty in characters, in affec- tions, and in actions. These are not ob- jects of sight ; and a man may be a good judge of beauty of various kinds, who has not the faculty of sight. To give a determinate meaning to a word so variously extended and restricted, I know no better way than what is suggested by the common division of the objects of taste into novelty, grandeur, and beauty. Novelty, it is plain, is no quality of the new object, but merely a relation which it has to the knowledge of the person to whom it is new. Therefore, if this general divi- sion be just, every quality in an object that pleases a good taste, must, in one degree or another, have either grandeur or beauty. It may still be difficult to fix the precise limit betwixt grandeur and beauty ; but they must together comprehend everything fitted by its nature to please a good taste — that is, every real perfection and excellence in the objects we contemplate. [749] In a poem, in a picture, in a piece of music, it is real excellence that pleases a good taste. In a person, every perfection of the mind, moral or intellectual, and every perfection of the body, gives pleasure to the spectator, as well as to the owner, when there is no envy nor malignity to destroy that pleasure. It is, therefore, in the scale of perfection and real excellence that we must look for what is either grand or beautiful in objects. What is the proper object of admiration is grand, and what is the proper object of love and esteem is beautiful. This, I think, is the only notion of beauty that corresponds with the division of the objects of taste which has been generally received by philosophers. And this con- nection of beauty with real perfection, was a capital doctrine of the Socratic school. It is often ascribed to Socrates, in the dia- logues of Plato and of Xenophon. We may, therefore, take a view, first, of those qualities of mind to which we may justly and rationally ascribe beauty, and then of the beauty we perceive in the objects of sense. We shall find, if I mistake not, that, in the first, original beauty is to be found, and that the beauties of the second class are derived from some relation they bear to mind, as the signs or expressions of some amiable mental quality, or as the effects of design, art, and wise contrivance. As grandeur naturally produces admira- tion, beauty naturally produces love. We may, therefore, justly ascribe beauty to those qualities which are the natural objects of love and kind affection. Of this kind chiefly are some of the moral virtues, which, in a peculiar manner, con- stitute a lovely character. Innocence, gen- tleness, condescension, humanity, natural affection, public spirit, and the whole train of the soft and gentle virtues : these qualities are amiable from their very nature, and on account of their intrinsic worth. [750] There are other virtues that raise admira. tion, and are, therefore, grand ; such as magnanimity, fortitude, self-command, su- periority to pain and labour, superiority to pleasure, and to the smiles of Fortune as well as to her frowns. These awful virtues constitute what is most grand in the human character ; the gentle virtues, what is most beautiful and lovely. As they are virtues, they draw the approbation of our moral faculty ; as they are becoming and amiable, they affect our sense of beauty. Next to the amiable moral virtues, there are many intellectual talents which have an intrinsic value, aud draw our love and esteem f 74-8-7 50] IV.J OF BEAUTY. 503 to those who possess them. Such are, knowledge, good sense, wit, humour, cheer- fulness, good taste, excellence in any of the fine arts, in eloquence, in dramatic action ; and, we may add, excellence in every art of peace or war that is useful in society. There are likewise talents which we refer to the body, which have an original beauty and comeliness ; such as health, strength, and agility, the usual attendants of youth ; skill in bodily exercises, and skill in the mechanic arts. These are real perfections of the man, as they increase his power, and render the body a fit instrument for the mind. I apprehend, therefore, that it is in the moral and intellectual perfections of mind, and in its active powers, that beauty origin- ally dwells ; and that from this as the foun- tain, all the beauty which we perceive in the visible world is derived. [751] This, I think, was the opinion of the ancient philosophers before-named ; and it has been adopted by Lord Shaftesbury and Dr Akenside among the moderns. " Mind, mind alone, bear witness, earth and heav'n ! The living fountains in itself contains Of beauteous and sublime. Here hand in hand Si paramount the graces. Here enthron'd, Celestial Venus, with divinest airs, Invites the soul to never-fading joy." — Akenside. But neither mind, nor any of its qualities or powers, is an immediate object of per- ception to man. We are, indeed, imme- diately conscious of the operations of our own mind ; and every degree of perfection in them gives the purest pleasure, with a proportional degree of self-esteem, so flat- tering to self-love, that the great difficulty is to keep it within just bounds, so that we may not think of ourselves above what we ought to think. Other minds we perceive only through the medium of material objects, on which their signatures are impressed. It is through this medium that we perceive life, activity, wisdom, and every moral and in- tellectual quality in other beings. The signs of those qualities are immediately perceived by the senses ; by them the qua- lities themselves are reflected to our under- standing ; and we are very apt to attribute to the sign the beauty or the grandeur which is properly and originally in the things signified. The invisible Creator, the Fountain of all perfection, hath stamped upon all his works signatures of his divine wisdom, power, and benignity, which are visible to all men. The works of men in science, in the arts of taste, and in the mechanical arts, bear the signatures of those qualities of mind which were employed in their pro- duction. Their external behaviour and conduct in life expresses the good or bad qualities of their mind. [752] [751-753] In every species of animals, we perceive by visible signs their instincts, their appe- tites, their affections, their sagacity. Even in the inanimate world, there are many things analogous to the qualities of mind ; so that there is hardly anything belonging to mind which may not be represented by images taken from the objects of sense ; and, on the other hand, every object of sense is beautified, by borrowing attire from the attributes of mind. Thus, the beauties of mind, though invi- sible in themselves, are perceived in the objects of sense, on which their image is impressed. If we consider, on the other hand, the qualities in sensible objects to which we ascribe beauty, I apprehend we shall find in all of them some relation to mind, and the greatest in those that are most beau- tiful. When we consider inanimate matter abstractly, as a substance endowed with the qualities of extension, solidity, divisi- bility, and mobility, there seems to be nothing in these qualities that affects our sense of beauty. But when we contem- plate the globe which we inhabit, as fitted by its form, by its motions, and by its fur- niture, for the habitation and support of an infinity of various orders of living creatures, from the lowest reptile up to man, we have a glorious spectacle indeed ! with which the grandest and the most beautiful struc- tures of human art can bear no compa- rison. The only perfection of dead matter is its being, by its various forms and qualities, so admirably fitted for the purposes of ani- mal life, and chiefly that of man. It fur- nishes the materials of every art that tends to the support or the embellishment of human life. By the Supreme Artist, it is organized in the various tribes of the veget- able kingdom, and endowed with a kind of life ; a work which human art cannot imi- tate, nor human understanding compre- hend. [753] In the bodies and various organs of the animal tribes, there is a composition of matter still more wonderful and more mys- terious, though we see it to be admirably adapted to the purposes and manner of life of every species. But in every form, unor- ganized, vegetable, or animal, it derives its beauty from the purposes to which it is subservient, or from the signs of wisdom or of other mental qualities which it ex- hibits. The qualities of inanimate matter, in which we perceive beauty, are — sound; colour, form, and motion ; the first an ob- ject of hearing, the other three of sight ; which we may consider in order. In a single note, sounded by a very fine 501 ON THE INTELLECTUAL POWERS. [essay vm. voice, there is a beauty which we do not perceive in the same note, sounded by a bad voice or an imperfect instrument. I need not attempt to enumerate the perfections in a single note, which give beauty to it. Some of them have names in the science of music, and there perhaps are others which have no names. But I think it will be allowed, that every quality which gives beauty to a single note, is a sign of some perfection, either in the organ, whether it be the human voice or an instrument, or in the execution. The beauty of the sound is both the sign and the effect of this per- fection ; and the perfection of the cause is the only reason we can assign for the beauty of the effect. In a composition of sounds, or a piece of music, the beauty is either in the harmony, the melody, or the expression. The beauty of expression must be derived, either from the beauty of the thing expressed, or from the art and skill employed in expressing it properly. In harmony, the very names of concord and discord are metaphorical, and suppose some analogy between the relations of sound, to which they are figuratively applied, and the relations of minds and affections, which they originally and properly signify. [754] As far as I can judge by my ear, when two or more persons, of a good voice and ear, converse together in amity and friend- ship, the tones of their different voices are concordant, but become discordant when they give vent to angry passions ; so that, without hearing what is said, one may know by the tones of the different voices, whether they quarrel or converse amicably. This, indeed, is not so easily perceived in those who have been taught, by good-breeding, to suppress angry tones of voiee, even when they are angry, as in the lowest rank, who express their angry passions without any restraint. When discord arises occasionally in con- versation, but soon terminates in perfect amity, we receive more pleasure than from perfect unanimity. In like manner, in the harmony of music, discordant sounds are occasionally introduced, but it is always in o> der to give a relish to the most perfect concord that follows. Whether these analogies, between the harmony of a piece of music, and harmony in the intercourse of minds, be merely fanci- ful, or have any real foundation in fact, I submit to those who have a nicer ear, and have applied it to observations of this kind. If they have any just foundation, as they seem to me to have, they serve to account for the metaphorical application of the names of concord and discord to the rela- tions of sounds ; to account for the pleasure we have from harmony m music; and to shew, that the beauty of harmony is derived from the relation it has to agreeable affec- tions of mind. With regard to melody. J leave it to the adepts in the science of music, to determine whether music, composed according to the established rules of harmony and melody, can be altogether void of expression ; and whether music that has no expression can have any beauty. To me it seems, that every strain in melody that is agreeable, is an imitation of the tones of the human voice in the expression of some sentiment or passion, or an imitation of some other ob- ject in nature ; and that music, as well as poetry, is an imitative art. [755] The sense of beauty in the colours, and in the motions of inanimate objects, is, I believe, in some cases instinctive. We see that children and savages are pleased with brilliant colours and sprightly motions. In persons of an improved and rational taste, there are many sources from which colours and motions may derive their beauty. They, as well as the forms of objects, admit of regularity and variety. The motions pro- duced by machinery, indicate the perfection or imperfection of the mechanism, and may be better or worse adapted to their end, and from that derive their beauty or deformity. The colours of natural objects, are com- monly signs of some good or bad quality in the object ; or they may suggest to the imagination something agreeable or dis- agreeable. In dress and furniture, fashion has a con- siderable influence on the preference we give to one colour above another. A number of clouds of different and ever- changing hue, seen on the ground of a serene azure sky, at the going down of the sun, present to the eye of every man a glorious spectacle. It is hard to say, whether we should call it grand or beautiful. It is both in a high degree. Clouds towering above clouds, variously tinged, according as they approach nearer to the direct rays of the sun, enlarge our conceptions of the regions above us. They give us a view of the fur- niture of those regions, which, in an un- clouded air, seem to be a perfect void ; but are now seen to contain the stores of wind and rain, bound up for the present, but to be poured down upon the earth in due sea- son. Even the simple rustic does not look upon this beautiful sky, merely as a show to please the eye, but as a happy omen of fine weather to come. The proper arrangement of colour, and of light and shade, is one of the chief beauties of painting ; but this beauty is greatest, when that arrangement gives the most dis- tinct, the most natural, and the most agree- able image of that which the painter intend- ed to represent. [756] [754-756] CHAP. IV.] OF BEAUTY. 505 If we consider, in the last place, the beauty of form or figure in inanimate ob- jects, this, according to Dr Hutcheson, re- sults from regularity, mixed with variety. Here, it ought to be observed, that regu- larity, in all cases, expresses design and art : for nothing regular was ever the work of chance ; and where regularity is joined with variety, it expresses design more strongly. Besides, it has been justly ob- served, that regular figures are more easily and more perfectly comprehended by the mind than the irregular, of which we can never form an adequate conception. Although straight lines and plain surfaces have a beauty from their regularity, they admit of no variety, and, therefore, are beauties of the lowest order. Curve lines and surfaces admit of infinite variety, joined with every degree of regularity ; and, there- fore, in many cases, excel in beauty those that are straight. But the beauty arising from regularity and variety, must always yield to that which arises from the fitness of the form for the end intended. In everything made for an end, the form must be adapted to that end ; and everything in the form that suits the end, is a beauty ; everything that unfits it for its end, is a deformity. The forms of a pillar, of a sword, and of a balance are very different. Each may have great beauty ; but that beauty is de- rived from the fitness of the form and of the matter for the purpose intended. [757] Were we to consider the form of the earth itself, and the various furniture it contains, of the inanimate kind ; its distribution into land and sea, mountains and valleys, rivers and springs of water, the variety of soils that cover its surface, and of mineral and metallic substances laid up within it, the air that surrounds it, the vicissitudes of day and night, and of the seasons ; the beauty of all these, which indeed is superlative, consists in this, that they bear the most lively and striking impression of the wisdom and goodness of their Author, in contriving them so admirably for the use of man, and of their other inhabitants. The beauties of the vegetable kingdom are far superior to those of inanimate mat- ter, in any form which human art can give it. Hence, in all ages, men have been fond to adorn their persons and their habitations with the vegetable productions of nature. The beauties of the field, of the forest, and of the flower-garden, strike a child long before he can reason. He is delighted with what he sees ; but he knows not why. This is instinct, but it is not confined to child- hood ; it continues through all the stages of life. It leads the florist, the botanist, the philosopher, to examine and compare the objects which Nature, by this powerful in- (_757, 758] stinct, recommends to his attention. By degrees, he becomes a critic in beauties of this kind, and can give a reason why he prefers one to another. In every species, he sees the greatest beauty in the plants or flowers that are most perfect in their kind — which have neither suffered from unkindly soil nor inclement weather ; which have not been robbed of their nourishment by other plants, nor hurt by any accident. When he examines the internal structure of those productions of Nature, and traces them from their embryo state in the seed to their maturity, he sees a thousand beautiful con- trivances of Nature, which feast his under- standing more thau their external form delighted his eye. Thus, every beauty in the vegetable creation, of which he has formed any ra- tional judgment, expresses some perfection in the object, or some wise contrivance in its Author. [758] In the animal kingdom, we perceive still greater beauties than in the vegetable- Here we observe life, and sense, and activity, various instincts and affections, and, in many cases, great sagacity. These are attributes of mind, and have an original beauty. As we allow to brute animals a thinking principle or mind, though far inferior to that which is in man ; and as, in many of their intellectual and active powers, they very much resemble the human species, their actions, their motions, and even their looks, derive a beauty from the powers of thought which they express. There is a wonderful variety in their manner of life ; and we find the powers they possess, their outward form, and their in- ward structure, exactly adapted to it. In every species, the more perfectly any indi- vidual is fitted for its end and manner of life, the greater is its beauty. In a race-horse, everything that expresses agility, ardour, and emulation, gives beauty to the animal. In a pointer, acuteness of scent, eagerness on the game, and tractable- ness, are the beauties of the species. A sheep derives its beauty from the fineness and quantity of its fleece ; and in the wild animals, every beauty is a sign of their perfection in their kind. It is an observation of the celebrated Linnaeus, that, in the vegetable kingdom, the poisonous plants have commonly a lurid and disagreeable appearance to the eye, of which he gives many instances. I appre- hend the observation may be extended to the animal kingdom, in which we commonly see something shocking to the eye in the noxious and poisonous animals. The beauties which anatomists and phy- siologists describe in the internal structure of the various tribes of animals ; in th« 506 ON THE INTELLECTUAL POWERS. [essay organs of sense, of nutrition, and of motion, are expressive of wise design and contriv- ance, in fitting them for the various kinds of life for which they are intended. [759] Thus, I think, it appears that the beauty which we perceive in the inferior animals, is expressive, either of such perfections as their several natures may receive, or ex- pressive of wise design in Him who made them, and that their beauty is derived from the perfections which it expresses. But of all the objects of sense, the most striking and attractive beauty is perceived in the human species, and particularly in the fair sex. Milton represents Satan himself, in sur- veying the furniture of this globe, as struck with the beauty of the first happy pair. " Two of far nobler shape, erect and tall, Godlike erect! with native honour clad In naked majesty, seem'd lords of all. And worthy seem'd, for in th ir looks divine, The image of their glorious Maker, shone Truth, wisdom, sanctitude severe and pure; Severe, but in true filial freedom placM, Whence true authority in man ; though both Not equal, as their sex not equal seem'd, For contemplation he, and valour form'd, For softness she, and sweet attractive grace." In this well-known passage of Milton, we see that this great poet derives the beauty of the first pair in Paradise from those expressions of moral and intellectual qualities which appeared in their outward form and demeanour. The most minute and systematical ac- count of beauty in the human species, and particularly in the fair sex, I have met with, is in " Crito ; or, a Dialogue on Beauty," said to be written by the author of " Polymetis,"* and republished by Dods- ley in his collection of fugitive pieces. [760] I shall borrow from that author some observations, which, I think, tend to shew that the beauty of the human body is derived from the sigus it exhibits of some perfection of the mind or person. All that can be called beauty in the human species may be reduced to these four heads : colour, form, expression, and grace. The two former may be called the body, the two latter the soul of beauty. The beauty of colour is not owing solely to the natural liveliness of flesh-colour and red, nor to the much greater charms they receive from being properly blended toge- ther ; but is also owing, in some degree, to the idea they carry with them of good health, without which all beauty grows languid and less engaging, and with which it always recovers an additional strength and lustre. This is supported by the autho- rity of Cicero- Venustas .et pulchritudo corporis secerni non potest a valetudine. * Spence, under the name of Sir Harry leau- mont — H. Here I observe, that, as the colour of the body is very different in different climates, every nation preferring the colour of its climate, and as, among us, one man prefers a fair beauty, another a brunette, without being able to give any reason for this pre- ference ; this diversity of taste has no stand- ard in the common principles of human nature, but must arise from something that is different in different nations, and - in dif- ferent individuals of the same nation. I observed before, that fashion, habit, associations, and perhaps some peculiarity of constitution, may have great influence upon this internal sense, as well as upon the external. Setting aside the judgments arising from such causes, there seems to remain nothing that, according to the com- mon judgment of mankind, can be called beauty in the colour of the species, but what expresses perfect health and liveli- ness, and in the fair sex softness and deli- cacy ; and nothing that can be called deform- ity but what indicates disease and decline. And if this be so, it follows, that the beauty of colour is derived from the perfections which it expresses. This, however, of all the ingredients of beauty, is the least. [761 ] The next in order is form, or proportion of parts. The most beautiful form, as the author thinks, is that which indicates deli- cacy and softness in the fair sex, and in the male either strength or agility. The beau- ty of form, therefore, lies all in expression. The third ingredient, which has more power than either colour or form, he calls expression, and observes, that it is only the expression of the tender and kind passions that gives beauty ; that all the cruel and unkind ones add to deformity ; and that, on this account, good nature may very justly be said to be the best feature, even in the finest face. Modesty, sensibility, and sweetness, blended together, so as either to enliven or to correct each other, give al- most as much attraction as the passions are capable of adding to a very pretty face. It is owing, says the author, to the great force of pleasingness which attends all the kinder passions, that lovers not only seem, but really are, more beautiful to each other than they are to the rest of the world ; be- cause, when they are together, the most pleas- ing passions are more frequently exerted in each of their faces than they are in either before the rest of the world. There is then, as a French author very well expresses it, a soul upon their countenances, which does not appear when they are absent from one another, or even in company that lays a re- straint upon their features. There is a great difference in the same face, according as the person is in a better or a worse humour, or more or less lively. The best complexion, the finest features, [759-761] IV.] OF BEAUTY. 507 and the exactest shape, without anything of the mind expressed in the face, is insipid and unmoving. The finest eyes in the world, witli an excess of malice or rage in them, will grow shocking. The passions can give beauty without the assistance of colour or form, and take it away where these have united most strongly to give it ; and therefore this part of beauty is greatly superior to the other two. [762] The last and noblest part of beauty is grace, which the author thinks undefin- able. Nothing causes love so generally and ir- resistibly as grace. Therefore, in the my- thology of the Greeks and Romans, the Graces were the constant attendants of Venus the goddess of love. Grace is like the cestus of the same goddess, which was supposed to comprehend everything that was winning and engaging, and to create love by a secret and inexplicable force, like that of some magical charm. There are two kinds of grace — the majes- tic and the familiar ; the first more com- manding, the last more delightful and en- gaging. The Grecian painters and sculp- tors used to express the former most strongly in the looks and attitudes of their Miner- vas, and the latter in those of Venus. This distinction is marked in the description of the personages of Virtue and Pleasure in the ancient fable of the Choice of Hercules. ■• Graceful, bin each with different grace they move, This striking sacred awe, that softer winning lov:." In the persons of Adam and Eve in Pa- radise, Milton has made the same distinc- tion — " For contemplation he, and valour formed, For softness she, and sweet attractive grace." [7631 Though grace be so difficult to be defined, there are two things that hold universally with relation to it. First, There is no grace without motion ; some genteel or pleasing motion, either of the whole body or of some limb, or at least some feature. Hence, in the face, grace appears only on those features that aremovaMe, and change with the various emotions and sentiments of the mind, such as the eyes and eye- brows, the mouth and parts adjacent. When Venus appeared to her son ^Eneas in disguise, and, after some conversation with him, retired, it was by the grace of her motion in retiring that he discovered her be to truly a goddess. " Dixit, et avertens rosea cervice refulsit, Ambrosiasque comae divinum vertice odorem Spiravere; pedes vestis defluxit ad imos; Et vera incessu patuit dea. Ille, ubi matrem Agnovit," &c. A second observation is, That there can be no grace with impropriety, or that no- thing can be graceful that is not adapted to the character and situation of the person. From these observations, which appear [726-765.] to me to be just, we may, I think, conclude, that grace, as far as -it is visible, consists of those motions, either of the whole body, or of a part or feature, which express the most perfect propriety of conduct and sentiment in an amiable character. Those motions must be different in dif- ferent characters ; they must vary with every variation of emotion and sentiment ; they may express either dignity or respect, confidence or reserve, love or just resent- ment, esteem or indignation, zeal or indif- ference. Every passion, sentiment, or emo- tion, that in its nature and degree is just and proper, and corresponds perfectly with the character of the person, and with the oc- casion, is what may we call the soul of grace. The body or visible part consists of those emotions and features which give the true and unaffected expression of this soul. [764] Thus, I think, all the ingredients of human beauty, as they are enumerated and described by this ingenious author, termi- nate in expression : they either express some perfection of the body, as a part of the man, and an instrument of the mind, or some amiable quality or attribute of the mind itself. It cannot, indeed, be denied, that the expression of a fine countenance may be unnaturally disjoined from the amiable qua- lities which it naturally expresses : but we presume the contrary till we have clear evi- dence ; and even then we pay homage to the expression, as we do to the throne when it happens to be unworthily filled. Whether what I have offered to shew, that all the beauty of the objects of sense is borrowed, and derived from the beauties of mind which it expresses or s ggests to the imagination, be well-founded or not, I hope this terrestrial Venus will not be deemed less worthy of the homage which has always been paid to her, by being con- ceived more nearly allied to the celestial than she has commonly been represented. To make an end of this subject, tas'e seems to be progressive as man is. Child- ren, when refreshed by sleep, and at ease from pain and hunger, are disposed to at- tend to the objects about them ; they are pleased with brilliant colours, gaudy orna- ments, regular forms, cheerful counte- nances, noisy mirth and glee. Such is the taste of childhood, which we must con- clude to be given for wise purposes. A great part of the happiness of that period of life is derived from it ; and, therefore, it ought to be indulged. It leads them to attend to objects which they may afterwards find worthy of their attention. It puts them upon exerting their infant faculties of body and mind, which, by such exertions, are daily strengthened and improved. [765] As they advance in years and in under- 508 ON THE INTELLECTUAL POWERS. [essay viiiv standing, other beauties attract their atten- tion, which, by their novelty or superiority, throw a shade upon those they formerly ad- mired. They delight in feats of agility, strength, and art ; they love those that ex- cel in them, and strive to equal them. In the tales and fables they hear, they begin to discern beauties of mind. Some characters and actions appear lovely, others give dis- gust. The intellectual and moral powers begin to open, and, if cherished by favour- able circumstances, advance gradually in strength, till they arrive at that degree of perfection to which human nature, in its present state, is limited. In our progress from infancy to maturity, our faculties open in a regular order ap- pointed by Nature ; the meanest first, those of more dignity in succession, unti! the mo- ral and rational powers finish the man. Every faculty furnishes new notions, brings new beauties into view, and enlarges the province of taste; so that we may say, there is a taste of childhood, a taste of youth, and a manly taste. Each is beau- tiful in its season ; but not so much so, when carried beyond its season. Not that the man ought to dislike the things that please the child or the youth, but to put less value upon them, compared with other beauties, with which he ought to be ac- quainted. Our moral and rational powers justly claim dominion over the whole man. Even taste is not exempted from their authority ; it must be subject to that authority in every case wherein we pretend to reason or dispute about matters of taste ; it is the voice of reason that our love or our admiration ought to be proportioned to the merit of the object. When it is not grounded on real worth, it must be the effect of constitution, or of some habit, or casual association. A fond mother may see a beauty in her dar- ling child, or a fond author in his work, to which the rest of the world are blind. In such cases, the "affection is pre-engaged, and, as it were, bribes the judgment, to make the object worthy of that affection. For the mind cannot be easy in putting a value upon an object beyond what it con- ceives to be due. When affection is not carried away by some natural or acquired bias, it naturally is and ought to be led by the judgment. [766] As, in the division which I have followed of our intellectual powers, I mentioned Moral Perception and Consciousness, the reader -may expect that some reason should be given, why they are not treated of in this place. As to Consciousness, what I think neces- sary to be said upon it has been already said, Essay vi., chap. 5. As to the faculty of moral perception, it is indeed a most im- portant part of human understanding, and well worthy of the most attentive considera- tion, since without it we could have no con- ception of right and wrong, of duty and moral obligation, and since the first princi- ples of morals, upon which all moral rea- soning must be grounded, are its immediate dictates ; but, as it is an active as well as an intellectual power, and has an immediate relation to the other active powers of the mind, I apprehend that it is proper to defer the consideration of it till these be explained. [766]