Q^Wo^r^S B . CL iv CONTENTS. Page Chap. 9. — Of Perception 253 10. — Of Retention 262 11. — Of Discerning, and other Operations of the Mind ... 270 12. — Of Complex Ideas 279 13. — Of Simple Modes ; and, first, of the Simple Modes of Space 282 14. — Of Duration and its Simple Modes 300 15. — Of Duration and Expansion, considered together ... 317 16. — Of Number 325 17. — Of Infinity 330 18. — Of other Simple Modes 345 19. — Of the Modes of Thinking 347 20. — Of Modes of Pleasure and Pain 351 21. — Of Power 359 22. — Of Mixed Modes 415 23. — Of our Complex Ideas of Substances 422 24. — Of Collective Ideas of Substances 447 25. — Of Relation 449 26. — Of Cause and Effect, and other Relations 454 27. — Of Identity and Diversity 458 28. — Of other Relations 482 29. — Of clear and obscure, distinct and confused Ideas ... 498 30. — Of real and fantastical Ideas 508 31. — Of adequate and inadequate Ideas 510 32. — Of true and false Ideas 520 33. — Of the Association of Ideas 531 I PEELIMINARY DISCOUESE. - *^Eori dk TO ys d\r]6eid rig ravra rd ypdfxfiara tw Uappievldov Xoy^ TTpbg Tovg kirix^LpovvTag avTov KcojuKpdetv. Plat. Pakmenides. An edition of tlie Philosophical Works of Locke has long been wanting. It is in fact matter of surprise, that a body of writings, in which the most popular metaphysical system of modern times is develoj^ed, should never before have been presented to the world in a collected form, and detached from all miscellaneous compositions. The object of the present discourse is to describe briefly and with simplicity, the character of these various pieces, in order that the reader who happens not to be already acquainted with them, may proceed with the greater curiosity to their perusal. The Essay on the Human Understanding, the principal of Locke’s writings, has now been before the world for nearly two centuries. It has excited the strongest op- position; it has been assailed by calumny, it has often been misunderstood, and sometimes neglected. Nevertheless, such is its character, such are the principles it contains, such the clearness, fulness, and satisfactory nature of its interpre- tations of intellectual phenomena, that it can never be wholly laid aside so long as the study of philosophy shall retain any charm for mankind. That it is not a popular work must be admitted ; nor can it, perhaps, by any art or contrivance be rendered so. For, in the first place, the public possess but little inclina- tion to penetrate backwards, as • it were, to the dim and misty fountains of human knowledge, lying remote from observation, and thickly shaded by the foliage of doubts and uncertainties ; and secondly, to be frank and candid, the gnide himself who undertakes to conduct U3 VOL, I. B 7 - / 2 PRELIMINARY DISCOURSE. thither is not altogether free from a certain uncont^iness of manner, apt at first sight to chill our ardour and repel familiarity. But they whom nature designed for metaphysicians are not to be discouraged by difl&culties ; since in philosophy, as in religion, the crown, they know, is reserved for those who through faith and patience inherit the promises.” The truths which in this world grow along the wayside, are few and of ordinary quality; to reach the noblest and most beautiful we must strike ofi* into little-frequented paths, nor heed the briars and thorns, or the rocky, steep, and slippery places over which with sweat and toil it is necessary to force our way. For this reason the fastidious and luxurious student, who would enjoy the reputation of having made progress in philosophy, selects works of easier access than the masterpiece of Locke. In fact, compilers in this, as in other sciences, often possess greater charms for the generality than original speculators and inventors of systems ; for, unable to overawe or dazzle mankind by opening up frash views into the arcana of nature, or by the revelation of new truths, they betake themselves to the ample storehouses of rhetoric, and, by the help of sleights and artifices so meta- morphose the ideas which they cuU from the works of others that it would be difficult even for those from whose brains they sprung, to recognise them. We accordingly often hear it said that, like 'Plato and Aristotle, Locke has now grown somewhat out of date, and that vast improvements have since his time been made in metaphysics. It is far, however, from being clear to me that. philosophy, in the proper sense, is a science at all, or that we can go on from generation to generation enlarging and improving it, as we do geography, astronomy, and the mathematics. On the contrary, it appears to partake” very much of the nature of an art, which, depending partly on the genius and partly on the practice and experience of an individual, is perfectly intransmissible ; otherwise the immediate disciples of Bsicon and Locke would necessarily have been as wise if not wiser than they, all the accumulated stores of thought bequeathed by those great men to the world having been within their Toach, together with whatever by their own industry they PKELIMINAUY DISCOURSE. 3 could add to them. In this way each age would outgrow that which ' preceded it, until at length our wisdom Vfould be that of gods, and our knowledge all but boundless. The history of philosophy lays before us a far different picture. A great man arises and occupies himself with the study of nature; he reads, he inquires, he investigates, he meditates; his ideas and opinions, under the inexplicable influence of that peculiar conformation of mind which we designate character, arrange themselves harmoniously into a certain order; that is, grow up into a system of which the philosopher himself constitutes the centre, his intellectual idiosyncracies pervading the whole, and communicating to every part those peculiar features which prove it to have proceeded from his mind. When this process is completed, men, smitten by the thirst of knowledge, ardent, enthusiastic, approaching within the sphere of the philosopher’s influence, are attracted towards him and become his disciples; and his central light reflected from their minds, like that of the sun from the face of the planets, is what we denominate philosophy in its second stage of progression; after which, if the process be continued, it grows at every remove paler and paler until at length it dies away, and is no longer discernible. This circle being completed, the powers of that philosophy are supposed to be effete, and the necessity of a new system is felt. Then generally another inventive mind springs up into life, and contemplating man and the universe from a new point of view, creates another system more or less true and comprehensive in proportion to the elevation of it» author’s intellect. The number of minds of this original and systematic character has in modern times been small, consisting of Descartes, Hobbes, Bacon, '* and Locke; and even Bacon ought perhaps to be considered rather as a great critic in philosophy than as the founder of a new system, since it would be difficult to name the doctrines or opinions he introduced, or say in what he innovated, save in the method of philosophizing. Other men indeed there have been, possessed by the ambition of founding a new philosophical sect, who have left behind them works of great ingenuity, and not without their value, as Leibnitz, Malebranche, B 2 4 PEELIMINABT DISCOXJESE. Hume, and Berkeley ; but it may be doubted whether they would have favoured the world with their opinions at all had they not received the impulse from other thinkers. Descartes, Bacon, Hobbes, and Locke were themselves the originators and centres of a new motion, which, proceeding from them, diffused itself on all sides, until it embraced and agitated every speculative mind throughout the civilized world. The influence, however, of Descartes and Hobbes was comparatively transient, while that of Locke and Bacon still exists, and appears destined long to continue in opera- tion. Their philosophy, indeed, is seldom received directly from their own writings, but through other and inferior channels, more on a level with the minds that imbibe it. But it would unquestionably be an advantage to the world could we multiply the number of those who come in contact with the philosophers themselves, and receive the vital warmth and motion 'directly from their original source. To facilitate this process is the aim of the present edition of the Essay on the Human Understanding, and those minor works which precede and follow it, constituting the most remarkable and by far the most influential body of phi- losophical writings to which modern times have given birth. J am not ignorant, however, that the opinion is widely received, even among persons who affect to rank above the common herd, that Locke is a dry and crabbed writer, abounding perhaps with original thoughts, and acute and ingenious speculations, but incapable of affording to the reader that pleasure, which, in an indolenb and luxurious age, is more sedulously sought after than truth or knowledge. But I am inclined to reckon this among the vulgar errors of our times, particularly as I have never found it to be enter- tained by any man familiar with the works of Locke. On the contrary, it is generally bandied about among persons who lack the healthful appetite for knowledge which would enable them to digest it when placed before them in his manly and highly vigorous style. In many respects indeed Locke may be regarded as an exact representative of the whole English nation, which has fiaever been celebrated for external polish and refinement, though no people in Europe has hitherto approached it for PKELIMTNAKY DISCOUKSE. 5 impetuosity of eloquence, for profoundness in philosophy, or the highest flights of imaginative grandeur in poetry. So with Locke, whose language, to acknowledge the truth frankly, is at times careless, rough, and even slovenly ; but to make amends, our minds are delighted and lifted up by the magnificence and vast dimensions of his thoughts, which, circling about the orbit of human genius, often project themselves beyond the remotest limits of the universe into the unfathomable abyss of space which appears to surround creation on all sides. Departing likewise from those two sources of all we know or can know, sensation and reflection, he conducts our understandings upwards through every gradation of intellectual being extending from man to God, respecting whose existence and ineffable nature he reason* with the precision of a mathematician and the piety of saint. It would indeedv be difficult in this respect to ex aggerate his merits. Having with wonderfiil patience and accuracy sounded the depths and shallows of human know- ledge, and discovered how little we comprehend of that infinitude of hitelligible things which encompasses us, he had framed to himself the most exalted notion of the Di- vinity ; and the deep and unaffected reverence for the Divine nature which pervades his whole philosophy sheds a glory and a lustre over it which no length of time, I feel confident, will suffice to destroy. Nevertheless, in investigating the origin of our know- ledge on this awful subject, he falls into an error, which in the proper place I have pointed out in the notes. It may, however, be well briefly to advert to it in this place. Being intent on overthrowing the doctrine of innate ideas, he argues that even the idea of a God is obtained through the medium of sensation and reflection. In proof of this he refers to the many nations of atheists which, according to certain travellers, are found in various parts of the world. Now if whole communities of men exist to whom the con- ception of a Deity has never presented itself, it must be self-evident that the doctrine of innate ideas is false ; for if God impressed any idea on the mind of man from the first moment of its existence; it would doubtless be that of him- self: but we find whole races of men, says Locke, who not only bring no s:ich idea into the world with them, but 6 PRELIMINARY DISCOURSE. never acquire it at all; therefore the system of innate ideas is palpably unfounded. It was well, however, for him that the other parts of the foundation of his system were better than this ; since it has never been proved, and in fact never can be proved, that there is anywhere to be found a whole nation among whom no idea of a Divinity exists. The travellers who have given currency to such a belief are altogether unworthy of credit, either because they had some jDurpose to serve by setting it on foot, or because, being in reality ignorant of what the people they described thought oi" believed, they jumped rashly, without inquiry, to the conclusion that they believed nothing. This may often, as in the case of Le Yaillant, be demonstrated from their own works, where affirming one thing in one place and the con- trary in another, they not only authorise but compel us to believe that they either wholly misunderstood or wilfully misrepresented the people among whom they sojourned. Upon such writers it might have been expected that a cautious and able inquirer like Locke would have placed no reliance ; but their relations appearing to support his views he had the weak\ ess to receive their testimony, though his worst enemies never for one moment supposed that it interfered in any way with his own belief. Of man himself his conception, in my opinion, was less just. He appears frequently to delight in humbhng our pride by dwelling upon our weakness and insignificance, by recurring again and again to our want of power to extoiii from nature her secrets, by delineating in sad and humili- ating colours diseases as well of the body as the mind. For something of this propensity he was, perhaps, indebted to those physiological and pathological studies connected with the profession for which he was designed, it being exceed- ingly difficult for a physician to emancipate himself from the influence of the hospital and the dissecting-room, however much he may desire it. With this part of his notions, which strongly resemble the sarcastic declamation of Montaigne, the world has been rendered familiar through the Essf.y on Man, in which Pope often does nothing more than versify what he found in the works of Locke. The defect, however, here poini ed out can Scarcely be said PEELTMMARY DISCOURSE. 7 to pervade the whole system ; for in laying bare the roots of our ideas, in describing the soil from which they spring, and the several stages of that marvellous growth and mul- tiplication by which they spread and become, in some respects, coextensive with creation itself, he makes amends for what might seem to be invidious in other parts of his views, and gives birth to a sublime conception of human intellect. His object however was not so much to reconcile man with himself, as to explain the means by which we acquire all the knowledge we possess, with the reasons why it is not more extensive and complete. He had necessarily, therefore, to dwell on all the existing hindrances as well as helps to knowledge, whether arising from the make and constitution of our nature, or from that artificial atmosphere of pre- judice by which in all stages of society we envelop ourselves. In refuting errors and laying bare absurdities there is always something ungracious ; but such, up to his time, had been the character of modern philosophy that it was impossible to erect a system sufficiently spacious and mag- nificent to be the dwelling-place of Truth, without over- throwing and removing the numerous dens and asylums of Error with which the whole was encumbered. Thus the Essay on the Human Understanding grew to be in part polemical, and the porch of philosophy was filled with the din and strife of controversy, instead of those musical flourishes and harmonious preludes which, in the works of Plato and many other ancient philosophers, meet the student on the threshold. It will be perceived that I here refer more particularly to the doctrine of innate ideas, which Locke found it neces- sary to refute before he entered upon the development of his own system. It has been supposed by some modern writers that he was at very unnecessary pains in the matter, seeing he had little more to contend with than shadows of his own raising. This is Hume’s view of the controversy, the whole nature of which he appears thoroughly to have mis- understood. At all events he misrepresents it grossly, where, in a laconic note, he cavalierly accuses Locke of not comprehending the question he was discussing. ’Tis pro- bable,” he says, that no more was meant by those who 8 PRELIMINARY DISCOURSE. denied innate ideas than that all ideas were copies of our impressions.” The probability however is, that their mean- ing was very different, for if the word impressions’ mean anything at all, it must mean the same thing with sensation, and then I would beg leave to inquire where Locke main- tains that all our ideas, or indeed any of them, are copies of our sensations? For though he teaches that it is through sensa- tion we obtain certain of our simple ideas, he nowhere asserts that the ideas thus obtained are copies of such sensations. The explanation given by Hume of the word innate’ is perfectly humorous: For what,” he asks, ^is meant by in- nate ? If innate be equivalent to natural, then all the percep- tions and ideas of the mind must be allowed to be innate or natural, in whatever sense we take the latter word, whether in opposition to what is uncommon, artificial, or miraculous.” But neither Descartes, nor any other philosopher who held the doctrine of innate ideas, ever employed the term as a synonym with natural. If he had done so, no dispute would have arisen about the matter, though people might have objected to his abuse of language. But Hume knew very well that such was not the meaning of the term innate, and therefore goes on to say : If by innate he meant contem- porary to our birth, the dispute seems to be frivolous; nor is it worth while to inquire at what time thinking begins, whether before, at, or after the birth.” All this may be very true, but Locke finding the philosophical world besotted with such frivolities patiently undertook to demonstrate their frivolousness. The sense in which ^innate’ was understood by Locke’s oj)ponents, scarcely glanced at by Hume, requires to be ex- plained : they supposed that certain of our ideas are obtained through sensation, others through reflection, and that a third sort are stamped upon the essence of the soul at the moment of its creation. But because the ideas of this third class are not developed in the first stages of life so as to be taken cognizance of by the understanding, they are said to lie hidden in the depths of our being until called forth and rendered visible by circumstances. This is the system which Locke undertakes to explode. Whether it be frivolous or otherwise the world must determine, for it still exists in PRELIMINARY DISCOURSE. 9 spite of his reasonings, which shows that, however fiivolous it may be, it is at least possessed of considerable vitality. Hume, however, undertakes to clear up the mystery in the following manner ; “ A dmitting,” ssys he, these terms, impressions and ideas, in the sense above explained, and understanding by innate what is original or copied from no precedent perception, then may we assert that all our impressions are* innate, and our ideas not innate.” It is very easy to sneer, as Hume elsewhere does, at that jargon which has so long taken possession of metaphysical reason- ings;” but to speak frankly, I never met in any author jargon more completely unintelligible than this. Tor after utterly confounding the meaning of natural, innate, im- pression, and idea, he proceeds to make confusion worse confounded by speaking of innate and inward sensations, that is of sensations which precede the existence of all sen- sitive power, and sensations existing in the intellect, for by inward sensations he must mean this or nothing.* From the fatal necessity of entering into this controversy sprung likewise another imperfection, the principal, perhaps, in the writings of Locke; I mean his prolixity, which often tires, and would inevitably disgust were it not for the depth, * Upon this subject of innate ideas more stir was made during the lifetime of the philosopher than on any other connected with his system. The famous Ur. Sherlock attacked his views in a “Digression concerning connate Ideas, or inbred Knowledge, inserted in the third section of the second chapter of his discourse concerning the happiness of good men, and the punishment of the wicked, in the next world,” etc. (Lond. 1704. 8vo.) About four months before Locke’s death the book was sent to him by Anthony Collins, to whom in his next letter he expressed himself ^'e- specting it as follows : ‘ ‘ The samples you have sent me I must conclude, from the abilities of the author, to be very excellent. But what skall I be the better for the most exact and best- proportioned picture that evei was drawn, if I have not eyes to see the correspondence of the parts ? 1 confess the lines are too subtle for me, and my dull sight cannot perceive their connections. I am not envious, and therefore shall not be troubled if others find themselves instructed with so extraordinary and sublime a way of reasoning. I am content with my own mediocrity. And though I call the thinking faculty in me mind, yet I cannot, because of that name, compare or equal it in anything to that infinite and incomprehensible being which, for want of right and distinct conceptions, is called mind also, or the eternal mind. I endeavour to make the best use I can of everything ; and therefore, though I am in despair te be the wiser for these learned instructions, yet I hope I shall be the merrier foi them when you and I take the air in the calash together.” 10 PRELIMINARY DISCOURSE. reach, and justness of the observations that everjnvhere abound by the way, making ample amends for the slow pace at which we advance. The philosopher himself was a man of invincible patience, who calmly and continuously could view a subject on all sides, note its lucid points, and tell where its surface retreated and was overshadowed by obscurity. His genius appeared to be marked with serenity and repose, and to search for wisdom without any of that turbulent excitement experienced by inferior men in the very sanctuary of philosophy. He was, therefore, incapable of comprehending the weariness which more active but less capacious minds would inevitably feel in making their way through his lengthy investigations. He could not foresee that they would gladly receive the result without being shown the steps which led to it ; that they would have been better pleased that he should have dogmatised as a teacher than that he should have inquired as a companion and friend, not reflecting upon the inestimable advantages we enjoy in being permitted to accompany him through all those mazy and dusky paths by which he endeavoured to hound out the retreat of truth. It is a modiflcation of this practice which constitutes the principal charm of Plato’s writings; though in them the in- vestigation, thrown into the form of dialogue, enhanced by brilliant sallies of wit, illustrated by a thousand allusions to objects of beauty in nature and art, is conducted with in- finitely superior skill, and sometimes assumes much of the sprightly or impassioned tone of dramatic coUoquy. Locke unfortunately had formed a false theory of compo- sition. The philosophical style, he thought, could never be too much divested of metaphor and all other figures of speech, which in his opinion distort as well as colour the medium through which we contemplate the pure truths of the under- standing. Yet he found himself compelled everywhere to make use of this proscribed form of expression, which in many parts of the Essay on the Hunlan Understanding are as thickly sown as in any philosophical writings whatever, there being scarcely a sentence unadorned by a metaphor. But if the injurious opinions he entertained of those beauties of language did not prevent him from calling in their aid whenever he stood in need of it^ they at least led to false views PRELIMINAKY DISCOUKSE. 11 with respect to their impoii^ance, which terminated at length in carelessness and indifference to the colours and harmony of style. Towards producing this undesirable effect another quality of his mind contributed; I mean that insensibility to the allurements of verse which deprived him of the highest enjoy- ment afforded by literature, and betrayed him into expressing a cold preference for Sir Richard Blackmore before the noblest poets of our language. Had it not been for this he might possibly have united with the depth, penetration, and compre- hensiveness of a philosopher, the ease, flexibility, taste, grace- fulness, and nameless felicities of language which belong to the consummate writer ; and these, far more than his higher merits, would have opened him a way to the heart of the many, and rendered his glorious speculations popular and familiar to the whole nation. But admitting him to be in these points deficient, granting at once the roughness and inartificial structure of his language in many parts, the question is whether it be for the interest of the public that he should remain, what he has long been, a neglected author. I am aware that it belongs to the natural course of things that to a certain extent men should grow out of date with the age that produced them ; for in order to promote the tranquil- lity and happiness of the world. Providence has clearly or- dained that through all the inhabitants of a country at any given period there should preexist a certain resemblance, which in common language we denominate the spirit of the age. Such writers as partake largely of this spirit are popular during life, but rarely attain to fame. Having exclusively devoted themselves to the amusement of their contemporaries they possess nothing for posterity ; and it is not therefore un- usual to see their works perish before them. Even in the case of the greatest writers there is commonly after the cessation of their personal influence and authority a gradual diminu- tion in the number of those who peruse them, though in the meanwhile their names spread more widely and become fa- miliar to millions who have never even seen their works. This is preeminently the case with Locke. Everybody speaks of his philosophy; his Essay is among the books of most frequent occurrence upon the stalls ; and yet there is good / 12 PEELIMINARY DISCOUKSE. reason to suspect that the number of those who have the wis- dom and courage to read him is very limited. The same thing precisely is true of Lord Bacon; truer still of Hobbes and Hooker, and even of Milton as a prose writer. But must it always remain so'? Is it altogether impossible to create among our youth a more masculine taste, a more healthful and vigorous appetite '? Cannot the desire be awakened in them to escape for a moment from the vulgar literature of the hour, to wander amid those vast and solemn piles of thought which the greatest minds among our ancestors have reared in honour of pliilosophy ? For myself, I do not yet despair of the com- monwealth of letters, but feel persuaded that could I wreak, as Byron phrases it, my thoughts upon expression, could I perform successfully the task I have undertaken, could I de- scribe Locke as he is, and through a short vista open up a prospect into the rich, varied, and boundless field of thought spread before us in the Essay on the Human Understanding, my labours would not be in vain. Certain I am that it is the interest of the present age, above almost all those that have preceded it, to prosecute the study of philosophy, seeing the point at which society has arrived, when the force of tra- ditional principles being spent, there is an imperative neces- sity for other principles founded upon reason and experience. And in the works of Locke the reader will find a wonderful conformity with the tendencies of the present times. Hobbes, rash and erring in metaphysics, is in politics and practical philosophy timid and suited only to certain periods in the pro- gress of society ; Bacon, discerning the wants of his own age, taught men how to supply them, but did not attempt to per- form the task himself; Locke alone has, like Aristotle, in- vaded nearly the whole field of human knowledge, from metaphysics and the science of legislation and government down to the training and feeding of a child in the nursery. He has moreover preserved amidst the austerity of a philo- sophy almost stoical, a cheerful and ready submission to the elemental impulses of the human heart, uniting the most fer- vent piety and the highest possible sense of moral rectitude. I have elsewhere, however, described what he has left us on the subject of religion, and shall probably find other occasions for speaking of his political works, for which reason I here confine my remarks to those among his writings which treat PRELIMINARY DISCOURSE. 13 expressly of philosopliy. These I have endeavoured to ar- range in the manner best calculated to recommend their perusal, placing the Conduct of the Understanding at the head of all, as it furnishes an outline of his whole system of philosophy, happily conceived, and finished with far more care than is usually supposed. The object of this short treatise is twofold; first, to describe the extent and evils of popular ignorance, and secondly, to exhort mankind to the study of philosophy. It is a work full of ease and animation, and all that kind of eloquence which springs from a perfect knowledge of the subject ; for, composed during the last years of the au- thor s life, when he had completed his survey of the realms of knowledge and brought to the utmost maturity of which they were susceptible both his opinions and his theories, it has less the character of an inquiry than of an harangue delivered ex cathedra, without that hesitation and modest diffidence which in the Essay appear sometimes to impede the free current of his thoughts. He has here likewise introduced more abundantly perhaps than in any other part of his writings those fruits of long experience and wisdom, profound maxims, and pregnant sentences, which at once captivate the imagiuation and enlarge the mind. It seemed judicious therefore to commence the present publication with this work, which, though entirely of a popular character, leads by an easy ascent to the noblest truths of metaphysics, pinnacled upon the airiest and least accessible heights of speculation. The way being thus prepared the Essay follows, furnishing a body of philosophy worthy to be studied, together with instructions for subduing or removing all those difficidties capable of being removed which commonly beset this depart- ment of human knowledge. Next, in the Letters to the Bishop of Worcester, who had assailed his system on all those points on which it was sup- posed to be vulnerable, we have an example, and in most cases a satisfactory defence of his method of philosophising, together with the principle upon which he conducted his inquiries. To complete the cycle of his philosophical productions I •subjoin his examination of Malebranche’s system, together with such other smaller pieces as seemed to belong to the same subject. In the Notes my aim has been by no means ambitious: I have merely sought to increase the interest of the inquiries / 14 PEELIMINABY DISCOUKSE. pursued in the text, by introducing at the foot of the page illustrations from the works of other philosophers, whether they agree with Locke or differ from him. But I have by no means confined myself to this class of writers, for 'my object being to recommend the work as far as possible to general perusal, I have sought among poets, historians, travellers, in short from every kind of author within my reach, passages throwing light upon the matter in hand, confirming sometimes and sometime^ controverting the views of Locke, whom I have not the superstition to regard as infallible. Wherever I have found him to agree with others whose opinions happen to be known to me, I have been careful to point it out, particularly if he seemed to have borrowed, whether consciously or not, his notions from them. But this, it seems to me, he has seldom done, though it cannot be de- nied that the germs of one part of his theory are to be found in the dialogues of Plato, those inexhaustible treasures of thought and wisdom. About the middle of the last century, when men were in general little bigoted in favour of antiquity, a learned and in- genious writer endeavoured to show that the system of Locke, as well as those of all other modern philosophers, was bor- rowed entirely from the Greeks. Had the position been main- tained in general terms it might at first have seemed to be tenable. But the attempt having been made to support it by quotations, the accuser broke down in his proofs, merely lowing that on many points the Peripatetics, Stoics, and Epicureans had obtained glimpses of the truth afterwards demonstrated and placed in the clearest light by our illustri- ous countryman. ^In what relates to the Stoics in particular there is some- tliing very ludicrous in the reasonings of the author in ques- tion ; for, upon the strength of certain passages in Plutarch and Diogenes Laertius, he concludes that, had the writings of 2eno and his followers survived, the world would have stood in no need whatever of the Essay on the Human Understand- ing.* Whether the fact would have been so or not we have * Dutens, Origine des Descouvertes attribu^s aux Modemes, p. 13 et seq. ; where he says : “ Le philosophe Anglois fait des sensations les ma- tdrianx dont la reflexion se sert pour composer les notions de lAme : les sensations chez lui sont des iddes simples, dont la reflexion forme les rd^es complexes; c’est Ih le fondement de son liwre, dans lequel il est vi'ai qu’n a r^pandu un grand jour sur la manibre dont nous acquerons nos PKELIMINARY DISCOURSE. 15 no means of judging, for those writings have perished ir- recoverably; and the world not being disposed to reject all aid to knowledge because it did' not proceed from the Stoics, gladly received and repaid with admiration the inestimable favours conferred upon it by Locke. At the same time, I grant there has scarcely been in modem times a theory started, good, bad, or indifferent, something resembling which might not be found in the philosophical fragments bequeathed to us by antiquity, though it requires a mind of the first order properly to interpret and wisely to profit by the hints which there lie buried. For example, there occurs in the Theatetus a passage not hitherto, that I am aware of, referred to in this discussion, in which sensation and reflection are clearly con- templated as the sources of all our ideas : Both in man and the inferior animals there exists from the birth a certain natural power, by which they perceive all those sensations that flow in through the body upon the soul; but the reflections upon these sensations, which discover to us their essence and utility, (in as many as attain to the posses- sion of them at all,) grow up with difficulty in the course of time, through laborious experience and education.”* But it would nevertheless be absurd to infer that Locke had this passage before him when he first conceived the idea of the jd^es, et sur leur association ; mais il est clair aussi, par tout ce que Sex- tus Empiricus, Plutarque et Diog^ne Laerce nous ont conserve de la doc- trine des Sto’iciens, qu’ils raisonnoient de la meme manifere que Locke a fait de nos jours ; et on pent juger, par ce qu’en dit Plutarque, que si tout ce qu’il sent ecrit sur ce sujet (dans les ouvrages dont il ne nous reste que les titres) ^toit parvenu jusqu’ a nous, nous n’aurions pas en besoin de I’ouv- rage de Locke. Le fond de la doctrine de Zenon et de son ^cole sur la logique, ^toit, que toutes nos notions nous viennent des sens. L’ esprit de rhomme, k sa naissance, est semblable, disoient les Stoiciens, au pa- cier blanc dispose k recevoir tout ce que Ton veut y ecrire; les premiers impressions qu’il re 9 oit lui viennent des sens ; les objets sont-ils dloignds, la m^moire sert k retenir ces impressions ; la r^p^tition de ces memes im- pressions fait r experience. Les notions sont de deux genres, naturelles et aitificielles ; les naturelles sont les v^rites qui ont leur source dans les sensations, ou sont acquises par les sens ; c’est pourquoi ils les appelloient aussi anticipations ; les notions artificielles sont produites par la reflexion de r esprit dans des etres doues de raison.” (Plut. de Placitis Philosopb. lib. iv. c. 11.) * Opera, v. iii. p. 268. f. Bekk. Oukovv rd fiev evdvg yevo[jLavoiQ TrapECTTL (pvaei alcjOdveaOai dvOpdjTToig re Kai Orjpioig, oaa did rov G^iiarog rraOrjfiara airi rrjv if/vxw reivaL' rd da irapi rovriov dvaXcyiGiiara irpog TE ovaiav Kai uj(pa\aLav {loyig Kai av 'TroXkojv TTpayparior ko^ Taidelag Trapayiyi/aTai oig dp Kai Trapayiyvrjrat. / 1 6 PRELIMI^TAKY DISCOURSE. Essay on the Human Understanding. We are endowed with the same senses, the same understanding as the ancients, and the same inexhaustible sources of knowledge lie scattered around us over the face of nature. Why then, if chance lead us to the same springs, should we be thought to have pain- fully traced our way thither by the dimly perceptible footsteps which they have sometimes left upon the soil? 'No man of large mind and independent character studies the ancients to pilfer their notions or become a slave to their systems, but to observe the method they pursued in the search after truth, and the inimitable art which many among them exhibited in placing their discoveries before the world. But in neither of these points was Locke much indebted to them, his method of philosophising being completely distinguished from theirs, and his manner of explaining his thoughts, it is to be regretted, sriil more so. Whatever faults he may have, therefore, it is clear to me that he is neither a plagiarist nor an imitator, but a writer as much sui generis as any that can be named in the whole compass of literature. In studying him accordingly we are spared the labour of searching for the fountains of his opinions and ideas beyond the limits of his own works. He had manifestly followed the advice rather than the example of Hobbes, of reading diligently his own conceptions, which the Bishop of W orcester urged against him as a reproach, taunting him with having spun his whole theory out of his own brains. Had there been a possibility of fixing upon him the charge of plagiarism, the vast reading of Stillingfleet would have enabled him to do it, and the ill-blood engendered by controversy would not have suffered him to keep back such an accusation, as we may be sure, from his having advanced many worse. I have already alluded briefly to some of the advantages which would ensue from a revival of the study of Locke, among which not the least would be the helps to be derived from him in the construction of a sound theory of ethics. He maintained, as is well known, the opinion that a system of morals might be erected on a basis of pure demonstration, though when pressed by Molineux to undertake the task himself he declined, not so much perhaps from any distrust of his own powers as from the experience he had gained of the temper of the age in which he lived, prone not only to cavil, but wilfully to misinterpret and impute unworthy motives. PRELIMINARY DISCOURSE. 17 To any one, however, who should be disposed to complete the design which he barely contemplated, his writings would supply many useful hints and suggestions, together with indications of the track which an honest investigator oughi to pursue. It formed no part of Locke’s own plan to examine the nature of our passions, emotions, sentiments and appetites, or to determine how far and by what means they influence our actions.' Though in nowise one of those who regard man simply as a reasoning animal, Locke had still too little of the elements of passion in his own nature, to enable him to judge experimentally of the struggle usually maintained through life between the understanding and the affections, the latter spreading before the judgment a cloud which the farmer endeavours to dispel. It is accordingly observable that throughout his works our reason is alone appealed to. He never seeks to kindle our passions or enlist our sympathies on his side; but proceeding stedfastly in what appeared to him to be the wake of truth, he leaves it to our own good sense to determine whether we will go along with him or not. This doubtless was the proper spirit in which to investigate the sources of knowledge ; but it may be doubted whether it would have led him to a sound theory of morals, which should in part at least be based on departments of human experience in which Locke was deficient, never having been a husband or a father, and consequently lacking many of those views which it is impossible to take from any other positions. Ho man in fact can have failed to observe that our ethical creed changes with our years, with the changes in our relations, even with the mutations of our status in society. It is necessary to have experienced a father’s care, a mother’s tenderness, a wife’s endearing affection, the unutter- able love of children, before we can reason correctly of the duties, feelings, influences, and emotions arising out of all those different relations. Of this Locke was incapable, for the reasons before stated ; and therefore perhaps Tipon the whole, it is little to be regretted that he did not devote his time to the composition of a system of ethics, which, however admirably reasoned, would have wanted the greatest VOL. I. 0 / 18 PEELIMINARY DISCOURSH:. charm of that kind of composition. Had he possessed this, the admiration excited by his works would have partaken more of enthusiasm. He would have been resorted to as a delightful companion as well as a wise instructor; and even as it is, they who habitually converse with him end at last by acquiring a strong attachment for his character as it develops itself in his writings. A principal cause of this perhaps is his earnestness and frankness, and his being uniformly found arguing on the side of whatever is virtuous and honourable. Principles taken out of his book and pushed to extreme by others may, indeed, be found or forced to lead to dangerous consequences ; but in Locke himself we discover nothing which, as con- templated by him, is adverse to the peace and best interests of society. He maintains no paradoxes for the purpose of exhibiting his metaphysical acuteness and logical power, but following everywhere the dictates of good sense and a disciplined and vigorous reason, he arrives at precisely those truths which are best calculated to knit man to man, to promote the ends of free government, to elevate our species to its proper level, to promote our happiness both here and hereafter. Advocating above all things the free agency of man, he pitilessly batters down that hackneyed sophism by which certain wild and heterodox speculators have endeavoured to emancipate themselves and others from the empire of conscience. He establishes it as the basis of all law, govern- ment, and religion that men are accountable beings, conse- quently that they have it in their power to choose between vice and innocence; that society has a right to inflict punishment for certain crimes ; that beyond the reach of laws there are actions sinful, and consequently requiring chastisement ; that there is, therefore, a future life in which every man will receive according to the deeds done in the body. The chapter on Power, in which this question is discussed, may for this reason be said to be peculiarly worthy of being studied at the present moment, when so many of our countrymen appear to be infected by opinions of an opposite tendency. It might be useful too, as a remeay against that narrow selfishness and vulgar utilitarianism which appears to be fast springing up amongst us, patiently to accompany him through PRELIMINAKY DISCOURSE. 19 Ids speculations on Infinity, in which, flinging off one hy one the ligaments that hind us to earth, he plunges out into the great ocean, where there is no existence but that of God dwelling in eternal silence and repose. Here, if anywhere, we may discover the nothingness of our pitiful hopes and fears, whose aim extends no further than to a shadow-like passage over this bank and shoal of time.” His ideas throughout this part of his speculations are full of sublimity, some portion of which they must inevitably communicate to those who calmly and reverentially dwell upon them. Into error he may and does fall; but those we everywhere forgive him, as it is impossible not to perceive that he is guided by the love of truth, and that for her sake he was prepared to encounter persecution and calumny, and whatever other evil it might occasion him. To be conversant, therefore, with the reasonings of such a man cannot Tail at once to invigorate and purify the under- standing. It requires some acuteness and much attention to perceive all the links of his ratiocination, to follow them, when by their own weight as it were they sink to the lowest depths of metaphysics, and rising again stretch in one unbroken chain nearly across the whole domain of phi- losophy. But if we be disposed to lend him the requisite attention, it is always possible to discern the subtlest evolu- tions of his reasonings, to discover precisely whither they lead, and by what motives they are thitherward directed. nevertheless, thinking thus highly of Locke, there are several things which I miss in his philosophy, of which the principal perhaps is that sense of the beautiful necessary to impart the highest charm to metaphysical speculations. In his writings we nowhere meet with glimpses of that ideal loveliness which inhabits the inner recesses of some minds, and constitutes the best proof of their affinity with the divine nature. He knows nothing of that visionary sweet- ness which descends like dew through the periods of Plato, and literally ravishes the imagination. Virtue he cultivates, either because it is the command of God, or because it would be inconsistent with reason to dp otherwise. But there is no unconscious and involuntary apotheosis of the principal, drawing us after it like Miltoffis Archangel, by the irresistible beauty of its countenance. We seldom c2 / 20 PEELIMINARY DISCOURSE. in his company forget ourselves, or the matter in hand, to go loitering up the slope of some delightful speculation, leading us for a moment out of our track perhaps, but enabling us, after the digression, to return to it with greater zest and vigour. But what is true of him is likewise true of most modern writers on philosophy, among whom I could scarcely name a single exception, save Bacon, in whose writings we discover everywhere traces of that fire of the imagination necessary to ripen, and bring the noblest fruits of the soul to perfection. His thoughts had moved as it were among the clouds, and caught all the warm and golden hues which they •present in the first hour of the morning. Impassioned he neither is nor knows how to be ; but his fancy, like a bee, had wandered everywhere through the universe, culling the choicest sweets and odours, which he has breathed over his pages. Hence the pleasure which the reading of Bacon often imparts, when we neither admire his reasoning nor approve of his opinions. Locke, in comparison with him, holds the same place that logic does with respect to rhetoric. In the one the roots only of thoughts and speculations appear upon the surface, while the plants themselves grow in an inverted order, blossom inwards, and bear fruit in the secret recesses of the mind : in the other, whatever is rough or unsightly is kept sedulously out of view, while all that is rich or fascinating is artfully disposed in the order best calculated to charm the eye. Again, Locke, like Epicureus, whether from the affectation of extreme originality, or from some peculiar theory of composition, the reason of which is not apparent, not only quotes very little from other philosophers, but seldom even refers to them in their opinions, except when it happens to be necessary to refute them. To him, therefore, we may apply with truth the censure which Hr. Johnson unjustly directed against Milton, that “ few men ever wrote so much and praised so little.” In this characteristic likewise he differs widely from Lord Bacon; many of whose .Essays consist of a cento of quotations, admirably put together indeed, but in which little more than the arrangement and setting belongs to him. In Aristotle too and Plato the page is often studded with illustrious names, which are sometimes merely referred to by the ^vay, sometimes for the purpose of opposing, examining, explaining, or illustrating opinions or principles PRELIMINARY DISCOURSE. 21 with which they were connected. This may in some sort be regarded as the bibliography of philosophy ; and such is the weakness of human nature, such the desire and the necessity for frequent resting places in abstruse speculations, that allurements and concessions like these, if not absolutely necessary, are at least exceedingly well calculated to keep us in breath as it were, and enable us to support toil with cheerfulness. In the Letters to the Bishop of Worcester, long as they are and full of repetitions, there is frequently a sort of dialogistic vivacity which keeps up the interest and carries along the reader without weariness to the end. Two characters are insensibly developed before us : that of the Bishop, confident in his extensive learning and high rank in the church, and relying greatly on the fame he had already acquired, advancing opinions and accusations rashly, laying his flanks open to the enemy, and then compelled to retire galled, chafed, and humiliated; and that of the philosopher looking warily around him, calmly and deli- berately erecting his batteries, spying out the weak point of the enemy, and then pouring in upon him without mercy his incessant and tremendous fire. In these com- positions we are sometimes reminded of the polished play- fulness of Pascal. To enliven the dryness of controversy little imaginary dialogues are got up, in which the Bishop’s arguments are mawled with a freedom and a levity in which Locke would not have indulged in his own proper person when contending openly with his antagonist. But the controversy in the course of its development exhibited all the phases which controversies usually present Beginning at first with a considerable show of good temper and politeness on both sides, it gradually warmed and became embittered, until what seemed to be a mere friendly discussion, undertaken for the purpose of settling agreeably a few doubtful points, degenerated into a fierce warfare, in which both parties put forth all their strength, and seemed to , hazard their very reputation on the issue. Locke, it is well known, came out of the struggle triumphant ; and this is not at all to be wondered at, for whatever learning or ability Dr. Stillingfleet may have possessed, he was certainly endued with little of that vigour of intellect, that calm and temperate spirit of speculation, that acuteness to discern, / 22 PRELIMINARY DISCOURSE. that patience to explain, and that power to argue and vindicate the rights of truth which so preeminently distinguish Locke. The questions discussed were of the most abstruse kind: the essence of substance, of nature, of person, of identity and diversity, of the Kesurrection, of the Trinity, and the Incarnation of Christ. Of the learning requisite in a divine. Dr. Stillingfleet appears (for I do not presume to speak positively) to have possessed an ample share. It was not, therefore, from any deficiency on this point that he lost ground in the controversy, but because he was little accustomed to the calm, cautious, and rigid prooeedings of metaphysics, in which nothing can be conceded to authority, nothing to public opinion, but where truth, naked and undisguised, is the sole guide and arbiter of all. Locke, on the other hand, besides being a redoubtable logician, was a practised controversialist, having all his life accustomed himself, though he was little fond of acknowledging it, to the eristic art, in which probably he was little inferior to Zeno himself. The reader will examine and judge. Never- theless, from what has been said, it will be perceived, that as the dispute turns upon questions so thorny and difficult, it is no easy matter always to appreciate the value of the arguments or the force of the reasoning. Still it is in many respects fortunate that the controversy took place, since it enabled Locke to explain many parts of his philosophy which might otherwise have remained doubtful, and to defend and clear himself from several suspicions which, if made known after his death, it might have been exceedingly difficult to remove. For example, it is cigar from the mistake of Dr. Stillingfleet, that it is possible for a hasty reader of the Essay on the Human Understanding to imagine Locke a disbeliever in the existence of the external world, but to one who peruses these letters such a suspicion can never present itself. On several points of faith too he had here an opportunity of speaking out explicitly, and he has in general done so with a frankness and fulness which seem to me altogether satisfactory. Whether I possess too much or too little charity, the reader must decide when he has arrived at the end. J. A. St. J. OF THE CONDUCT OF THE UNDERSTANDING. ‘Quid tarn temerarium tamque indignum sapientis gravitate atque con- stantia, quam aut falsum sentire, aut quod non satis explorate percep- turn sit, et cognitum, sine ullA dubitatione defendere ? ” Cic. de Natura Deorum^ lib. i. [Locke bas seldom obtained the credit due to him for the following brief treatise. It may in fact be said to be comparatively little known ; for though sometimes printed separately, and at other times added almost by way of Appendix to the Essay on the Human Understanding, the opinion of the earliest editor of his works that it is httle more than a series of “sudden views, intended to be afterwards revised and further looked into,” appears to have been pretty generally adopted. Nevertheless the work is in every respect deserving of very high praise. The author when he wrote it had completed his meditations on all the important topics therein glanced at. He had learned, by the reception his own philosophy had met with, how hard it is to give currency to new truths, which are commonly suspected for counterfeits, until long use and familiarity have reconciled maiiind to their appearance. Controversialists had assaulted him ; his doctrines had been misunderstood, his motives misinterpreted ; his indignation -against ignorance and error, against prejudice and calumny, against the obstinacy which is blind to the beauties of truth, and the timidity, which though perceiving refuses to acknowledge them, was there- fore wound up to a high pitch, and brought some relief for his mind in exposing the contemptible weakness and the perverse selfishness by which philosophy like religion is thwarted in its benevolent endeavours to enlighten and fortify the human mind. This is the object -of the Conduct of the Understanding. It is an apology for philosophy, full of the highest wisdom, the most exquisite good sense, and is rendered doubly piquant by a tone of resentment, mingled with and modifying his characteristic yearning to be of service to his fellow- creatures. Though written later in the order of time, it should now be regarded as an intro- duction to the greater essay, being written in a style more sprightly, popular, and easy, abounding with figures and brilliant sallies of the fancy, and therefore calculated to operate as a recommendation to the more for- midable speculations that succeed it. How it is likely to be estimated or received by readers of the present day it is difficult to foresee. I never remember to have met with the slightest notice of it by any of my con- temporaries. The work is evidently little read, but no one who is at the trouble to become acquainted with its merits will acknowledge that it de- serves to be neglected. Some few repetitions there are, together with certain roughnesses, and slight inaccuracies of style, which may perhaps be owing to its posthumous publication. Perhaps, however, the author, had he lived, would not have been very solicitous to remove these trifling blem- / 24 CONDUCT OF THE UNDERSTANDING. Lshes, since he indulged in the affectation, scarcely pardonahle in one so great and wise, of looking with indifference on the niceties of language and composition. But if there be found here and there some few small im- perfections, they are scarcely visible amid the crowd of beauties which press upon the sight. From first to last the chain of reasoning proceeds in one almost unbroken flow. It more resembles an oration in its orna- ments and magnificence than a philosophical treatise. The language is quick, full, vehement. Argument does not here disdain the alliance of wit, or irony, or satire. Every weapon which can pierce ignorance, or beat down the defences of fraud, is seized on and wielded with surprising vigour and adroitness. The reader expecting mere instruction, is sur- prised at finding the most animate entertainment, so that I much doubt whether any one who can relish speculation at all, or experience an interest in anything but fiction, ever commenced the Conduct of the Understanding for the first time without pressing forward to its conclu- sion with unsatisfied appetite and unabated delight. To sum up its merits we may briefly say, that it is not unworthy to usher the mind into the great and magnificent building of which it may be regarded as the vestibule. — Editor. ] 1 . Introduction. — The last resort a man has recourse to, in the conduct of himself, is his understanding; for though we distinguish the faculties of the mind, and give the supreme command to the will, as to an agent, yet the truth is, the man, who is the agent, determines himself to this or that voluntary action, upon some precedent knowledge, or appearanc: of knowledge, in the understanding."^ No man ever sets himself about anything but upon some view or other, which serves him for a reason for what he does : and whatsoever faculties he em- ploys, the understanding, with such light as it has, well or ill informed, constantly leads ; and by that light, true or false, all his operative powers are directed. The will itself, how ab- solute and uncontrollable soever it may be thought, never fails in its obedience to the dictates of the understanding. Temples have their sacred images, and we see what influence they have alw^.ys had over a great part of mankind. But in truth, the ideas and images in men’s minds are the invisible powers that constantly govern them, and to these they all universally pay a ready submission. It is therefore of the highest concern- ment that great care should be taken of the understanding, to conduct it right in the search of knowledge, and in the judgments it makes. * The question barely glanced at in this place is fully discussed in tho Essay on the Human Understanding, Book II. ch. ii. § 29. 00ia)UCT OF THE UNDERSTANDING. 25 The logic now in use has so long possessed the chair, as the only art taught in the schools, for the direction of the mind in the study of the arts and sciences, that it would perhaps be thought an affectation of novelty to suspect that rules that have served the learned world these two or three thousand years, and which, without any complaint of defects, the learned have rested in, are not sufficient to guide the understanding.'^ And I should not doubt but this attempt would be censured as vanity or presumption, did not the great Lord Yerulam’s authority justify it; who, not servilely thinking learning could not be advanced beyond what it was, because for many ages it had not been, did not rest in the lazy approbation and ap- plause of what was, because it was, but enlarged his mind to what it might be. In his preface to his Novum Organum, concerning logic, he pronounces thus : “ Qui summas dialecticse partes tribuerunt, atque inde fidissima scientiis prsesidia com- parari putarunt, verissime et optime viderunt intellectum hu manum, sibi permissum, merito suspectum esse debere. Y eruin infirmior omninb est malo medicina; nec ipsa mali expers. Siquidem dialectica, quse recepta est, licet ad civilia et artes, qu9e in sermone et opinione positse sunt, rectissime adhibeatur ; naturae tamen subtilitatem longo intervallo non attingit, et prensando quod non capit, ad errores potius stabiliendos et quasi figendos, quam ad viam veritati aperiendam valuit.” They,” says he, who attributed so much to logic, perceived very well and truly that it was not safe to trust the under- standing to itself without the guard of any rules. But the remedy reached not the evil, but became a part of it, for the logic which took place, though it might do well enough in civil affairs and the arts, which consisted in talk and opinion, yet comes very far short of subtlety in the real performances of nature ; and, catching at what it cannot reach, has served to confirm and establish errors, rather than to open a way to truth.” And therefore a little after he says, That it is ab- solutely necessary that a better and perfecter use and employ- * Thougli it had grown fashionable in Locke’s age to attack the an- cient systems of logic, it will not, I imagine, be supposed that the philo- sopher himself intended to undervalue the science, though he points out the imperfections and abuses of it. However, he appears in some cases to have confounded the clear, systematic reasonings of the ancients with the subtleties prevalent among the schoolmen, and to have valued even the latter at much less than they were worth. / 26 CONDUCT OF THE UNDERSTANDING. ment of the mind and understanding should be introduced.” ISTecessarib requiritur ut melior et perfectior mentis et iutel- lectus humani usus et adoperatio introducatur.” 2. Parts . — There is, it is visible, great variety in men’s un- derstandings, and their natural constitutions put so wide a difference between some men in this respect, that art and industry would nmer be able to master, and their very natares seem to want a foundation to raise on it that which other men easily attain unto.'^ Amongst men of equal education there is great inequality of parts. And the woods of America, as well as the schools of Athens, produce men of several abilities in the same kind. Though this be so, yet I imagine most men come very short of what they might attain unto, in their several degrees, by a neglect of their understandings, t A few rules of logic are thought sufficient in this case for those who pretend to the highest improvement, whereas I think there are a great many natural defects in the understanding capable of amendment, which are overlooked and wholly neglected. And it is easy to perceive that men are guilty of a great many faults in the exercise and improvement of this faculty of the mind, which hinder them in their progress, and keep them in ignorance and error all their lives. Some of them I shall ^take notice of, and endeavour to point out proper remedies for, [J[n the following discourse. 3. Reasoning . — Besides the want of determined ideas, and of sagacity and exercise in finding out and laying in order intermediate ideas, there are three miscarriages that men are * This view of human nature being that which common sense and ex- perience suggest, has been that of most philosophers from the days of Homer until now. But Helvetius, who desired rather to advance a new and startling theory than to establish truth, contends for the absolute equality of natural powers among men, and derives all the differences observable in them from the accidents of their education. In support of this hypothesis he exhibits much ingenuity, and brings forward many valuable and little- known facts, serving at least to show that discipline and instruction, though incapable of imparting intellect, create, never- theless, most of those distinctions existing among mankind. So far, however, he had, as the reader will perceive, been anticipated by Locke, and indeed long before him, by Quinctilian. t A French writer has put this thought in a more epigrammatic form : ‘‘II n’y a personne pent ^tre qui a fait tout ce qu’il pouvait.” Yet Ten- nemann observes that “Socrates formed the design of carrying human natuie in wisdom and virtue as far as it could go, and he carried it.” But if this was so in one case, the experiment has seldom been repeated* CONDUCT OF THE UNDERSTANDING. 27 guilty of, in reference to their reason, whereby this faculty is hindered in them from that service it might do and was de- signed for. And he that reflects upon the actions and dis- courses of manhind will find their defects in this kind very frequent and very observable. 1. The first is of those who seldom reason at all, but do and think according to the example of others, whether parents, neighbours, ministers, or who else they are pleased to make choice of to have an implicit faith in, for the saving of them- selves the pains and trouble of thinking and examining for themselves.* 2. The second is of those who put passion in the place of reason, and being resolved that shall govern their actions and arguments, neither use their own, nor hearken to other people’s reason, any further than it suits their humour, interest, or party ; and these one may observe commonly content them- selves with words which have no distinct ideas to them, though in other matters, that they come with an unbiassed indifler- ency to, they want not abilities to talk and hear reason, where they have no secret inclination that hinders them from being tractable to it. 3. The third sort is of those who readily and sincerely fol- low reason, but for want of having that which one may call large, sound, roundabout sense, have not a full view of all that relates to the question, and may be of moment to decide it. We are all shortsighted, and very often see but one side of a matter; our views are not extended to all that has a connex- ion with it.f From this defect I think no man is free. We see but in part, and we know but in part, and therefore it is * The poet Hesiod has somewhere divided men into three -classes, dis- tinguished from each other by the qualities of the understanding: the first he says consists of those who are able to discover truth for them- selves ; the second, of such as though they cannot make the discovery by their own strength, are yet willing to receive the truth disclosed to them by others ; but the third class, who can neither discover it them- selves nor will receive it when discovered by others,- he overwhelms with scorn as the dregs of the species. Plato likewise, in his Pepublic, makes a similar division of mankind, but with a view to politics, conferring on the first the right to rule, on the second the privilege of bearing aims, while to the third he only grants the hard lot of toiling for the former two. Similar notions, more literally iuterpreted, led in India to th® system of castes. “For now we see through a glass darkly, but then face to face.” / 28 CONDUCT OF THE UNDERSTANDING. no wonder we conclude not right from our partial views. This might instruct the proudest esteemer of his own parts, how useful it is to talk and consult with others, even such as come» short of him in capacity, quickness, and penetration; for since no one sees all, and we generally have different prospects of the same thing according to our different, as I may say, positions to it, it is not incongruous to think, nor beneath any man to try, whether another may not have notions of things which have escaped him, and which his reason would make use of if they came into his mind. The faculty of reasoning seldom or never deceives those who trust to it ; its consequences, from what it builds on, are evident and certain; but that which it often est, if not only, misleads us in is, that the principles from which we conclude the groun ds upon which we bottom our reasoning, are but a part ; some- thing is left out, which should go into the reckoning, to make it just and exact. Here we may imagine a vast and almost infinite advantage that angels and separate spirits may have over us, who in their several degrees of elevation above us may be endowed with more comprehensive faculties ; and some of them perhaps, having perfect and exact views of all finite beings that come under their consideration, can, as it were, in the twinkling of an eye, collect together all their scattered and almost boundless relations. A mind so furnished, what reason has it to acquiesce in the certainty of its conclusions ! * The germs of this opinion, which is purely Platonic, may be found developed to a certain point in several pa.rts of the Paradise Lost. Phi- losophical in the strictest sense of the word it unquestionably is, for though incapable of proofs it flows almost necessarily from the noblest theory of the universe, and view of the works of G-od. The readers of Milton, who reflect on what they read, cannot but be filled with wonder at his conception of those superior intelligences which, encircling the throne of the Divinity, are more deeply impregnated by his power, more brilliantly illuminated by the brightness of his wisdom. Raphael, dis- coursing with Adam, lifts up for a moment a part of the curtain which conceals from us the angelic nature, and at the same time teaches that the principle of life and the power of intellect develop themselves more and more in an ascending scale, from the humblest organized sentient being to the highest spiritual order of creation. Though there is here no space to accumulate all the passages in which allusions to this hypothesis are found, we cannot refuse ourselves the pleasure of introducing the following most magnificent fragment of philosophy: — One Almighty is, from whom All things proceed, and up to him return, CONDUCT OF THE UNDERSTANDING, 29 In this we may see the reason why some men of study and tnought, that reason right and are lovers of truth, do make no great advances in their discoveries of it. Error and truth are uncertainly blended in their minds; their decisions are lame and defective, and they are very often mistaken in their judgments : the reason whereof is, they converse but with one sort of men, they read but one sort of books, they will not come in the hearing but of one sort of notions ; the truth is, they canton out to themselves a little Goshen in the intellectual world, where light shines, and as they conclude, day blesses them; but the rest of that vast expansum they give up to night and darkness, and so avoid coming near it. They have a pretty traffic with known correspondents, in some little creek; within that they confine themselves, and are dexter- ous managers enough of the wares and products of that corner with which they content themselves, but will not venture out into the great ocean of knowledge, to survey the riches that nature hath stored other parts with, no less genuine, no less solid, no less useful than what has fallen to their lot, in the admired plenty and sufficiency of their own little spot, which to them contains whatsoever is good in the universe.* Those If not depraved from good, created all Such to perfection, one first matter all. Indued with various forms, various degrees Of substance, and in things that live, of life ; But more refined, more spirituous, and pure. As nearer to him placed or nearer tending Each in their several active spheres assigned. Till body up to spirit work, in bounds Proportioned to each kind. So from the root Springs lighter the green stalk, from thence the leavec More airy, last the bright consummate flower Spirits odorous breathes : flowers and their fruit Man’s nourishment, by graduated scale sublimed To vital spirits aspire, to animal. To intellectual, give both life and sense. Fancy and understanding, whence the soul Beason receives, and reason is her being. Discursive, or intuitive ; discourse Is oftest yours, the latter most is ours. Differing but in degree, of kind the same.” The use which Pope made of this notion is well known, and it will therefore be sufficient to allude to it. * In the above remarks is contained the whole philosophy of sectari- anism, whether in religion or the higher parts of learning. Could men 30 CONDUCT OF THE UNDEKSTANDING. who live thus mewed up within their own contracted terri- tories, and will not look abroad beyond the boundaries that chance, conceit, or laziness has set to their inquiries, but live separate from the notions, discourses, and attainments of the rest of mankind, may not amiss be represented by the inhabi- tants of the Marian islands, who, being separated by a large tract of sea from all communion with the habitable parts of the earth, thought themselves the only people of the world.* And though the straitness of the conveniences of life amongst them had never reached so far as to the use of fire, till the Spaniards, not many years since, in their voyages from Aca- pulco to Manilla, brought it amongst them ; yet, in the want and ignorance of almost all things, they looked upon them- selves, even after that the Spaniards had brought amougst divest themselves of the narrowness of mind here described, a more liberal and generous spirit of philosophizing might be introduced, capable of overcoming not only the prejudices of sect, but also those of nation and race, more difficult still to extirpate. By these latter chiefly, the progress of Locke’s philosophy has been obstructed on the continent, if not within the limits of our own island; for perhaps we may without injustice supect certain Scotch metaphysicians of being actuated by some such feelings in their treatment of his system. ^ We have here one example, and many others will hereafter occur, of the advantages which the philosopher derived from his familiarity with books of voyages and travels. He read with method, but confined his reading to no particular department of literature ; though among his fa- vourite works were those which paint the manners of nations savage or but slightly civilized. By these means he had penetrated into the causes which impel man from one state of society into another ; I mean the prox- imate causes, for the remote original cause lies as far beyond the range of human contemplation, as that which impels the individual from infancy to boyhood, from youth to age. In the above passage Locke alludes to an anecdote often repeated, viz., that the natives of the Marian islands when first they saw fire, supposed it to be some new kind of animal, and approached to stroke it with their hands. When the flames burnt their fingers they started back, and exclaimed that the creature had bitten them. The natives of the Andaman islands, almost within sight of our Indian possessions in the Bay of Bengal, were until very lately ignorant of the use of fire. See a very curious account of them in the Asiatic Researches, vol. iv. p. 401 et seq. The natives of Norway, though from time immemorial familiar with the use of fire, in one instance we are told imagined that it grew on trees. “The poor Norwegian,” says Bishop Patrick, “whom stories tell of, was afraid to touch roses when he first gaw them, for fear they should burn his fingers. He much wondered to «ee that trees (as he thought) should put forth flames and blossoms of fire ; before which he held up his hand to warm himself, not daring to approa^i any nearer.” (Advice to a Friend, p. 58.) CONDUCT OF THE UNDERSTANDING. 31 them the notice of variety of nations, abounding in sciences, arts, and conveniences of life, of which they knew nothing ; they looked upon themselves, I say, as the happiest and wisest people of the universe. But for all that, nobody, I think, will imagine them deep naturalists or solid metaphysicians ; nobody will deem the quickest-sighted amongst them to have very enlarged views in ethics or politics ; nor can any one allow the most capable amongst them to be advanced so far in his understanding as to have any other knowledge but of the few little things of his and the neighbouring islands within his commerce; but far enough from that compre- hensive enlargement of mind which adorns a soul devoted to truth, assisted with letters, and a free generation of the several views and sentiments of thinking men of all sides. Let not men, therefore, that would have a sight of what every one pretends to be desirous to have a sight of, truth in its full extent, narrow and blind their own prospect. Let not men think there is no truth but in the sciences that they study, or books that they read. To prejudge other men’s notions, be- fore we have Jooked into them, is not to show their darkness, but to put out our own eyes. Try all things, hold fast that which is good,” is a divine rule, coming from the Father of light and truth, and it is hard to know what other way men can come at truth, to lay hold of it, if they do not dig and search for it as for gold and hid treasure ; but he that does so must have much earth and rubbish before he gets the pure metal; sand and pebbles and dross usually lie blended with it, but the gold is nevertheless gold, and will enrich the man that employs his pains to seek and separate it. Neither is there any danger he should be deceived by the mixture. Every man carries about him a touchstone, if he will make use of it, to distinguish substantial gold from superficial glit- terings, truth from appearances. And, indeed, the use and benefit of this touchstone, which is natural reason, is spoiled and lost only by assuming prejudices, overweening presump- tion, and narrowing our minds. The want of exercising it in the full extent of things intelligible, is that which weakens and extinguishes this noble faculty in us. Trace it and see whether it be not so. The day-labourer in a country village has commonly but a small pittance of knowledge, because his ideas and notions have been confined to the narrow bounds 32 CONDJCT OF THE UNDERSTANDING. of a poor conversation and employment ; the low mechanic of a country town does somewhat outdo him: porters and cobblers of great cities surpass them. A country gentleman who, leaving Latin and learning in the university, removes thence to his mansionhouse, and associates with neighbours of the same strain, who relish nothing but hunting and a bottle : with those alonfe he spends his time, with those alone he con- verses, and can away with no company whose discourse goes beyond what claret and dissoluteness inspire.* Such a pa- triot, formed in this happy way of improvement, cannot fail, as we see, to give notable decisions upon the bench at quar- ter-sessions, and eminent proofs of his skill in politics, when the strength of his purse and party have advanced him to a more conspicuous station. To such a one, truly, an ordinary cofiee-house gleaner of the city is an arrant statesman, and as much superior to as a man conversant about Whitehall and the court is to an ordinary shopkeeper. To carry this a little further : here is one muffled up in the zeal and infallibility of his own sect, and will not touch a book or enter into debate with a person that will question any of those things which to him are sacred. Another surveys our differences in religion with an equitable and fair indifference, and so finds, probably, that none of them are in everything unexceptionable. These divisions and systems were made by men, and carry the mark of fallible on them; and in those whom he differs from, and till he opened his eyes had a general prejudice against, he meets with more to be said for a great many things than before he was aware of, or could have imagined. Which of these two now is most likely to judge right in our religious controversies, and to be most stored with truth, the mark all pretend to aim at^ All these men that I have instanced in, thus unequally furnished with truth and advanced in know- ledge, I suppose, of equal natural parts ; all the odds between them has been the different scope that has been given to their understandings to range in, for the gathering up of information and furnishing their heads with ideas and notions Owing partly perhaps to the effect of Locke’s own works, this repul- sive picture of country gentlemen is no longer coiTect, at least to the same extent as formerly. Education is now finding its way among all classes of the community, high and low; though the aids and sciences most popularly studied, are not precisely those which a philosopher would approve. CONDUCT OF THE UNDERSTANDING. 23 and observations, whereon to employ their mind and form their nnderstan dings.* It will possibly be objected, “ who is sufficient for all this?” I answer, more than can be imagined. Every one knows what his proper business is, and what, according to the character he makes of himself, the world may justly expect of him ; and to answer that, he will find he will have time and opportunity enough to furnish himself, if he will not deprive himself by a narrowness of spirit of those helps that are at hand. I do not say, to be a good geographer, that a man should visit every mountain, river, promontory, and creek upon the face of the earth, view the buildings and survey the land everywhere, as if he were gcdng to make a purchase ; but yet every one must allow that he shall know a country better that makes often sallies into it and traverses up and down, than he that like a mill-horse goes still round in the same track, or keeps within the narrow bounds of a field or two that delight him. He that will in- quire out the best books in every science, and inform himself of the most material authors of the several sects of philo- sophy and religion, will not find it an infinite work to acquaint himself with the sentiments of mankind concerning the most weighty and comprehensive subjects. t Let him exercise the * It should here be observed that Locke’s conception of education dif- fered very materially from that which generally prevails. He understood by it rather the training and disciplining of the mind into good habits, than the mere tradition of knowledge ; on which point he agreed entirely with the ancients. t To aid the reader in the accomplishment of what he here recommends, Locke has himself drawn up a list of the works a gentleman should study, which though imperfect even with reference to his own times, and now of necessity much more so, may still be consulted with advantage. Lord Bacon has likewise condescended to direct the students of philoso- phy and politics in their reading, and enumerates many “Helps to the Intellectual Powers.” The works he recommends are not now likely to be read, for which reason I do not name them ; but his description of the man who profits most by study, I shall introduce. “Certain it is, whether it be believed or not, that as the most excellent of metals, gold, is of all others the most pliant and most enduring to be wrought, so of all living and breathing substances, the perfectest man is the most sus- ceptible of help, improvement, impression, and alteration ; and not only in his body, but in his mind and spirit ; and there again, not only in his appetite and affection, but in his wit and reason.” (Works, vol. v. p. 329 et seq.) But on the subject of this section, Milton’s “Tractate on Lducatior ” may be regained as the best guide to which we could refer, VOL. I. D / 34 CONDUCT OF THE UNDEKSTANDING. freedom of his reason and understanding in such a latitude as this, and his mind will he strengthened, his capacity enlarged, his faculties improved ; and the light which the remote and scattered parts of truth will give to one another will so assist his judgment, that he will seldom be widely out, or miss giv- ing proof of a clear head and a compreheusive knowledge. At least, this is the only way I know to give the understand- ing its due improvement to the full extent of its capacity, and to distinguish the two most different things I know in the world, a logical chicaner from a man of reason. Only, he that would thus give the mind its flight, and send abroad his inquiries into all parts after truth, must be sure to settle in his head determined ideas of all that he employs his thoughts about, and never fail to judge himself, and judge unbiassedly, of all that he receives from others, either in their writings or discourses, Reverence or prejudice must not* be suffered to give beauty or deformity to any of their opinions. 4. Of Practice and Habits. — e are born with faculties and powers capable almost of anything, such at least as would carry us further than can easily be imagined ; but it is only the exercise of those powers which gives us ability and skill in anything, and leads us towards perfection. A middle-aged ploughman will scarce ever be brought to the carriage and language of a gentleman, though his body be as well-proportioned, and his joints as supple, and his natural parts not any way inferior. The legs of a dancing-master and the Angers of a musician fall as it were naturally, with- out thought or pains, into regular and admirable motions. Bid them change their parts, and they will in vain endeavour to produce like motions in the members not used to them, and it will require length of time and long practice to attain but some degrees of a like ability. What incredible and astonish- ing actions do we And rope-dancers and tumblers bring their bodies to ! Not but that sundry in almost all manual arts are as wonderful; but I name those which the world takes notice of for such, because on that very account they give money to see them. All these admired motions, beyond the the noblest grounds of literary taste and knowledge being there pointed out, and enlarged upon in a manner nowhere else equalled. Another work worthy of praise is the Abb^ Fleury’s '^Choix des Etudes,'* which Gibbon had the candour to commend, and the wisdom to study. CONDUCT OF THE UNDERSTANDING. 35 reach and almost conception of unpractised spectators, are nothing but the mere effects of use and industry in men whose bodies have nothing peculiar in them from those of the amazed lookers-on.* As it is in the body, so it is in the mind : practice makes it what it is ; and most even of those excellencies which are looked on as natural endowments, will be found, when exam- ined into more narrowly, to be the product of exercise, and to be raised to that pitch only by repeated actions. t Some men are remarked for pleasantness in raillery ; others for apologues and apposite diverting stories. This is apt to be taken for the effect of pure nature, and that the rather because it is not got by rules, and those who excel in either of them never purposely set themselves to the study of it as an art to be learnt. J But yet it is true, that at first some lucky hit, which * And yet they who witness the performances of the Indian jugglers, or believe what others relate of them, will scarcely suppose their dexterity to he the result of mere exercise. Tor Ibn Batuta saw at Delhi one of this fraternity bundle his body up into the foim of a cube, and ascend like a dark vapour into the air ; a feat not likely to arise out of simple practice. Again, honest Tavernier has a story, which he relates with the utmost naivete, calculated to convey a lofty idea of the natural philosophy of jugglers. They took a small piece of wood, and having planted it in the earth, demanded of one of the bystanders what fruit they should cause it to produce. The company replied that they wished to see man- gos. One of the jugglers then wrapped himself in a sheet, and crouched down to the earth, several times in succession. Tavernier, whom all this diablerie delighted exceedingly, ascended to the window of an upper chamber for the purpose of beholding more distinctly the whole proceed- ings of the magician, and through a rent in the sheet saw him cut him- self under the arms with a razor, and rub the piece of wood with his blood. Every time he rose from his crouching posture the bit of wood grew visibly, and at the third time branches and buds sprang out. The tree, which had now attained the height of five or six feet, was next covered with leaves, and then with flowers. At this instant an English clergyman arrived, the performance taking place at the house of one of our countrymen, and perceiving in what practices the jugglers were en- gaged, commanded them instantly to desist, threatening the whole of the Europeans present with exclusion from the holy communion if they per- sisted in encouraging the diabolical arts of sorcerers, and magicians.” Our traveller was thus prevented from beholding the crowning miracle. (Lives of Celebrated Travellers, vol. i. p. 183 et seq.) f An illustration of this point, as far as the body is concerned, occurs in the story of Baharam Gour, in the Tales of the Bamadhan, where Shireen, commencing with carrying a calf up the steps of a tower, ends by being able to carry up a cow. Lawyers are usually good racontems^ (I rmist borrow this word be- D 2 36 CONDUCT OF THE UNDERSTANDING. took with somebody and gained him commendation, encou« raged him to try again, inclined his thoughts and endeavours that way, till at last he insensibly got a facility in it, without perceiving how ; and that is attributed wholly to nature which was much more the effect of use and practice. I do not deny that natural disposition may often give the first rise to it, but that never carries a man far without use and exercise, and it is practice alone that brings the powers of the mind, as well as those of the body, to their perfection.* Many a good poetic vein is buried under a trade, and never produces anything for want of improvement, t We see the ways of discourse and reasoning are very different, even concerning the same matter, at court and in the university. And he that will go but from Westminster-hall to the Exchange will find a different genius and turn in their ways of talking ; and yet one cannot think that all whose lot fell in the city av ere born with different parts from those who were bred at the university or inns of couii}. To what purpose all this but to show that the difference so observable in men’s understandings and parts does not arise so much from their natural faculties as acquired L. bits. He would be laughed at that should go about to make a fine cause our language has no equivalent,) the art of dressing up trifling narratives in an amusing way forming part of their legal studies. To this Lord Bacon alludes when he mentions “ the exercise of lawyers in memory, narratives,” etc. His Lordship is well known to have made for his owTx use a collection of choice anecdotes and witty sayings, which have since been published, and are in many cases well worthy of notice. (Bohn s edition, p. 164.) * The greatest ambition of a wit is to pass for an improvisatore ; but Swift, lying in bed till noon to invent sprightly sallies for the remainder of the day, was a type of the whole painstaking race of jokers, who fa^ tigue their own intellects to make other people merry, and are generally observed to be themselves thoughtful, if not sad, except at the mo- ment when they are uttering their jests. t This reflection has crept into Grey’s Elegy, and is therefore familiar to most readers : — ‘‘Perhaps in this neglected spot is laid Some heart once pregnant with celestial fire ; Hands that the rod of empire might have swayed. Or waked to ecstasy t*he living lyre. * ^ * at * * Some village Hampden, that with dauntless breast The little tyrant of his fields withstood ; Some mute, inglorious Milton here may rest. Some Cromwell, fijifiltless of his country’s blood.** CONDUCT OF THE UNDERSTANDING. 37 danger out of a country hedger at past fifty. And he will not have much better success who shall endeavour at that age to make a man reason well, or speak handsomely, who has never been used to it, though you should lay before him a col- lection of all the best precepts of logic or oratory. Nobody is made anything by hearing of rules or laying them up in his memory; practice must settle the habit of doing without reflecting on the rule; and you may as well hope to make a good painter or musician extempore, by a lecture and instruc- tion in the arts of music and painting, as a coherent thinker or a strict reasoner by a set of rules showing him wherein right reasoning consists. This being so that defects and weakness in men’s under- standing, as well as other faculties, come from want of a right use of their own minds, I am apt to think the fault is gene- rally mislaid upon nature, and there is often a complaint of want of parts when the fault lies in want of a due improve- ment of them. We see men frequently dexterous and sharp enough in making a bargain who, if you reason with them about matters of religion, appear perfectly stupid. 5. Ideas . — I will not here, in what relates to the right con- duct and improvement of the understanding, repeat again the getting clear and determined ideas, and the employing our thoughts rather about them than about sounds put for them, nor of settling the signification of words which we use with ourselves in the search of truth, or with others in discoursing about it. Those hindrances of our understandings in the pur- suit of knowledge I have sufficiently enlarged upon in another place, so that nothing more needs here to be said of those matters. 6. Principles . — There is another fault that stops or mis- leads men in their knowledge which I have also spoken some- thing of, but yet is necessary to mention here again, that we may examine it to the bottom and see the root it springs from, und that is, a custom of taking up with principles that are not self-evident, and very often n%ot so much as true. It is not unusual to see men rest their opinions upon foundations that have no more certainty and solidity than the propositions built on them and embraced for their sake. Such foundations are these and the like, viz., the founders or leaders of my party are good men, and therefore their tenets are true; it is the 38 CONDUCT OF THE UNDERSTANDING. opinion of a sect that is erroneous, therefore it is false ; it hath been long received in the world, therefore it is true; or, it is new, and therefore false. These, and many the like, whicli are by no means the measures of truth and falsehood, the generality of men make the standards by which they accustom their understanding to judge. And thus, they falling into a habit of determining of truth and falsehood by such wrong measures, it is no wonder they should embrace error for certainty, and be very positive in things they have no ground for. There is not any who pretends to the least reason, but when any of these his false maxims are brought to the test, must acknowledge them to be fallible, and such as he will not allow in those that differ from him; and yet after he is convinced of this you shall see him go on in the use of them, and the very next occasion that offers argue again upon the same grounds.'^’ Would one not be ready to think that men are willing to impose upon themselves, and mislead their own understandings, who conduct them by such wrong measures, even after they see they cannot be relied on? But yet they will not appear so blamable as may be thought at first sight; for I think there are a great many that argue thus in earnest, and do it not to impose on themselves or others. They are persuaded of what they say, and think there is weight in it, though in a like case they have been convinced there is none ; but men would be intolerable to themselves and contemptible to others if they should embrace opinions without any ground, and hold what they could give no manner of reason for. True or false, solid or sandy, the mind must have some foundation to rest itself upon, and, as I have remarked in another place, it no sooner entertains any proposition but it presently hastens to some hypothesis to bottom it on ; till then it is unquiet and unsettled. So much do our own very tempers dispose us to a right use of our understandings if we would follow, as we should, the inclinations of our nature. In some matters of concernment, especially those of re- * Every person must have observed in argument that there are people who, though repeatedly refuted, yet return again and again to the charge with the selfsame weapons, verifying the philosophical remark of Butler, that “ The man convinced against his will Is of the same opinion still.” 'i CONDUCT OF THE UNXrjiRSTANDING. 39 ligion, men are not permitted to be always wavering and uncertain, they must embrace and profess some tenets or other; and it would be a shame, nay a contradiction too heavy for any one’s mind to lie constantly under, for him to pretend seriously to be persuaded of the truth of any religion, and yet not to be able to give any reason of his belief, or to say anything for his preference of this to any other opinion : and therefore they must make use of some prin- ciples or other, and those can be no other than such as they have and can manage ; and to say they are not in earnest persuaded by them, and do not rest upon those they make use of, is contrary to experience, and to allege that they are not misled, when we complain they are. If this be so, it will be urged, why then do they not make use of sure and unquestionable principles, rather than rest on such grounds as may deceive them, and will, as is visible, serve to support error as well as truth ] To this I answer, the reason why they do not make use of better and surer principles is because they cannot : but this inability proceeds not from want of natural parts (for those few whose case that is are to be excused) but for want of use and exercise.* Few men are from their youth accustomed to strict reasoning, and to trace the dependence of any truth, in a long train of consequences, to its remote principles, and to observe its connexion ; and he that by frequent practice has not been used to this employment of his imderstanding, it is no more wonder that he should not, when he is grown into years, be able to bring his mind to it, than that he should not be on a sudden able to grave or design, dance on the ropes, or write a good hand, who has never practised either of them. Nay, the most of men are so wholly strangers to this that they do not so much as perceive their want of it : they des- patch the ordinary business of their callings by rote, we say, as they have learnt it, and if at any time they miss suc- cess they impute it to anything rather than want of thought * See a curious discussion on the possibility of sincerity in error, in Arthur Collier’s letter to Mr. Mist, reprinted in Benson’s Life of Collier, p. 108 et seq. He relates a conversation he had formerly had with Bishop Hoadly, who maintained the possibility of men being sincere in error, while he himself adopted the opposite opinion. Locke takes part with Hoadly, but argues that truth lies within our reach, if we will from the beginning properly use our faculties in the search after it. 40 CONDUCT OF THE UNDERSTANDING. or skill, that they conclude (because they know no better) they have in perfection : or if there be any subject that interest or fancy has recommended to their thoughts, their reasoning about it is still after their own fashion ; be it bettef or worse, it serves their turns, and is the best they are ac- quainted with, and therefore, when they are led by it into mistakes and their business succeeds accordingly, they impute it to any cross accident or default of others, rather than to their own want of understanding ; that is what nobody dis- covers or complains of in himself.* Whatsoever made his- business to miscarry, it was not want of right thought and judgment in himself : he sees no such defect in himself, but is satisfied that he carries on his designs well enough by his own reasoning, or at least should have done, had it not been for unlucky traverses not in his power. Thus, being content vdth this short and very imperfect use of his understanding, he never troubles himself to seek out methods of improving his mind, and lives all his life without any notion of close reasoning in a continued connexion of a long train of con- sequences from sure foundations, such as is requisite for the making out and clearing most of the speculative truths most men own to believe and are most concerned in. Not to mention here what I shall have occasion to insist on by and by more fully, viz., that in many cases it is not one series of consequences will serve the turn^ but many different and opposite deductions must be examined and laid together before a man can come to make a right judgment of the point in question. What then can be expected from men that neither see the want of any such kind of reasoning as this ; nor, if they do, know how to set about it, or could perform it ? You may as well set a countryman, who scarce knows the figures and never cast up a sum of three particulars, to state a merchant’s long account, and find the true balance of it. What then should be done in the case ] I- answer, we should always remember what I said above, that the faculties of our souls are improved and made useful to us just after the same manner as our bodies are. Would you have a man write or paint, dance or fence well, or perform any other * Tout le monde se plaint de sa mdmoire, et personne ne se plaint de son jugement .” — Rochefoucaultf Ref. 113. CONDUCT OF THE UNDERSTANDING. 41 manual operation dexterously and with ease; let him have ever so much vigour and activity, suppleness and address naturally, yet nobody expects this from him unless he has been used to it, and has employed time and pains in fashion- ing and forming his hand or outward parts to these motions. Just so it is in the mind ; would you have a man reason well, you must use him to it betimes, exercise his mind in observ- ing the connexion of ideas and following them in train. Nothing does this better than mathematics, which therefore I think should be taught all those who have the time and opportunity, not so much to make them mathematicians as to make them reasonable creatures ; for though we all call our- selves so because we are born to it if we please, yet we may truly say, nature gives us but the seeds of it j we are born to be, if we please, rational creatures, but it is use and exer- cise only that makes us so, and we are indeed so no further than industry and application has carried us.* And there- fore, in ways of reasoning which men have not been used to, he that will observe the conclusions they take up must be satisfied they are not all rational. This has been the less taken notice of because every one in his private affairs uses some sort of reasoning or other enough to denominate him reasonable. But the mistake is, that he that is found reasonable in one thing is concluded to be so in all, and to think or to say otherwise is thought so unjust an affront and so senseless a censure that nobody ven- tures to do it. It looks like the degradation of a man below the dignity of his nature. It is true, that he that reasons well in any one thing, has a mind naturally capable of reasoning well in others, and to the same degree of strength * The philosopher in this passage seems to attribute too much to use and exercise, though upon the whole he acknowledges with Quinctilian, that a man deficient by nature in intellectual powers will in vain hope to supply the deficiency by labour. ‘ ‘ Illud tamen in primis testandum est, ” says the Koman rhetorician, “nihil prsecepta atque artes valere, nisi ad- juvante natura. Quapropter ei cui deerit ingenium, non magis haec Bcripta sunt, quam de agrorum cultu steriHbus terris. Sunt et alia in- genita qusedam adjumenta, vox, latus patiens laboris, valetudo, constan- tia, decor : quae si modica obligerunt, possunt, ratione ampliari : sed nonnunquam ita desunt, ut bona etiam ingenii studiique corrumpant : sicut et haec ipsa sine doctore perito, studio pertinaci, scribendi, legendi, dicendi multa et continua exercitatione, per se nihil proaiint.” (Inst. Orat. I. Pr.) 42 CONDUCT OF THE UNDERSTANDING. ■ /_ and clearness, and possibly much greater, bad bis understand- ing been so employed. But it is as true that be wbo can reason well to-day about one sort of matters, cannot at all reason to- day about others, tbougb perhaps a year hence he may. But wherever a man’s rational faculty fails him^ and will not serve him to reason, there we cannot say he is rational, how capable soever he may be by time and exercise to become so. Try in men of low and mean education who have never elevated their thoughts above the spade and the plough, nor looked beyond the ordinary drudgery of a day-labourer. Take the thoughts of such an one used for many years to one track, out of that narrow compass he has been all his life confined to, you will find him no more capable of reasoning than almost a perfect natural. Some one or two rules on which their conclusions immediately depend, you will find in most men have governed all their thoughts; these, true or false, have been the maxims they have been guided by : take these from them and they are perfectly at a loss, their compass and pole-star then are gone, and their understanding is perfectly at a nonplus ; and therefore they either immediately return to their old maxims again, as the foundations to all truth to them, notwithstanding all that can be said to show their weak- ness, or if they give them up to their reasons, they with them give up all truth and further inquiry, and think there is no such thing as certainty.* For if you would enlarge their thoughts and settle them upon more remote and surer principles, they either cannot easily apprehend them, or, if they can, know not what use to make of them, for long de- ductions from remote principles are what they have not been used to and cannot manage. What, then, can grown men never be improved or enlarged * The cause is nere explained, why in times abounding with sciolists, when a small share of knowledge is possessed by many, and profound philosophy by few, rash and shallow sceptics spring up in great numbers. ‘ ‘ Here scanty draughts intoxicate the brain, But drinking largely sobers us again.” So Lord Bacon, in his Essay on Atheism: little philosophy in- clineth man’s mind to Atheism; but depth in philosophy bringeth men’s minds about to religion ; for while the mind of man looketh upon second causes scattered, it may sometimes rest in them, and go no further; but when it beholdeth the chain of them confederate and linked together, it must needs fly to Providence and Deity.” (Bohn’s edition, p. 46.) CONDUCT OF THE UNDERSTANDING. 43 in their understandings ? I say not so, but this I think I may say, that it will not be done without industry and application^ which will require more time and pains than grown men, set- tled in their course of life, will allow to it, and therefore very seldom is done.* And this very capacity. of attaining it by use and exercise only, brings us back to that which I laid do^vn before, that it is only practice that improves our minds as well as bodies, and we must expect nothing from our understandings any further than they are perfected by habits. The Americans are not all born with worse understandings than the Europeans, though we see none of them have such reaches in the arts and sciences. And among the children of a poor countryman, the lucky chance of education, and getting into the world, gives one infinitely the superiority in parts over the rest, who continuing at home had continued also just of the same size with his brethren. He that has to do with young scholars, especially in ma- thematics, may perceive how their minds open by degrees, and how it is exercise alone that opens them. Sometimes they will stick a long time at a part of a demonstration, not for want of will and application, but really for want of per- ceiving the connexion of two ideas that, to one whose understanding is more exercised, is as visible as any- thing can be. The same would be with a grown man begin- ning to study mathematics, the understanding for want of * Never, according to Bishop Butler. “The beginning of our days is adapted to be, and is, a state of education in the theory and practice of mature life. We are much assisted in it by example, instruction, and the care of others ; but a great deal is left to ourselves to do. And of this, as part is done easily and of course, so part requires diligence and care, the voluntary foregoing many things which we desire, and setting ourselves to do what we have no inclination to, but for the necessity or expedience of it. For, that labour and industry which the station of so many absolutely requires, they would be greatly unqualified for, in ma- turity, as those in other stations would be for any other works of appli- cation, if both were not accustomed to them in their youth. And according as persons behave themselves, in the general education which aU go through, and in the particular ones adapted to particular emplojunents, their character is formed and made appear ; they recommend themselves more or less ; and are capable of and placed in different stations in the so- ciety of mankind. The former part of life then is to be considered as an un- portant opportunity, which nature puts into our hands, and which when lost is not to be recovered .” — Analogy of Religion, part I. chap. v. (Bohn’s edition, p. 147.) 44 CONDUCT OF THE UNDERSTANDING. use often sticks in every plain way, and he himself that is so puzzled, when he comes to see the connexion wonders what it was he stuck at in a case so plain. 7. Mathematics . — I have mentioned mathematics as a way to settle in the mind a habit of reasoning closely and in train ; not that I think it necessary that all men should be deep mathematicians, but that, having got the way of reasoning, which that study necessarily brings the mind to, they might be able to transfer it to other parts of knowledge as they shall have occasion. For in all sorts of reasoning every single ar- gument should be managed as a mathematical demonstration ; the connexion and dependence of ideas should be followed, till the mind is brought to the source on which it bottoms, and observes the coherence all along, though in proofs of pro- bability one such train is not enough to settle the judgment, as in demonstrative knowledge. Where a truth is made out by one demonstration, there needs no further inquiry; but in probabilities, where there wants demonstration to establish the truth beyond doubt, there it is not enough to trace one argument to its source, and ob- serve its strength and weakness, but all the arguments, after having been so examined on both sides, must be laid in balance one against another, and upon the whole the under- standing determine its assent. This is a way of reasoning the understanding should be ac- customed to, which is so different from what the illiterate are used to that even learned men sometimes seem to have very little or no notion of it. Nor is it to be wondered, since the way of disputing in the schools leads them quite away from it, by insisting on one topical argument, by the success of which the truth or falsehood of the question is to be deter- mined, and victory adjudged to the opponent or defendant, which is all one as if one should balance an account by one sum, charged and discharged, when there are a hundred others to be taken into consideration. This, therefore, it would be well if men’s minds were ac- customed to, and that early, that they might not erect their opinions upon one single view when so many others are requisite to make up the account, and must come into the reckoning before a man can form a right judgment. This would enlarge their minds and give a due freedom to their understandings, that they might not be led jnto error by pre- CONDUCT OF THE UNDEESTANDING. 45 sumption, laziness, or precipitancy, for I think nobody can approve such a conduct of the imderstanding as should mis- lead it from truth, though it be ever so much in fashion to make use of it. To this perhaps it will be objected, that to manage the understanding as I propose would require every man to be a scholar, and to be furnished with all the materials of know- ledge and exercised in all the ways of reasoning. To which I answer, that it is a shame for those that have time and the means to attain knowledge to want any helps or assistance for the improvement of their understandings that are to be got, and to such I would be thought here chiefly to speak. Those methinks, who, by the industry and parts of their ancestors, have been set free from a constant drudgery to their backs and their bellies, shordd bestow some of their spare time on their heads, and open their minds by some trials and essays, in all the sorts and matters of reasoning.* I have before mentioned mathemathics, wherein algebra gives new helps and views to the understanding. If I propose these, it is not, as I said, to make every man a thorough mathematician or a deep algebraist ; but yet I think the study of them is of infinite use, even to grown men ; first, by experimentally con- vincing them that to make any one reason well it is not enough to have parts wherewith he is satisfied and that serve him well enough in his ordinary course. A man in those studies will see, that however good he may think his understanding, yet in many things, and those very visible, it may fail him. This would take off that presumption that most men have of them- selves in this part, and they would not be so apt to think their minds wanted no helps to enlarge them, that there could be nothing added to the acuteness and penetration of their understandings. Secondly, the study of mathematics would show them the necessity there is in reasoning, to separate all the distinct ideas, and see the habitudes that all those concerned in the present inquiry have to one another, and to lay by those which * Most men wiU admit the truth of the doctrine here maintained by Locke. The difficulty is not to prove that men ought to be well educated, but to discover in what good education consists. Milton’s little tractate, which I am never weary of referring to, and Locke’s own larger treatise, contain, taken both together, the best theory of discipline and instruction with which I am acquainted. 46 CONDUCT OF THE UNDERSTANDING. relate not to tlie proposition in hand, and wholly to leave them out of the reckoning. This is that which in other subjects besides quantity, is what is absolutely requisite to just reason- ing, though in them it is not so easily observed nor so care- fully practised. In those parts of knoVledge"^ where it is thought demonstration has nothing to do, men reason as it were in the lump ; and if, upon a summary and confused view, or upon a partial consideration, they can raise the appearance of a probability, they usually rest content, especially if it be in a dispute where every little straw is laid hold on, and every- thing that can but be drawn in any way to give colour to the argument is advanced with ostentation.* But that mind is not in a posture to find the truth that does not distinctly take all the parts asunder, and omitting what is not at all to the point, draw a conclusion from the result of all the particulars which any way infiuence it. There is another no less useful habit to be got by an application to mathematical demonstra- tions, and that is, of using the mind to a long train of conse- quences : but having mentioned that already, I shall not again here repeat it. As to men whose fortunes and time are narrower, what may suffice them is not of that vast extent as may be ima- gined, and so comes not within the objection. Nobody is under an obligation to know everything. Know- ledge and science in general is the business only of those who are at ease and leisure. Those who have particular callings ought to understand them, and it is no unreasonable proposal, nor impossible to be compassed, that they should think and reason right about what is their daily employment. This one cannot think them incapable of without levelling them with the brutes, and charging them with a stupidity below the rank of rational creatures.! * This character most exactly suits ordinary political reasoning in all countries, wherein men invariably seek not truth, but victory. + These were the views which the Greeks took of study and research ; and as among them men commonly applied themselves to their own par- ticular branches of learning with great earnestness and enthusiasm, it was not at all unusual to find much eloquence and ability even among cooks and artisans. Indeed the humbler classes of society in Greece were so greedy of knowledge, and so ostentatious of what they possessed, that one constant source of ridicule among the comic poets was the pre- tensions of such persons to erudition ; though this of course forms no argument against the education of the people. CONDUCT OF THE UNDERSTANDING. 47 8. Religion . — Besides his particular calling for the support of this life, every one has a concern in a futui’e life, which he is bound to look after. This engages his thoughts in religion, and here it mightily lies upon him to -understand and reason right. Men, therefore, cannot be excused from understand- ing the words and framing the general notions relating to re- ligion right. The one day of seven, besides other days of rest, allows in the Christian world time enough for this, (had they had no other idle hours,) if they would but make use of these vacancies from their daily labour, and apply themselves to an improvement of knowledge with as much diligence as they often do to a great many other things that are useless, and had but those that would enter them, according to their several capacities, in a right way to this knowledge. The original make of their minds is like that of other men, and they would be found not to want understanding fit to receive the knowledge of religion if they were a little encouraged and helped in it as they should be."'^* For there are instances oi very mean people who have raised their minds to a great sense and understanding of religion j and though these have not been so frequent as could be wished, yet they are enough to clear that condition of life from a necessity of gross ignorance, and to show that more might be brought to be rational creatures and Christians, (for they can hardly be thought really to be so who, wearing the name, know not so much as the very principles of that religion,) if due care were taken of them. For, if I mistake not, the peasantry lately in France (a rank of people under a much heavier pressure of want and povei-ty * There may perhaps be little necessity of citing examples in proof of this ; yet I will not let slip the opportunity of mentioning the name of Bunyan, a tinker, but deeply versed in the Scriptures, and in faith and practice as genuine a Christian as any since the apostolic age. Chubb, the tallow-chandler, of Salisbury, though not remarkable for his ortho- doxy, yet attained a considerable knowledge of theology, and has left behind him tracts of no small ability. Benson, indeed, in his life of Arthur Collier, notices a suspicion entertained at the time, that “The Supremacy of the Father asserted,” was corrected by Dr. Hoody, after- wards primate of Ireland, and relates that Collier took the pains to make a large collection of Chubb’s letters, written on business, and these, full of errors, he often exhibited to the curious, (p. 62 et seq.) But this, after all, would only prove that Chubb’s style and grammar needed some little correction, which might be predicated of writers of much higher pretensions. / 4:6 CONDUCT Of THE UNDERSTANDING. than the day-labourers in England) of the reformed religion understood it much better and could say more for it than those of a higher condition among us."'^ But if it shall be concluded that the meaner sort of people must give themselves up to brutish stupidity in the things of their nearest concernment, which I see no reason for, this ex- cuses not those of a freer fortune and education, if they neg- lect their understandings, and take no care to employ them as they ought and set them right in the knowledge of those things for which principally they were given them. At least those whose plentiful fortunes allow them the opportunities and helps of improvement are not so few but that it might be hoped great advancements might be made in knowledge of all kinds, especially in that of the greatest concern and largest views, if men would make a right use of their faculties and study their own understandings. 9. Ideas . — Outward corporeal objects that constantly im- portune our senses and captivate out' appetites, fail not to fill our heads with lively and lasting ideas of that kind. Here the mind needs not to be set upon getting greater store ; they offer themselves fast enough, and are usually entertained in such plenty and lodged so carefully, that the mind wants room or attention for others that it has more use and need of. To fit the understanding, therefore, for such reasoning as I have been above speaking of, care should be taken to fill it with moral and more abstract ideas, for these not offering them- selves to the senses, but being to be framed to the understand- ing, people are generally so neglectful of a faculty they are apt to think wants nothing, that I fear most men’s minds are more unfurnished with such ideas than is imagined. They often use the words, and how can they be suspected to want the ideas'? What I have said in the third book of my essay will excuse me from any other answer to this question. But to convince people of what moment it is to their understand- ings to be furnished with such abstract ideas, steady and settled in them, give me leave to ask how any one shall be able to know whether he be obliged to be just, if he has not * On this subject the philosopher spoke from his own experience, as during his residence in Languedoc, he took much pains to instruct him- self in whatever concerned the habits and opinions of the Huguenots. See Lord King’s Life of Locke. CONDUCT OF THE UNDERSTANDING. 49 established ideas in bis mind of obligation and of justice, since knowledge consists in nothing but the perceived agree- ment or disagreement of those ideas'? and so of all others the like which concern our lives and manners.'^ And if men do find a difficulty to see the agreement or disagreement of two angles which lie before, their eyes unalterable in a diagram, how utterly impossible will it be to perceive it in ideas that have no other sensible objects to represent them to the mind but sounds, with which they have no manner of conformity, and therefore had need to be clearly settled in the mind them- selves, if we would make any clear judgment about them ! This, therefore, is one of the first things the mind should be employed about in the right conduct of the understanding, without which it is impossible it should be capable of reason- ing right about those matters. But in these, and all other ideas, care must be taken that they harbour no inconsisten- cies, and that they have a real existence where real existence is supposed, and are not mere chimeras with a supposed existence. 10. Prejudice . — Every one is forward to complain of the prejudices that mislead other men or parties, as if he were free and had none of his own. This being objected on all sides, it is agreed that it is a fault and a hindrance to know- ledge. What now is the cure'? No other but this, that every man should let alone others’ prejudices and examine his own.t Nobody is convinced of liis by the accusation of another; he recriminates by the same rule, and is clear. The only way to remove this great cause of ignorance and error out of the world is, for every one impartially to exa- mine himself. If others will not deal fairly with their own * The indispensibleness of knowledge was rendered more apparent in the Socratic philosophy, by the doctrine that science is virtue, which, though paradoxical at first sight, may be proved by irrefragable argu- ments. In fact, when the science of morals is understood, it will be so evident that virtue leads to happiness that we might as well expect the arithmetician to refuse to be guided in his calculations by the science of numbers, as that he who is versed in the knowledge of good and evil will prefer the evil to the good. Whoever sins, therefore, sins through igno- rance, though that ignorance, being often voluntary, is itself a crime. On the subject of justice, which Plato maintains to be the greatest good, see me Dial, de Repub. part vi. pp. 75 — 188 et seq. ^ ‘‘ Tout le monde trouve h redire en autniy, ce qu’on trouve h redir^ en luy.” — Rochef. Rejiect. Mor. 33. VOL. J. Ir 4 ' 50 CONDUCT OF THE UNDERSTANDING. minds, does tliat make my errors truths ? or ought it to make me in love with them and willing to impose on myself ? If others love cataracts in their eyes, should that hinder me from couching of mine as soon as I can ? Every one declares against blindness, and yet who almost is not fond of that which dims his sight, and keeps the clear light out of his mind, which should lead him into truth and knowledge ? False or doubtful positions, relied upon as unquestionable maxims, keep those in the dark from truth who build on them. Such are usually the prejudices imbibed from education, party, reverence, fashion, interest, &c. This is the mote which every one sees in his brother’s eye, but never regards the beam in his own. For who is there almost that is ever brought fairly to examine his own principles, and see whether they are such as will bear the trial ] But yet this should be one of the first things every one should set about, and be scrupu- lous in, who would rightly conduct his understanding in the search of truth and knowledge. To those who are willing to get rid of this great hindrance of knowledge (for to such only I write), to those who would shake off this great and dangerous impostor, prejudice, who dresses up falsehood in the likeness of truth, and so dexter- ously hoodwinks men’s minds as to keep them in the dark with a belief that they are more in the light than any that do not see with their eyes, I shall offer this one mark whereby prejudice may be known. He that is strongly of any opinion must suppose (unless he be self-condemned) that his persuasion is built upon good grounds, and that his assent is no greater than what the evidence of the truth he holds forces him to, and that they are arguments, and not in- clination or fancy, that make him so confident and positive in his tenets. Now if, after all his profession, he cannot bear any opposition to his opinion, if he cannot so much as give a patient hearing, much less examine and weigh the arguments on the other side, does he not plainly confess it is prejudice governs him ? and it is not the evidence of truth, but some lazy anticipation, some beloved presumption that he desires to rest undisturbed in. For if what he holds be, as he gives out, well fenced with evidence, and he sees it to be true, what need he fear to put it to the proof? If his opinion be settled upon a firm foundation, if the arguments that support it aud CONDUCT OF THE UNDERSTANDING. 51 Lave obtained bis assent be clear, good, and convincing, why should be be sby to bave it tried whether they be proof or not h * He whose assent goes beyond this evidence, owes this excess of his adherence only to prejudice; and does in effect own it, when he refuses to hear what is offered against it, de- claring thereby that it is not evidence he seeks, but the quiet enjoyment of the opinion he is fond of, with a forward con- demnation of all that may stand in opposition to it, unheard and unexamined ; which, what is it but prejudice ? qui sequum statuerit, parte inaudita altera, etiamsi sequum statue- rit, baud aequus fuerit.” He that would acquit himself in this case as a lover of truth, not giving way to any pre-occu- pation or bias that may mislead him, must do two things that are not very common nor very easy. 11. Indifferency. — First, he must not be in love with any opinion, or wish it to be true till he knows it to be so ; and then he will not need to wish it ; for nothing that is false can deserve our good wishes, nor a desire that it should have the place and force of truth ; and yet nothing is more frequent than this. Men are fond of certain tenets upon no other evi- dence but respect and custom, and think they must maintain them or all is gone, though they have never examined the ground they stand on, nor have ever made them out to themselves or can make them out to others. We should con- tend earnestly for the truth, but we should first be sure that it is truth, or else we fight against God, who is the God of truth, and do the work of the devil, who is the father and propagator of lies; and our zeal, though ever so warm, will not excuse us, for this is plainly prejudice. , 12. Examine. — Secondly, he must do that which he will find himself very averse to, as judging the thing unnecessary, or himself incapable of doing it. He must try whether his principles be certainly true or not, and how far he may safely rely upon them. This, whether fewer have the heart or the skill to do, I shall not determine, but this I am sure is that which every one ought to do who professes to love truth, and * It may be regarded as one proof of the great rifeness of prejudices in society, that arguers are in ill repute. Voltaire accordingly remarks that ihe man who should hope to make his way in the world by the weapons of logic, would be as mad as Don Quixotte ; but in his work on Education, Locke endeavours to show how arguments may be maintained in conversation without offence, (p. 222 et seq.) 52 CONDUCT OF The understanding. would not impose upon himself, which is a surer way to be made a fool of than by being exposed to the sophistry of others. The disposition zo put any cheat upon ourselves works constantly, and we are pleased with it, but are impa- tient of being bantered or misled by others. The inability I liere speak of, is not any natural defect that makes men inca- pable of examining their own principles. To such, rules cf conducting their understandings are useless, and that is the case of very few. The great number is of those whom the ill habit of never exerting their thoughts has disabled; the powers of their minds are starved by disuse and have lost that reach and strength which nature fitted them to receive from exercise. Those who are in a condition to learn the first rules of plain arithmetic, and could be brought to cast up an ordinary sum, are capable of this, if they had but accustomed their minds to reasoning ; but they that have wholly neglected the exercise of their understandings in this way, will be very far at first from being able to do it, and as unfit for it as one unpractised in figures to cast up a shop- book, and perhaps think it as strange to be set about it. And yet it must nevertheless be confessed to be a wrong use of our understandings to build our tenets (in things where we are concerned to hold the truth) upon principles that may lead us into error. We take our principles at hap-hazard upon trust, and without ever having examined them, and then believe a whole system upon a presumption that they are true and solid : and what is all this but childish, shameful, ^use- less credulity] In these two things, viz., an equal indifferency for all truth — I mean the receiving it, the love of it, as truth, but not loving it for any other reason, before we know it to be true — and in the examination of our principles, and not receiving any for such, nor building on them, till we are fully convinced as rational creatures of their solidity, truth, and certainty, consists that freedom of the understanding which is necessary to a rational creature, and without which it is not truly an understanding. It is conceit, fancy, extravagance, anything rather than under- standing, if it must be under the constraint of receiving and holding opinions by the authority of anything but their own, not fancied, but perceived evidence. This was rightly called imposition, and is of all other the worst and most dangerous CONDUCT OF THE UNDERSTANDIN©. 53 sort of it. For we impose upon ourselves, whicli is the strongest imposition of all others, and we impose upon our- selves in that part which ought with the greatest care to be kept free from all imposition. The world is apt to cast great blame on those who have an indifferency for opinions, especi- ally in religion. I fear this is the foundation of great error and worse consequences. To be indifferent which of two opinions is true, is the right temper of the mind that pre- serves it from being imposed on, and disposes it to examine with that indifferency till it has done its best to find the truth ; and this is the only direct and safe way to it. But to be in- different whether we embrace falsehood or truth is the great road to error. Those who are not indifferent which opinion is true are guilty of this ; they suppose, without examining, that what they hold is true, and then think they ought to be zealous for it. Those, it is plain by their warmth and eager- ness, are not indifferent for their own opinions, but methinks are very indifferent whether they be true or false, since they cannot endure to have any doubts raised or objections made against them, and it is visible they never have made any themselves; and so never having examined them, know not, nor are concerned, as they should be, to know whether they be true or false.* These are the common and most general miscarriages which I think men should avoid or rectify in a right conduct of their understandings, and should be particularly taken care of in education. The business whereof in respect of knowledge, is not, as I think, to perfect a learner in all or any one of the sciences, but to give his mind that freedom, that disposition, and those habits that may enable him to attain any part of knowledge he shall apply himself to, or stand in need of, in the future course of his life. This, and this only, is well principling, and not the instil- * On the temper of mind which Locke here denominates indifference, Bishop Patrick quotes from Arrian, and with approbation, a very beautiful passage, which we subjoin in his version: Let us begin eT erything without too much desire or aversation. Let us not incline to this or the other way; but behave ourselves like a traveller, who when he comes to two ways, asks him whom he meets next, which of those he shall take to such a place ; having no inclination to the right hand or to the left, but desiring only to know the true and direct way that will carry him to his journey’s end.” (Advice to a Friend, p. 176.) 54 CONDUCT OF THE UNDERSTANDING. ling a reverence and veneration for certain dogmas under the specious title of principles, which are often so remote from that truth and evidence which belongs to principles that they ought to be rejected as false and erroneous, and often cause men so educated when they come abroad into the world and find they cannot maintain the principles so taken up and rested in, to cast off all principles, and turn perfect sceptics, regardless of knowledge and virtue. There are several weaknesses and defects in the understand- ing, either from the natural temper of the mind, or ill habits taken up, which hinder it in its progress to knowledge. Of these there are as many, possibly, to be found, if the mind were thoroughly studied, as there are diseases of the body, each whereof clogs and disables the understanding to some degree, and therefore deserves to be looked after and cured. I shall set down some few to excite men, especially those who make knowledge their business, to look into themselves, and observe whether they do not indulge some weaknesses, all6w some miscarriages in the management of their intellectual faculty which is prejudicial to them in the search of truth. 13. Observations . — Particular matters of fact are the un- doubted foundations on which our civil and natural knowledge is built : the benefit the understanding makes of them is to draw from them conclusions which may be as standing rules of knowledge, and consequently of practice. The mind often makes not that benefit it should of the information it receives from the accounts of civil or natural historians, by being too forward or too slow in making observations on the particular facts recorded in them. There are those who are very assiduous in reading, and yet do not much advance their knowledge by it. They are de- lighted with the stories that are told, and perhaps can tell them again, for they make all they read nothing but history to themselves; but not reflecting on it, not making to them- selves observations from what they read, they are very little improved by all that crowd of particulars that either pass through or lodge themselves in their understandings. They dream on in a constant course of reading and cramming themselves; but not digesting anything, it produces nothing but a heap of crudities. If their memories retain well, one may say, they have the CONDUCT OF THE UNDERSTANDING. 55 materials of knowledge, but like those for building they are of no advantage if there be no other use made of them but to let them lie heaped up together. Opposite to these there are others, who lose the improvement they should make of matters of fact by a quite contrary conduct. They are apt to draw general conclusions and raise axioms from every par- ticular they meet with.'^' These make as little true benefit of history as the other ; nay, being of forward and active spirits, receive more harm by it, it being of worse consequence to steer one’s thoughts by a wrong rule than to have none at all, error doing to busy men much more harm than ignorance to the slow and sluggish.f Between these, those seem to do best who, taking material and useful hints, sometimes from single matters of fact, carry them in their minds to be judged of by what they shall find in history to confirm or reverse their im- perfect observations, which may be established into rules fit to be relied on when they are justified by a sufficient and wary induction of particulars. He that makes no such reflec- tions on what he reads, only loads his mind with a rliapsody of tales, fit in winter nights for the entertainment of others ; and he that will improve every matter of fact into a maxim, will abound in contrary observations that can be of no other use but to perplex and pudder him if he compares them, or else to misguide him if he gives himself up to the authority of that which for its novelty or for some other fancy best pleases him. 14. Bias . — Hext to these we may place those who sufier their own natural tempers and passions they are possessed with to influence their judgments, especially of men and things that may any way relate to their present circumstances * Of the two methods here described, the former is that of the Ger- mans, the latter that of the French ; and perhaps nearer home one might find examples of both. Descartes supplies in philosophy an instance of hasty generalization, which perhaps betrayed him into most of the errors that distinguish his fanciful but ingenious system. + This seems to be an erroneous opinion, an imperfect rule being in most cases better than no rule at all. Thucydides, a greater master of civil wisdom than Locke himself, delivers by the mouth of Cleon an im- portant truth, where he says that a state possessing inferior laws, but unswervingly executed, is preferable to one with better institutions, which have not their due influence on practice: yviocrofieOa on X^ipOCTL VOfJLOLQ (XKLVfJTOtg TToXlQ KpSlGCTWy T] KoXlOQ aKvpoLQ. iii. 37. / 56 CONDUCT OF THE UNDERSTANDING. and interest. Truth is all simple, all pure, will bear no mix- ture of anything else with it. It is rigid and inflexible to any bye-interests, and so should the understanding be, whose use and excellency lie in conforming itself to it. To think of everything just as it is in itself, is the proper business of the understanding, though it be not that which men always employ it to. This all men at first hearing allow is the right use every one should make of his understanding. IsTobody will be at such an open defiance with common sense, as to profess that we should not endeavour to know and think of things as they are in themselves, and yet there is nothing more frequent than to do the contrary ; and men are apt to excuse themselves, and think they have reason to do so, if they have but a pretence that it is for God, or a good cause ; that is, in efiect, for themselves, their own persuasion or party: for those in their tmms the several sects of men, especially in matters of religion, entitle God and a good cause. But God requires not men to wrong or misuse their faculties for him, nor to lie to others or themselves for his sake,'^ which they purposely do who will not sufier their understandings to have right conceptions of the things proposed to them, and de- signedly restrain themselves from having just thoughts of everything, as far as they are concerned to inquire. And as for a good cause, that needs not such ill helps ; if it be good, truth will support it, and it has no need of fallacy or falsehood. 15. Arguments . — Yery much of kin to this is the hunting after arguments to make good one side of a question, and wholly to neglect and refuse those which favour the other side. What is this but wilfully to misguide the understanding] and is so far from giving truth its due value, that it wholly debases it: espouse opinions that best comport with their power, profit, or credit, and then seek arguments to support them ] Truth lighted upon this way, is of no more avail to us * The source of this remark is to be found in Job, who, as quoted by Lord Bacon (for the common version runs differently), inquires: Will you lie for God as one man doth for another to gratify him?” His lord- ship’s reflections on the same subject are worthy of consideration. Cer* tain it is that God works nothing in nature according to ordinary cou rse, but by second .causes ; and if they would have it otherwise believed, it is a mere imposture, under colour of piety to God, and nothing else but to offer unto the Author of truth the unclean sacrifice of a lie.” (Mag. In- staur. i. 1.) CONDUCT OF TUE UNDEKSTANDINO. 57 than error, for what is so taken up hj us may he false as well as true ; and he has not done his duty who has thus stumbled upon truth in his way to preferment. There is another but more innocent way of collecting arguments very familiar among bookish men, which is to furnish themselves with the arguments they meet with -pro and con in the questions they study. This helps them not to judge right nor argue strongly, but only to talk copiously on either side without being steady and settled in their own judgments : for such arguments gathered from other men’s thoughts, floating only in the memory, are there ready indeed to supply copious talk with some appearance of reason, but are far from helping us to judge right.* Such variety of arguments only distract the understanding that relies on them, unless it has gone farther than such a superficial way of examining ; this is to quit truth for appearance, only to serve our vanity. The sure and only way to get true know- ledge, is to form in our minds clear settled notions of things, with names annexed to those determined ideas. These we are to consider with their several relations and habitudes, and not amuse ourselves with floating names and words of indetermined signification which we can use in several senses to serve a turn. It is in the perception of the habitudes and respects our ideas have one to another that real knowledge consists, and when a man once perceives how far they agree or disagree one with another, he will be able to judge of what other people say, and will not need to be led by the argu- ments of others, which are many of them nothing but plausible sophistry. This will teach him to state the question right, and see whereon it turns, and thus he -will stand upon his own legs, and know by his own understanding. Whereas by collecting and learning arguments by heart, he will be but a retailer to others ; and when any one questions the foun- dations they are built upon, he will be at a nonplus, and be fain to give up his implicit knowledge. * The practice here described was in a certain degree that of the ancient sophists, whose dexterity was rivalled by Hudibras, of whom it is said, that “On either side he could dispute. Confute, change hands, and still confute.” The most lively picture of this kind of trifling, occurs in the Euthydemos of Plato, where several of the class are introduced disputing de omnihxn rebm in a strain of comic extravagance worthy of Shakspeai’e. / / 58 CONDUCT OF THE UNDERSTANDING. 16. Haste . — Labour for labour-sake is against nature.* The understanding, as well as all the other faculties, chooses always the shortest way to its end, would presently obtain the knowledge it is about, and then set upon some new inquiry. But this, whether laziness or haste, often misleads it and makes it content itself with improper ways of search, and such as will not serve the turn : sometimes it rests upon testimony when testimony of right has nothing to do, because it is easier to believe than to be scientifically instructed : sometimes it contents itself with one argument, and rests satisfied with that as it were a demonstration, whereas the thing under proof is not capable of demonstration, and therefore must be submitted to the trial of probabilities, and all the material arguments pro and con be examined and brought to a balance. In some cases the mind is determined by probable topics in inquiries where demonstration may be had. All these, and several others, which laziness, impatience, custom, and want of use and attention lead men into, are misapplications of the understanding in the search of truth. In every question, the nature and manner of the proof it is capable of should be considered, to make our inquiry such as it should be. ' This would save a great deal of frequently misemployed pains, and lead us sooner to that discovery and possession of truth we are capable of. The multiplying variety of arguments, especially frivolous ones, such as are all that are merely verbal, is not only lost labour, but cumbers the memory to no purpose, and serves only to hinder it from seizing and holding of the truth in all those cases which are capable of demonstration. In such a way of proof, the truth and certainty is seen, and the mind fully possesses itself of it, when in the other way of assent it only hovers about it, is amused with uncertainties. In this superficial way, indeed, the mind is capable of more variety of plausible talk, but is not enlarged, as it should be, in its knowledge. It is to this * This is the maxim of an indolent man, and examined by the strict ni.9s of philosophy will turn out to be a mere fallacy ; for in many things we may with an ancient writer repeat “ Labor ipsa voluptas.” In fact employment for employment’s sake is so far from being against nature, that it is a thing we may every day witness, though I will not deny that there are seasons in which happiness appears to consist in the dolce far niente. CONDUCT OF THE UNDERSTANDING. 50 same haste and impatience of the mind also, that a not due tracing of the arguments to their true foundation is owing ; men see a little, presume a great deal, and so jump to the conclusion. This is a short wav to fancy and conceit, and (if firmly embraced) to opinionatry, but is certainly the farthest way about to knowledge. For he that will know, must by the connexion of the proofs see the truth and the ground it stands on ; and therefore if he has for haste skipt over what he should have examined, he must begin and go over all again, or else he will never come to know- ledge. 17. Desultory . — Another fault of as ill consequence as this, which proceeds also from laziness, with a mixture of vanity, is the skipping from one sort of knowledge to another.* Some men’s tempers are quickly weary of one thing. Constancy and assiduity is what they cannot bear : the same study long continued in is as intolerable to them, as the appearing long in the same clothes or fashion is to a court-lady. , 18. Smattering. — Others, that they may seem universally * On this subject very excellent observations are found scattered here and there through Lord Bacon’s writings. In one of his opuscula, entitled “Helps for the Intellectual Powers,” occurs the raw material, afterwards polished and converted into a brilliant aphorism in the “Advancement of Learning.” In the former place he says: “Exer- cises are to be framed to the life ; that is to say, to work ability in that kind whereof a man in the course of action shall have most use. The indirect and oblique exercises, which do 'per partes and per co'nsequentiam^ enable their faculties, which perhaps direct exercise at first would but distort ; and these have chiefly place where the faculty is weak, not per se, but per accidem; as if want of memory grew through lightness of wit and want of fixed attention : then the mathematics or the law helpeth, because they are things, wherein if the mind once roam, it cannot recover.” (Works, vol. v. p. 329 et seq.) In the other passage to which I have referred, his ideas acquire the following shape: “There is no defect in the faculties intellectual, but seemeth to have a proper cure contained in the same studies : as for example, if a child be bird- witted, that is, hath not the faculty of attention, the mathematics giveth a remedy thereunto ; for in them, if the wit be caught away but a moment, one is to begin anew. And as sciences have a propriety towards faculties for cure and help, so faculties or powers have a sympathy towards sciences for excellency or speedy profiting; and therefore it is an inquiry of great wisdom, what kinds of wits and natures are most apt and proper for what sciences.” (Advancement of Learning, p. 257.) / 60 COOTUCT OF THE tTNHERTSANDING. ^ knowing, get a little smattering in everything. Both these 1 may fill their heads with superficial notions of things, but < are very much out of the way of attaining truth or know- ; ledge. !' 19. Universcblity . — I do not here speak against the taking : a taste of every sort of knowledge ; it is certainly very useful j and necessary to form the mind; but then it must be done j in -a different way and to a difierent end. Not for talk and ^ vanity to fill thC' head with shreds of all kinds, that he who ^ is possessed of such a frippery may be able to match the ~ discourses of all he shall meet with, as if nothing could come J amiss to him, and his head was so well stored a magazine that nothing could be proposed which he was not master of, and was readily furnished to entertain any one on.* This is an excellency indeed, and a great one too, to have a real and true knowledge in all or most of the objects of contemplation. But it is what the mind of one and the same man can ; hardly attain unto, and the instances are so few of those who 7 have in any measure approached towards it, that I know not ■ whether they are to be proposed as examples in the ordinary conduct of the understanding. For a man to understand . fully the business of his particular calling in the common- wealth, and of religion, which is his calling as he is a man in the world, is usually enough to take up his whole time ; and there are few that inform themselves in these, which is every man’s proper and peculiar business, so to the bottom as they should do. But though this be so, and there are very few men that extend their thoughts towards universal knowledge, yet I do not doubt but if the right way were taken, and the methods of inquiry were ordered as they ^ should be, men of little business and great leisure might go | a great deal further in it than is usually done. To turn to ■ the business in hand, the end and use of a little insight ^ in those parts of knowledge which are not a man’s proper J business, is to accustom our minds to all sorts of ideas, and the proper ways of examining their habitudes and relations. • * Locke, there can be little doubt, here glances at the practice of the ■ sophists, more particularly of Gorgias, who boasts in Plato, that for many years no one had proposed to him a single new question. ’A\7]6rjf , a> Xaipecpivv, Kal Xdp vvv avrd ravra k7nf]yyt\\6ix7]V, Kai ysyio or# oudeLQfis TTix) T^pwrrjKS Kaivbv obdkv iroWCov iTotv. Popy. (Op. III. 4.; , See also Cic. de Orat. iii. 32. CONDUCT OF THE UNI)ERSTANDINO. 61 This gives the mind a freedom, and the exercising the under- standing iu the several ways of inquiry and reasoning which the most skilful have made use of, teaches the mind sagacity and wariness, and a suppleness to apply itself more closely and dexterously to the bents and turns of the matter in all its researches.'^ Besides, this universal taste of all the sciences with an indifierency before the mind is possessed with any one in particular, and grown into love and admi- ration of what is made its darling, will prevent another evil very commonly to be observed in those who have from the beginning been seasoned only by one part of knowledge. Let a man be given up to the contemplation of one sort of knowledge, and that will become everything. The mind will take such a tincture from a familiarity with that object, that everything else, how remote soever, will be brought under the same view. A metaphysician will bring ploughing and gardening immediateiy to abstract notions, the history of ^ Some great writers, observing the connexion which subsists between all branches of knowledge, have contended that there is buc one science, that of nature, and that it behoves the philosopher to be versed in the whole. This opinion was put forward by Condillac, and appears to have been shared by Buffon ; but Ci9ero, though he well understood the relationship of the sciences, and conceived that the perfect orator ought to comprehend every one of them, saw no advantage in this paradoxical view of the subject. Several curious remarks bearing immediately on the question, may be found in that very rare book, “Le Voyage k Montbar,” which, though I may elsewhere have quoted them, will not be out of place here. “II me r^pondit,” observes H^rault de Sdchelles, “qu’il ne faillait lire que les ouvrages principaux, mais les lire dans tons les genres et dans toutes les sciences, parcequ’elles sont parentes, comme dit Ciceron, parce que les vues de Tune peuvent s’appliquer k f autre, quoiqu’on ne soit pas destin^ k les exercer toutes. Ainsi, m^me pour un jurisconsulte, la connaissance de fart militaire, et de ses principales operations, ne serait pas inutile. C’est ce que j’ai fait, m^ disait r auteur de I’histoire naturelle; au fond I’Abbe de Condillac a fort bien dit, k la tete de son quatribme volume du cours d’ education, si je ne me trompe^ qu’il n’y a qu’une seule science, la science de la nature. M. de Buffon etait du meme avis, sans citer I’Abbe de Condillac, qu’il n’aime pas, ayant eu jadis des discussions poiemiques avec lui ; mais i* pense que toutes nos divisions et classifications sont arbitraire ; que les mathematiques elles-memes ne sont que des arts qui tendent au rndme but, celui de s’appliquer k la nature, et de la faire connaitre ; que cela ne nous effraye point au surplus. Les livres capitaux dans chaque genre sont rares, et au total ils pourraient peut-^tre se r^duire k une cin- quantaine d’ ouvrages qu’il suffix ait de bien mdditer.” (p. 52 et seq.) / 62 CONDUCT OF THE UNDERSTANDlNGk nature shall signify nothing to him.* An alchemist, on the contrary, shall reduce divinity to the maxims of his labo- ratory: explain morality by sal, sulphur and mercury, and allegorise the scripture itself, and the sacred mysteries thereof, into the philosopher’s stone. And I heard once a man who had a more than ordinary excellency in music seriously accommodate Moses’s seven days of the first week to the notes of music, as if from thence had been taken the measure and method of the creation. It is of no small consequence to keep the mind from such a possession, which I think is best done by giving it a fair and equal view of the whole intellectual world, wherein it may see the order, rank, and beauty of the whole, and give a just allowance to the distinct provinces of the several sciences in the due order and useful- ness of each of them. If this be that which old men will not think necessary, nor be easily brought to, it is fit at least that it should be practised in the breeding of the young. The business of education, as I have already observed, is not as I think to make them perfect in any one of the sciences, but so to open and dispose their minds as may best make them capable of any when they shall apply themselves to it. If men are for a long time accustomed only to one sort or method of thoughts, * In the same spirit the musical philosophers of G-reece supposed the human soul to be nothing but harmony ; and in modem times the ardent students of astrology, Cardan among others, have attempted to explain by their pretended science the historical facts of Scripture. (See Buhle, Hist, de la Phil. Mod. ii. 738.) In like manner a wild enthusiast of our own day imagines himself able to explain all the mysteries of nature and revelation by means of a little movable triangle. He sees nothing in heaven or in earth but triangles. Both politics and religion swarm with figures of this kind, nnd there is no difficulty in any science which may not be at once removed by means of his w’ondrous instrument. Another gentleman, Mr. Wirgman, also in love with triangles, but in close association wdth circles, endeavours to familiarise to the minds of children by means of sensible figures the loftiest truths of ontology. The better to recommend his theory, he has translated his whole phi- losophy of sense into a song, and set it to the tune of the “Highland Laddie.” Again, a printer turning preacher converted the ideas obtained by his fonner experience into illustrations of the truths he proclaimed in his new calling. He represented human life under the allegory of a complete sentence: childhood, in this ingenious view of things, was a comma ; youth a semicolon ; manhood a colon ; and death a full stop. Even Pranklin, the first philosopher of America, was fain CONDUCT OF THE TODEllSTANDINa G3 their minds grow stiff in it, and do not readily turn to another.* It is therefore to give them this freedom that I think they should be made to look into all sorts of know- ledge, and exercise their understandings in so wide a variety and stock of knowledge. But I do not propose it as a variety and stock of knowledge, but a variety and freedom of thinking, as an increase of the powers and activity of the mind, not as an enlargement of its possessions. 20. Reading . — This is that which I think great readers are apt to be mistaken in. Those who have read of e\ery- thing are thought to understand everything too, but it is not always so. Beading furnishes the mind only with materials of knowledge, it is thinking makes what we read ours. We are of the ruminating kind, and it is not enough to cram ourselves with a great load of collections; unless we chew them over again they will not give us strength and nourishment. There are indeed in some writers visible instances of deep thoughts, close and acute reasoning, and on a very solemn occasion, to indulge in this quaint tumour. Most readers, I imagine, are already well acquainted with the following epitaph which he wrote for himself : The Body of Benjamin Frahkhn, Printer, (Like the cover of an old book, Its contents torn out. And stript of its lettering and gilding,) Lies here food for worms ; Yet the work itself shall not be lost. For it will (as he believed) appear once more In a new And more beautiful edition. Corrected and amended by The Author. * The evils of a narrow system of education and study are nowhere perhaps more visible than in the mental habits of artists, and professional men generally. Accustomed to one class of ideas, and with these becoming by use familiar, they often remain almost wholly ignorant of other things ; and are consequently regarded by philosophers and men of enlarged experience as little better, out of their own peculiar walk, than so many children. Brilliant exceptions there have been, and always will be ; but these only serve by contrast to render the condition of their associates the more remarkable. / 64 CONDUCT OF THE UNDERSTANDING^ ideas well pursued.'^ The light these would give would be of great use if their reader would observe and imitate them ; all the rest at best are but particulars fit to be turned into knowledge, but that can be done only by our own meditation and examining the reach, force, and coherence of what is said, and then as far as we apprehend and see the connexion of ideas so far it is ours; without that it is but so much loose matter fioating in our brain. The memory may be stored, but the judgment is little better, and the stock of knowdedge not increased by being able to repeat what others have said or produce the arguments we have found in them. Such a knowledge as this is but knowledge by hearsay, and the ostentation of it is at best but talking by rote, and very often upon weak and wrong principles. For all that is to be found in books is not built upon true foundations, nor always rightly deduced from the principles it is pretended to be built on. Such an examen as is requisite to discover, that every reader’s mind is not forward to make, especially in those who have given themselves up to a party, and only hunt for what they can scrape together that may favour and support the tenets of it. Such men wilfully exclude them- selves from truth, and from all true benefit to be received by reading. Others of more indifierency often want attention and industry. The mind is backward in itself to be at the pains to trace every argument to its original, and to see upon what basis it stands and how firmly; but yet it is this that gives so much the advantage to one man more than another in reading. The mind should by severe rules be tied down to this, at first, uneasy task; use and exercise will give it facility. So that those who are accustomed to it * The art of reading therefore is no guarantee that civilization shall continue. The intellectual condition of mankind depends upon their taste, which is always fluctuating; so that we need not wonder at finding the Greeks and Romans sinking to barbarism, with Thucydides, Plato, Demosthenes, Cicero and Tacitus on their shelves, or in their hands. Among the Burmese, the art of reading is almost universal, but as the books they lounge over are trifling and worthless, no habits of study are engendered, and civilization always remains in its infancy. Nay, it is quite possible for a nation to retrograde towards the savagf state with Shakspeare and Milton, and Bacon and Loc^e constantb oefore their eyes. The question always is, do we read in search ot wisdom, or simply to be amused? When the latter is the case, we are not far from second childhood- CONDUCT OF THE UNDERSTANDING. 65 readily, as it were with one cast of the eye, take a view o^ the argument, and presently, in most cases, see where it bottoms. Those who have got this faculty, one may say, have got the true key of books, and the clue to lead them through the mizmaze of variety of opinions and authors to truth and certainty. This young beginners should be entered in, and showed the use of, that they might profit by their reading. Those who are strangers to it will be apt to think it too great a clog in the way of men's studies, and they will suspect they shall make but small progress if in the books they read they must stand to examine and unravel every argument, and follow it step by step up to its original. I answer, this is a good objection, ajid ought to weigh with those whose reading is designed for much talk and little knowledge, and I have nothing to say to it.* But I am here inquiring into the conduct of the understanding in its progress towards knowledge; and to those who aim at* that I may say, that he who fair and softly goes steadily forward in a course that points right, will sooner be at his journey!s end than he that runs after every one he meets, though he gallop all day full speed, t To which let me add, that this way of thinking on and profiting by what we read will be a clog and rub to any one only in the beginning: when custom and exercise have made it familiar, it will be despatched on most occasions without resting or interruption in the course of our reading. The motions and views of a mind exercised that way are wonaerfully quick, and a man used to such sort of reflections sees as much at one glimpse as would require a long discourse to lay before another, and make out in an entire and gradual deduction. Besides that, when the first difficidties are over the delight and sensible advantage it brings mightily en- courages and enlivens the mind in reading, which without this is very improperly called study. _ 21. Intermediate Principles . — ^As a help to this, I think it may be proposed, that for the saving the long progression of the thoughts to remote and first principles in every case, * This cool contempt strikes more forcibly at the root of the fallacy than a thousand arguments. f I own myself partial, like Martin Luther, to the -<®]sopian school of wisdom, so that the reader will perhaps pardon my simplicity if I here •'efer to the fable of the Hare and the Tortoise. VOl. I. f / 66 CONDUCT OF THE UNDERSTANDING. the mind should provide it several stages; that is to say, intermediate principles which it might have recourse to in the examining those positions that come in its way. These, though they are not self-evident principles, yet if they have been made out from them by a wary and unquestionable deduction, may be depended on as certain and infallible truths, and serve as unquestionable truths to prove other points depending on them by a nearer and shorter view than remote and general maxims. These may serve as landmarks to show what lies in the direct way of truth, or is quite beside it. And thus mathematicians do, who do not in every new problem run it back to the first axioms, through all the whole train of intermediate propositions. Certain theorems that they have settled to themselves upon sure demonstration, serve to resolve to them multitudes of pro- positions which depend on them, and are as firmly made out from thence as if the mind went afresh over every link of the whole chain that ties them to first self-evident principles. Only in other sciences great care is to be taken that they establish those intermediate principles with as much caution, exactness, and indifierency as mathematicians use in the settling any of their great theorems. When this is not done, but men take up the principles in this or that science upon credit, inclination, interest, &c., in haste, without due exami- nation and most unquestionable proof, they lay a trap for themselves, and, as much as in them lies, captivate their understandings to mistake falsehood and error. 22. Partiality . — As there is a partiality to opinions, which, as we have already observed, is apt to mislead the under- standing, so there is often a partiality to studies which is prejudicial also to knowledge and improvement. Those sciences which men are particularly versed in they are apt to value and extol, as if that part of knowledge which every one has acquainted himself with were that alone which was worth the having, and all the rest were idle and empty amusements, comparatively of no use or importance. This is the effect of ignorance and not knowledge, the being vainly puffed up with a flatulency arising from a weak and narrow comprehension. It is not amiss that every one should relish the science that he has made his peculiar study; a view of its beauties and a sense of its usefulness carry a man on Nvith CONDUCT OF THE UNDERSTANDING. I 67 the more delight and warmth in the pursuit and improve- ment of it. But the contempt of all other knowledge, as if it were nothing in comparison of law or physic, of astronomy or chemistry, or perhaps some yet meaner part of knowledge wherein I have got some smattering or am somewhat advanced, is not only the mark of a vain or little mind, but does this prejudice in the conduct of the understanding, that it coops up within narrow bounds, and hinders it looking abroad into other provinces of the intellectual world, more beautiful possibly, and more fruitful than that which it had till then laboured in, wherein it might find, besides new knowledge, ways or hints whereby it might be enabled the better to cultivate its own. 23. Theology . — There is indeed one science (as they are now distinguished) incomparably above all the rest, where it is not by corruption narrowed into a trade or faction for mean or ill ends and secular interests; I mean theo- logy, which, containing the knowledge of God and his crea- tures, our duty to him and our fellow-creatures, and a view of our present and future state, is the compre- hension of all other knowledge directed to its true end; i.e., the honour and veneration of the Creator and the happiness of mankind.* This is that noble study which is * Plato, as liOcke himself elsewhere observes, had even in Pagan times discovered that the happiness of man consists in knowing God. Properly speaking indeed his whole philosophy is based on this conviction, and its object is to raise and purify man so as to fit him for the attainment of this knowledge. St. Augustine goes one step further, and conceives the love of God to be the great wellspring of human felicity. ‘‘ I love thee, O my God!” he exclaims, “thou hast smitten my heart with thy word, and I have loved thee. Nay, the heavens and the earth, and all things contained therein, admonish me on every side that I should love thee ; and they cease not to say the same to all men also, so that they are in- excusable if they do not love thee. But what do I love, when I love thee? Not the beauty of a body; not the grace and comeliness of time; not the brightness of light (and yet, O how friendly and agreeable is that to these eyes!); not the sweet melodies of well- composed songs, nor tha fragrant odours of flowers, or unguents or costly spices ; not manna ; not honey; not the embraces of the dearest and most lovely person; these are not the things that I love, when I love my God. And yet I love a certain light, and a certain voice, and a certain grateful odour, and a certain food, and a kind of embracement when I love my God ; the true light, the melody, the food, the satisfaction and embracement of my inward man. When that shines to my soul which no place can con- tain \ when that sounds which no time can snatch away ; when that scenta F 2 / 68 CONDUCT OF THE UNDERSTANDING. every man’s duty, and every one that can be called a rational creature is capable of. The works of nature and the words of revelation display it to mankind in characters so large and visible, that those who are not quite blind may in them read and see the first principles and most necessary jjarts of it, and from thence, as they have time and industry, may be enabled to go on to the more abstruse parts of it, and penetrate into those infinite depths filled with the treasures of wisdom and knowledge. This is that science which would truly enlarge men’s minds were it studied or permitted to be studied everywhere with that freedom, love of truth, and charity which it teaches, and were not made, contrary to its nature, the occasion of strife, faction, malignity, and narrow impositions. I shall say no more here of this, but that it is undoubtedly a wrong use of my understanding to make it the rule and measure of another man’s, a use which it is neither fit for nor capable of* 24. Partiality , — This partiality, where it is not permitted an authority to render all other studies insignificant or contemptible, is often indulged so far as to be relied upon and made use of in other parts of knowledge to which it does not at all belong, and wherewith it has no manner of affinity. Some men have so used their heads to mathematical figures, that giving a preference to the methods of that science, they introduce lines and diagrams into their study of divinity or politic inquiries, as if nothing could be known which no wind can disperse and scatter abroad ; when I taste that which eating cannot diminish ; when I cleave to that whieh no fulness, no sa- tiety, can force away, — this is that which I love, when I love my G-od. And what is this ? I asked the earth, and it said, I am not. I asked the sea, and the deeps, and all living creatures, and they answered. We are not thy God ; look above us, and inquire after him, for here he is not. I asked the air, and all its inhabitants, yea, the heavens, the sun, moon, and stars, and they confessed. We are not him whom thy soul seeketh. And I spake to all things whatsoever that stand round about the gates of my flesh, sajdng, Ye tell me that ye are not my God, but tell me some^- thing of him. And they aU cried out with a loud voice, * He made us !”* The translation here used is Bishop Patrick’s, in his Advice to a Priend, p. 35 et seq. The original occurs in the Confessions. * The reader will perhaps remark that what is here said of theology is a digression evidently inserted after the completion of the rest of tha book; for ‘‘this partiality,” evidently, in the order of the author’s ori- ginal thoughts, followed immediately after “its own, ” the words with which section 22 concludes. CONDUCT OF THE UNDERSTANDING. 69 without them; and others accustomed to retired speculations run natural philosophy into metaphysical notions and the abstract generalities of logic : and how often may one meet with religion and morality treated of in the terms of the laboratory, and thought to be improved by the methods and notions of chemistry'?* But he that will take care of the conduct of his understanding, to direct it right to the know- ledge of things, must avoid those undue mixtures, and not by a fondness for what he has found useful and necessary in one, transfer it to another science, where it serves only to perplex and confound the understanding. It is a certain truth that ‘^res nolunt male adrninistrari ; ” it is no less certain “ res nolunt male intelligi.” Things themselves are to be considered as they are in themselves, and then they will show us in what way they are to be understood. For to have right conceptions about them we must bring our under- standings to the inflexible nature and unalterable relations of things, and not endeavour to bring things to any precon- ceived notions of our own. There is another partiality very commonly observable in men of study no less prejudicial or ridiculous than the former, and that is a fantastical and wild attributing all knowledge to the ancients alone, or to the moderns. This raving upon antiquity in matter of poetry, Horace has wittily described and exposed in one of his satires.! The * It will be observed, both here and elsewhere, that Locke is exceed- ingly liable to repeat himself. Of this defect he was very sensible, as appears from his correspondence with Mr. Molynenx respecting the Essay on the Human Understanding. (Works, fol. i. vol. iii. p. 503.) See ante, § 19. ! The witty passage of the Roman satirist, to which Locke here refers, occurs in Epist. I. i. 34 et seq. It is somewhat too long to be inserted entire, but I subjoin a few verses from Creech’s rough but vigorous translation : — ‘ ‘ If length of time will better verse like wine, Give it a brisker taste, and make it fine ; Come tell me then, I would be gladly showed, How many years will make a poem good ; One poet writ an hundred years ago. What, is he old, and therefore famed, or no? Or is he new, and therefore bold appears? Let’s fix upon a certain term of years. He’s good that lived an hundred years Another wants but one, is he so too ? 70 CONDUCT OF THE UNDEESTANDING. same sort of madness may be found in reference to all tbc other sciences. Some will not admit an opinion not autho- rised by men of old, who were then all giants in knowledge.* Nothing is to be put into the treasury of truth or knowledge which has not the stamp of Greece or Kome upon it, and since their days will scarce allow fchat men have been able to see, think or write. Others, with a like extravagancy, contemn all that the ancients have left Us, and being taken with the modem inventions and discoveries, lay by all that went before, as if whatever is called old must have the decay of time upon it, and truth too were liable to mould and rottenness. JMen I think have been much the same for natural endowments in all times. Fashion, discipline, and education have put eminent differences in the ages of several countries : and made one generation much differ from another in arts and sciences: but truth is always the same; time alters it not, nor is it the better or worse for being of ancient or modern tradition. Many were eminent in former ages of the world for their discovery and delivery of it ; but though the knowledge they have left us be worth our study, yet they exhausted not all its treasure; they left a Or is he new, and damned for that alone? Well, he’s good too, and old that wants but one, , And thus I’ll argue on, and bate one more, And so by one and one waste all the store : And so confute him, who esteems by years, A poem’s goodness from the date it bears. Who not admirea. nor yet approves a line. But what is old, and death hath made divine.” On this subject Pindar differed very widely from the Eomans, for he preferred old wine and new songs. * The error here exposed springs up very naturally from the faulty schemes of study which have been above described. They who devote themselves exclusively to the reading of ancient authors necessarily con- sider them the best. The same thing is true of the lovers of modeim times. It is only by impartially considering and comparing both that men can arrive at right conclusions. In the present day the admirers of antiquity are few, and there is little danger of their increasing; but among them we must reckon M. Schoel, the historian of Ancient Litera- ture, who seems to imagine that while original genius feU to the lot of the Greeks, the moderns have merely received for their portion the spirit of criticism. (Hist, de la Lit. Grecque, Int. pp. 18 and 22.) He knew nothing, it is to be presumed, of Shakspeare, or Milton, or Ben Jonson, Beaumont and Fletcher, Hryden or Pope, though he should have been acquainted with the name of Leibnitz. I CONDUCT OF THE UNDERSTANDING. 1\ great deal for the industry and sagacity of after-ages, and so shall we. That was once new to them which any one now receives with veneration for its antiquity, nor was it the worse for appearing as a novelty ; and that which is now embraced for its newness, will to posterity be old, but not thereby be less true or less genuine.'^* There is no occasion on this account to oppose the ancients and the moderns to^ one another, or to be squeamish on either side. He that wisely conducts his mind in the pursuit of knowledge, will gather whaf lights and get what helps he can from either of them, from whom they are best to be had, without adoring the errors or rejecting the truths which he may find mingled in them. Another partiality may be observed in some to vulgar, in others to heterodox tenets; some are apt to conclude that what is the common opinion cannot but be true; so many men’s eyes they think cannot but see right ; so many men’s understandings of all sorts cannot be deceived, and therefore will not venture to look beyond the received notions of the place and age, nor have so presumptuous a thought as to be wiser than their neighbours. They are content to go with the crowd, and so go easily, which they think is going right, or at least serves them as well. But however vox populi vox Dei ” has prevailed as a maxim, yet I do not remember wherever God delivered his oracles by the multitude, or nature truths by the herd. On the other side, some fly all common opinions as either false or frivolous. The title of many-headed beast is a sufiScient reason to them to conclude that no truths of weight or consequence can be lodged there. t Yulgar opinions are suited to vulgar capacities, and adapted to the * In another work I have remarked that when Mr. Bentham pub- lished his Defence of Usury, almost fifty years ago, he was treated as a visionary, and his notions were despised. Time went on, and in the course of thirty or forty years some few came up with Mr. Bentham’ s position, and found it no longer so absurd as it had appeared through the mists of distance. Meanwhile the philosopher was stretching away before them, inventing and discovering, and still appearing in his new positions as ludicrous as in the matter of usury. When they overtake him again, they may again find him rational,” (Anat. of Soc. vol. i. p. 62.) f This was the error of Sir Thomas Browne and Coleridge, the latter of whom, as Hazlitt has remarked, had the knack of always preferring the unknown to the known. 72 CONDUCT OF THE UNDEKSTANDINO. end of those that govern.* He that will know the truth of ^ things must leave the common and beaten track, which none but weak and servile minds are satisfied to trudge along con- tinually in. Such nice palates relish nothing but strange notions quite out of the way : whatever is commonly received has the mark of the beast on it, and they think it a lessening to them to hearken to it or receive it : their mind runs only after paradoxes; these they seek, these they embrace, these only they vent, and so as they think distinguish themselves from the vulgar. But common or uncommon are nof the marks to distinguish truth or falsehood, and therefore should not be any bias to us in our inquiries. We should not judge of things by men’s opinions, but of opinions by things. The multitude reason but ill, and therefore may be well suspected, and cannot be relied on, nor should be followed as a sure guide ; but philosophers who have quitted the orthodoxy of the com- munity and the popular doctrines of their countries have fallen into as extravagant and as absurd opinions as ever com- mon reception countenanced. It would be madness to refuse to breathe the common air or quench one’s thirst with water because the rabble use them to these purposes; and if there are conveniencies of life which common use reaches not, it is not reason to reject them because they are not grown into the ordinary fashion of the country, and every villager doth not know them.t Truth, whether in or out of fashion, is the measure of knowledge and the business of the understanding; whatsoever is besides that, however authorised by consent or recommended by rarity, is nothing but ignorance or something worse. Another sort of partiality there is whereby men impose upon themselves, and by it make their reading little useful to * An observation worthy of Machiavelli. It has always been the policy of rulers to engender and perpetuate among their subjects con- tempt and hatred of neighbouring nations; and these prejudices may sometimes prove useful, as the vulgar notion that one Englishman can at any time beat two Frenchmen, has often, as ChesterFeld remarks, led to the achievement. The French on the other hand nourish prejudices of the same kind, and a little schoolboy Munchausen once remarked that a French giant of his acquaintance had broken an Englishman in two like a raw carrot. + Cicero somewhere observes that there is no opinion so foolish but that it has obtained the approbation of some one among the philosophers. CONDUCT OF THE UNDERSTANDING. 73 themselves, I mean the making use of the opinions of writers and laying stress upon their authorities wherever they find them to favour their own opinions. There is nothing almost has done more harm to men dedi- cated to letters than giving the name of study to reading, and making a man of great reading to be the same with a man of great knowledge, or at least to be a title of honour. All that can be recorded in writing are only facts or reason- ings. Facts are of three sorts: 1. Merely of natural agents observable in the ordinary operations of bodies one upon another, whether in the visible course of things left to them- selves, or in experiments made by them, applying agents and patients to one another after a peculiar and artificial manner. 2. Of voluntary agents, more especially the actions of men in society, which makes civil and moral history. 3. Of opinions. In these three consists, as it seems to me, that which com- monly has the name of learning ; to which perhaps some may add a distinct head of critical writings, which indeed at bot- tom is nothing but matter of fact, and resolves itself into this, that such a man or set of men used such a word or phrase in such a sense, i. e., that they made such sounds the marks of such ideas.* Under reasonings I comprehend all the discoveries of gene- ral truths made by human reason, whether found by intuition, demonstration, or probable deductions. And this is that which is, if not alone, knowledge (because the truth or pro- bability of particular propositions may be known too), yet is, as may be supposed, most properly the business of those who pretend to improve their understandings and make tlmmselves knowing by reading. Books and reading are looked upon to be the great helps of the understanding and instruments of knowledge, as it must be allowed that they are ; and yet I beg leave to ques- tion whether these do not prove a hindrance to many, and keep several bookish men from attaining to solid and true knowledge. This I think I may be permitted to say, that there is no part wherein the understanding needs a more care- * This is a very imperfect definition of criticism, applying only to one of the meanest of its branches. By criticism we mean the passing of just and accurate judgments on works of ait, each of which creates a new fact and establishes a new opinion. 74 CONDUCT OF THE UNDEESTAHDING. fill and wary conduct than in the use of hooks, without which they will prove rather innocent amusements than profitable employments of our time, and bring but small additions to our knowledge.* There is not seldom to be found, even amongst those who aim at knowledge, who with an unwearied industry employ their whole time in books, who scarcely allow themselves time to eat or sleep, but read, anil read, and read on, yet make no great advances in real knowledge, though there be no defect in their intellectual faculties to which their little progress can be imputed. The mistake here is, that it is usually supposed that by reading, the author’s knowledge is transfused into the reader’s understanding ; and so it is, but not by bare reading, but by reading and understanding what he wrote. Whereby I mean, not barely comprehending what is affirmed or denied in each proposition (though that great readers do not always think themselves concerned precisely to do), but to see and * It requires much wisdom to discover the true use of reading ; but precisely the same thing may be said of every other road to knowledge, commerce with the world being as little profitable to the careless and un- reflecting as reading itself. The habit of reading and study sometimes grows in the most philosophical minds into a passion. It was thus with Bayle, who speaking of the effects of study upon health, and how much better it is to be satisfied with moderate application rather than injure one’s constitution, exclaims, however — ‘‘Heureux, je le dis encore un coup, celui qui est si robuste qu’il peut ^tudier quatorze ou quinze heures chaque jour, sans ^tre jamais malade!” (Diet. Hist, et Crit. art. Hall, rem. B.) The author of the discourse on the Life of Mr. Ancillon, makes several long and judicious comments on his mode of study. He read, it seems, books of all kinds, romances even, old and new ; but it was his opinion that he derived benefit from them all; and he often used to repeat the words attributed to Virgil: ‘‘Aurum ex stercore Ennii coUigo.” In certain careless authors things of a singular nature, he thought, were sometimes to be met with, which could be found nowhere else. But although he read all kinds of books, he bestowed application on such only as were important ; running through the lighter sort, as the Latin proverb has it, “si cut canis ad Nilum bibens et fugiens,” but perusing the others frequently and with exactitude and care. He ga- thered from the first reading the general idea of a book, but looked to the second for the discovery of its beauties. His exact manner of ob- serving what he read, rendered indexes, which many great men have called “ the souls of 6oo^s,” of little or no use to him ; for he had, besides, a very faithful memory, and especially that local memory so valuable to literary men. He was not always in the habit of reading books from be- ginning to end ; but sometimes chose to search to the bottom the subjects of which they treated, in which case he had to consult a number of au- CONDUCT OF THE UNDERSTANDING. 75 follow the train of his reasonings^ observe the strength and clearness of their connexion, and examine upon what they bottom. Without this a man may read the discourses of a very rational author, written in a language and in propositions that he very well understands, and yet acquire not one jot of his khowledge, which consisting only in the perceived, certain, or probable connexion of the ideas made use of in his reason- ings, the reader’s knowledge is no fui'ther increased than he perceives that; so much as he sees of this connexion, so much he knows of the truth or probability of that author’s opinions. All that he relies on without this perception he takes upon trust, upon the author’s credit, without any knowledge of it at all. This makes me not at all wonder to see some men so abound in citations and build so much upon authorities, it being the sole foundation on which they bottom most of their own tenets ; so that in effect they have but a second-hand or implicit knowledge, i. e., are in the right if such an one from whom they borrowed it were in the right in that opinion which they took from him ; which indeed is no knowledge at all. Writers of this or former ages may be good witnesses of matters of fact which they deliver, which we may do well to take upon their authority ; but their credit can go no further than this ; it cannot at all affect the truth and falsehood of opinions which have no other sort of trial but reason and proof, which they themselves made use of to make themselves knowing ; and so must others too that will partake in their knowledge. Indeed it is an advantage that they have been at the pains to find out the proofs and lay them in that order tliors. “ II voyait souvent la meme chose dans diffdrens ouvrages ; mais cela ne le d^goutait pas; an contraire, il disait qne c’^tait comme autant de nouvelles conches de conlenrs qni formaient fid^e qn’il avait congne qni la mettaient dans nne entifere perfection.” He had a large table in the middle of his stndy, which was nsnally covered with open books. The celebrated Fra Paolo stndied in the same manner; never discontinn- ing his researches nntil he had made the comparison of anthorities, of places, times, and opinions ; and this he did to free himself from donbt, and from all occasion of again thinking on the same snbject. Ancillon kept a commonplace book, thongh Govean, Salmasins, Manage, and others stigmatised the practice as mischievons, and an obstacle to real learning. On this question I am inclined to side with Ancillon and the multitude, though undoubtedly an author may trust too much to his commoiiplaca book. (See Bayle, t. L art. Ancillon, rem. C.) 76 CONDUCT OF THE UNDERSTANDING. that may show the truth or probability of their conclusions, and for this we owe them great acknowledgments for saving us the pains in searching out those proofs which they have collected for us, and which possibly after all our pains we might not have found nor been able to have set them in so good a light as that which they left them us in. Upon this account we are mightily beholden to judicious writers of all ages for those discoveries and discourses they have left behind them for our instruction if we know how to make a right use of them, which is not to run them over in a hasty perusal, and perhaps lodge their opinions or some remarkable passages in our memories, but to enter into their reasonings, examine their proofs, and then judge of the truth or falsehood, proba- bility or improbability of what they advance, not by any opinion we have entertained of the author, but by the evi- dence he produces and the conviction he affords us drawn from things themselves. Knowing is seeing, and if it be so, it is madness to persuade ourselves that we do so by another man’s eyes, let him use ever so many words to tell us that what he asserts is very visible. Till we ourselves see it with our own eyes and perceive it by our own understandings, we are as much in the dark and as void of knowledge as before, let us believe any learned author as much as we will. Euclid and Archimedes are allowed to be knowing and to have demonstrated what they say, and yet whoever shall read over their writings without perceiving the connexion of their proofs, and seeing what they show, though he may understand all their words, yet he is not the more knowing: he may be- lieve indeed, but does not know what they ssi^y, and so is not advanced one jot in mathematical knowledge by all his reading of those approved mathematicians. 25. Haste . — The eagerness and strong bent of the mind after knowledge, if not warily regulated, is often a hindrance to it. It still presses into further discoveries and new objects, and catches at the variety of knowledge, and therefore often stays not long enough on what is before it to look into it as it should, for haste to pursue what is yet out of sight. He that rides post through a country may be able from the tran- sient view to tell how in general the parts lie, and may be able to give some loose description of here a mountain and CONDUCT OF THE UNDEKSTANDINO. 77 there a plain, here a morass and there a river, woodland in one part and savannahs in another. Such superficial ideas and observations as these he may collect in galloping over it; but the more useful observations of the soil, plants, animals, and inhabitants, with their several sorts and properties, must necessarily escape him; and it is seldom men ever discover the rich mines without some digging. Nature commonly lodges her treasure and jewels in rocky ground. If the matter be knotty and the sense lies deep, the mind must stop and buckle to it, and stick upon it with labour and thought and close contemplation, and not leave it till it has mastered the difficulty and got possession of truth. But here care must be taken to avoid the other extreme; a man must not stick at every useless nicety, and expect mysteries of science in every trivial question or scruple that he may raise. He that will stand to pick up and examine every pebble that comes in his way, is as unlikely to return enriched and laden with jewels, as the other that travelled full speed. Truths are not the better nor the worse for their obviousness or difficulty, but their value is to be measured by their usefulness and tendency. Insignificant observations should not take up any of our minutes, and those that enlarge our view and give light towards further and useful discoveries, should not be neglected, though they stop our course and spend some of our time in a fixed attention. There is another haste that does often and will mislead the mind if it be left to itself and its own conduct. The under- standing is naturally forward, not only to learn its knowledge by variety (which makes it skip over one to get speedily to another part of knowledge), but also eager to enlarge its views by running too fast into general observations and conclusions without a due examination of particulars enough whereon to found those general axioms.'^' This seems to enlarge their stock, but it is of fancies, not realities; such theories, built upon narrow foundations, stand but weakly, and if they fall not of themselves, are at least very hardly to be supported against the assaults of opposition. And thus men being too hasty to erect to themselves general notions and ill-grounded theories, find themselves deceived in their stock of knowledge when they come to examine their hastily assumed maxima * See ante, note 1, p. 27. 78 CONDUCT OF THE UNDERSTANDING. themselves or to have them attacked by others. Genera] observations drawn from particulars are the jewels of know- ledge, comprehending great store in a little room ; but they are therefore to be made with the greater care and caution, lest if we take counterfeit for true our loss and shame be the greater when our stock comes to a severe scrutiny.* One or two particulars may suggest hints of inquiry, and they do well to take those hints; but if they turn them into conclu- sions, and make them presently general rules, they are forward indeed, but it is only to impose on themselves by propositions assumed for truths without sufficient warrant. To make such observations is, as has been already remarked, to make the head a magazine of materials which can hardly be called knowledge, or at least it is but like a collection of lumber not reduced to use or order; and he that makes everything an observation has the same useless plenty and much more false- hood mixed with it. The extremes on both sides are to be avoided, and he will be able to give the best account of his studies who keeps his understanding in the right mean between them. 26. Anticipation . — Whether it be a love of that which wrings the first light and information to their minds, and vant of vigour and industry to inquire; or else that men content themselves with any appearance of knowledge, right 3 r wrong, which when they have once got they will hold fast ; this is visible, that many men give themselves up to the first anticipations of their minds, and are very tenacious of the opinions that first possess them ; they are as often fond of fcheir first conception as of their first-bom, and will by no means recede from the judgment they have once made, or any conjecture or conceit which they have once entertained. This is a fault in the conduct of the understanding, since this firm- ness or rather stiffness of the mind is not from an adherence to truth, but a submission to prejudice. It is an unreasonable * The practice on which this beautiful figure is founded still prevaik in the East, and must always prevail in despotic countries, where men are often compelled by necessity to conceal all their riches about their persons and fly for their lives. Sometimes, where the rights of the harem are revered, great men heap their wealth in the form of jewels upon the females of their family, whose persons are generally held sacred in the East. For this reason Warren Hastings’ plunder of the Begum was re- garded with peculiar abhorrence in India. CONDUCT OF THE UNDERSTANDING. 79 homage paid to prepossession, whereby we show a reverence not to (what we pretend to seek) truth, but what by hap- hazard we chance to hght on, be it what it will. This is visibly a preposterous use of our faculties, and is a downright prostituting of the mind to resign it thus and put it under the power of the first comer. This can never be allowed or ought to be followed as a right way to knowledge, till the understanding (whose business it is to conform itself to what it finds in the objects without) can by its own opinionatry change that, and make the unalterable nature of things com- ply with its own hasty determinations, which will never be. Whatever we fancy, things keep their course, and the habi- tudes, correspondences, and relations keep the same to one another. 27. Resignation , — Contrary to these, but by a like danger- ous excess on the other side, are those who always resign their judgment to the last man they heard or read."^* Truth never sinks into these men’s minds nor gives any tincture to them, but camelQon-like, they take the colour of what is laid before them, and as soon lose and resign it to the next that happens to come in their way. The order wherein opinions are pro- posed or received by us is no rule of their rectitude, nor ought to be a cause of their preference. Tirst or last in this case is tfie effect of chance, and not the measure of truth or falsehood. This every one must confess, and therefore should in the pursuit of truth keep his mind free from the influence of any such accidents. t A man may as reasonably draw cuts for his tenets, regulate his persuasion by the cast of a die, as take it up for its novelty, or retain it because it had his first assent and he was never of another mind. Well-weighed reasons are to determine the judgment; those the mind should be always ready to hearken and submit to, and by their testi- mony and suffrage entertain or reject any tenet indifferently, whether it be a perfect stranger or an old acquaintance. * Of this failing Pope used to plead guilty, observing, jocularly perhaps, that in theology he always agreed in opinion with the last author he read. t A similar thought occurs somewhere in Plato, who observes that in all discussions we should hold our minds free to be canded whithersoever we may by the stream of our reasoning. Dr. Middleton makes a remark of like import in the preface, if I rightly remember, of his Free Inquiry. / 80 CpKDUCT OF THE IJNDERSTAlSrDHSra. 28. Practice . — Though the' faculties of the mind are im- proved by exercise, yet they must not be put to a stress beyond their strength. Quid valeant humeri, quid ferrc recusent,”* must be made the measure of every one’s under- standing who has a desire not only to perform well but to keep up the vigour of his faculties, and not to balk his under- standing by what is too hard for it. The mind by being engaged in a task beyond its strength, like the body strained by lifting at a weight too heavy, has often its force broken, and thereby gets ah unaptness or an aversion to any vigorous attempt ever after. A sinew cracked seldom recovers its former strength, or at least the tenderness of the sprain re- mains a good while after, and the memory of it longer, and leaves a lasting caution in the man not to put the part quickly again to any robust employment. So it fares in the mind once jaded by an attempt above its power ; it either is disabled for the future, or else checks at any vigorous undertaking ever after, at least is very hardly brought to exert its force again on any subject that requires thought and meditation. The understanding should be brought to the difficult and knotty parts of knowledge that try the strength of thought and a full bent of the mind by insensible degrees, and in such a gradual proceeding nothing is too hard for it.f Nor let it be objected that such a slow progress will never reach the extent of some sciences. It is not to be imagined how far constancy will carry a man ; however, it is better walking slowly in a rugged way than to break a leg and be a cripple. He that begins with the calf may carry the ox, but he that will at first go to take up an ox may so disable himself as not to be able to lift up a calf after that. When the mind by insensible degrees has brought itself to attention and close thinking, it will be able to cope with difficulties and master them without any * Wkick Roscommon thus translates (Ars. Poet. 394 et seq.): — ‘‘And often try what weight you can support, \ And what your shoulders are too weak to bear.” + In the same spirit Milton, in his Tractate on Education, condemns the preposterous practice of “ forcing the empty wits of children to com- pose themes, verses, and orations, which are the acts of ripest judgment, and the final work of a head filled by long reading and observing, with elegant maxims, and copious invention. These are not matters to be wrung from poor striplings, like blood out of the nose or the plucking of untimely fruit ” CONDUCT OF THE UNDERSTANDING. 81 prejudice to itself, and then it may go on roundly. Every abstruse problem, every intricate question, will not baffle, dis- courage, or break it. But though putting the mind unpre- pared upon an unusual stress that may discourage or damp it for the future ought to be avoided, yet this must not run it by an over-great shyness of difficulties into a lazy sauntering about ordinary and obvious things that demand no thought or application. This debases and enervates the understand- ing, makes it weak and unfit for labour. This is a sort of hovering about the surface of things without any insight into them or penetration ; and when the mind has been once habituated to this lazy recumbency and satisfaction on the obvious surface of things, it is in danger to rest satisfied there and go no deeper, since it cannot do it without pains and dig- ging. He that has for some time accustomed himself to take up with what easily offers itself at first view, has reason to fear he shall never reconcile himself to the fatigue of turning and tumbling things in his mind to discover their more retired and more valuable secrets. It is not strange that methods of learning which scholars have been accustomed to in their beginning and entrance upon the sciences should influence them all their lives, and be settled in their minds by an overruling reverence ; especially if they be such as universal use has established. Learners must at first be believers, and their master s rules having been once made axioms to them, it is no wonder they should keep that dignity, and by the authority they have once got, mislead those who think it sufficient to excuse them if they go out of their way in a well-beaten track. 29. Words . — I have copiously enough spoken of the abuse of words in another place,'^* and therefore shall upon this reflection, that the sciences are full of them, warn those that would conduct their understandings right not to take any term, howsoever authorized by the language of the schools, to stand for anything till they have an idea of it. A won may be of frequent use and great credit with several authors, and be by them made use of as if it stood for some real being ; * This is fully treated of in the Essay on the Human Understanding, Book iii. chap. 10, 11. The whole book, however, has reference to the same subject. Compare also Bishop Berkeley’s Introduction to the Principles of Human knowledge. VOL. I. G / 82 CONDUCT OF THE UNDERSTANDING. but yet, if he that reads cannot frame any distinct idea of that being, it is certainly to him a mere empty sound without a meaning, and he learns no more by all that is said of it or attributed to it than if it were affirmed only of that bare eD;ipty sound. They who would advance in knowledge, and not deceive and swell themselves with a little articulated air, should lay down this as a fundamental rule, not to take words for things, nor suppose that names in books sigffify real en- tities in nature, till they can frame clear and distinct ideas of those entities. It will not perhaps be allowed, if I should set down substantial forms ” and “ intentional species,” a,s such that may justly be suspected to be of this kind of in- significant terms. But this I am sure, to one that can form no determined ideas of what they stand for, they signify nothing at all, and all that he thinks he knows about them is to him so much knowledge about nothing, and amounts at most but to be a learned ignorance. It is not without all reason supposed that there are many such empty terms to be found in some learned writers, to which they had recourse to etch out their systems, where their understandings could not furnish them with conceptions from things. But yet I believe the supposing of some realities in nature answering those and the like words, have much perplexed some and quite misled others in the study of nature. That which in any discourse signifies, I know not what,” should be considered I know not when.” Where men have any conceptions, they can, if they are never so abstruse or abstracted, explain them and the terms they use for them. For our conceptions being nothing but ideas, which are all made uj) of simple ones, if they cannot give us the ideas their words stand for it is plain they have none. To what purpose can it be to hunt after his conceptions who has none, or none distinct 1 he that knew not what he himself meant by a learned term, cannot make us know anything by his use of it, let us beat our heads about it never so long. Whether we are able to comprehend all the operations of nature and the maimers of them, it matters not to inquire, but this is certain, that we can comprehend no more of them than we can distinctly conceive, and therefore to obtrude terms where we have no distinct conceptions, as if they did contain, or rather conceal something, is but an arti- fice of learned vanity to cover a defect in an hypothesis CT CONDUCT OF THE UNDEJiSTANDINQ. 83 our understandings. Words are not made to conceal, but to declare and show something; jvhere they are by those who pretend to instruct otherwise used, they conceal indeed some- thing ; but that that they conceal is nothing but the ignorance, error, or sophistry of the talker, for there is in truth nothing else under them.* 30. Wandering . — That there is a constant succession and flux of ideas in our minds I have observed in the former part of this essay, and every one may take notice of it in himself This, I suppose, may deserve some part of our care in the con- duct of our understandings; and I think it may be of great advantage if we can by use get that power over our minds, as to be able to direct that train of ideas, that so, since there will new ones perpetually come into our thoughts by a con- stant succesion, we may be able by choice so to direct them, that none may come in view but such as are pertinent to our present inquiry, and in such order as may be most useful to the discovery we are upon ; or, at least, if some foreign and unsought ideas will offer themselves, that yet we might be able to reject them and keep them from taking ofi* o\\r minds from its present pursuit, and hinder them from running away with our thoughts quite from the subject in hand. This is not, I suspect, so easy to be done as perhaps may be imagined ; and yet, for aught I know, this may be, if not the chief, yet one of the great differences that carry some men in their reasoning so far beyond others, where they seem to be natu- rally of equal parts. A proper and effectual remedy for this wandering of thoughts I would be glad to find. He that shall propose such an one would do great service to the stu- dious and contemplative part of mankind, and perhaps help unthinking men to become thinking. I must acknowledge that hitherto I have discovered no other way to keep our thoughts close to their business, but the endeavouring as much as we can, and by frequent attention and application, getting the habit of attention and application. He that will observe children will find that even when they endeavour their utmost they camnot. keep their minds from straggling. The way to cure it, I am satisfied, is not angry chiding or * Upon this philosophical observation was erected the witty contradic- tion of Goldsmith, commonly attributed to Talleyrand, that language waa given to man to conceal his thoughts. / 84 CONDUCT OF THE UNDERSTANDING. beating, for that presently fills their heads with all the ideas that fear, dread, or confusion can offer to them. To bring back gently their wandering thoughts, by leading them into the path and going before them in the train they should pur- sue, without any rebuke, or so much as taking notice (where it can be avoided) of their roving, I suppose, would sooner reconcile and inure them to attention than all these rougher m(3thods, which more distract their thought, and hindering the application they would promote, introduce a contrary habit.* 31. Distinction . — Distinction and division are (if I mistake not the import of the words) very different things; the one i^eing the perception of a difference that nature has placed in things; the other, our making a division where there is yet none ; at least if it may be permitted to consider them in this sense, I think I may say of them, that one of them is the most necessary and conducive to true knowledge that can be ; the other, when too much made use of, serves only to puzzle and confound the understanding. To observe every the least difference that is in things argues a quick and clear sight, and this keeps the understanding steady and right in its way to knowledge. But though it be useful to discern every variety that is to be found in nature, yet it is not con- venient to consider every difference that is in things, and divide them into distinct classes under every such difference. This will run us, if followed, into particulars (for every indi- vidual has something that differences it from another), and we shall be able to establish no general truths, or else at least shall be apt to perplex the mind about them. The collection * Upon this subject he has spoken at considerable length in his Thoughts on Education, where see, in my notes, the opinions of Montaigne. Bishop Patrick has likewise, in his Advice to a Friend, a pleasant passage to the same purpose. Speaking of our attempts unreasonably to compel ourselves to religious meditation, he says: “As a child, you may have observed, when he cannot think of his lesson, the more liis teacher chides and calls upon him, the more blockishly he stands, and the further it is beat out of his memory : so it is very frequently with the natural spirits of every one of us. They are so oppressed and stupid at certain seasons that if we labour to set them in motion, it doth but dispose them the more to stand stock still. But if we let them alone, and for that time leave them, they will be like the same child, who in a short time comes to himself, and is able to say his leason perfectly. They would go whither we would have them, and perhaps run before us.” (83 et seq.) CONDUCT OF THE UNDEKSTANDING. 85 of several things into several classes gives the mind more general and larger views, but we must take care to unite them only in that, and so far as they do agree, for so far they may be united under the consideration ; for entity itself, that comprehends all things, as general as it is, may afford us clear and rational conceptions. If we would -weigh and keep in our minds what it is we are considering, that would best instruct us when we should or should not branch into further distinctions, which are not to be taken only from a due con- templation of things, to which there is nothing more opposite than the art of verbal distinctions made at pleasure in learned and arbitrarily invented terms, to be applied at a venture, ■without comprehending or conveying any distinct notions, and so altogether fitted to artificial talk or empty noise in dispute, without any clearing of difficulties or advance in knowledge. Whatsoever subject we examine and would get knowledge in, we should, I think, make as general and as large as it will bear ; nor can there be any danger of this, if the idea of it be settled and determined ; for if that be so, we shall easily distinguish it from any other idea, though com- prehended under the same name. For it is to fence against the entanglements of equivocal words, and the great art of sophistry which lies in them, that distinctions have been mul- tiplied and their use thought so necessary. But had every distinct abstract idea a distinct known name, there would be little need of these multiplied scholastic distinctions, though there would be nevertheless as much need still of the mind’s observing the differences that are in things, and discriminat- ing them thereby one from another. It is not therefore the right way to knowledge to hunt after and fill the head with abundance of artificial and scholastic distinctions, wherewith learned men’s writings are often filled: we sometimes find what they treat of so divided and subdivided that the mind of the most attentive reader loses the sight of it, as it is more tlian probable the writer himself did ; for in things crumbled into dust it is in vain to affect or pretend order, or expect clearness. To avoid confusion by too few or too many divi- sions, is a great skill in thinking as well as writing, which is but the copying our thoughts; but what are the boimdaries of the mean between the two vicious excesses on both hands, I think is hard to set down in words ; clear and distinct ideas 86 CONDUCT OF THE UNDEKSTANDING. are all that I yet know able to regulate it. But as to verbal distinctions received and applied to common terms, i. e., equi- vocal words they are more properly, I think, the business of criticisms and dictionaries than of real knowledge and philo- sophy, since they for the most part explain the meaning of words, and give us their several significations. The dexterous management of terms, and being able to fend and prove with them,^' I know has and does pass in the world for a great part of learning; but it is learning distinct from knowledge, for knowledge consists only in perceiving the habitudes and relations of ideas one to another, which is done without words; the intervention of a sound helps nothing to it. And hence we see that there is least use of distinctions where there is most knowledge, I mean in mathematics, where men have determined ideas without known names to them, and so there being no room for equivocations, there is no need of distinc- tions. In arguing, the opponent uses as comprehensive and equivocal terms as he can, to involve his adversary in the doubtfulness of his expressions : this is expected, and there- fore the answerer on his side makes it his play to distinguish as much as he can, and thinks he can never do it too much ; nor can he indeed in that way wherein victory may be had without truth and without knowledge. This seems to me to be the art of disputing. Use your words as captiously as you can in your arguing on one side, and apply distinctions as much as you can on the other side to every term, to non- plus your opponent, so that in this sort of scholarship, there being no bounds set to distinguishing, some men have thought all acuteness to have lain in it, and therefore in all they have read or thought on, their great business has been to amuse themselves with distinctions, and multiply to them- selves divisions ; at least, more than the nature of the thing required. There seems to me, as I said, to be no other rule for this but a due and right consideration of things as they are in themselves. He that has settled in his mind deter- mined ideas, with names affixed to them, will be able both to discern their differences one from another, which is really distinguishing; and where the penury of words afibrds not terms answering every distinct idea, wiU be able to apply proper distinguishing terms to the comprehensive and equi- * To feud ajid prove, i. e., to wrangle. (Yitilitigo. Adam Littleton.) CONDUCT OF THE UNDERSTANDING. 87 vocal names lie is forced to make use of. This is all the need I know of distinguishing terrnS;, and in such verbal distinc- tions each term of the distinction, joined to that whole signification it distinguishes, is but a distinct name for a dis- tinct idea. Where they are so, and men have cleai and distinct conceptions that answer their verbal distinctions, they are right, and are pertinent as far as they serve to clear any- thing in the subject under consideration. And this is that which seems to me the proper and only measure of distinc- tions and divisions, which he that will conduct his understand- inof risrht must not look for in the acuteness of invention noi o o the authority of writers, but will find only in the consider- ation of things themselves, whether he is led into it by his own meditations or the information of books. An aptness to jumble things together wherein can be found any likeness, is a fault in the understanding on the other side which will not fail to mislead it, and by thus lumping of things, hinder the mind from distinct and accurate conceptions of them. 32. Similes. — 1^.0 which let me here add another near of kin to this, at least in name, and that is letting the mind, upon the suggestion of any new notion, run immediately after similes to make it the clearer to itself, which, though it may be a good way and useful in the explaining our thoughts to others, yet it is by no means a right method to settle true notions of anything in ourselves, beaause similes always fail in some part, and come short of that exactness v/hich our conceptions should have to things if we would think aright. This indeed makes men plausible talkers, for those are always most acceptable in discourse who have the way to let their thoughts into other men’s minds with the greatest ease and facility ; whether those thoughts are well formed and cor- respond with things matters not ; few men care to be instructed but at an easy rate. They who in their discourse strike the fancy, and take the hearers’ conceptions along with them as fast as their words fiow, are the applauded talkers, and go for the only men of clear thoughts. Nothing con- tributes so much to this as similes, whereby men think they themselves understand better, because they are the better understood. But it is one thing to think right and another thing to know the right way to lay our thoughts before 88 CONDUCT OF THE UNDERSTANDING. otliers with advantage and clearness, be they right or wrong. Well-chosen similes, metaphors, and allegories, with method and order, do this the best of anything, because being taken from objects already known and familiar to the under- standing, they are conceived as fast as spoken, and the correspondence being concluded, the thing they are brought to explain and elucidate is thought to be understood too. Thus fancy passes for knowledge, and what is prettily said is mistaken for solid. I say not this to decry metaphor, or with design to take away that ornament of speech; my business here is not with rhetoricians and orators, but with philosophers and lovers of truth, to whom I would beg leave to give this one rule whereby to try whether in the appli- cation of their thoughts to anything for the improvement of their knowledge, they do in truth comprehend the matter before them really such as it is in itself d^he way to discover this is to observe whether, in the laying it before themselves or others, they make use only of borrowed representations and ideas foreign to the things which are applied to it by way of accommodation, as bearing some proportion or imagined likeness to the subject under consideration. Figured and metaphorical expressions do well to illustrate more abstruse and unfamiliar ideas which the mind is n6t yet thoroughly accustomed to, but then they must be made use of to illustrate ideas that we already have, not to paint to us those which we yet have not. Such borrowed and allusive ideas may follow real and solid truth, to set it off when found, but must by no means be set in its place and taken for it. If all our search has yet reached no further than simile and metaphor, we may assure ourselves we rather fancy than know, and have not yet penetrated into the inside and reality of the thing, be it what it will, but content ourselves with what our imaginations, not things themselves, furnish us ^with. 33. Assent . — In the whole conduct of the understanding, there is nothing of more moment than to know when and where, and how far to give assent, and possibly there is nothing harder. It is very easily said, and nobody questions it, that giving and withholding our assent and Ihe degrees of it should be regulated by the evidence which things carry with them ; and yet we see men are not the better for this rule; CONDUCT OF THE UNDERSTANDING. 89 some firmly embrace doctrines upon slight grounds, some upon no grounds, and some contrary to appearance: some admit of certainty, and are not to be moved in what they hold; others waver in everything, and there want not those that reject all as uncertain.* What then shall a novice, an inquirer, a stranger do in the case] I answer, use his eyes. There is a correspondence in things, and agreement and dis- agreement in ideas, discernible in very different degrees, and there are eyes in men to see them if they please ; only their eyes may be dimmed or dazzled, and the discerning sight in them impaired or lost. Interest and passion dazzle; the custom of arguing on any side, even against our persuasions, dims the understanding, and makes it by degTees lose the faculty of discerning clearly between truth and falsehood, and so of adhering to the right side. It is not safe to play with error and dress it up to ourselves or others in the shape of truth. The mind by degrees loses its natural relish of real solid truth, is reconciled insensibly to anything that can be dressed up into any feint appearance of it; and if the fancy be allowed the place of judgment at first in sport, it afterwards comes by use to usurp it, and what is recommended by this flatterer (that studies but to please) is received for good. There are so many ways of fallacy, such arts of giving colours, appearances, and resemblances by this court-dresser, the fancy, that he who is not wary to admit nothing but truth itself, very careful not to make his mind subservient to anything else, cannot but be caught. He that has a mind to believe, has half assented already; and he that by often arguing against his own sense imposes falsehood on others, is not far from believing himself. This takes away the great distance there is betwixt truth and falsehood; it brings them almost together, and makes it no great odds in things that approach so near which you take; and when things are brought to that pass, passion, or interest, &c., easily, and without being perceived, determine which shall be the right. 34. Indifferency . — I have said above that we should keep a perfect indifferency for all opinions, not wish any of them true, or try to make them appear so, but being indifferent, * Talleyrand erred on tins point, for he is said nevfer to have believed anything. The extravagancies of the ancient sceptics axe well known. / 90 CONDUCT OF THE UNDERSTANDING, receive and embrace them according as evidence, and that alone, gives the attestation of truth. They that do thus, i.e., keep their minds indifferent to opinions, to be determined only by evidence, will always find the understanding has perception enough to distinguish between evidence and no evidence, betwixt plain and doubtful; and if they neither give nor refuse their assent but by that measure, they will be safe in the opinions they have. Which being perhaps but few, this caution will have also this good in it, that it will put them upon considering, and teach them the necessity of examining more than they do; without which the mind is but a receptacle of inconsistencies, not the storehouse of truths. They that do not keep up this indifierency in them- selves for all but truth, not supposed, but evidenced in themselves, put coloured spectacles before their eyes, and look on things through false glasses, and then think themselves excused in following the false appearances which they them- selves put upon them. I do not expect that by this way the assent should in every one be proportioned to the grounds and clearness wherewith every truth is capable to be made out, or that men should be perfectly kept from error; that is more than human nature can by any means be advanced to ; I aim at no such unattainable privilege ; I am only speaking of what they should do, who would deal fairly with their own minds, and make a right use of their faculties in the pursuit of truth; we fail them a great deal more than they fail us. It is mismanagement more than want of abilities that men have reason to complain of, and which they actually do complain of in those that difier from them. He that by indifierency for all but truth, suffers not his assent to go faster than his evidence, nor beyond it, will learn to examine, and examine fairly instead of presuming, and nobody will be at a loss or in danger for want of embracing those truths which are necessary in his station and circumstances. In any other way but this all the world are born to orthodoxy ; they imbibe at first the allowed opinions of their country and party, and so never questioning their truth, not one of a hundred ever examines.* They are applauded for presuming * The reader 'wall here be reminded of the 'well-knowm bon-mot of Warburton, who, on being asked, What is orthodoxy? rephed, It is my doxy, while heterodoxy is eveiy other man’s doxy. CONDUCT OF THE UNDERSTANDING. 91 they are in the right. He that considers, is a foe to orthodoxy, because possibly he may deviate from some of the received doctrines there. And thus men, without any industry or acquisition of their own, inherit local truths (for it is not the same everywhere) and are inured to assent without evidence. 'This influences further than is thought, for what one of a hundred of the zealous bigots in all parties ever examined the tenets he is so stiff in, or ever thought it his business or duty so to do '? It is suspected of lukewarmness to suppose it necessary, and a tendency to apostacy to go about it. And if a man can bring his mind once to be positive and fierce for positions whose evidence he has never once examined, and that in matters of greatest concernment to him, what shall keep him from this short and easy way of being in the right in cases of less moment '? Thus we are taught to clothe our minds as we do our bodies, after the fashion in vogue, and it is accounted fantastical ness, or something worse, not to do so.* This custom (which who dares opposed) makes the short-sighted bigots and the warier sceptics, as far as it prevails: and those that break from it are in danger of heresy; for taking the whole world, how much of it doth truth and orthodoxy possess together? Though it is by the last alone (which has the good luck to be everywhere) that error and heresy are judged of : for argument and evidence signify nothing in the case, and excuse nowhere, but are sure to be borne down in all societies by the infallible orthodoxy * In fact, men think in packs as jackals hunt. On this subject I formerly published some observations, one or two of which may be here repeated. Having noticed the rapid changes in faith and practice which during the last century have taken place in France, I add, ‘‘When public opinion is thus fluctuating, individuals have some difficulty in preserving themselves from the charge of singu- larity, to which all such persons are obnoxious as maintain during these sudden changes a sober and steady mind. There are, however, but very few in any country entertaining thoughts and opinions that ought really to be termed singular. For, although there be nothing too absurd for men to believe conjointly with others, they dread to embrace it alone, in silence and solitude. Men have always thought and believed in masses, under the standard of intellectual despots, in the same manner as they fight in masses beneath the banners of political despots. Throughout the whole eaifh, you may observe opinions and Ideas, like swarms of bees, clustering together upon particular spots, or as if, like certain trees and plants they were indigenous to the soil.” (Anat. of Soc. L 64 et seq.) 92 CONDUCT OF THE UNDERSTANDING. of the place. Whether this be the way to truth and right assent, let the opinions that take place and prescribe in the several habitable parts of the earth declare. I never saw any reason yet why truth might not be trusted on its own evidence : I am sure if that be not able to support it there is no fence against error, and then truth and falsehood are but names that stand for the same things. Evidence therefore is that by which alone every man is (and should be) taught to regulate his assent, who is then, and then only, in the right way when he follows it. Men deficient in knowledge are usually in one ^of these three states : either wholly ignorant, or as doubting of some proposition they have either embraced formerly, or are at present inclined to; or lastly, they do with assurance hold and profess without ever having examined and being convinced by well-grounded arguments. The first of these are in the best state of the three, by having their minds yet in their perfect freedom and indifier- ency, the likelier to pursue truth the better, having no bias yet clapped on to mislead them. 35. For ignorance, with an indifierency for truth, is nearer to it than opinion with ungrounded inclination, which is the great source of error; and they are more in danger to go out of the way who are marching under the conduct of a guide that it is a hundred to one will mislead them, than he that has not yet taken a step, and is likelier to be prevailed on to inquire after the right way. The last of the three sorts are in the worst condition of all; for if a man can be per- suaded and fully assured of anything for a truth, without having examined, what is there that he may not embrace for truth? and if he has given himself up to believe a lie, what means is there left to recover one who can be assured without examining? To the other two, this I crave^leave to say, that as he that is ignorant is in the best state of the two, so he should pimsue truth in a method suitable to that state; i. e., by inquiring directly into the nature of the thing itself, without minding the opinions of others, or troubling himself with their questions or disputes about it ; but to see what he himself can, sincerely searching after truth, find out. He that proceeds upon other principles in his inquiry into any sciences, though he be resolved to examine them and judge of CONDUCT OF THE UNDERSTANDING. 93 them freely, does yet at least put himself on that side, and post himself in a party which he will not quit till he be beaten out : by which the mind is insensibly engaged to make what defence it can, and so is unawares biassed. I do not say but a man should embrace some opinion when he has ^examined, else he examines to no purpose ; but the surest and safest way is to have no opinion at all till he has examined, and that without any the least regard to the opinions or systems of other men about it. For example, were it my business to understand physic, would not the safe and readier way be to consult nature herself, and inform myself in the history of diseases and their cures, than espousing the prin- ciples of the dogmatists, methodists, or chemists, to engage in all the disputes concering either of those systems, and suppose it to be true, till I have tried what they can say to beat me out of it'?* Or, supposing that Hippocrates, or any other book, infallibly contains the whole art of physic ; would not the direct way be to study, read, and consider that book, weigh and compare the parts of it to find the truth, rather than espouse the doctrines of any party? who, though they acknowledge his authority, have already interpreted and wire- drawn all his text to their own sense; the tincture whereof when I have imbibed, I am more in danger to misunderstand his true meaning, than if I had come to him with a njiind un- prepossessed by doctors and commentators of my sect, whose reasonings, interpretation, and language which I have been used to, will of course make all chimes that way, and make another, and perhaps the genuine, meaning of the author seem harsh, strained, and uncouth to me. For words having natu- rally none of their own, carry that signification to the hearer that he is used to put upon them, whatever be the sense of him that uses them. This, I think, is visibly so ; and if it be, he that begins to have any doubt of any of his tenets, which he received without examination, ought as much as he can, to put himself wholly into this state of ignorance in reference to that question ; and throwing wholly by all his former *■ Locke so seldom alludes to medicine or physicians, that few not acquainted with the history of his life would suppose him to have studied physic professionally, and to have been only prevented by the weakness of his constitution from entering on the practice of it. See his Lif« prefixed to the Reasonableness of Christianity, p. viii — id. 94 CONDUCT OF THE UNDERSTANDING. notions, and the opinions of others, examine, with a perfect indifierency, the question in its source, without any in- clination to either side or any regard to his or others’ unex- amined opinions. This I own is no easy thing to do; but I am not inquiring the easy way to opinion, but the right way to truth, which they must follow who will deal fairly with their own understandings and their own souls.* 36. Question . — The indifierency that I here propose will also enable them to state the question right which they are in doubt about, without which they can never come to a fair and clear decision of it. 37. Fer severance . — Another fruit from this indifierency, and the considering things in themselves abstract from our own opinions and other men’s notions and discourses on them, will be, that each man will pursue his thoughts in that method which will be most agreeable to the nature of the thing, and to his apprehension of what it suggests to him, in which he ought to proceed with regularity and constancy^ until he come to a well-grounded resolution wherein he may acquiesce. If it be objected that this will require every man to be a scholar, and quit all his other business and betake himself wholly to study, I answer, I propose no more to any one than he has time for. Some men’s state and condition require no great extent of knowledge; the necessary provision for life swal- lows the greatest part of their time. But one man’s want ol leisure is no excuse for the oscitancy and ignorance of those who have time to spare ; and every one has enough to get as much knowledge as is required and expected of him, and he that does not that is in love with ignorance, and is account- able for it. 38. Presumotion. — The variety of distempers in men’s minds is as great as of those in their bodies; some are epi- demic, few escape them; and every one too, if he would look * In this passage we have much of the earnest eloquence of Plato, who, in his matchless introduction to the Protagoras, describes in few words the imminent danger of admitting error into the mind. Socrates, there as elsew^here in his disciple’s writings the principal interlocutor, observes to Hippocrates, desirous of becoming a hearer of Protagoras, fikWeig rrjv -ipvxvr ttjv cravTov Traparrx^^v OepaTrevcfai aifdpi, wg (jyyg, cto(pt(Try' o TL ds ttote 6 Go^icrri^g egtl, Oavfxa^oiii dv e( oTaOa. Ka'i rot Si TOVT dyvoeig, ovda orq) Trapadidwg ryv \l/vxw oldOa, ovt ei dyaO<() ovr li KaK(^ TrpdyfiaTL. (T. i. p. 1,^5. Pekk.) -Ed. CONDUCT OF THE UNDERSTANDING. 95 into himself, would find some defect of his particular genius. There is scarce any one without some idiosyncrasy that he suffers by. This man presumes upon his parts, that they will not fail him at time of need; and so thinks it superfluous labour to make any provision beforehand. His understand- ing is to him like Fortunatus’s purse, which is always to furnish him, without ever putting anything into it before- hand ; and so he sits still satisfied, without endeavouring to store his understanding with knowledge. It is the sponta- neous product of the country, and what need of labour in tillage'? Such men may spread their native riches before the ignorant ; but they were best not to come to stress and trial with the skilful. We are born ignorant of everything. The superficies of things that surround them make impressions on the negligent, but nobody penetrates into the inside without labour, attention, and industry.'^ Stones and timber grow of themselves, but yet there is no uniform pile with symmetry and convenience to lodge in without toil and pains. God has made the intellectual world harmonious and beautiful with- out us ; but it will never come into our heads all at once ; we must bring it home piecemeal, and there set it up by our own industry, or else we shall have nothing but darkness and a chaos within, whatever order and light there be in. things without us. 39. Despondency . — On the other side, there are others that depress their own minds, despond at the fii’st difficulty, and ^ conclude that the getting an insight in any of the sciences, or making any progress in knowledge further than serves their ordinary business, is above their capacities. These sit still, because they think they have not legs to go ; as the others I last mentioned do, because they think they have wings to fly, and can soar on high when they please. To these latter one may for answer apply the proverb, ‘^IJse legs and have legs.” IS^obody knows what strength of parts he has till he has tried them. And of the understanding one may most truly say, that its force is greater generally than it thinks, till it is put to it. ‘Wiresque acquirit eundo.” And therefore the proper remedy here is but to set the mind to work, and apply the thoughts vigorously to the * It is Xenophon, I believe, who says that the gods sell all good things to inan for sweat and toU. — Ed. / 96 CONDUCT OF THE UNDERSTANDING. business; for it bolds in tbe struggles of tbe mind as in those of war, “ dum putant se vincere vicere.” A persuasion that we shall overcome any difficulties that we meet with in the sciences seldom fails to carry us through them, i^obody knows the strength of his mind, and the force of steady and regular application, till he has tried. This is certain, he that sets out upon weak legs, will not only go further, but grow stronger too than one who, with a vigorous constitution and firm. Limbs, only sits still. Something of kin to this men may observe in themselves, when the mind frights itself (as it often does) with anything reflected on in gross, and transiently viewed confusedly and at a distance. Things thus offered to the mind carry the show of nothing but difficulty in them, and are thought to be wrapt up in impenetrable obscurity. But the truth is, these are nothing but spectres that the understanding raises to itself to flatter its own laziness. It sees nothing distinctly in things remote and in a huddle; and therefore concludes too faintly, that there is nothing more clear to be discovered in them. It is but to approach nearer, and that mist of our own raising that enveloped them will remove; and those that in that mist appeared hideous giants not to be grappled with, will be found to be of the ordinary and natural size and shape.* Things that in a remote and confused view seem very obscure, must be approached by gentle and regular steps ; and what is most visible, easy, and obvious in them first considered Beduce them into their distinct parts ; and then in their due order bring all that should be known concerning every one of those parts into plain and simple questions ; and then what was thought obscure, perplexed, and too hard for our weak parts, will lay itself open to the understanding in a fair view and let the mind into that which before it was awed with, and kept at a distance from, as wholly mysterious. I appeal to my reader’s experience, whether this has never happened to him, especially when, busy on one thing, he has occasion- ally reflected on another. I ask him whether he has never thus been scared with a sudden opinion of mighty difficulties, which yet have vanished, when he has seriously and methodi- * Omne ignotum pro magnifico. ’Tis distance lends enchantment to the view, And clothes the mountain wdth its azure hue. — Ed. CX)KDUCT OP THE UNDERSTANDING. 97 cally applied himself to the consideration of this seeming terrible subject ; and there has been no other matter of astonishment left, but that he amused himself with so dis- couraging a prospect ol his own raising, about a matter which in the handling was found to have nothing in it more strange nor intricate than several other things which he had long since, and with ease, mastered. This experience would teach us how to deal with such bugbears another time, which should rather serve to excite our vigour than enervate our industry. The surest way for a learner in this, as in all other cases, is not to advance by jumps and large strides; let that which he sets himself to learn next be indeed the next, i. e., as nearly conjoined with what he knows already as is possible; let it be distinct, but not remote from it ; let it be new, and what he did not know before, that the understanding may advance; but let it be as little at once as may be, that its advances may be clear and sure. All the ground that it gets this way it will hold. This distinct gradual growth in knowledge is firm and sure; it carries its own light with it in every step of its progression in an easy and orderly train ; than which there is nothing of more use to the understanding. And though this perhaps may seem a very slow and lingering way to know- ledge, yet I dare confidently affirm, that whoever will try it in himself, or any one he will teach, shall find the advances greater in this method, than they would in the same space of time have been in any other he could have taken. The greatest part of true knowledge lies in a distinct perception of things in themselves distinct. And some men give more clear light and knowledge by the bare distinct stating of a question, than others by talking of it in gross, whole hours together. In this, they who so state a question, do no more but separate and disentangle the parts of it one from another, and lay them, when so disentangled, in their due order. This often, without any more ado, resolves the doubt, and shows the mind where the truth lies. The agreement or disagree- ment of the ideas in question, when they are once separated and distinctly considered, is, in many cases, presently received, and thereby clear and lasting knowledge gained; whereas things in gross taken up together, and so lying together in confusion, can produce in the mind but a confused, which in efiect is no, knowledge; or at least, when it comes to be VOL. L H / 98 CONDUCT OF THE UNDERSTANDING. examined and made use of, will prove little better than none. I therefore take the liberty to repeat here again what I have said elsewhere, that in learning anything, as little should be proposed to the mind at once as is possible; and, that being understood and fully mastered, to proceed to the next adjoin- ing part, yet unknown, simple, unperplexed proposition, belonging to the matter in hand, and tending to the clearing what is principally designed. 40. Analogy . — Analogy is of great use to the mind in many cases, especially in natural philosophy; and that part of it chiefly which consists in happy and successful experiments. But here we must take cq.re that we keep ourselves within that wherein the analogy consists. For example: the acid oil of vitriol is found to be good in such a case, therefore the spirit of nitre or vinegar may be used in the like case. If the good eflect of it be owing wholly to the acidity of it, the trial may be justified ; but if there be something else besides the acidity in the oil of vitriol, which produces the good we desire in the case, we mistake that for analogy which is not, and suffer our understanding to be misguided by a wrong supposition of analogy where there is none. 41. Association . — Though I have, in the second book of my Essay concerning Human Understanding, treated of the association of ideas; yet haviog done it there historically, as giving a view of the understanding in this as well as its several other ways of operating, rather than designing there to inquire into the remedies that ought to be applied to it ; it will, under this latter consideration, afibrd other matter of thought to those who have a mind to instruct themselves thoroughly in the right way of conducting their understand- ings : and that the rather, because this, if I mistake not, is as frequent a cause of mistake and error in us as perhaps any- thing else that can be named ; and is a disease of the mind as hard to be cured as any, it being a very hard thing to con- vince any one that things are not so, and naturally so, as they constantly appear to him. By this- one easy and unheeded miscarriage of the under- standing, sandy and loose foundations become infallible principles, and will not suffer themselves to be touched or questioned; such unnatural connexions become by custom as natural to the mind as sun and light, fire and warmth go CONDUCT OF THE UNDEKSTANDING. 99 together, and so s6em to carry with them as natural an evidence as self-evident truths themselves. And where then shall one with hopes of success begin the cure*?* Many men firmly embrace falsehood for truth; not only because they never thought otherwise, but also because, thus blinded as they have been from the beginning, they never could think otherwise ; at least without a vigour of mind able to contest the empire of habit, and look into its own principles; a freedom which few men have the notion of in themselves, and fewer are allowed the practice of by others ; it being the great art and business of the teachers and guides in most sects to suppress, as’ much as they can, this fundamental duty which every man owes himself, and is the first steady step towards right and truth in the whole train of his actions and opinions. This would give one reason to suspect, that such * Compare with the above the following passage from Lord Bacon: “ It is not only the diflS.cnlty and labour which men take in finding out of truth; nor again, that, when it is found, it imposeth upon men’s thoughts, that doth bring lies in favour, but a natural though coiTupt love of the lie itself. ‘ ‘ One of the later schools of the Grecians examineth the matter, and is at a stand to think what should be in it, that men should love lies, where neither they make for pleasure, as with poets, nor for advantage, as with the merchant; but for the lie’s sake. But I cannot tell: this same truth is a naked and open daylight, that doth not show the masques, and mummeries, and triumphs of the world, half so stately and daintily as candle light. Truth may perhaps come to the price of a pearl, that showeth best by day; but it will not rise to the price of a diamond or carbuncle, that showeth best in varied light. A mixture of a lie doth ever add pleasure.” But if there be a pleasure in lying, or in believing a lie, there is also, very fortunately, no small delight in the discovery and reception of truth. Montaigne’s remarks on this subject are worthy of consideration. ‘ ‘ Que signifie ce refrain ? En un lieu glissant et coulant smpendons noire creance : car comme dit Euripides, Les oeuvres de Dieu en diverses Eagons nous donnent des traverses; semblable h celuy qu’ Empedocles semoit souvent en ses livres, comme agitd d’une divine fureur et forc^ de la vdrit^. Non non, nous ne sentons rien, nous ne voyons rien, toutes choses nous sont occultes, il n'en est aucmve de la laquelle nous puissons establir quelle elle est. Bevenant k ce mot divin, cogitationes mortalium timidce et incertce ad inventiones nostrce et providentice. II ne faut pas trouver estrange, si gents desesperez de la prinse n’ont pas laiss^ d’avoir plaisir k la chasse, I’estude estant de soi une occupation plaisante: et si plaisante, que parmy les voluptez, les Stoiciens defendent aussi celle qui vient de I’exercitation de 1’ esprit, y veulent de la bride, et trouvent de 1’ ntemperance a trop scavoir,” (Yoh V. p. 44 et seq.) — Ed, 100 CONDUCT OF THE UNDERSTANDING. teachers are conscious to themselves of the falsehood or weakness of the tenets they profess, since they will not suffer the grounds whereon they are built to be examined ; whereas those who seek truth only, and desire to own and propagate nothing else, freely expose their principles to the test ; are pleased to have them examined ; give men leave to reject them if they can; and if there be any- thing weak and unsound in them, are willing to have it detected, that they themselves, as well as others, may not lay any stress upon any received proposition beyond what the evi- dence of its truths will warrant and allow.* There is, I know, a great fault among all sorts of people of princij)ling their children and scholars; which at least, when looked into, amounts to no more but making them imbibe their teacher’s notions and tenets by an implicit faith, and firmly to adhere to them whether true or false. What colours may be given to this, or of what use it may be when practised upon the vulgar, destined to labour, and given up to the service of their bellies, I will not here inquire. But as to the ingenuous part of mankind, whose condition allows them leisure, and letters, and inquiry after truth, I can see no other right way of principling them, but to take heed, as much as may be, that in their tender years, ideas that have no natural cohesion come not to be united in their heads; and that this rule be often inculcated to them to be their guide in the whole course of their lives and studies, viz., that they never suffer any ideas to be joined in their under- standings in any other or stronger combination than what their own nature and correspondence give them ; and that they often examine those that they find linked together in their minds, whether this association of ideas be from the visible agreement that is in the ideas themselves, or from the * Plato, in his Gorgias, has put sentiments strongly resembling the above into the mouth of Socrates, who, having graphically described the noisy and wrangling tone of ordinarv disputants, exclaims, ^‘But what manner of man am I ? Why I am one of those who, when in error, love to be refuted, and who have equal delight in refuting the errors of others ; nor is it more pleasant to me to refute than to be refuted. On the con- trary, I account it a greater satisfaction, inasmuch as the advantage is greater to be delivered from the extreme of evil, than to deliver others ; and truly I consider no evil incident to human nature so grievous as to entertain false opinions concerning the subject we have here under d^- cuasion.” (Plat. t. iii. p. 26 .) — Ed. CONDUCT OF THE UNDERSTANDING. 101 habitual and prevailing custom of the mind joining them thus together in thinking. This is for caution against this evil, before it be thoroughly riveted by custom in the understanding; but he that would cure it when habit has established it, must nicely observe the very quick and almost imperceptible motions of the mind in its habitual actions. What I have said in another place about the change of the ideas of sense into those of judgment may be proof of this. Let any one, not skilled in painting, be told when he sees bottles and tobacco-pipes, and other things so painted, as they are in some places shown, that he does not see protuberances, and you will not convince him but by the touch ; he wiU not believe that by an instantaneous legerdemain of his own thoughts, one idea is substituted for another. How frequent instances may one meet with of this in the arguings of the learned, who not seldom, in two ideas that they have been accustomed to join in their minds, sub- stitute one for the other; and I am apt to think, often without perceiving it themselves! This, whilst they are under the deceit of it, makes them incapable of conviction, and they applaud themselves as zealous champions for truth, when indeed they are contending for error. And the confusion of two different ideas, which a customary connexion of them in their minds hath made to them almost one, fills their head with false views, and their reasonings with false consequences. 42. Fallacies . — Light understanding consists in the dis- covery and adherence to truth, and that in the perception of the visible or probable agreement or disagreement of ideas, as they are affirmed and denied one of another. From whence it is evident, that the right use and conduct of the under- standing, whose business is purely truth and nothing else, is, that the mind should be kept in a perfect indifferency, not inclining to either side, any further than evidence settles it by knowledge, or the over-balance of probability gives it the turn of assent and belief ; but yet it is very hard to meet with any discourse wherein one may not perceive the author not only maintain (for that is reasonable and fit) but inclined and biassed to one side of the question, with marks of a desire that that should be true. If it be asked me, how authors who have such a bias and lean to it may be dis- covered; I answer, by observing how in their writings or / 102 CONDUCT OF THE UNDERSTANDING. arguings they are often led by their inclinations to change the ideas of the question, either by changing the terms, or by adding and joining others to them, whereby the ideas under consideration are so varied as to be more serviceable to their purpose, and to be thereby brought to an easier and nearer agreement, or more visible and remoter disagreement one with another. This is plain and direct sophistry; but I am far from thinking that wherever it is found it is made use of with design to deceive and mislead the readers. It is visible that men’s prejudices and inclinations by this way impose often upon themselves; and their affection for truth, under their prepossession in favour of one side, is the very thing that leads them from it. Inclination suggests and slides into their discourse favourable terms, which introduce favourable ideas; till at last by this means that is concluded clear and evident, thus dressed up, which, taken in its native state, by making use of none but the precise determined ideas, would find no admittance at all. The putting these glosses on what they affirm, these, as they thought handsome, easy, and graceful explications of what they are discoursing on, is so much the character of what is called and esteemed writino: well, that it is very hard to think that authors will ever be persuaded to leave what serves so well to propagate their opinions, and procure themselves credit in the world, for a more jejune and dry way of writing, by keeping to the same terms precisely annexed ^o the same ideas; a sour and blunt stiffness tolerable in mathematicians only, who force their way, 'and make truth prevail by irresistible demonstration.* But yet if authors cannot be prevailed with to quit the looser, though more insinuating ways of writing ; if they will not think fit to keep close to truth and instruction by * Authors desire to be read, which they would not be if they adopted the cast-iron style of the mathematicians. The blame therefore, if blame there be, rests with human nature itself; for authors have only the choice of not being read at all, and consequently of imparting no truth, or of so clothing the truths they deliver that they may sometimes, by unwary observers, be confounded with error. I am not indeed convinced that a barren style, uninforaied by fancy, stripped entirely of figures, a mere skeleton of language, would, even if tolerated, be favourable to the delivery of truth. An outline of the human form, drawn in brilliant colours, would not be less true to nature than one drawn in black. And in reasoning, as the philosopher a few sections back appears to allow, me- taphors and similes afford a powerful aid in the elucidafion of truth. — Ed. CONDUCT OF THE UNDERSTANDING. 103 unvaried terms and plain unsophisticated arguments; yet it concerns readers not to be imposed on by fallacies and the prevailing ways of insinuation. To do this, the surest and most effectual remedy is to fix in the mind the clear and distinct ideas of the question stripped of words; and so likewise in the train of argumentation, to take up the author’s ideas, neglecting his words, observing how they connect or separate those in question. He that does this will be able to cast off all that is superfluous ; he will see what is pertinent, what coherent, what is direct to, what slides by, the question. This will readily show him all the foreign ideas in the discourse, and where they were brought in; and though they perhaps dazzled the writer, yet he will perceive that they give no light nor strength to his reasonings. This, though it be the shortest and easiest way of reading books with profit, and keeping one’s self from being misled by great names or plausible discourses ; yet it being hard and tedious to those who have not accustomed themselves to it, it is not to be expected that every one (amongst those few who really pursue truth) should this way guard his under- standing from being imposed on by the wilful, or at least undesigned sophistry, which creeps into most of the books of argument. They that write against their conviction, or that, next to them, are resolved to maintain the tenets of a party they were engaged in, cannot be supposed to reject any arms that may help to defend their cause, and therefore such should be read with the greatest caution. And they who write for opinions they are sincerely persuaded of and believe to be true, think they may so far allow themselves to indulge their laudable affection to truth, as to permit their esteem of it to give it the best colours, and set it off with the best expressions and dress they can, thereby to gain it the easiest entrance into the minds of their readers, and fix it deepest there. One of those being the state of mind we may justly suppose most Writers to be in, it is fit their readers, who apply to them for instruction, should not lay by that caution which becomes a sincere pursuit of truth, and should make tliem always watchful against whatever might conceal or mis- represent it. If they have not the skill of representing to iOi CONDUCT OF THE UNDERSTANDING. themselves the author s sense by pure ideas separated from sounds, and thereby divested of the false lights and deceitful ornaments of speech ; this yet they should do, they should keep the precise question steadily in their minds, carry it along with them through the whole discourse, and suffer not the least alteration in the terms, either by addition, sub- traction, or substituting any other. This every one can do who has a mind to it ; and he that has not a mind to it, it is plain, makes his understanding only the warehouse of other men’s lumber; I mean false and unconcluding reasonings, rather than a repository of truth for his own use, which will prove substantial, and stand him in stead, when he has occasion for it. And whether such an one deals fairly by his own mind, and conducts his own understanding right, I leave to his own understanding to judge. 43. Fundamental Verities . — The mind of man being very narrow, and so slow in making acquaintance with things, and taking in new truths, that no one man is capable, in a much longer life than ours, to know all truths, it becomes our prudence, in our search after knowledge, to employ our thoughts about fundamental and material questions, carefully avoiding those that are trifling, and not suffering ourselves to be diverted from our main even purpose, by those that are merely incidental. How much of many young men’s time is thrown away in purely logical inquiries I need not mention. This is no better than if a man, who was to be a painter, should spend all his time in examining the threads of the several cloths he is to paint upon, and counting the hairs of each pencil and brush he intends to use in the laying on of his colours. Hay, it is much worse than for a young painter to spend his apprenticeship in such useless niceties ; for he, at the end of all his pains to no purpose, finds that it is not painting, nor any help to it, and so is really to no jDurpose ; whereas men designed for scholars have often their heads so ■filled and warmed with disputes on logical questions, that they take those airy useless notions for real and substantial knov\^ledge, and think their understandings so well furnished with science, that they need not look any fm^ther into the nature of things, or descend to the mechanical drudgery of * See on this subject Bacon’s two Essays* on “Cunning,” and Wisdom for a Man’s self.” — E d. ~ CONDUCT OF THE UNDERSTANDING. 105 experiment and inquiry. This is so obvious a mismanage^ ment of the understanding, and that in the professed way to knowledge, that it could not be passed by; to which might be joined abundance of questions, and the way of handling of them in the schools. What faults in particular of this kind every man is or may be guilty of would be infinite to enumerate; it suffices to have shown that superficial and slight discoveries, and observations that contain nothing of moment in themselves, nor serve as clues to lead us into further knowledge, should not be thought worth our searching after. There are fundamental truths that lie at the bottom, the basis upon which a great many others rest, and in which they have their consistency. These are teeming truths, rich in store, with which they furnish the mind, and, like the lights of heaven, are not only beautiful and entertaining in them- selves, but give light and evidence to other things, that without them could not be seen or known. Such is that admirable discovery of Mr. Newton, that all bodies gravitate to one another, which may be counted as the basis of natural philosophy; which, of what use it is to the understanding of the great frame of our solar system, he has to the astonish- ment of the learned world shown; and how much further it would guide us in other things, if rightly pursued, is not yet known. Our Saviour’s great rule, that “ we should love our neighbour as ourselves,” is such a fundamental truth for the regulating human society, that I think by that alone one might without difficulty determine all the cases and doubts| in social morality. These and such as these are the truths we should endeavour to find out, and store our minds with. Which leads me to another thing in the conduct of the understanding that is no less necessary, viz. 44. Bottoming . — To accustom ourselves, in any question pro- posed, to examine and find out upon what it bottoms. Most of the difficulties that come in our way, when well considered and traced, lead us to some proposition, which, known to be true, clears the doubt, and gives an easy solution of the question ; whilst topical and superficial arguments, of which there is store to be found on both sides, filling the head with variety of thoughts, and the mouth with copious discourse, serve only to amuse the understanding, and entertain com- / 106 CONDUCT OF THF UNDERSTANDING. pany, without coming to the })ottom of the question, the only place of rest and stability for an inquisitive mind, whose tendency is only to truth and knowledge. For example, if it be demanded whether the grand seignior can lawfully take what he wull from any of his people*? this question cannot be , resolved without coming to a certainty whether all men are naturally equal, for upon that it turns ; and that truth well settled in the understanding, and carried in the mind through the various debates concerning the various rights of men in society, will go a great way in putting an end to them, and showing on which side the truth is. 45. Transferring of Thoughts . — There is scarcely anything more for the improvement of knowledge, for the ease*of life, and the despatch of business, than for a man to be able to dispose of his own thoughts; and there is scarcely anything harder in the whole conduct of the understanding than to get a fall mastery over it. The mind, in a waking man, has always some object that it applies itself to; which, when we are lazy or unconcerned, we can easily change, and at pleasure transfer our thoughts to another, and from thence to a third, which has no relation to either of the former. Hence men forwardly conclude, and frequently say, nothing is so free as thought, and it were well it were so ; but the contrary will be found true in several instances; and there are many cases wherein there is nothing more resty and ungovernable than our thoughts; they will not be directed what objects to pursue, nor be taken off from those they have once fixed on, but run away with a man in pursuit of those ideas they have in view, let him do what he can. I will not here mention again what I have above taken notice of, how hard it is to get the mind, narrowed by a custom of thirty or forty years’ standing to a scanty collection of obvious and common ideas, to enlarge itself to a more copious stock, and grow into an acquaintance with those that would afford more abundant matter of useful contemplation; it is not of this I am here speaking. The inconveniency I would here represent, and find a remedy for, is the difficulty there is sometimes to transfer our minds from one subject to another, in cases where the ideas are equally familiar to us. Matters that are recommenaed to our thoughts by any of CONDUCT OF THE UNDERSTANDING. 107 our passions, take possession of our minds with a kind of authority, and will not be kept out or dislodged ; hut, as if ■ the passion that rules were for the time the sheriff of the place, and came with all the posse, the understanding is seized and taken with the object it introduces, as if it had a legal right to be alone considered there. There is scarcely anybody I think of so calm a temper who hath not some time found this tyranny on his understanding, and suffered under the inconvenience of it. Who is there almost whose mind, at some time or other, love or anger, fear or grief, has not so fastened to some clog that it could not turn itself to any other object'? I call it a clog, for it hangs upon the mind so as to hinder its vigour and activity in the pursuit of other contemplations ; and advances itself little or not at all in the knowledge of the thing which it so closely hugs and constantly pores on. Men thus possessed are sometimes as if they were so in the worse sense, and lay under the power of an enchantment. They see not what passes before their eyes, hear not the audible discourse of the company, and when by any strong application to them they are roused a little, they are like men brought to themselves from some remote region ; whereas in truth they come no further than their secret cabinet within, where they have been wholly taken up with the puppet, which is for that time appointed for their enter- tainment. The shame that such dumps cause to well-bred people, when it carries them away from the company, where they should bear a part in the conversation, is a sufficient argument that it is a fault in the conduct of our understand- ing not to have that power over it as to make use of it to those purposes and on those occasions wherein we have need of its assistance. The mind should be always free and ready to turn itself to the variety of objects that occur, and allow them as much consideration as shall for that time be thought fit. To be engrossed so by one object as not to be prevailed on to leave it for another that we judge fitter for our contem- plation, is to make it of no use to us. Did this state of mind remain always so, every one would, without scruple, give it the name of perfect madness; and whilst it does last, * one master passion in the breast, Like Aaron’s serpent, swallows up the rest.” Essay on Man, ep. ii. — E d. / 108 CONDUCT OF THE UNDERSTANDING. at whatever intervals it returns, such a rotation of thoughts about the same object no more carries ms forward towards the attainment of knowledge, than getting upon a mill-horse whilst he jogs on in his circular track would carry a man a journey. I grant something must be allowed to legitimate passioiis and to natural inclinations. Every man, besides occasional affections, has beloved studies, and those the mind will more closely stick to; but yet it is best that it should be always at liberty, and under the free disposal of the man, and to act how and upon what he directs. This we should endeavour to obtain unless we would be content with such a flaw in our understanding, that sometimes we should be, as it -were, without it; for it is very little better than so in cases where we cannot make use of it to those purposes we would, and which stand in present need of it. But before flt remedies can be thought on for this disease we must know the several causes of it, and thereby regulate the cure, if we will hope to labour with success. One we have already instanced in, whereof all men that reflect have so general a knowledge, and so often an experience in themselves, that nobody doubts of it. A prevailing passion so pins down our thoughts to the object and concern of it, that a man passionately in love cannot bring himself to think of his ordinary affairs, or a kind mother drooping under the loss of a child, is not able to bear a part as she was wont in the discourse of the company or conversation of her friends. But though passion be the most obvious and general, yet it is not the only cause that binds up the understanding, and confines it for the time to one object, from which it will not be taken off. Besides this, we may often find that the understanding, when it has a while employed itself upon a subject which either chance or some slight accident offered to it, without the interest or recommendation of any passion, works itself into a warmth, and by degrees gets into a career, wherein, like a bowl down a hill, it increases its motion by going, and will not be stopped or diverted; though, when the heat is over, it sees all this earnest application was about a trifle not worth a thought, and all the pains employed about it lost labour. COJ^DUCT OF THE UNDERSTANDING. 109 There is a third sort, if I mistake not, yet lower than this ; it IS a sort of childishness, if I may so say, of the under- standing, wherein, during the fit, it plays with and dandles some insignificant puppet to no end, nor with any design at all, and yet cannot easily be got ofi* from it. Thus some trivial sentence, or a scrap of poetry, will sometimes get into men’s heads, and make such a chiming there, that there is no stilling of it ; no peace to be obtained, nor attention to any- thing else, but this impertinent guest will take up the mind and possess the thoughts in spite of all endeavours to get rid of it. Whether every one hath experimented in themselves this troublesome intrusion of some frisking ideas which thus importune the understanding, and hinder it from being better employed, I know not. But persons of very good parts, and those more than one, I have heard speak and complain of it themselves. The reason I have to make this doubt, is from what I have known in a case something of kin to this, though much odder, and that is of a sort of visions that some people have lying quiet, but perfectly awake, in the dark, or with their eyes shut. It is a great variety of faces, most com- monly very odd ones, that appear to them in a train one after another; so that having had just the sight of the one, it immediately passes away to give place to another, that the same instant succeeds, and has as quick an exit as its leader; and so they march on in a constant succession ; nor can any one of them by any endeavour be stopped or restrained beyond the instant of its appearance, but is thrust out by its follower, which will have its turn. Concerning this fantastical phenomenon I have talked with several people, whereof some have been perfectly acquainted with it, and others have been so wholly strangers to it that they could hardly be brought to conceive or believe it. I knew a lady of excellent parts, who had got past thirty without having ever had the least notice of any such thing ; she was so great a stranger to it, that when she heard me and another talking of it, could scarcely forbear thinking we bantered her; but some time after, drinking a large dose of dilute tea (as she was ordered by a physician) going to bed, she told us a't liext meeting, that she had now experimented what our discourse had much ado to persuade her of. She had seen a great variety of faces in a long train, succeeding one another, as we had described; no CONDUCT OF THE UNDEBSTANDING. they were all strangers and intruders, such as she had no acquaintance with before, nor sought after then ; and as they came of themselves, they went too; none of them stayed a moment, nor could be detained by all the endeavours she could use, but went on in their solemn procession, just appeared and then vanished. This odd phenomenon seems to have a mechanical cause, and to depend upon the matter and motion of the blood or animal spirits. When the fancy is bound by passion, I know no way to set the mind free and at liberty to prosecute what thoughts the man would make choice of, but to allay the present passion, or counterbalance it with another ; which is an art to be got by study, and acquaintance with the passions. Those who find themselves apt to be carried away with the spontaneous current of their own thought^ not excited by any passion or interest, must be very wary and careful in all the instances of it to stop it, and never humour their minds in being thus triflingly busy.* Men know the value of their corporeal liberty, and therefore suffer not willingly fetters and chains to be put upon them. To have the mind captivated is, for the time, certainly the greater evil of the two, .and deserves our utmost care and endeavours to preserve the free- dom of our better part. In this case our pains will not be lost ; striving and struggling will prevail, if we constantly on all such occasions make use of it. We must never indulge these trivial attentions of thought; as soon as we find the mind makes itself the business of nothing, we should im- mediately disturb and check it, introduce new and more serious considerations, and not leave till we have beaten it off from the pursuit it was upon. This, at first, if we have let the contrary practice grow to a habit, will perhaps be diffi- cult; but constant endeavours will by degrees prevail, and at last make it easy. And when a man is pretty well advanced, and can command his mind off at pleasure from incidental and undesigned pursuits, it may not be amiss for him to go on further, and make attempts upon meditations of greater mo- ment, that at the last he may have a full power over his own * In my story of Lucifer, I have endeavoured to describe the state of mind arising out of the neglect of this caution. One train of ideas constantly operating on the fancy, produces first, a distaste for all ordinary and healthy pleasures ; next, deranges the health, and then the intellect, and terminates by causing a premature and violent death. CONDUCT OF THE UNDERSTANDING. Ill mind, and be so fully master of his o^wm thoughts as to be able to transfer them from one subject to another, with the same ease that he can lay by anything he has in his hand, and take something else that he has a mind to in the room of it. This liberty of mind is of great use both in business and study, and he that has got it will have no small advantage of ease and despatch in all that is the chosen and useful emjdoyment of his understanding. The third and last way which I mentioned the mind to be sometimes taken up with, I mean the chiming of some par- ticular words or sentence in the memory, and, as it were, making a noise in the head, and the like, seldom happens but when the mind is lazy, or very loosely and negligently em- ployed. It were better indeed to be without such impertinent and useless repetitions : any obvious idea, when it is roving carelessly at a venture, being of more use, and apter to suggest something worth consideration, than the insignificant buzz of purely empty sounds. But since the rousing of the mind, and setting the understanding on work with some degree of vigour, does for the most part presently set it free from these idle companions, it may not be amiss whenever we find our- selves troubled with them, to make use of so proiitablo a remedy tliat is always at hand. / AN E S S A r ■ CONCEKNINa HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. INTRODTJCTION. [The Essay on the Human Understanding is the most important offspring of modem philosophy. Ho other work has exercised so extensive an influence over the thoughts and opinions of mankind, which have received from it an impress never to be effaced. This has been partly owing to the truth of the doctrines, partly to the sincerity and earnestness of the author’s manner, which in all cases render it evident, that, whether right or wrong he is unquestionably most conscientious in whatever he advances. Besides, though there may be errors and imperfections in the work, it still offers the largest and most complete view of the Understanding ever presented to the public in one composition; indeed, we know of no body of writings, however voluminous, in which so minute and exact a chart is traced of aU the powers, affections, and operations of the mind, as in this single treatise. Hay, it is scarcely to be expected that any man will hereafter arise endued with greater genius, greater patience, or a purer love of truth than Locke ; and therefore the probability is, that the Essay on the Human Understanding wiU very long, if not for ever, occupy the place which it has vindicated to itself from the very moment of its appearance, that is to say, the first rank among philo- sophical treatises. In the general Preliminaiy Discourse, I have frankly pointed out most of the weak points, as they appear to me, to be found in this incomparable treatise ; but they are commonly only such blemishes as appear, upon a minute scrutiny, like the roughness observable on the surface of some Colossus, which disappear as we recede a little to take in the grandeur and majestic proportions of the whole. They are, in fact, faults of execution, of detail, or at most belong only to particular parts, while the design and character of the whole inquiry are so vast, so novel, and so sublime, that they may well be excused who warm into enthusi- asm while contemplating them. We have here, in truth, the noblest fruit of a mind confessedly of the first order, devoted through a long series of years to meditation on subjects of the deepest importance to mankind. His object was to diffuse tranquillity and contentment through the realms of philosophy, and even over common life, by ascertaining, once for all, in what department of knowledge our understanding is capable of arriving at certainty, and where we must be content to remain in IKTRODUCTTON. 113 doubt. He seeks, at the same time, to create the salutary persuasion that, with respect to things beyond our reach, it is our duty to rest satis- fied with a modest scepticism, since, however resolutely we may dogma- tise, we can only be right by accident, and even then, never be sure that we are so. No doubt the spirit in which a man philosophizes is traceable, in great part, to nature. We are born fiery, or phlegmatic. Whatever is external to our own being, takes some colour from the knot of idiosyncrasies through which its image penetrates to the speculum of our minds, so that we are not absolute masters of the light in which things shall appear to us. But, nevertheless, philosophy being an art, if we pursue the study of it faithfully, according to the true principles of all art, we must generally arrive at correct conclusions, and invent, mean- while, for ourselves a system of discipline suitable to our own character, and calculated to quicken and develop all the powers of our understand- ing. In the chief work of Locke we have an example of how this may most effectually be done. He did not enter upon his researches with a ready-made theory in his hand, determined to compel all nature to con- form to it; but commencing his studies with a mind unoccupied, he allowed his theory to grow up gradually out of his observations. It there- fore took the form which the sum of his knowledge and the characteristics of his mental constitution were adapted to impart to it. That it did not comprehend all truths, is owing simply to this, that the mind of Locke was not commensurate with the greatness of nature ; but it undoubtedly comprehended as much of truth as lay within the reach of a most search- ing, patient, and vigorous intellect, and was compatible with its sympa- thies, partialities, and antipathies. We can consequently conceive no study more beneficial than that of the w^ork now under consideration. Its literary blemishes are nothmg to us, if we desire to enlarge our minds and elevate our conceptions. T)r rather, if there be any crabbedness, so much, in this view, the better, since, if we can conquer our repugnance to it, nay, render it by reverential familiarity sweet and pleasant, we may be sure that our hearts are set upon the possession of truth, and that we are not allured forward through the solemn walks of philosophy by the biilliant lights of rhetoric. If, however, the reader have perused the Conduct of the Understanding, he will advance to the study of the Essay with a mind thoroughly prepared to relish its peculiarities, so that it may suffice to have thrown out these few hints by the way. We will now, therefore, no longer detain him from the glorious vision which is about t« unfold itself before his sight. — E ditor.] / TO THE EIGHT HONOUEABLE THOMAS, EAllL OF PEMBEOKE AND MONTGOMEEY, BARON HERBERT OF CARDIFF, LORD ROSS,. OP KENDAL, PAR, FITZHUGH, MARMION, ST. QUINTIN, AND SHURIAND; LORD PRESIDENT OF HIS MAJESTY’S MOST HONOURABLE PRIVY COUNCIL, AND LORD LIEUTENANT OF THE COUNTY OF WILTS, AND OF SOUTH WALES. My Loed, This Treatise, which, is grown up under your lordship’s eye, and has ventured into the world by your order, does now, by a natural kind of right, come to your lordship for that protection which you several years since promised it. It is not that I think any name, how great soever, set at the beginning of a book, will be able to cover the faults that are to be found in it. Things in print must stand and fall by their own worth, or the reader’s fancy. But there being nothing more to be desired for truth than a fair unprejudiced hearing, nobody is more likely to procure me that than your lordship, who are allowed to have got so inti- mate an acquaintance with her, in her more retired recesses. Your lordship is known to have so far advanced your speculations in the most abstract and general knowledge of things, beyond the ordinary reach or common methods, that your allowance and approbation of the design of this treatise will at least preserve it from being condemned without reading, and will prevail to have those parts a little weighed, which might otherwise perhaps be thought to deserve no consideration, for being some- what out. of the common road. The imputation of novelty is a terrible charge amongst those who judge of men’s heads, as they do of their perukes, by the fashion, and can allow none to be right but the received doctrines. Truth scarce ever yet carried it by vote anywhere at its first appearance: new opinions are always suspected and usually opposed, without any other reason but because they are not already common. But truth, like gold, is noi^the less so for being newly brought out of the mine. It is trial and examination must give it price, and not any antique fashion ; and though it be not yet current by the public stamp, yet it may, for all that, be as old as nature, and is certainly not the less genuine. Your lordship can give great and convincing instances of this, whenever you please to oblige the public with some of those large and comprehensive discoveries you have made of truths hitherto unknown, unless to some few, from whom your lordship has been pleased not wholly to conceal them. This alone were a sufficient reason, were there no other, why I should dedicate this Essay to your lordship; and its having some httle correspondence; with some parts of that nobler and vast system of the sciences your lordship has made so new, exact, and instructive a draught of, I think it glory enough, if your lordship permit me to boast, that here and there I have fallen into some thoughts not wholly different from yours. If your lordship think fit that, by your encouragement, this should appear in the world, I hope it may be a reason, some time or other, to lead your lordship further ; and you will allow me to say, that you here THE EPISTLE DEDICATORY. 115 give the world an earnest of something that, if they can bear with this, will be truly worth their expectation. This, my lord, shows what a present I here make to your lordship ; just such as the poor man does to his rich and great neighbour, by whom the basket of flowers or fruit is not ill taken, though he has more plenty of his own growth; and in much greater .perfection. Worthless things receive a value when they are made the offerings of respect, esteem, and gratitude : these you have given me so mighty and peculiar reasons to have, in the highest degree, for your lordship, that if they can add a price to what they go along with, pro- portionable to their own greatness, I can with confidence brag, I here make your lordship the richest present you ever received. This I am sure, I am. under the greatest obligations to seek all occasions to acknow- ledge a long train of favours I have received from your lordship ; favours, though great and important in themselves, yet made much more so by the forwardness, concern, and kindness, and other obliging circumstances, that never failed to accompany them. To all this you are pleased to add that which gives yet more weight and relish to all the rest : you vouch- safe to continue me in some degrees of your esteem, and allow me a place in your good thoughts; I had almost said friendship. This, my lord, your words and actions so constantly show on all occasions, even to others when I am absent, that it is not vanity in me to mention what everybody knows ; but it would be want of good manners not to acknow- ledge what so many are witnesses of, and every day tell me I am indebted to your lordship for. I wish they could as easily assist my gratitude, as they convince me of the great and growing engagements it has to your lordship. This I am sure, I should write of the understanding without having any, if I were not extremely sensible of them, and did not lay hold on this opportunity to testify to the world how much I am obliged to be, and how much I am, My Loed, Your Lordship’s most humble and most obedient servant, JOHN LOCKE. Dorset Court, 24th of May, 1689. V / THE EPISTLE TO THE READER. Reader, I HERE put into thy hands what has been the diversion of some of my idle and heavy hours : if it has the good luck to prove so of any of thine, and thou hast but half so much pleasure in reading as I had in writing it,* thou wilt as little think thy money, as I do my pains, ill bestowed. Mistake not this for a commendation of my work; nor conclude, because I was pleased with the doing of it, that therefore I am fondly taken with it now it is done. He that hawks at lai'ks and sparrows has no less sport, though a much less considerable quarry, than he that flies at nobler game: and he is little acquainted with the subject of this treatise, the UNDERSTANDING, who does not know that as it is the most elevated faculty of the soul, so it is employed with a greater and more constant delight than any of the other. Its searches after truth are a sort of hawking and hunting, wherein the very pursuit makes a great part of the pleasure. Every step the mind takes in its progress towards knowledge, makes * In tlie language of Shakspeare, wlio had observed almost the whole of nature with a philosophic eye, ‘‘The labour we delight in, physics pain ; though comparatively few can ever be brought to delight in the labour of study. Here, however, we find Locke professing to have derived from the composition of his essay a degree of pleasure suflicient to compensate for the labour it imposed ; but much of this pleasure arose, it is quite evident, from anticipations of fame, which after all constitute one of the chief solaces of the noblest and brightest minds. Among the vulgar of old, as now, whom no ray of glory warms or cheers, philosophy was regarded merely as the parent of headache and ennui. (Plato de Pepub. vi. 146, Bekk.) The “Essay on the Human Understanding,” however, as even the facts recorded in this preface will show, found immediately on its publication “fit audience,” not few, but the whole enlightened and ci\flized world, which perceived that its appearance constituted a new era in the annals of philosophy. Indeed, by the intellectually ambitious, it was quickly found to be a work teeming with interest and pleasure, the reading of which, dull perhaps to the grovelling and indolent, had more charms than those popular fictions, supposed com- monly to enjoy a monopoly of whatever is preeminently amusing. — E d. THE EPISTLE TO THE READER. 117 some discovery, w>iLicli is not only new, but tbe best too, for the time at least.* For the understanding, like the eye, judging of objects only by its own sight, cannot but be pleased with what it discovers, having less regret for what has escaped it, because it is unknown. Thus he who has raised himself above the alms-basket, and not content to live lazily on scraps of begged opinions, sets his own thoughts on work, to find and follow truth, will (whatever he lights on) not miss the hunter s satisfaction; every moment of his pursuit will reward his pains with some delight, and he will have reason to think his time not ill spent, even when he cannot much boast of any great acquisition, t This, Reader, is the entertainment of those who let loose their own thoughts, and follow them in writing ; which thou oughtest not to envy them, since they afford thee an oppor- tunity of the like diversion, if thou wilt make use of thy own thoughts in reading. It is to them, if they are thy own, that I refer myself : but if they are taken upon trust from others, it is no great matter what they are; they are not following truth, but some meaner consideration; and it is not worth while to be concerned what he says or thinks, who says or thinks only as he is directed by another. If thou judgest for thyself I know thou wilt judge candidly, and then I shall not be harmed or offended, whatever be thy censure. For though it be certain that there is nothing in this treatise of the truth whereof I am not fully persuaded, yet I * This thought, expanded and modified to meet the apprehension of ordinary readers, has been adopted by Lord Brougham in his popular essay on the “Advantages and Pleasures of Science.” “It may be easily demonstrated,” says his lordship, “that there is an advantage in learning, both for the usefulness and the pleasure of it. There is some- thing positively agreeable to all men, to all at least whose nature is not most grovelling and base, in gaining knowledge for its own sake. When you see anything for the first time, you at once derive some gratification from the sight being new ; your attention is awakened, and you desire to know more about it,” &c. (p. 2 et seq.) A poet places the matter on higher grounds, exclaiming, “ For ’t is a Godlike attribute to know.” Ed. + Plato, who loved to impart the colours of poetry to his philosophical disquisitions, has frequent comparisons of the search after knowledge to the chase ; and it is in truth a chase, furnishing both mental exercise and mental health, in addition to the noble game which the courageous and persevering obtain. — E d. 118 THE EPISTLE TO THE READER. consider myself as liable to mistakes as I can tbink tbee, and know that this book must stand or fall with thee, not by any opinion I have of it, but thy own. If thou findest little in it new or instructive to thee, thou art not to blame me for it. It was not meant for those that had already mastered this subject, and made a thorough acquaintance with their own understandings; but for my own information, and the satisfaction of a few friends, who acknowledged themselves not to have sufficiently considered it. Were it fit to trouble thee with the history of this essay, I should tell thee, that five or six friends meeting at my chamber,* and discoursing on a subject very remote from this, found themselves quickly at a stand, by the difficulties that rose on every side. After we had awhile puzzled our- selves, without coming any nearer a resolution of those doubts which perplexed us, it came into my thoughts that we took a wrong course, and that before we set ourselves upon inquiries of that nature, it was necessary to examine our own abilities, and see what objects our understandings were, or were not, fitted to deal with. This I proposed to the com- pany, who all readily assented ; and thereupon it was agreed that this should be our first inquiry. Some hasty and un- digested thoughts on a subject I had never before considered, which I set down against our next meeting, gave the first entrance into this discourse; which having been thus begun by chance, was continued by intreaty ; written by incoherent parcels ; and after long intervals of neglect, resumed again, as my humour or occasions permitted; and at last, in a retirement, where an attendance on my health gave me leisure, it was brought into that order thou now seest it. This discontinued way of writing may have occasioned, besides others, two contrary faults, viz., that too little and too much may be said in it. If thou findest anything wanting, I shall be glad that what I have written gives thee any desire that I should have gone further : if it seems too much to thee, thou must blame the subject; for when I put * From the history of the philosopher’s life, he would seem to have delighted in forming clubs of "this kind. Thus, when at Amsterdam, in 4617^ he collected together a little knot of friends, among others, Limborch and Le Clerc; and on his return to England, after the Kevolution, he again constructed a club, the rules of which have been preserved, — E d. THE EPISTLE TO THE READER. 119 pen to .paper, I thought all I should have to say on this matter- would have been contained in one sheet of paper ; but the further I went the larger prospect I had j new discoveries led me still on, and so it grew insensibly to the bulk it now appears in. I will not deny, but possibly it might be reduced to a narrower compass than it is, and that some parts of it might be contracted, the way it has been written in, by catches and many long intervals of interruption, being apt to cause some repetitions. But to confess the truth, I am now too lazy, or too busy, to make it shorter. I am not ignorant how little I herein consult my own reputation, when I knowingly let it go with a fault, so apt to disgust the most judicious, who are always the nicest readers. But they who know sloth is apt to content itself with any excuse, will pardon me if mine has prevailed on me, where I think I have a very good one. I will not therefore allege in my defence, that the same notion, having different respects, may be convenient or necessary to prove or illustrate several parts of the same discourse, and that so it has happened in many parts of this : but waiving that, 1 shall frankly avow that I have sometimes dwelt long upon the same argument, and expressed it different ways, with a quite different design. I pretend not to publish this essay for the information of men of large thoughts and quick apprehensions; to such masters of knowledge I profess myself a scholar, and there- fore warn them beforehand not to expect anything here, but what, being spun out of my own coarse thoughts, is fitted to men of my own size; to whom, perhaps, it will not be unacceptable that I have taken some pains to make plain and familiar to their thoughts some truths which established prejudice or the abstractedness of the ideas themselves might render difficult. Some objects had need be turned on every side ; and when the notion is new, as I confess some of these are to me, or out of the ordinary road, as I suspect they will appear to others, it is not one simple view of it that will gain it admittance into every understanding, or fix it there with a clear and lasting impression. There are few, I believe, who have not observed in them- selves or others, that what in one way of proposing was very obscure, another way of expressing it has made very clear and intelligible; though afterwards the mind found little / 120 THE EPISTLE TO THE READER. difference in the phrases^ and wondered why one failed to be understood more than the other. But everything does not .hit alike upon every man’s imagination. We have our under- '>[ standings no less different than our palates; and he that thinks the same truth shall be equally relished by every one in the same dress, may as well hope to feast every one with the same sort of cookery; the meat may be the same, and the nourishment good, yet every one not be able to receive it with that seasoning; and it must be dressed another way, if you will have it go down with some, even of strong con- stitutions. The truth is/those who advised me to publish it, advised me, for this reason, to publish it as it is ; and since I have been brought to let it go abroad, I desire it should be understood by whoever gives himself the pains to read it. I have so little affection to be in print, that if I were not flattered this essay might be of some use to others, as I think it has been to me, I should have confined it to the view of some friends, who gave the first occasion to it. My appearing therefore in print being on purpose to be as useful as I may, I think it necessary to make what I have to say as easy and intelligible to all sorts of readers as I can. And I had much rather the speculative and quick-sighted should complain of my being in some parts tedious, than that any one, not accustomed to abstract speculations, or prepossessed with different notions, should mistake or not comprehend my meaning. It will possibly be censured as a great piece of vanity or insolence in me, to pretend to instruct this our knowing age ; it amounting to little less, when I own, that I publish this essay with hopes it may be useful to others. But if it may be permitted to speak freely of those who with a feigned modesty condemn as useless what they themselves write, methinks it savours much more of vanity or insolence to publish a book for any other end ; and he fails very much of that respect he owes the public, who prints, and consequently expects men should read, that wherein he intends not they should meet with anything of use to themselves or others; and should nothing else be found allowable in this treatise, yet my design will not cease to be so; and the goodness of my intention ought to be some excuse for the worthlessness of my present. It is that chiefly which secures me from the THE EPISTLE TO THE READEK. 121 fear of censurej which I expect not to escape more than better writers. Men’s principles, notions, and relishes are so different, that it is hard to find a book which pleases or displeases all men. I acknowledge the age we live in is not the least knowing, and therefore not the most easy to be satisfied. If I have not the good luck to please, yet nobody ought to be offended with me. I plainly tell all my readers, except half a dozen, this treatise was not at first intended for them; and therefore they need not be at the trouble to be of that number. But yet if any one thinks fit to be angry and rail at it, he may do it securely, for I shall find some better way of spending my time than in such kind of conversation.* I shall always have the satisfaction to have aimed /sincerely at truth and usefulness, though in one of the meanest ways. The commonwealth of learning is not at this time without master-builders, whose mighty designs, in advancing the sciences, will leave lasting monuments to the admiration of posterity ; but every one must not hope to be a Boyle or. a Sydenham : and in an age that produces such masters as the^ great Huygenius and the incomparable Mr. Newton, with some others of that strain, it is ambition enough to be employed as an under-labourer in clearing the ground a little, and removing some of the rubbish that lies in the way to knowledge ; which certainly had been very much more advanced in the world, if the endeavours of ingenious and industrious men had not been much cumbered with the learned but frivolous use of uncouth, affected, or unintelli- gible terms, introduced into the sciences, and there made an art of, to that degree that philosophy, which is nothing but the true knowledge of things,t was thought unfit or incapable * When Locke made the above resolution, and profession of stoicism, he was no doubt sincere, but when Stillingfleet attacked the Essay, and professed to discover in it the germs of most dangerous tenets, the phi- losopher found it impossible to mail his breast with apathy, entered warmly into a controversy with him, and defended both himself and his work with a vivacity, a logical subtilty, and with a strain sometimes of keen and biting irony, which the reader cannot fad to admire in perusing the letters to the Bishop of Worcester. It may generally indeed be remarked, that in proportion to the strength of a man’s con- victions wdl be his ardour in defending them, unless his resolution be overborne by other considerations. — Eu. f Abraham Tucker, with a view substantially the same, but narrower, observes that ‘‘phdosophy may be styled the ai-t of marshalling the 122 THE EPISTLE TO THE READER. to be brought into well-bred company and polite conversation. Yague and insignificant forms of speech and abuse of language have so long passed for mysteries of science, and hard and misapplied words, with little or no meaning, have, by pre- scription, such a right to be mistaken for deep learning and height of speculation, that it will not be easy to persuade either those who speak or those who hear them that they are but the covers of ignorance, and hindrance of true know- ledge.* To break in upon the sanctuary of vanity and ignorance will be, I suppose, some sert^ice to human under- standing; though so few are apt to think they deceive or are deceived in the use of words, or that the language of the sect they are of has any faults in it which ought to be examined or corrected, that I hope I shall be pardoned if I have in the third book dwelt long on this subject, and endeavoured to make it so plain, that neither the inveterateness of the mis- chief nor the prevalence of the fashion shall be any excuse for those who will not take care about the meaning of their own words, and will not suffer the significancy of thei^ expressions to be inquired into. I have been told that a short epitome of this treatise, which was printed in 1688 , was by some condemned without ideas in tlie understanding. ” This is a definition of logic, an important branch of philosophy, which excludes, however, that other art, whose business it is to introduce ideas into the understanding. The ideas once there, the object of philosophy is what Tucker states it to be ; his de- finition, therefore, though imperfect, is not false. — Ed. * Hobbes had already, in his controversy with Bishop Bramhall, exposed the folly and absurdity of this learned jargon. The passages, however, in which this is done are too many to be here quoted ; but for the reader’s amusement I subjoin a single specimen, remarking by the way that some of the terms to which he objects have since been allowed to become part of our language. “Let the natural philosopher no more mention his intentional species^ his understanding agent and patient, his receptive and eductive power of the matter, his qualities inf usee or influxee, symbolce or dissymholoe, his temperament ad pondus and ad justitiam. He may keep his parts homogeneous and heterogeneous ; but his sympathies and antipathies, his antiperistasis, and the like, names of excuses rather than of causes, I would have him fling away. And for the astrologer (unless he means astronomer), I would have him throw away his whole ' trade ; but if he mean astronomer, then the terms of apogeeum and peri- gcBwnn, arctic, antarctic, cequator, zodiac, zenith, 'meridian, horizon, zones, are no more terms of art in astronomy than a saw or a hatchet in the art of a carpenter.” (Treatise on Liberty and Necessity. Lond. 1812. Supplement^ p. 196 et seq. ; see too p. 117 .) — Ed. THE EPISTLE TO THE REAL'EK. 123 reading, because innate ideas were denied in it; tbey too hastily concluding, that if innate ideas were not supposed, there would be little left either of the notion or proof of spirits. If any one take the like offence at the entrance of this treatise, I shall desire him to read it through; and then I hope he will be convinced that the taking away false foun- dations is not to the prejudice but advantage of truth, which is never injured or endangered so much as when mixed with or built on falsehood. In the second edition I added as followeth : — The bookseller will not forgive me if I say nothing of this second edition, which he has promised, by the correctness of it, shall make amends for the many faults committed in the former.* He desires too, tl^at it should be known that it has one whole new chapter concerning identity, and many additions and amendments in other places. These I must inform my reader are not all new matter, but most of them either further confirmations of what I had said, or explications, to prevent others being mistaken in the sense of what was formerly printed, and not any variation in me from it: I must only except the alterations I have made in Book ii. ] chap. 21. What I had there written concerning liberty and the will, I thought deserved as accurate a view as I am capable of; those subjects having in all ages exercised the learned part of the world with questions and difficulties that have not a little perplexed morality and divinity, those parts of knowledge that men are most concerned to be clear in. Upon a closer inspection into the working of men’s minds, and a stricter examination of those motives and views they are turned by, I have found reason somewhat to alter the thoughts I for- merly had concerning that which gives the last determination to the will in all voluntary actions. This I cannot forbear to acknowledge to the world with as much freedom and readi- ness as I at first published what then seemed to me to be right ; thinking myself more concerned to quit and renounce any opinion of my own, than oppose that of another, when truth appears against it. For it is truth alone I seek, and that * On the incorrect printing of the first edition, see Locke’s correspon' dence with. Molineux, § 1. — Ed. / 124 THE EPISTLE TO THE READEP*. will always be welcome to me, when or from whencesoevei it comes.* But what forwardness soever I have to resign any opinion I have, or to recede from anything I have written, upon the first evidence of any error in it ; yet this I must own, that I have not had the good luck to receive any light from those excep- tions I have met with in print against any part of my book, nor have, from anything that has been urged against it, found reason to alter my sense in any of the points that have been questioned. "Whether the suoject I have in hand requires often more thought and attention than cursory readers, at least such as are prepossessed, are willing to allow; or whether any obscurity in my expressions casts a cloud over it, and these notions are made difScult to others’ apprehensions in my way of treating them ; so it is, that my meaning, I find, is often mistaken, and I have not the good luck to be everywhere rightly understood. There are so many instances of this, that I think it justice to my reader and myself to conclude, that either my book is plainly enough written to be rightly understood by those who peruse it with that attention and indifierency,t which every one who will give himself the pains to read ought to employ in reading ; or else that I have written mine so obscurely that it is in vain to go about to mend it. Whichever of these be the truth, it is myself only am afiected thereby ; and therefore I shall be far from troubling my * In this most honourable course of pleading guilty to error, and exhibiting a readiness to be corrected, Locke was preceded by two very great men, Quintilian and Hippocrates, the former of whom, in confess- ing some mistakes into which he had been once betrayed, adduces as his example the physician of Cos : ‘ ‘ Nam et Hippocrates clarus arte medi- cinae, videtur honestissime fecisse, qui quosdam errores suos, ne posteri errarent, confessus est.” (B. iii. c. vi.) Stobaeus has preserved a fine distich of Philippides, expressing the advantage to be derived from being convicted of error: — ''Or av dfjLaprdvrjg ri, rjrTU}fX€voQ, liaXiGTa yap avroj auj^eraL to av/jopspov. i. 13. Gaisf. This Grotius has elegently rendered as follows : — “ Ne turpe vinci, si quid erraris, puta: Haec namque vera est ad bonam frugem via.” — E d. t By this he means simply a freedom from prejudice or prepossession. He who comes to the consideration of a subject without having adopted any theory on the question under consideration, may be said to be indif- ferent; that is, to have no leaning to either side. — Ed. THE EPISTLE TO THE READER. 125 reader with what I think might be said in answer to those several objections I have met with, to passages here and there of my book ; since I persuade myself that he who thinks them of moment enough to be concerned whether they are true or false, will be able to see that what is said is either not well founded, or else not contrary to my doctrine, when I and my opposer come both to be well understood. If any, careful that none of their good thoughts should be j lost, have published their censures of my Essay, with this honour done to it, that they will not suffer it to be an essay, I leave it to the public to value the obligation they have to their critical pens, and shall not waste my reader’s time in so idle or ill-natured an employment of mine, as to lessen the satisfactiofi any one has in himself, or gives to others, in so hasty a confutation of what I have written. ^ The booksellers preparing for the fourth edition of my i Essay, gave me notice of it, that I might, if I had leisure, I make any additions or alterations I should think fit. Where- I upon I thought it convenient to advertise the reader, that , besides several corrections I had made here and there, there ' was one alteration which it was necessary to mention, because I it ran through the whole book, and is of consequence to be rightly understood. What I thereupon said was this : — : Clear and distinct ideas are terms which, though familiar I and frequent in men’s mouths, I have reason to think every . one who uses does not perfectly understand. And possibly } it is but here and there one who gives himself the trouble to [ consider them so far as to know what he himself or others I precisely mean by them: I have therefore in most places I chosen to put determinate or determined, instead of clear I and distinct, as more likely to direct men’s thoughts to my I meaning in this matter. By those denominations I mean I some object in the mind, and consequently determined, i. e., I such as it is there seen and perceived to be. This, I think, 1 may fitly be called a determinate or jietermined idea, when 1^ ' such as it is at any time objectively in fhe mind, and so I determined there, it is annexed, and without variation determined to a name or articulate sound, which is to be steadily the sign of that very same object of the mind, or ■■ ' determinate idea. , To explain this a little more particularly. By determinate. 126 THE EPISTLE TO THE REAHEK. when applied to a simple idea, I mean that simple appearance which the mind has in its view, or perceives in itself, when that idea is said to be in it : by determinate, when applied to a complex idea, I mean such an one as consists of a deter- minate number of certain simple or less complex ideas, joined in such a proportion and situation as the mind has before its view, and sees in itself, when that idea is present in it, or should be present in it, when a man gives a name to it : I say should be, because it is not every one, nor perhaps any one, who is so careful of his language as to use no word till he views in his mind the precise determined idea which he resolves to make it the sign of. The want of this is the cause of no small obscurity and confusion in men’s thoughts and discourses. I know there are not words enough in any language to answer all the variety of ideas that enter into men’s dis- courses and reasonings.'^' But this hinders not but that when any one uses any term, he may have in his mind a determined idea, which he makes it the sign of, and to which he should keep it steadily annexed during that present dis- course. Where he does not, or cannot do this, he in vain pretends to clear or distinct ideas : it is plain his are not so ; and therefore there can be expected nothing but obscurity and confusion, where such terms are made use of as have not such a precise determination. Upon this ground I have thought determined ideas a way of speaking less liable to mistakes, than clear and distinct : and where men have got such determined ideas of all that they reason, inquire, or argue about, they will find a great part of their doubts and disputes at an end. The greatest part of the questions and controversies that perplex mankind depending on the doubtful and uncertain use of words, or (which is the same) indetermined ideas, which they are made to stand for, I have made choice of these terms to signify; 1. Some immediate object of the mind, which it perceives and has before it, distinct from the sound it uses as a sign of * Compare ou this subject the remarks of Sir James Mackintosh (Ethical Philosophy, Introduction, p. 49 et seq.), where he justly com- plains of the coarseness and poverty of our philosophical vocabulary. Perhaps, however, in this, as in other things, it is in a great measure our indolence that is the cause of our poverty. — E d. THE EPISTLE TO THE KEADER. 127 it. 2. That this idea, thus determined, i. e., which the mind has in itself, and knows, and sees there, he determined with- out any change to that name, and that name determined to that precise idea. If men had such determined ideas in their inquiries and discourses, they would both discern how far their own inquiries and discourses went, and avoid the greatest part of the disputes and wranglings they have with others. Besides this, the bookseller will think it necessary I should advertise the reader that there is an addition of two chapte 2 ?s wholly new; the one of the association of ideas, the other of enthusiasm. These, with some other larger additions never before printed, he has engaged to print by themselves after the same manner, and for the same purpose, as was done when this Essay had the second impression. In the sixth edition there is very little added or altered ; the greatest part of what is new is contained in the twenty- first chapter of the second book, which any one, if he thinks it worth while, may, with a very little labour, transcribe into the margin of the former edition. OF HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. BOOK I. CHAPTER I. INTRODUCTION. 1. A 71 Inquiry into the Understanding ^'pleasant and useful, ^ — Since it is the -understaiiding that sets man above the rest of sensible beings, and gives him all the advantage and dominion which he has over them, it is certainly a subject, even for its nobleness, worth our labour to inquire into. The understanding, like the eye, whilst it makes us see and j^er- ceive all other things, takes no notice of itself ; and it requires art and pains to set it at a distance, and make it its own object.* But whatever be the difficulties that lie in the way of this inquiry ; whatever it be that keeps us so much in the dark to ourselves; sure I am that all the light we can let in upon our minds, all the acquaintance we can make with our o^vn understandings, will not only be very pleasant, but bring us great advantage in directing our thoughts in the search of other things. 2. Desigii, — This, therefore, being my purpose, to inquii'e into the original, certainty, and extent of human knowledge, together with the grounds and degrees of belief, opinion, and assent, I shall not at present meddle with the physical con- sideration of the mind, or trouble myself to examine wherein its essence consists, or by what motions of our spirits or alterations of our bodiest we come to have any sensation by Compare with this the opinion of Arrian, who, in his Commentary on the Enchiridion of Epictetus, remarks, that the reasoning power in man {r] dyvafug ^ Xoyiicri) is the only faculty which takes cognizance of itself, and comprehends its own nature, office, and worth, as well as those of all the other faculties. (Com. in Epict. Ench. b. i. p. 2.) — Ed. + Locke, though he does not here name Hobbes, nevertheless refers to his speculations, almost making use of the very language of that CHAP. 1.1 INTKODUCTION. 129 our organs, or any ideas in our understandings ; and whether those ideas do in their formation, any or all of them, depend on matter or not. These are speculations which, however curious and entertaining, I shall decline, as lying out of my way in the design I am now upon.* It shall sulfice to my present purpose, to consider the discerning faculties of a man, as they are employed about the objects which they have to do with. And I shall imagine I have not wholly misemployed myself in the thoughts I shall have on this occasion, if, in this historical, plain method, I can give any account of the ways whereby our understandings come to attain those notions of things we have, and can set down any measures of the certainty of our knowledge, or the grounds of those persuasions which are to be found amongst men, so various, different, and wholly contradictory; and yet asserted somewhere or other with such assurance and confidence, that he that shall take a view of the opinions of mankind, observe their opposition, and at the same time consider the fondness and devotion wherewith they are embraced, the resolution and eagerness wherewith they are maintained, may perhaps have reason to suspect, that either there is no such thing as truth at all, or that mankind hath no sufiicient means to attain a certain know- ledge of it.t philosopher in his treatise on Human ISTature, where he says, “ Image or colour is but an apparition unto us of the motion, agitation, or alteration which the object worketh in the brain, or spirits, or some internal sub- stance of the head.” (Ch. ii. 4 .) — Ed. * Dugald Stewart, whose philosophical reading was very extensive, observes upon this passage, “ It is much to be wished that Mr. Locke- had adhered invariably to this wise resolution.” (Phil. Essays, Prel. Dissert, p. 5.) — Ed. f This was the opinion of those sophists who maintained that men may dispute equally well on both sides of a question ; for if truth can be dis- covered, and we be able to know with certainty when we possess it, the moment this discovery is made must be the term of all honest disputation ; but if probability be all we can attain to on any subject, there will ever be room for differing opinions, (^id. Geel. Hist. Soph. cap. vi. p. 25.) Montaigne has in his Essays a very fine passage on the search after truth, and the question whether it be possible or not to discover it. ‘ ‘ Si me faut-il voir enfln, s’il est en la puissance de I’homme de trouver ce qu’il cherche : et si cette quete, qu’il y a employ^ depuis tant de si^.cles, la enrichy de quelque nouvelle force, et de quelque vdrit^ solide ; je crois qu’ I me confes^era, s’il parle en conscience, que tout I’acquet qu'il a VOL. I. K / 130 OF HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. [bOOK I. 3. Method . — It is therefore worth while to search out the bounds between opinion and knowledge, and examine by what measures in things, whereof we have no certain know- ledge, we ought to regulate our assent and moderate out persuasions. In order whereunto I shall pursue this following method. First, I shall inquire into the original of those ideas, notions, or whatever else you please to call them, which a man observes, and is conscious to himself he has in his mind; and the ways whereby the understanding comes to be furnished with them. Secondly, I shall endeavour to show what knowledge the understanding hath by those ideas, and the certainty, evi- dence, and extent of it. Thirdly, I shall make some inquiry into the nature and grounds of faith, or opinion; whereby I mean that assent which we give to any proposition as true, of whose truth yet we have no certain knowledge: and here we shall have occasion to examine the reasons and degrees of assent. 4. U seful to know the Extent of our Comprehension . — If by this inquiry into the nature of the understanding, I can dis- cover the powers thereof, how far they reach, to what things they are in any degree proportionate, and where they fail us, I suppose it may be of use to prevail with the busy mind of man to be more cautious in meddling with things exceeding its comprehension ; to stop when it is at the utmost extent of its tether; and to sit down in a quiet ignorance of those things which, upon examination, are found to be beyond the reach of our capacities. We should not then perhaps be so retir^ d’une si longue poursuite, c’est d’ avoir appris a recognoitre sa foi- blesse. L’ ignorance qui estoit naturellement en nous, nous Tavons par longue dtude confirmee et averse. II est advenu aux gens v^ritablement scavans, ce que advient aux ^pis de bled: ils vont s’elevant et se haus- sant la tete droite et fibre, tant qu’ils sent vuides; mais quand ils ont pleins et grossis de grain en leur maturite, ils commenceroit a s’humiliei* et baisser les comes. Pareillement, les homines, ayant tout essaye, tout sondb, et n’ ayant trouvb en cet amas de science et provision de tant de choses diverses, rien de massif et de ferme, et rien que vanitb, il sent renonce k leur prbsomption et reconnu leur condition naturelle.” (t. v. p. 10 et seq.) — En. * Tliat, with the history of philosophy before him, Locke should have hoped so much, is scarcely to be credited. Indeed, to sit down in quiet ignorance of anything is contrary to oui* nature ; though it is quite possibl«* INTRODUCTION. 131 CHAP. I.] forward, out of an affectation of an universal knowledge, to raise questions, and perplex ourselves and others with dis- putes about things to which our understandings are not suited, and of which we cannot frame in our minds any clear or distinct perceptions, or whereof (as it has per- haps too often happened) we have not any notions at all. If we can find out how far the understanding can extend its view, how far it has faculties to attain certainty, and in what cases it can only judge and guess, we may learn to content ourselves with what is attainable by us in this state. 5. Out Capacity suited to out State and ConceTus. — For though the comprehension of our understandings comes exceeding short of the vast extent of things, yet we shall have cause enough to magnify the bountiful Author of our being, for that proportion and degree of knowledge he has bestowed on us, so far above all the rest of the inhabitants of this our mansion. Men have reason to be well satisfied with what God hath thought fit for them, since he hath given them (as St. Peter* says) izavra irpog ^u)i^v Kal evGktuaVf what- soever is necessary for the conveniences of life and information of virtue; and has put within the reach of their discovery the comfortable provision for this life, and the way that leads to a better. How short soever their knowledge may come of an universal or perfect comprehension of whatsoever is, it yet secures their great concernments, that they have light enough to lead them to the knowledge of their Maker and the sight of their Own duties. Men may find matter sufficient to busy their heads, and employ their hands with variety, delight, and satisfaction, if they will not boldly quarrel with their own constitution, and throw away the blessings their hands are filled with because they are not big enough to grasp everything. We shall not have much reason to complain of the narrowness of our minds, if we will but employ them about what may be of use to us; for of that they are very capable: aud it will be an unpardonable, as well as childish peevishness, if we undervalue the advantages of our wastefuUy to expend in mere curious investigation a world of industry and ingenuity. — E d. * Epist. ii. 3, where consult the excellent note of the Rev. Mr. Troh iope, in his Greek Testament, p. 500 . — Ed, / 132 OF HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. [BOOK 1. knowledge, and neglect to improve it to the ends for which it was given ns, because there are some things that are set out of the reach of it. It will be no excuse to an idle and un- toward servant, who would not attend his business by candle- light, to plead that he had not broad sunshine. The candle that is set up in us shines bright enough for all our purposes."* The discoveries we can make with this ought to satisfy usj and we shall then use our understandings right, when we entertain all objects in that way and proportion that they are suited to our faculties, and upon those grounds they are capable of being proposed to us; and not peremptorily or intemperately require demon stration, and demand certainty, where probability only is to be had, and which is sufficient to govern all our concernments. If we will disbelieve every- thing because we cannot certainly know all things, we shall do muchwhat as wisely as he who would not use his legs, but sit still and perish, because he had no wings to fly. 6. Knowledge of our Capacity a Cure of Scepticism and Idleness . — When we know our own strength, we shall the better know what to undertake with hopes of success;! and when we have well surveyed the powers of our own minds, and made some estimate what we may expect from them, we shall not be inclined either to sit still, and not set our thoughts on work at all, in despair of knowing anything ; or, on the other side, question everything, and disclaim, all know- ledge, because some things are not to be understood. It is of great use to the sailor to know the length of his line, though * On the sufficiency, in a religious point of view, of reason and conscience. Bishop Butler has a line passage, which the reader will not be sorry to find inserted here. ‘‘Nothing,” observes his lordship, ‘ ‘ can be more evident than that, exclusive of revelation, man can- not be considered as a creature left by his Maker to act at random, and live at large up to the extent of his natural powers, as passion, humour, wilfulness happen to carry him ; which is the condition brute creatures are in ; but that, from his make, constitution, or nature, he is, in the strictest and most proper sense, a law to himself, lie hath the rule of right within; what is wanting is only that lie honestly attend to it.” (3rd Sermon on Human Nature, p. 65.)— Ed. + Sumite materiam vestris, qui scribitis, sequam Viribus, et versate diu quid feiTe recusent, Quid valeant humeri. ” — Ho^. A rs Poet. 88 — 40. — Ed. CHAP. I.] INTRODUCTION. 133 lie cannot with it lathom all the depths of the ocean. It is well he knows that it is long enough to reach the bottom, at such places as are necessary to direct his voyage, and caution him against running upon shoals that may ruin him. Our business here is not to know all things, but those which con- cern our conduct. If we can find out those measures, where- by a rational creature, put in that state in which man is in this world, may and ought to govern his opinions, and actions depending thereon, we need not to be troubled that some other things escape our knowledge. 7. Occasion of this Essay . — This v^as that which gave the first rise to this essay concerning the understanding. For I thought that the first step towards satisfying several in- quiries the mind of man was very apt to run into, was to take a view of our own understandings, examine our own })owers, and see to what things they were adapted. Till that was done I suspected we began at the wrong end, and in vain sought for satisfaction in a quiet and sure possession of truths that most concerned us, whilst we let loose our thoughts into the vast ocean of being; as if aU that boundless extent were the natural and undoubted possession of our understandings, wherein there was nothing exempt from its decisions, or that escaped its comprehension. Thus men extending their inquiries beyond their capacities, and letting their thoughts wander into those depths where they can find no sure foot- ing, it is no wonder that they raise questions and multiply disputes, which, never coming to any clear resolution, are proper only to continue and increase their doubts, and to confirm them at last in perfect scepticism. Whereas, were the capacities of our understandings well considered, the extent of our knowledge once discovered, and the horizon found which sets the bounds between the enlightened and dark parts of things, between what is and what is not com- prehensible by us, men would perhaps, with less scruple, acquiesce in the avowed ignorance of the one, and employ their thoughts and discourse with more advantage and satis- faction in the other, 8. What Idea stands for , — Thus much I thought necessary to say concerning the occasion of this inquiry into human understanding. But, before I proceed on to what I have thought on this subject, I must here in the entrance beg / 134 OF HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. [bOOK I. pardon of my reader for the frequent use of the word jdea,” * * * § which he will find in the following treatise. It being that term which, I think, serves best to stand for whatsoever is the object of the understanding when a man thinks, I have used it to express whatever is meant by phantasm, notion, species, or whatever it is which the mind can be employed about in thinking; and I could not avoid frequently using it.t^ I presume it will be easily granted me, that there are such ideas in men’s minds; every one is conscious of them in himself, and men’s words and actions will satisfy him that they are in others. Our first inquiry then shall be, how they come into the mind. CHAPTER II. NO INNATE PRINCIPLES IN THE MIND. 1. The way shown how we co'ine hy anriy Knowledge^ sufficient to prove it not innate. — It is an established opinion amongst some men,J that there are in the understanding certain innate * Locke was not, however, the first witter who employed the term “idea” with such a signification in our language. Hobbes had used it, (Human Nature, c. i. § 7.) and so had Sir Thomas Browne (Religio Medici, p. 24.) ; but as in them it occurred but casually, and was visibly connected with no system, the world allowed it to pass unquestioned. The reader will find Locke’s own defence of the word in his liOtters to the Bishop of Worcester. In Milton it is synonymous with form. VApology for his Early Life and Writings, p. 72.) t See Appendix at end of vol. ii. — Ed.j p^. 3?^?— A4 xr\ • J By “ some men ” Locke here appears to allude more particularly to Descartes and his followers, De la Forge, Claude de Clerselier, Bohault, Begis, &c. Descartes, it is well known, divided our ideas into three classes ; those acquired through the medium of the senses, those .^j created by the mind by reflection, and those which are born with us or are innate. Of these, Locke, it will be seen, rejects the last, proving sen- sation and reflection to be the only fountains of all we know. They who desire to enter historically or otherwise into a thorough investigation of this subject may consult Tennemann’s “Manual of the History of Philosophy,” § 335 et seq. ; “Buhle, Histoire de la Philosophie Moderne,” t. iv. p. 201 — 380, but more particularly p. 204 et seq. ; Hume’s Essays, 4to, p. 269 — 272, particularly the note (a), which the reader will find in page 89, and compare with them Berkeley’s “Three Dialogues, between 135 CHAP. IL] no innate PRINCIPLES IN THE MIND. principles ; some j)rimary notions, Koival tvvoiai, characters, as it were, stamped upon the mind of man, which the soul receives in its very first being, and brings into the world with it. It would be sufficient to convince unprejudiced readers of the falseness of this supposition, if I should only show (as I hope I shall in the following parts of this discourse) how men, barely by the use of their natural faculties, may attain to all the knowledge they have, without the help of any innate impressions, and may arrive at certainty, without any such original notions or principles. For I imagine any one will easily grant that it would be impertinent to suppose the ideas of colours innate in a creature to whom God hath given sight, and a power to receive them by the eyes from external objects: and no less unreasonable would it be to attribute several truths to the impressions of nature and innate charac- ters, when we may observe in ourselves faculties fit to attain as easy and certain knowledge of them, as if they were origi- nally imprinted on the mind. But because a man is not permitted without censure to follow his own thoughts in the search of truth, when they lead him ever so little out of the common road, I shall set down the reasons that made me doubt of the truth of that opinion, as an excuse for my mistake, if I be in one; which I leave to be considered by those who, with me, dispose themselves to embrace truth wherever they find it. 2. General Assent the great Argument. — There is nothing more commonly taken for granted than that there are certain principles, both speculative and practical, (for they speak of both.) universally agreed upon by all mankind, which there- fore, they argue, must needs be constant impressions, which the souls of men receive in their first beings, and which they bring into the world with them, as necessarily and really as they do any of their inherent faculties. 3. Universal Consent proves nothing innate. — This argu- ment, drawn from universal consent, has this misfortune in it, that if it were true in matter of fact, that there were certain truths wherein all mankind agreed, it would not prove them Hylas and Philonous,” Works, vol. i. p. 109 et seq. with Buhle’s ad- mirable Analysis of his Philosophy, t. v. p. 76 — 176, and Tennemann’s Manual, § 340.— Ed. / 136 OF HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. [bOOK I. innate, if tliere can be any other way shown how men may come to that universal agreement in the things they do consent in, which I presume may be done. 4. “ JFAai is, is,'' and it is impossible for the same Thing to he and not to he',* not universally assented to. — But, which is worse, this argument of universal consent, which is made use of to prove innate principles, seems to me a demonstration that there are none such; because there are none to which all mankind give an universal assent. I shall begin with the speculative, and instance in those magnified principles of demonstration, “whatsoever is, is,” and “it is impossible for the same thing to be and not to be;” which, of all others,* I think have the most allowed title to innate. These have so settled a reputation of maxims universally received, that it will no doubt be thought strange if any one should seem to question it. But yet I take liberty to say, that these propo- sitions are so far from having an universal assent, that there are a great part of mankind to whom they are not so much as known. 5. Not on the Mind naturally imprinted, because not known to Children, Idiots, &c. — For, first, it is evident that all chil- dren and idiots have not the least apprehension or thought of them; and the want of that is enough to destroy that uni- versal assent which must needs be the necessary concomitant of all innate truths : it seeming to me near a contradiction to say that there are truths imprinted on the soul which it per- ceives or understands not ; imprinting, if it signify anything, being nothing else but the making certain truths to be per- ceived. For to imprint anything on the mind without the mind’s perceiving it, seems to me hardly intelligible. If therefore children and idiots have souls, have minds, with those impressions upon them, they must unavoidably perceive them, and necessarily know and assent to these truths ; which since they do not, it is evident that there are no such impres- sions. For if they are not notions naturally imprinted, how can they be innate'? and if they are notions imprinted, how can they be unknown*? To say a notion is imprinted on the mind, and yet at the same time to say that the mind is ^ A solecism found in most persons’ mouths, not unlike that of Milton ^ ‘ Adam, the noblest man of men since born, His sons, the fairest of her daughters, Eve.” Ed. ^ CHAP. II.] NO INNATE PRINCIPLES IN THE MIND. 137 ignorant of it, and never yet took notice of it, is to make this impression nothing. No proposition can he said to be in the mind which it never yet knew, which it was never yet '^conscious of. For if any one may, then, by the same reason, all propositions that are true, and the mind is capable of ever assenting to, may be said to be in the mind, and to be imprinted : since, if any one can be said to be in the mind, which it never yet knew, it must be only because it is cajDable of knowing it, and so the mind is of all truths it ever shall know. Nay, thus truths may be imprinted on the mind wliich it never did nor ever shall know; for a man may live long, and die at last in ignorance of many truths which his mind was capable of knowing, and that with certainty. So that if the capacity of knowing be the natural impression contended for, all the truths a man ever comes to know will, ! by this account, be every one of them innate ; and this great point will amount to no more, but only to a very improper .. ■ way of speaking ; which, whilst it pretends to assert the contrary, says nothing different from those who deny innate principles. For nobody, I think, ever denied that the mind was capable of knowing several truths. The capacity, they say, is innate, the knowledge acquired. But then to what end such contest for certain innate maxims^ If truths can be imprinted on the understanding without being perceived, I can see no difference there can be between any truths the mind is capable of knowing in respect of their original: they must all be innate or all adventitious; in vain shall a man go about to distinguish them. He th-erefore that talks of innate notions in the understanding, cannot (if he intend therf^by any distinct sort of truths) mean such truths to be in the understanding as it never perceived, and is yet wholly ignorant of. For if these words (to be in the understand- ing) have any propriety, they signify to be understood; so that to be in the understanding and not to be understood, to be in the mind and never to be perceived, is all one as to say anything is and is not in the mind or understanding. If therefore these two propositions, Whatsoever is, is,” and it is impossible for the same thing to be and not to be,” are by nature imprinted, children cannot be ignorant of them ; infants, and all that have souls, must necessarily have them in their understandings, know the truth of them, and assent to it. / 138 OF HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. [bOOK I, 6. That Men know them when they come to the Use of Reason^ answered. — To avoid this, it is usually answered, that all men know and assent to them, when they come to the use of reason, and this is enough to prove them innate. I answer : 7. Doubtful expressions, that have scarce any signification, go for clear reasons to those who, being prepossessed, take not the pains to examine even what they themselves say. For, to apply this answer with any tolerable sense to our present purpose, it must signify one of these two things; either that as soon as men come to the use of reason these supposed native inscriptions come to be known and observed by them, or else that the use and exercise of men’s reason assists them in the discovery of these principles, and certainly makes them known to them. 8. If Reason discovered them, that would not prove them innate. — If they mean, that by the use of reason men may discover these principles, and that this is sufficient to prove them innate, their way of arguing will stand thus, viz., that whatever truths reason can certainly discover to us, and make us firmly assent to, those are all naturally imprinted on the mind; since that universal assent, which is made the mark of them, amounts to no more but this, that by the use of reason we are capable to come to a certain knowledge of and assent to them; and, by this means, there will be no difier- ence between the maxims of the mathematicians, and theorems they deduce from them : all must be equally allowed innate, they being all discoveries made by the use of reason, and truths that a rational creature may certainly come to know, if he apply his thoughts rightly that way. 9. It is false that Reason discovers them. — But how can these men think the use of reason necessary to discover prin- ciples that are supposed innate, when reason (if we may believe them) is nothing else but the faculty of deducing unknown truths from principles or propositions that are alread}^ known? That certainly can never be thought innate which we have need of reason to discover ; unless, as I have said, we will have all the certain truths that reason ever beaches us, to be innate. We may as well think the use of reason necessary to make our eyes discover visible objects, as that there should be need of reason, or the exercise thereof, to make the understanding see what is originally engi'aven CHAP. II.] NO INNATE PRINCIPLES IN THE MIND. 139 on it, and cannot be in tbe understanding before it be per- ceived by it. So that to make reason discover those truths thus imprinted, is to say that the use of reason discovers to a man what he knew before : and if men have those innate impressed truths originally, and before the use of reason, and yet are always ignorant of them till they come to the use of reason, it is in effect to say, that men know and know them not at the same time. 10. It will here perhaps be said that mathematical demon- strations, and other truths that are not innate, are not assented to as soon as proposed, wherein they are distinguished from these maxims and other innate truths. I shall have occasion to speak of assent, upon the first proposing, more particu- larly by and by. I shall here only, and that very readily, allow, that these maxims and mathematical demonstrations are in this difierent : that the one have need of reason, using of proofs, to make them out and to gain our assent ; but the other, as soon as understood, are, without any the least reason- ing, embraced and assented to. But I withal beg leave to observe, that it lays open the weakness of this subterfuge, which requires the use of reason for the discovery of these general truths; since it must be confessed that in their dis- covery there is no use made of reasoning at all.* And I think those who give this answer will not be forward to affirm that the knowledge of this maxim, that it is impos- sible for the same thing to be and not to be,” is a deduction of our reason. For this would be to destroy that bounty of nature they seem so fond of, whilst they make the knowledge of those principles to depend on the labour of our thoughts. For all reasoning is search, and casting about, and requires pains and application. And how can it with any tolerable sense be supposed, that what was imprinted by nature, as the foundation and guide of our reason, should need the use of reason to discover it ? 11. Those who will take the pains to reflect with a little attention on the operations of the understanding, will find that this ready assent of the mind to some truths, depends * This is, I think, a mistake : the reason is consulted, but the matter being easy, it decides rapidly. Otherwise they would be as evident to persons irrational as to those endued with reason, wffich they are not. — E d. / 140 OF HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. [bOOK I. not either on native inscription or the use of reason, but on a faculty of the mind quite distinct from both of them, as we shall see hereafter. Reason, therefore, having nothing to do in procuring our assent to these maxims, if by saying, that men know and assent to them, when they come to the use of reason, be meant, that the use of reason assists us in the knowledge of these maxims, it is utterly false ; and were it true, would prove them not to be innate. 12. The coming to the Use of Reason 'not the Time we come to know these Maxims . — If by knowing and assenting to them when we come to the use of reason, be meant, that this is the time when they come to be taken notice of by the mind ; and that as soon as children come to the use of reason, they come also to know and assent to these maxims; this also is false and frivolous. First, it is false, because it is evident these maxims are not in the mind so early as the use of reason; and therefore the coming to the use of reason is falsely assigned as the time of their discovery. How many instances of the use of reason may we observe in children, a long time before they have any knowledge of this maxim, that it is impossible for the same thing to be and not to be ” ! And a great part of illiterate people and savages pass many years, even of their rational age, without ever thinking on this and the like general propositions.'^ I grant, men come not to the knowledge of these general and more abstract truths, which are thought innate, till they come to the use of reason ; and I add, nor then neither. Which is so because, till after they come to the use of reason, those general * Wolf, countenanced by Leibnitz, maintained in Germany, long after tlie death of Locke, the doctrine of innate ideas, and invented a very ingenious system in support of it. In his Logic, however, he states the question hypothetically, observing, “Whether our notions of external things are conveyed into the soul, as into an empty receptacle, or whether rather they lie not buried, as it were, in the essence of the soul, and are brought forth barely by his own powers, on occasion of the changes produced in our bodies by external objects, is a question at present foreign to this place. In my ‘Thoughts on God and the Human Soul, ’ chap. v. , I shall there only be able to show, that the last opinion is the more agreeable to truth.” (Logic, c. i. § 6.) Wolf would probably, consistently with the above passage, have explained the ignorance of the savages in the text, by supposing that the ideas originally imprinted on their minds can only be brought to light by circumstances, as secret characters or writing sometimes become not visible until they have been breathed upon or exposed to the fire. — Ed. 141 CHAP. II.] NO INNATE PKINCIPLES IN THE MIND. abstract ideas are not framed in the mind, about which those general maxims are, which are mistaken for innate principles, but are indeed discoveries made and verities introduced and brought into the mind by the same way, and discovered by the same steps, as several other propositions, which nobody was ever so extravagant as to suppose innate. This I hope to make plain in the sequel of this discourse. I allow there- fore, a necessi ty that men should come to the use of reason before they g-^t the knowledge of those general truths, but deny that men s coming to the use of reason is the time of their discovery. 13. By this they are not distinguished from other knowahle Truths . — In the mean time it is observable, that this saying, that men know and assent to these maxims when they come to the use of reason, amounts in reality of fact to no more but this, that they are never known nor taken notice of before the use of reason, but may possibly be assented to some time after, during a man s life ; but when is uncertain : and so may all other knowable truths, as well as these, which therefore have no advantage nor distinction from others by this note of being known when we come to the use of reason, nor are thereby proved to be innate, but quite the contrary. 14. ^ coming to the Use of Reason were the Time of their Discovery, it would not 'prove them innate. — But, secondly, were.it true, that the precise time of their being known and assented to were when men come to the use of reason, neither would that prove them innate. This way of arguing is as frivolous as the supposition itself is false. For by what kind of logic will it appear that any notion is originally by nature imprinted in the mind in its first constitution, because it comes first to be observed and assented to when a faculty of the mind, which has quite a distinct province, begins to exert itself? And therefore the coming to the use of speech, if it were supposed the time that these maxims are first assented to, (which it may be with as much truth as the time when men come to the use of reason,) would be as good a proof that they were innate, as to say they are innate because men assent to them when they come to the use of reason. I agree then with these men of innate principles, that there is no knowledge of these general and self-evident maxims in the mind till it comes to the exercise of reason; 142 OF HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. [bOOK I. but I deny that the coming to the use of reason is the precise time when they are first taken notice of ; and if that were the precise time, I deny that it would prove them innate. All that can with any truth be meant by this proposition, that men assent to them when 'they come to the use of reason, is no more but this, that the making of general abstract ideas and the understanding of general names being concomitant of the rational faculty, and grow- ing up with it, children commonly get not those general ideas, nor learn the names that stand for them, till, having for a good while exercised their reason about familiar and more particular ideas, they are, by their ordinary discourse and actions with others, acknowledged to be capable of rational conversation. If assenting to these maxims when men come to the use of reason can be true in any other sense, I desire it may be shown; or at least, how in this, or any other sense, it proves them innate. 15. The Steps hy which the Mind attains several Truths . — The senses at first let in particular ideas, and furnish the yet empty cabinet;* and the mind by degrees growing familiar * Dr. Whewell having remarked that the comparison of the mind to a sheet of white paper (elsewhere employed by Locke) is not just, quotes from Professor Sedgwick a metaphor which he considers “much more apt and beautiful.” “Man’s soul at first is one unvaried blank, till it has received the impressions of external experience. Yet has this blank been already touched by a celestial hand, and when plunged in the colours which surround it, it takes not its tinge from accident, but design, and comes out covered with a glorious pattern.” (Discourse on the Studies of the University, p. 54. Preface to Sir J. Mackintosh’s Dissertation on the Progress of Ethical Philosophy, p. 36.) I confess I do not perceive the superiority of the new figure over the old, nor, in fact, in what circumstances they differ. Locke, in the text, suggests another image — that of an “empty cabinet.” But neither this, nor any other that I have seen, helps us at all to comprehend the true nature of the mind. Mackintosh says, “How many ultimate facts of that nat.ure (i.e., which are presupposed by the doctrine of association) are contained and involved in Aristotle’s celebrated comparison of the mind in its first state to a sheet of unwritten paper (Dissert. § 6. p. 249.) He then quotes from Aristotle the passage in which the com- parison .s made : Att 5’ ovrcog, waTrep ev ypappareKp (p prjdsv vTrapxfi evTeXexsig:, yeypappevov' oTrep avptaivu sirt rov vov. (De Anima, iii. iv. 14. 1. vii. p. 71. Tauchnitz.) Sir James modernizes the language of Aristotle, however, for ypappareiov does not mean “a sheet of unwritten paper,” but a waxed tablet, • which had sometimes two or more leaves. (PoU. Onomast. iv. 18.) But what is more curious, it 143 CHAP. II. j NO INNATE PEINCIPLES IN THE MIND. with some of them, they are lodged in the memory, and names got to them. Afterwards, the mind proceeding further, abstracts them, and by degrees learns the use of general names. In this manner the mind comes to be furnished with ideas and language, the materials about which to exercise its discursive faculty; and the use of reason be- comes daily more visible, as these materials that give it employment increase. But though the having of general ideas and the use of general words and reason usually grow together, yet I see not how this any way proves them innate. The knowledge of some truths, I confess, is very early in the mind; but in a way that shows them not to be innate. Eor if we will observe, we shall find it still to be about ideas not innate but acquired; it being about those first which are imprinted by external things, with which infants have earliest to do, which make the most frequent impressions on their senses. In ideas thus got the mind discovers that some agree and others differ, probably as soon as it has any use of memory, as soon as it is able to retain and perceive distinct ideas. But whether it be then or no, this is certain, it does so long before it has the use of words, or comes to that which we commonly call the use of reason.” Eor a child knows as certainly before it can speak the difierence between the ideas of sweet and bitter (i. e., that sweet is not bitter), as it knows afterwards (when it comes to speak) that wormwood and sugarplums are not the same thing. 16. A child knows not that three and four are equal to seven, till he comes to be able to count seven, and has got the name and idea of equality ; and then, upon explaining those words, he presently assents to, or rather perceives the truth of that proposition. But neither does he then readily assent because it is an innate truth, nor was his assent wanting till then because he wanted the use of reason ; but the truth of ib appears to him as soon as he has settled in his mind the clear and distinct ideas that these names stand for; and then he knows the truth of that proposition upon the same grounds also signified “a cabinet,” and may have suggested to Locke the com- parison in the text, ypafifiareiov de rrapd roig ’ArriKOig, ical ev w dpyijpLOv dTrsKELTO. (Poll. Onomast. iv. 19. On which consult tha notes of Kuhn and Jungermann, t. iv. p. 661, and Harpocrat. in v. dpyvpoO^KTff p. 33. BelA.) — Ed. / 144 OF HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. [bOOK L and by the same means that he knew before that a rod and a cherry are not the same thing; and upon the same grounds also that he may come to know afterwards ^Hhat it is im- possible for the same thing to be and not to be,” as shall be more, fully shown hereafter. So that the later it is before any one comes to have those general ideas about which those maxims are, or to know the signification of those general terms that stand for them, or to put together in his mind the ideas they stand for, the later also will it be before he comes to assent to those maxims, whose terms, with the ideas they stand for, being no more innate than those of a cat or a weasel, he must stay till time aiid observation have acquainted him with them ; and then he will be in a capacity to know the truth of these maxims, upon the first occasion that shall make him put together those ideas in his mind, and observe whether ^hey agree or disagree, according as is expressed in those propositions. And therefore it is that a man knows that eighteen and nineteen are equal to thmty- seven, by the same self-evidence that he knows one and two to be equal to three : yet a child knows this not so soon as the other ; not for want of the use of reason, but because the ideas the words eighteen, nineteen, and thirty-seven stand for, are not so soon got as those which are signified by one, two, and three. 17. Assenting as soon as 'proposed and understood^ proves them not innate . — This evasion therefore of general assent, when men come to the use of reason, failing as it does, and leaving no difierence between those supposed innate and other truths that are afterwards acquired and learnt, men have endeavoured to secure an universal assent to those they call maxims, by saying they are generally assented to as soon as proposed, and the terms they are proposed in understood : seeing all men, even children, as soon as they hear and under- stand the terms assent to these propositions, they think it is sufficient to prove them innate. For since men never fail, after they have once understood the words, to acknowledge them for undoubted truths, they would infer that certainly these propositions were first lodged in the understanding, which, witholit any teaching, the mind, at the very first proposal, immediately closes with and assents to, and after th.at never doubts again. CHAP. II.] NO INNATE PRINCIPLES IN THE MIND. 14o 18. such cm Assent he a Mark of Innate, then that one and two are equal to three, that Sweetness is not Bitterness,'^ and a thousand the like, must he innate. — In answer to this, I demand “ whether ready assent given to a proposition, upon first hearing and understanding the terms, be a certain mark of an innate principle*?” If it be not, such a general assent is in vain urged as a proof of them : if it be said that it is a mark of innate, they must then allow all such propositions to be innate which are generally assented to as soon as heard, whereby they will find themselves plentifully stored with innate principles. For upon the same ground, viz., of assent at first hearing and understanding the terms, that men would have those maxims pass for innate, they must also admit several propositions about numbers to be innate ; and thus, that one and two are equal to three, that two and two are equal to four, and a multitude of other the like propositions in numbers, that everybody assents to at first hearing and understanding the terms, must have a place amongst these innate axioms. Nor is this the prerogative of numbers alone, and propositions made about several of them; but even natural philosophy, and all the other sciences, afford pro- positions which are sure to meet with assent as soon as they are understood. That two bodies cannot be in the same place, is a truth that nobody any more sticks at than at these maxims, that it is impossible for the same thing to, be and not to be, that white is not black, that a square is not a circle, that bitterness is not sweetness:” these and a million of such other propositions, as many at least as we have distinct ideas of, every man in his wits, at first hearing and knowing what the names stand for, must necessarily assent to. If these men will be true to their own rule, and have assent at first hearing and imderstanding the terms to be a mark of innate, they must allow not only as many innate propositions as men have distinct ideas, but as many as men can make propositions wherein different ideas are denied one of another. Since every proposition, wherein one different idea is denied of another, will as certainly find assent at first hearing and understanding the terms as this general one, it is impossible for the same thing to be and not to be,” or that which is the foundation of it, and is the easier understood of the two, ‘Hhe same is not different;” by which account they will have VOU I. L / 146 OF HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. [bOOK 1. legions of innate propositions of this one sort, without men- tioning any other. But since no proposition can be innate unless the ideas about which it is be innate, this will be to suppose all our ideas of colours, sounds, tastes, figure, &c. innate, than which there cannot be anything more opposite to reason and experience.* Universal and ready assent upon * Hume, in a note to his section on the origin of ideas, already referred to, speaks of the question which is the subject of this first book, in a somewhat light and trifling manner. His supposition that “innate” may be synonymous with “natural,” in any sense in which the latter term can be employed, appears to me highly unphilosophical. What Descartes and Locke understood by the word “innate” it does not seem difiicult to determine: it signifies in their works “impressed on the original substance of the mind, from the first moment of its existence, by the Creator,” consequently bom with us, whoUy independent of our senses, and referrible to no material source. This is true of our primary passions and affections, which in their elementary state are congenital or coeval with the mind ; but passions and affections are not ideas, but sources of action, laid deep among the simplest principles of our nature. I admit that throughout this first book Locke’s language is not suffi- ciently exact; but whether it be so loose and ambiguous as Hume pretends, I leave the reader to decide. “’Tis probable,” observes this writer, “that no more was meant by those who denied innate ideas, than that all ideas were copies of our impressions ; though it must be confessed that the terms which they employed were not chosen with such caution, nor so exactly defined, as to prevent all mistakes about their doctrine. For what is meant by innate 1 If innate be equivalent to natural, then all the perceptions and ideas of the mind must be allowed to be innate, or natural, in whatever sense we take the latter word, w'hether in opposition to what is uncommon, artificial, or miraculous. If by innate be meant contemporary to our birth, the dispute seems to be frivolous; nor is it worth while to inquire at what time thinking begins, whether before, at, or after our birth. Again, the word idea seems to be commonly taken in a very loose sense, even by Mr. Locke himself, as standing for any of our perceptions, our sensations and passions, as. well as thoughts. Now in this sense I should desire to know what can be meant by asserting that self-love, or resentment of injuries, or the passion betwixt the sexes is not innate? “But admitting these terms, im'pressions and ideas, in the sense above explained, and understanding by innate what is original or copied from no precedent perception, then may we assert that all our impressions are innate, and our ideas not innate. “To be ingenuous, I must own it to be my opinion that Mr. Locke was betrayed into this question by the schoolmen, who, making use of undefined terms, draw out their disputes to a tedious length, without ever touching the point in question. A like ambiguity and circumlo- cution seem to run through all that great philosophers reasonings on this subject.” (Inquiry concerning Human Understanding, Sect 11. note a.) — Ed. 147 CHAP. II.] NO INNATE PRINCIPLES IN THE MIND. liearing and understanding the terms is, I grant, a mark of self-evidence; but self-evidence, depending not on innate impressions, but on something else, (as we shall show here- after,) belongs to several propositions which nobody was yet so extravagant as to pretend to be innate. 19. Such less general Propositions hnovm before these uni- versal Maxims . — Nor let it be said, that those more particular self-evident propositions, which are assented to at first hearing, as that one and two are equal to three, that green is not red, &c., are received as the consequences of those more universal propositions which are looked on as innate prin- ciples ; since any one, who will but take the pains to observe what passes in the imderstanding, will certainly find that these, and the like less general propositions, are certainly known and firmly assented to by those who are utterly ignorant of those more general maxims ; and so, being earlier in the mind than those (as they are called) first principles, cannot owe to them the assent wherewith they are received at first hearing. 20. One and One equal to Two, (^c., not genercl nor useful^ answered . — If it be said that ‘Hhese propositions, viz., two and two are equal to four, red is not blue, &c., are not general maxims, nor of any great use,” I answer that makes nothing to the argument of universal assent upon hearing and under- standing. For if that be the certain mark of innate, what- ever proposition can be found that receives general assent as soon as heard and understood, that must be admitted for an innate proposition, as well as this maxim, “that it is im- possible for the same thing to be and not to be,” they being upon this ground equal. And as to the difference of being more general, that makes this maxim more remote from being innate; tho^e general and abstract ideas being more strangers to our first apprehensions than those of more particular self-evident propositions, and therefore it is longer before they are admitted and assented to by the growing understanding. And as to the usefulness of these magnified maxims, that perhaps will not be found so great as is generally conceived, when it comes in its due place to be more fully considered. 21. These Maxims not being known sometimes till proposed^ proves them not innate . — But we have not yet done with L 2 / 148 OF HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. [BOOK L assenting to propositions at first hearing and understanding their terms ; it is fit we first take notice that this, instead of being a mark that they are innate, is a proof of the contrary ; since it supposes that several, who understand and know other things, are ignorant of these principles till they are proposed to them, and that one may be unacquainted with these truths till he hears them from others. For if they were innate, what need they be proposed in order to gaining assent, when, by being in the understanding by a natural and original impression, (if there were any such,) they could "^'.not but be known before? Or doth the proposing them print them clearer in the mind than nature did? If so, then thfe consequence will be that a man knows them better after he has been thus taught them than he did before. Whence it will follow that these principles may be made more evident to us by others’ teaching than nature has made them by impression ; which will ill agree with the opinion of innate principles, and give but little authority to them; but, on the contrary, makes them unfit to be the foundations of all our other knowledge, as they are pretended to be. This cannot be denied, that men grow first acquainted with many of these self-evident truths upon their being proposed ; but it is clear that whosoever does so, finds in himself that he then begins to know a proposition which he knew not before, and which from thenceforth he never questions; not because it was innate, but because the consideration of the nature of the things contained in those words would not suffer him to think otherwise, how or whensoever he is brought to reflect on them. And if whatever is assented to at first hearing and understanding the terms must pass for an innate principle, every well-grounded obversation, drawn from particulars into a general rule, must be innate ; when yet it is certain that not all, but only sagacious heads light at first on these observations, and reduce them into general propositions, not innate, but collected from a preceding acquaintance and reflection on particular instances. These, when observing men have made them, unobserving men, when they are pro- posed to them, cannot refuse their assent to. 22. Implicitly known before proposing^ signifies that the Mind is capable of understanding them, or else signifies no- thing . — If it be said, ^^the understanding hath an implicit 149 OHAP. II.] NO INNATE PRINCIPLES IN THE MIND. knowledge of these principles, bnt not an explicit, before this first hearing,” (as they must who will say “that they are in the understanding before they are known,”) it will be hard to conceive what is meant by a principle imprinted on the understanding implicitly j unless it be this, that the m ind is capable of understanding and assenting firmly to such pro- positions. And thus all mathematical demonstrations, as well as first principles, must be received as native impressions on the mind ; which I fear they will scarce allow them to be, who fin d it harder to demonstrate a proposition than assent to it when demonstrated. And few mathematicians will be forward to believe that all the diagrams they have drawn, were but copies of those innate characters which nature had engraven upon .their minds. 23. The Argum&nt of assenting on first hearing, is upon a false Supposition of no precedent teaching . — There is, I fear, this further weakness in the foregoing argument, which would persuade us that therefore those maxims are to be thought innate, which men admit at first hearing, because they assent to propositions which they are not taught, nor do receive from the force of any argument or demonstration, but a bare explication or understanding of the terms. Under which there seems to me to lie this fallacy, that men are supposed not to be taught nor to learn anything de novo; when, in truth, they are taught, and do learn something they were ignorant of before. For, first, it is evident that they have learned the terms, and their signification; neither of which was bom with them. But this is not all the acquired know- ledge in the case: the ideas themselves, about which the proposition is, are not born with them, no more than their names, but got afterwards. So that in all propositions that are assented to at first hearing, the terms of the proposition, their standing for such ideas, and the ideas themselves that they stand for, being neither of them innate, I would fain know what there is remaining in such propositions that is innate. For I would gladly have any one name that propo- sition whose terms or ideas were either of them innate. We by degrees get ideas and names, and learn their appro- priated connexion one with another ; and then to propositions made in such terms, whose feignification we have learnt, and wherein the agreement or disagreement we can perceive in / 150 OF HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. ||B00K L our ideas when put together is expressed, we at first hearing assent ; though to other propositions, in themselves as certain and evident, but which are concerning ideas not so soon or so easily got, we are at the same time no way capable of assent- ing. For though a child quickly assents to this proposition, that an apple is not fire,” when by familiar acquaintance he has got the ideas of those two different things distinctly im- printed on his mind, and has learnt that the names apple and fire stand for them ; yet it will be some years after, perhaps, before the same child will assent to this proposition, that it is impossible for the same thing to be and not to be;” because that, though perhaps the words are as easy to be learnt, yet the signification of them being more large, comprehensive, and abstract than of the names annexed to those - sensible things the child hath to do with, it is longer before he learns their precise meaning, and it requires more time plainly to form in his mind those general ideas they stand for. Till that be done, you will in vain endeavour to make any child assent to a proposition made up of such general terms ; but as soon as ever he has got those ideas, and learned their names, he for- wardly closes with the one as well as the other of the forementioned propositions, and with both for the same reason; viz., because he finds the ideas he has in his mind to agree or disagree, according as the words standing for them are affirmed or denied one of another in the proposition. But if propositions be brought to him in words which stand for ideas he has not yet in his mind, to such propositions, however evidently true or false in themselves, he afibrds neither assent nor dissent, but is ignorant. For words being but empty sounds, any further than they are signs of our ideas, we cannot but assent to them as they correspond to those ideas we have, but no further than that. But the showing by what steps and ways knowledge comes into our minds, and the grounds of several degrees of assent, being the business of the following discourse, it may suffice to have only touched on it here, as one reason that made me doubt of those innate principles. 24. JV'oi innate because not universally assented to , — To conclude this argument of universal consent, I agree with these defenders of innate principles, that if they are innate they must needs have universal assent. For that a trutli CHAP. II.] NO INNATE PRINCIPLES IN THE MIND. 151 should be innate and yet not assented to, is to me as unintel- ligible as for a man to know a truth and be ignorant of it at the same time. But then, by these men’s own confession, they cannot be innate, since they are not assented to by those who understand not the terms, nor by a great part of those who do understand them, but have yet never heard nor thought of those propositions ; which, I think, is at least one half of mankind. But were the number far less, it would be enough to destroy universal assent, and thereby show these propositions not to be innate, if children alone were igno- rant of them. 25. These Maxims not the first Jcnown . — But that I may not be accused to argue from the thoughts of infants, which are unknown to us, and to conclude from what passes in their understandings before they express it, I say next, that these two general propositions are not the truths that first possess the minds of children, nor are antecedent to all acquired and adventitious notions; which, if they were innate, they must needs be. Whether we can determine it or no, it matters not, there is certainly a time when children begin to think, and their words and actions do assure us that they do so. When therefore they are capable of thought, of know- ledge, of assent, can it rationally be supposed they can be ignorant of those notions that nature has imprinted, were there any such ? Can it be imagined with any appearance of reason, that they perceive the impressions from things with- out, and be at the same time ignorant of those characters which nature itself has taken care to stamp within 1 Can they receive and assent to adventitious notions, and be igno- rant of those which are supposed woven into the very prin- ciples of their being, and imprinted there in indelible characters, to be the foundation and guide of all their acquired knowledge and future reasonings? This would be to make nature take pains to no purpose ; or at least, to write very ill, since its characters could not be read by those eyes wliich saw other things very well ; and those are very ill sup- posed the clearest parts of truth, and the foundations of all our knowledge, which are not first known, and without which the undoubted knowledge of several other things may be had. The child certainly knows that the nurse that feeds it is neither the cat it plays with, nor the blackmoor it is / 152 OF HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. [BOOK I. afraid of; that the wormseed or mustard it refuses, is not the apple or sugar it cries for; this it is certainly and undoubtedly assured of : but will any one say, it is by virtue of this principle, that it is impossible for the same thing to be and not to be,” that it so firmly assents to these and other parts of its knowledge? Or that the child has any notion or apprehension of that proposition at an age, wherein yet, it is plain, it knows a great many other truths? He that will say, children join in these general abstract speculations with their sucking-bottles and their rattles, may perhaps, with justice, be thought to have more passion and zeal for his opinion, but less sincerity and truth, than one of that age. 26. And so not innate. — Though therefore there be several general propositions that meet with constant and ready assent, as soon as proposed to men grown up, who have attained the use of more general and abstract ideas, and names standing for them ; yet they not being to be found in those of tender years, who nevertheless know other things, they cannot pre- tend to universal assent of intelligent persons, and so by no means can be supposed innate; it being impossible that any truth which is innate (if there were any such) should be un- known, at least to any one who knows anything else; since, if they are innate truths, they must be innate thoughts; there being nothing a truth in the mind that it has never thought on. Whereby it is e'^fident, if there be any innate truths in the mind, they must necessarily be the first of any thought on; the first that appear there. 27. Not innate., because they appear least, where whdt is innate shows itself clearest. — That the general maxims we are discoursing of are not known to children, idiots, and a great part of mankind, we have already sufficiently proved; whereby it is evident they have not an universal assent, nor are general impressions. But there is this further argument in it against their being innate, that these characters, if they were native and original impressions, should appear fairest and clearest in those persons in whom yet we find no footsteps of them ; and it is, in my opinion, a strong presumption that they are not innate, since they are least known to those, in whom, if they were innate, they must needs exert themselves with most force and vigour. For childi-en, idiots, savages, and illiterate people, being of all others the least corrupted CHAP, il] no innate pkinciples in the mind. 153 by custom or borrowed opinions, learning and education having not cast their native thoughts into new moulds, nor by superinducing foreign and studied doctrines, confounded those fair characters nature had written there, one might reasonably imagine that in their minds these innate notions should lie open fairly to every one’s view, as it is certain the thoughts of children do. It might very well be expected that these principles should be perfectly known to "naturals, which being stamped immediately on the soul, (as these men suppose,) can have no dependence on the constitutions or organs of the body, the only confessed difference between them and others. One would think, according to these men’^ principles, that all these native beams of light (were there any such) should, in those who have no reserves, no arts of concealment, shine out in their full lustre, and leave us in no more doubt of their being there, than we are of their love of pleasure and abhorrence of pain. But alas, amongst children, idiots, savages, and the grossly illiterate, ' what general maxims are to be founds what universal principles of know- ledge? Their notions are few and narrow, borrowed only from those objects they have had most to do with, and which have made upon their senses the frequentest and strongest impressions. A child knows his nurse and his cradle, and by degrees the playthings of a little more advanced age; and a young savage has, perhaps, his head filled with love and himting, according to the fashion of his tribe. But he that from a child untaught, or a wild inhabitant of the woods, will expect these abstract maxims and reputed principles of science, will, I fear, find himself mistaken. Such kind of general propositions are seldom mentioned in the huts of Indians, much less are they to be found in the thoughts of children, or any impressions of them on the minds of naturals. They are the language and business of the schools and academies of learned nations, accustomed to that sort of conversation or learning, where disputes are frequent ; these maxims being suited to artificial argumentation and useful for conviction, but not much conducing to the discovery of truth or advancement of knowledge. But of their small use for the improvement of knowledge I shall have occasion to speak more at large, 1. 4, c. 7. 28. Recapitulation . — i know not how absurd this maj / I54r OF HUMAN UNDERSTANT>ING. [bOOK I. seem to the , masters of demonstration ; and probably it will hardly go down with anybody at first hearing. I must therefore beg a little truce with prejudice, and the forbearance of censure, till I have been heard out in the sequel of this discourse, being very willing to submit to better judgments. “ And since I impartially search after truth, I shall not be sorry to be convinced that I have been too fond of my own notions ; which I confess we are all apt to be when application and study have warmed our heads with them. Upon the whole matter, I cannot see any ground to think these two speculative maxims innate, since they are nob universally assented to ; and the assent they so generally find is no other than what several propositions, not allowed to be innate, equally partake in with them; and since the assent that is given them is produced another way, and comes not from natural inscription, as I doubt not but to make appear in the following discourse. And if these first principles of knowledge and science are found not to be innate, no other speculative maxims can, I suppose, with better right pretend to be so. CHAPTEE III. NO INNATE PRACTICAL PRINCIPLES. 1. Ao moral Principles so clear and so generally received as the forermntioned speculative Maxims . — If those speculative maxims, whereof we discoursed in the foregoing chapter, have not an actual universal assent from all mankind, as we there proved, it is much more visible concerning practical principles, that they come short of an imiversal reception; and I think it will be hard to instance any one moral rule which can pretend to so general and ready an assent as, “what is, is;” or to be so manifest a truth as this, “ that it is impossible for the same thing to be and not to be.” Whereby it is evident that they are further removed from a title to be innate ; and the doubt of their being native impressions on the mind is stronger against those moral principles than the other. Uot that it brings their truth at all in question ; they are equally true, though not equally evident. Those speculative maxims carry their own evidence with them; but moral principles 155 CHAP. III.] NO INNATE PRACTICAL PRINCIPLES. require reasoning and discourse, and some exercise of the mind, to discover the certainty of their truth. They lie not open as natural characters engraven on the mind; which, if any such were, they must needs be visible by themselves, and by their own light be certain and known to everyftbdy. But this is no derogation to their truth and certainty, no more than it is to the truth or certainty of the three angles of a triangle being equal to two right ones ; because it is not so evident as the whole is bigger than a part,” nor so apt to be assented to at first hearing. It may suffice that these moral rules are capable of demonstration ; * 'and therefore it is our * Those philosophers who maintain the principles of morals to be innate, do in reality convert them into instincts, in the teeth, as Locke proceeds to show, of all reasoning and experience. The hints which he here and elsewhere throws out respecting the demonstrable nature of the principles of morality, induced his able correspondent Mr. Molyneux to urge upon him the task of following up the idea, and composing a complete system of ethics. Writing to him on the subject of the Essay in general, his correspondent observes : ‘ ‘ One thing I must needs insist on to you, which is, that you would think of obliging the world with a treatise of morals, drawn up according to the hints you frequently give in your Essay, of their being demonstrable according to the mathematical method. This is most certainly true ; but then the task must be under- taken only by so clear and distinct a thinker as you are. This were an attempt worthy your consideration. And there is nothing I should more ardently wish for than to see it. And therefore, good sir, let me beg of you to turn your thoughts this way ; and if so young a friendship as mine have any force, let me prevail upon you.” (Works, iii. 502.) To which Locke replies, ^’Though by the view I had of moral ideas, while I was considering that subject, I thought I saw that morality might be demonstratively made out ; yet whether I am able so to make it out is another question. Every one could not have demonstrated what Mr. Newton’s book hath shown to be demonstrable: but to show my readiness to obey your commands, I shall not decline the first leisure T can get, to employ some thoughts that way ; unless I find what I have said in my Essay shall have stirred up some abler man to prevent me, and effectually do that service to the world.” (p. 504.) With this half- promise Mr. Molyneux was not content, but in a letter written shortly after again urges the philosopher to set about a system of ethics. “There remains only,” he says, “that I again put you in mind of the second member of your division of sciences, that is, Practica, or ethics *. you cannot imagine what an earnest desire and expectation I have raised in those that are acquainted with your writings, by the hopes I have given them, from your promise of endeavourng something on that subject. Good sir, let me renew my requests to you theiein; for believe me, sir, ’t will be one of the most useful and glorious undertakings that can employ you. The touches you give in many places of your book on this subject are wonderfully curious, and do largely testify your groat 156 OF HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. [bOOK I. own. fault if we come not to a certain knowledge of them. But the ignorance wherein many men are of them, and the slowness of assent wherewith others receive them, are manifest proofs that they are not innate, and such as offer themselves to their view without searching. 2. Faith and Justice not owned as Principles hy all Mm . — Whether there be any such moral principles wherein all men do agree, I appeal to any who have been but moderately conversant in the history of mankind, and looked abroad beyond the smoke of their own chimneys. Where is that practical truth that is universally received without doubt or question, as it must be if innate? Justice, and keeping of contracts, is that which most men seem to agree in. This is a principle which is thought to extend itself to the dens of thieves, and the confederacies of the greatest villains ; and abilities that way, and I am sure the pravity of men’s morals does mightily require the most powerful means to reform them. Be as large as ’tis possible on this subject, and by all means let it be in English. He that reads the 45th section in your 129th page, will be inflamed to read more of the same kind from the same incomparable pen. Look therefore on yourself as obliged by God Almighty to undertake this task (pardon me, sir, that I am so free with you, as to insist to yourself on your duty, who, doubtless, understand it better than I can tell you) : sufier not therefore your thoughts to rest till you have finished it.” (p. 506.) Locke, however, after further solicitation from his friend, finally excused himself in the following terms for not entering upon the undertaking: ‘‘As to a treatise on morals, I must own to you, that you and Mr. Burridge are not the only persons who have been for putting me upon it ; neither have I wholly laid by the thoughts of it. Nay I so far incline to comply with your desires, that I every now and then lay by some materials for it, as they occasionally occur in the rovings of my mind. But when I consider that a book of offices, as you call it, ought not to be slightly done, especially by me, after what I have said of that science in my Essay, and that nonum jprematus in annum is a rule more necessary to be observed in a subject of that consequence than in anything Horace speaks of, I am in doubt whether it would be prudent, in one of my age and health, not to mention other disabilities in me, to set about it. Did the world want a rule, I confess there could be no work so necessary, nor so commendable. But the Gospel contains so perfect a body of ethics, that reason may be excused from that inquiry, since she may find man’s duty clearer and easier in revelation than in herself. Think not this the excuse of a lazy man, though it be, perhaps, o^ one, who, having a sufficient rule for his actions, is content therewith, and thinks he may, perhaps, with more profit to himself, employ the little time and strength he has m other researches, wherein he finds hhnself more in the dark.” (p. 546 .) — Ed. CHAP. IIL] no innate PRACTICAL PRINCIPLES. 157 they who have gone furthest towards the putting off of humanity itself, keep faith and rules of justice one with another. I grant that outlaws themselves do this one amongst another; but it is without receiving these as the innate laws of nature. They practice them as rules of con- venience within their own communities : but it is impossible to conceive that he embraces justice as a practical principle, who acts fairly with his fellow-highwayman, and at the same time plunders or kills the next honest man he meets with. Justice and truth are the common ties of society; and there- fore even outlaws and robbers, who break with all the world besides, must keep faith and rules of equity amongst them- selves, or else they cannot hold together. But will any one say, that those that live by fraud or rapine have innate prin- ciples of truth and justice which they allow and assent to? 3. Objection. Though Men deny them in their Practice, yet they admit them in their Thoughts, answered . — Perhaps it will be urged, that the tacit assent of their minds agrees to what their practice contradicts. I answer, first, I have always thought the actions of men the best interpreters of their thoughts. But since it is certain that most men’s practices, and some men's open professions, have either questioned or denied these principles, it is impossible to establish an uni- versal consent, (though we should look for it only amongst grown men,) without which it is impossible to conclude them innate. Secondly, it is very strange and unreasonable to suppose innate practical principles, that terminate only in contemplation. Practical principles derived from nature are there for operation, and must produce conformity of action, not barely speculative assent to their truth, or else they are in vain distinguished from speculative maxims. Nature, I confess, has put into man a desire of happiness and an aversion to misery 'P these indeed are innate practical prin- ♦ Plato thus, m his eloquent manner, expresses the same idea, which has of course presented itself to every mind. ‘ ‘ Pleasure and pain are two fountains set flowing by nature, and according to the degree of prudence and moderation with which men draw from them they are happy or otherwise. Their channels run parallel, but not on the same level ; so that if the sluices of the former be too lavishly opened, they overflow and mingle with the bitter waters of the neighbouring stream, which never assimilate with this flner fluid.” (De Legibus, t. viiL p. 203 et seq. — E d. 158 OF HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. [bOOK L ciples wliioh (as practical ought) do continue constantly to operate and influence all our actions without ceasing; these may be observed in all persons and all ages, steady and universal; but these are inclinations of the appetite to good, not impressions of truth on the understanding. I deny not that there are natural tendencies imprinted on the minds of men ; and that from the very first instances of sense and perception, there are some things that are grateful and others unwelcome to them ; some things that they incline to and others that they fly; but this makes nothing for innate characters on the mind, which are to be the principles of ku owledge regulating our practice. Such natural impressions on the understanding are so far from being confirmed hereby, that this is an argument against them ; since, if there were certain characters imprinted by nature on the understanding, as the principles of knowledge, we could not but perceive them constantly operate in us and influence our knowledge, as we do those others on the will and appetite ; which never cease to be the constant springs and motives of all our actions, to which we perpetually feel them strongly impelling us. 4. Moral Rules need a Proof, ergo not innate . — Another reason that makes me doubt of any innate practical prin- ciples is, that I think there cannot any one moral rule be proposed whereof a man may not justly demand a reason; which would be perfectly ridiculous and absurd if they were innate, or so much as self-evident; which every innate prin- ciple must needs be, and not need any proof to ascertain its truth, nor want any reason to gain it approbation. He ^j^ould be thought void of common sense who asked on the one side, or on the other side went to give a reason, why it is impossible for the same thing to be and not to be. It carries its own light and evidence with it, and needs no other proof : he that understands the terms assents to it for its own sake, or else nothing will ever be able to prevail with him to do it. But should that most unshaken rule of morality and founda- tion of all social virtue, that one should do as he would be done unto,” be proposed to one who never heard of it before, but yet is of capacity to understand its meaning, might he not without any absurdity ask a reason why? And were not he that proposed it bound to make out the truth and reasonable- ness of it to him? Which plainly shows it not to be innate; CHAP. III.J KO INNATE PRACTICAL PRINCIPLES. 159 for if it were it could neither want nor receive any proof ; but must needs (at least as soon as heard and understood) be received and assented to as an unquestionable truth, which a man can by no means doubt of. So that the truth of all these moral rules plainly depends upon some other ante- cedent to them, and from which they must be deduced ; which could not be if either they were innate or so much as self- evident. 5. Instance in heeping Compacts . — That men should keep their compacts is certainly a great and undeniable rule in morality. But yet, if a Christian, who has the view of hap- piness and misery in another life, be asked why a man must keep his word, he will give this as a reason: Because Cod, who has the power of eternal life and death, requires it of us.* But if a B[ob\)ist be asked why, he will answer. Because the public requires it, and the Leviathan will punish you if you do not.f And if one of the old philosophers had been ^ Paley was possibly misled by some vague recollection of this passage, when he drew up his definition of virtue, (Moral and Political Philosophy, i. 7,) on which Mackintosh has remarked with so much severity. ‘‘Virtue,” he says, “is the doing good to mankind, in obedience to the will of God, and for the sake of everlasting happiness.” Mackintosh insists that these words, which he will not allow to be a definition at all, “contain a false account of virtue.” “According to this doctrine, every action not done for the sake of the agent to happiness is vicioijis. Now it is plain that an act cannot be said to be done for the sake of anything which is not present to the mind of the agent at the moment of action. It is a contradiction in terms to affirm that a man acts for the sake of any object, of which, however it may be the necessary con- sequence of his act, he is not at the time fully aware. The unfelt con- sequences of his act can no more inffuence his will than its unknown consequences. Nay, further, a man is only with any propriety said to act for the sake of his chief object ; nor can he with entire correctness be saM to act for the sake of anything but his sole object. So that it is a necessary consequence of Paley’ s proposition, that every act which flows from generosity or benevolence is a vice. So also of every act of obedience to the will of God, if it arises from any motive but a desire of the reward which he will bestow. Any act of obedience influenced by gratitude and affection and veneration towards supreme benevolence and perfection, is so far imperfect ; and if it arises solely from these motives it becomes a vice. It must be owned that this excellent and most enlightened man has laid the foundations of religion and virtue in a more intense and exclusive selfishness than was avowed by the Catholic enemies of Fenelon, when they persecuted him for his doctrine of a pure and disinterested love of God.” (Ethic. Phil. p. 278 et seq. See Whewell, preface, p. 20 et seq.) — Ed. t There is something very humorous in this sarcastic allusion to Hobbes. 160 OF HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. [book I. asked, he would have answered, because it was dishonest, below the dignity of a man, and opposite to virtue, the highest perfection of human nature, to do otherwise. 6. Virtue generally approved, not because innate, hut because profitable . — Hence naturally flows the great variety of opinions concerning moral rules which are to be found among men, according to the difierent sorts of happiness they have a prospect of, or propose to themselves; which could not be if practical principles were innate, and imprinted in our minds immediately by the hand of God. I grant the existence of God is so many ways manifest, and the obedience we owe him so congruous to the light of reason, that a great part of mankind give testimony to the law of nature; but yet I think it must be allowed that several moral rules may receive from mankind a very general approbation, without either knowing or admitting the true ground of morality; which can only be the will and law of a God, who sees men in the dark, has in his hand rewards and pimishments, and power enough to call to account the proudest offender. For God having, by an inseparable connexion, joined virtue and public happiness together, and made the practice thereof necessary to the preservation of society, and visibly beneficial to all with whom the virtuous man has to do, it is no w^onder that every one should not only allow, but recommend and magnify those rules to others, from whose observance of them he is sure to reap advantage to himself He may out of interest, as well as conviction, cry up that for sacred, which if once trampled on and profaned, he himself cannot be safe nor secure. This, though it takes nothing from the moral and eternal obligation which these rules evidently have, yet it shows that the outward acknowledgment men pay to them in their words, proves not that they are innate principles ; nay, it proves not so much as that men assent to them in- wardly in their own minds, as the inviolable rules of their own practice; since we find that self-interest, and the con- veniences of this life, make many men own an outward The great sophist explains m many places his theory of compacts, but nowhere perhaps more concisely or clearly than in his treatise De Give, i. 2. 9. et seq. For the true theory, with the principles on which it is based, see Grotius de Jure Belli et Pacis, ii. 12. 7. et seq., and in other parts of that great work. — Ed. 161 CHAP. HI.] NO INNATE PRACTICAL PRINCIPLES. profession ^nd approbation of them, whose actions sufficiently prove that they very little consider the Lawgiver that pre- cribed these rules, nor the hell that he has ordained for the punishment of those that transgress them. 7. Mens Actions convince us, that the Rule of Virtue is not their internal Principle . — For if we will not in civility allow too much sincerity to the professions of most men, but think their actions to be the interpreters of their thoughts, we shall find that they have no such internal veneration for these rules, nor so full a persuasion of their certainty and obligation. The great principle of morality, “ to do as one would be done to,” is more commended than practised. But the breach of this rule cannot be a greater vice, than to teach others that it is no moral rule, nor obligatory, would be thought madness, and contrary to that interest men sacrifice to, when they break it themselves. Perhaps conscience will be urged as checking us for such breaches, and so the internal obligation and establishment of the rule be preserved. 8. Conscience no Proof of any innate Moral Rule . — To which I answer, that I doubt not but, without being written on their hearts, many men may, by the same way that they come to the knowledge of other things, come to assent to several moral rules, and be convinced of their obligation. Others also may come to be of the same mind, from their education, company, and customs of their country; which persuasion, however got, will serve to set conscience on work, which is nothing else but our own opinion or judgment of the moral rectitude or pravity of our own actions.* And if * Compare, on the notion at present prevailing of the nature and elements of conscience, the remarks of Mackintosh, Dissertations, &c., p. 372, with the brief but lucid and interesting exposition of Whewell in the preface, p. 39 et seq. Butler, in his Dissertation on Virtue, p. 340, has touched briefly upon this subject, and again in his Sermons ii. and iii. Hobbes takes a very peculiar view of conscience. “It is,” he says, ‘ ‘ either science or opinion which we commonly mean by the word conscience ; for men say that such and such a thing is true in or upon their conscience ; which they never do when they think it doubtful, and therefore they know, or think they know it to be true. But men, when they say things upon their conscience, are not therefore presumed certainly to know the truth of what they say: it remaineth then that that word is used by them that have an opinion, not only of the truth of the thing, but also of their knowledge of it, to which the truth of the proposition is consequent. Conscience I therefore define to be opinion of evidence.'^ (Hum. Nat. c. vi. § 8 .) — Ed. VOL. I. 162 OF HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. [bOOK I. conscience be a proof of innate principles, contraries may be innate principles, since some men with the same bent of conscience prosecute what others avoid. 9. Instances of Enormities ^practised without Remorse . — But I cannot see how any men should ever transgress those moral rules, with confidence and serenity, were they innate, and stamped upon their minds. Yiew but an army at the sacking of a town, and see what observation or sense of moral principles, or what touch of conscience for all the outrages they do. Bobberies, murders, rapes, are the sports of men set at liberty from punishmei^it and censure. Have there not been whole nations, and those of the most civilized people, amongst whom the exposing their children, and leaving them in the fields to perish by want or wild beasts, has been the practice, as little condemned or scrupled as the begetting them?'^ Do they not still, in some countries, put them into the same graves with their mothers, if they die in childbirth ; or dispatch them, if a pretended astrologer declares them to have unhappy stars'? And are there not places where, at a certain age, they kill or expose their parents without any remorse at all?”f In a part of Asia, the sick, when their * On the subject of infanticide, as practised in antiquity, I have collected and arranged, in my work on the Character and Manners of the Greeks, nearly, or perhaps all the authorities of any value existing in ancient literature. The same crime is common, as is well known, in Hindhstan and China. The practice in the former country I have described in my work entitled ‘‘The Hindoos,” vol. i. p. 245 et seq. The theoiy prevalent on the subject among the Chinese, may be under- stood from the following passage of Sir George Staunton : ‘ ‘ Habit seems to have familiarized them with the notion that life only becomes truly precious, and inattention to it criminal, after it has continued long enough to be endowed with mind and sentiment ; but that mere dawning existence may be suffered to be lost without scruple, though it cannot without reluctance.” (Embassy to China, vol. ii. p. 158.) — Ed. t Or eat them, as described in the Pearl Merchant, among the “Tales of the Rhamadhan.” This is still the practice of the Bhattas in the island of Sumatra, (see Marsden’s history of that island,) and anciently prevailed among the natives of Hindhstan. Herodotus, in his naive style, describes the manners of those ungodly savages, and relates in illustration a highly characteristic anecdote : “To the east are Indians, called Padaei, who lead a pastoral life, live on raw flesh, and are said to observe these customs : if any man among them be diseased, his nearest connexions put him to death, alleging in excuse that sickness would waste and injure his flesh. They pay no regard to his assertions that he is not really ill, but without the smallest compunction deprive him of CHAP. III.] NO INNATE PRACTICAL PRINCIPLES. 163 case comes to be thought desperate, are carried out and laid on the earth before they are dead ; and left there, exposed to wind and weather, to perish without assistance or pity.'^ It is familiar among the Mingrelians, a people professing Christianity, to bury their children alive without scruple. t There are places where they eat their own children. J The Caribbees were wont to geld their children, on purpose to fat and eat them. || And Garcilasso de la Yega tells us of a people in Peru, which were wont to fat and eat the children they got on their female captives, whom they kept as concu- bines for that purpose, and when they were past breeding, the mothers themselves were killed too and eaten.§ The virtues whereby the Tououpinambos believed they merited paradise, were revenge, and eating abundance of their enemies. They have not so much as a name for God, IT and have no religion, no worship.*'^ The saints who are canonized amongst the life. If a woman be ill, her female connexions treat her in the same manner. The more aged among them are regularly killed and eaten ; but there are very few who arrive at old age, for in case of sickness they put every one to death.” (iii 99.) In illustration of the force of custom, he observes, Whoever had the opportunity of choosing for their own observance, from all the nations of the world, such laws and customs as to them seemed the best, would, I am of opinion, after the most careful examination, adhere to their own. Each nation believes that their own laws are by far the most excellent; no one therefore but a madman would treat such prejudices with contempt. That all men are really thus tenacious of their own customs, appears from this amongst other instances. Darius once sent for such of the Greeks as were dependent on his power, and asked them what reward would induce them to eat the bodies of their deceased parents ; they replied that no sum could prevail on them to commit such a deed. In the presence of the same Greeks, who by an interpreter were informed of what had passed, he sent also for the Callatiae, a people of India, known to eat the bodies of their parents. He asked them for what sum they would consent to burn the bodies of their parents. The Indians were disgusted at the question, and entreated him to forbear such language. Such is the force of custom; and Pindar seems to me to have spoken with peculiar pro- priety, when he obseiwed that custom was the universal sovereign.” (iii. 38.)— Ed. * Gruber apud Thevenot, part iv. p. 13. + Lambert apud Thevenot, p. 38. t Yossius de Nili Origine, c. 18, 19. li P. Mart, Dec. 1. § Hist, des Incas, 1. i. c. 12. U Lery, c. 16. 216, 231. ** What then is the meaning of what is said about their meriting paradise? Locke is here somewhat too credulous, for, that a people who are represented to be believers in a future state, and to have formed 164 OF HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. [book I. Turks, lead lives which one cannot with modesty relate. A remarkable passage to this purpose, out of the voyage of Baumgarten, which is a book not every day to be met with, I shall set down at large in the language it is published in. Ihi (sc. prope Belbes in .^Slgypto) vidimus sanctum unum Saracenicum inter arenarum cumulos, ita ut ex utero matris prodiit^ nudum sedentem. Mos est, ut didicimus, Mahometistis, ut eos, qui amentes et sine ratione sunt, pro sanctis colant et venerentur. Insuper et eos, qui cum diu vitam egerint inquinatissimam, voluntariam demum poenitentiam et pauper- tatem, sanctitate venerandos deputant. Ejusmodi verb genus liominum lihertatem quandam effrenem habent, domos quos volunt intrandi, edendi, hihendi, et quod majus est, concum- hendi; ex quo concuhitu si proles secuta fuerit, sancta similiter hahetur. His ergo hominihus dum vivunt, magnos exhihent honor es; mortuis verb vel templa vel monumenta extruunt amplissima, eosque contingere ac sepelire maximoe fortunce ducunt loco. Audivimus hcec dicta et dicenda per interpretem d Mucrelo nostro. Insuper sanctum ilium, quern eo loco vidimus, piMicitus apprime commendari, eum esse hominem sanctum, divinum ac integritate prcecipuum eo quod, nec foeminarum unquam esset, nec puerorum, sed tantummodo notions, however gross and absurd, respecting what actions admit or exclude from paradise, should have no name for the G-od in whom they believe, is wholly incredible. Perhaps, like the Pelasgi, and all civilized races, they may distinguish the Deity by no proper name, though they must have a substantive in their language signifying God. No language whatever, of which a complete vocabulary has been published, is found to want such a substantive ; nor do I believe that any thus imperfect exists in the world. I am happy to observe that upon this point Dr. Whately’s opinions nearly resemble my own: “Nations of Atheists, if there are any such^ are confessedly among the rudest and most ignorant savages. Those who represent their god or gods as malevolent, capricious, or subject to human passions and vices, are invariably to be found (in the present day at least) among those who are brutal and uncivilized ; -and among the most civilized nations of the ancients, who professed a similar \ creed, the more enlightened members of society seem either to have rejected altogether, or to have explained away the popular belief. The hlahometan nations, again, of the present day, who are certainly moj*e advanced in civilization than their Pagan neighbours, maintain the unity and the moral excellence of the Deity ; but the nations of Christen- dom, whose notions of the Divine goodness are more exalted, are unde- niably the most civilized part of the world, and possess, generally speaking, the most cultivated and improved intellectual powers.” (Ehet, part i. c. 11. § 5 .) — Ed. CHAP. III.] NO INNATE PRACTICAL PRINCIPLES. 165 aseUarwm concuhitor atque mularum, (Peregr. Baumgarten, 1. ii. c. 1. p. 73.) More of the same kind concerning these precious saints amongst the Turks may he seen in Pietro della Yalle, in his letter of the 25th of January, 1616. Where then are those innate principles of justice, piety, gratitude, equity, chastity Or where is that universal consent that assures us there are such inbred rules? Murders in duels, when fashion has made them honourable, are committed without remorse of conscience j t nay, in many places innocence in this case is the greatest ignominy. And if we look abroad to take a view of men as they are, we shall find that they have remorse in one place for doing or omitting that which others in another place think they merit by. 1 0. Men have contrary practical Principles. — He that will carefully peruse the history of mankind, and look abroad into the several tribes of men, and with indifierency survey their actions, will be able to satisfy himself that there is scarce that principle of morality to be named, or rule of virtue to be thought on, (those only excepted that are abso- lutely necessary to hold society together,]; which commonly too are neglected betwixt distinct societies,) which is not somewhere or other slighted and condemned by the general fashion of whole societies of men governed by practical opinions and rules of living quite opposite to others. 11. Whole Nations reject several Moral Rides. — Here per- haps it will be objected, that it is no argument that the rule is not known, because it is broken. I grant the objection * I miss m this whole passage the acuteness and suhtilty of discrimi- nation which usually distinguish the speculations of Locke. All that can he inferred from such examples is, that superstition operates more powerfully among the nations in question than the principles of justice, &c., which though not built upon innate ideas, spring naturally out of the constitution of the human mind. In proof of this I may remark, that if any other man should in Turkey be guilty of the turpitudes per- petrated by their pretended saints, he would run the risk of being impaled alive. Their notions of piety, justice, chastity, are confused and imperfect, but nevertheless exist, and in many cases influence their conduct. (Conf. Leo. African.) — E d. + Experience does not, I think, bear him out in this. Few duellists with blood upon their hands lead a tranquil or respectable life. They are unhappy in themselves, and secretly despised by their neighbours. — E d. J But in excepting these, we except all the fundamental principles of morality. — E d. / 166 OF HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. [bOOK I. good where men, though they transgress, yet disown not the law ; where fear of shame, censure, or punishment carries the mark of some awe it has upon them. But it is impossible to conceive that a whole nation of men should all publicly reject and renounce what every one of them certainly and infallibly knew to be a law, for so they must who have it naturally imprinted on their minds. It is possible men may some- times own rules of morality which in their private thoughts they do not believe to be true, only to keep themselves in reputation and esteem amongst those who are persuaded of their obligation. But it is not to be imagined that a whole society of men should publicly and professedly disown and cast off a rule which they could not in their own minds but be infallibly certain was a law ; nor be ignorant that all men they should have to do with knew it to be such ; and there- fore must every one of them apprehend from others all the contempt and abhorrence due to one who professes himself void of humanity ; and one who, confounding the known and natural measures of right and wrong, cannot but be looked on as the professed enemy of their peace and happiness. Whatever practical principle is innate, cannot but be known to every one to be just and good. It is therefore little less than a contradiction to suppose that whole nations of men should, both in their professions and practice, unanimously and universally give the lie to what, by the most invincible evidence, every one of them knew to be true, right, and good. This is enough to satisfy us that no practical rule which is anywhere universally, and with public approbation or allow- ance, transgressed, can be supposed innate. But I have something further to add in answer to this objection. 12. The breaking of a rule, say you, is no argument that it is unknown. I grant it : but the generally allowed breach of it anywhere, I say, is a proof that it is not innate. For example : let us take any of these rules, which being the most obvious deductions of human reason, and conformable to the natural inclination of the greatest part of men, fewest people have had the impudence to deny or inconsideration to doubt of. If any can be thought to be naturally imprinted, none, I think, can have a fairer pretence to be innate than this, Parents, preserve and cherish your children.” When, there- fore, you say that this is am innate rule, what do you mean I CUAP. III.] NO INNATE PRACTICAL PRINCIPLES. 167 Either that it is an innate principle which upon all occasions excites and directs the actions of all men ; or else, that it is a truth which all men have imprinted on their minds, and which therefore they know and assent to. But in neither of these senses is it innate. First, that it is not a principle which influences all men’s actions, is what I have proved by the examples before cited; nor need we seek so far as Mingrelia or Peru to find instances of such as neglect, abuse, nay, and destroy their children, or look on it only as the more than brutality of some savage and barbarous nations, when we remember that it was a familiar and uncondemned practice amongst the Greeks and Bomans to expose, without pity or remorse, their innocent infants. Secondly, that it is an innate truth, known to all men, is also false. For, Parents, preserve your children^” is so far from an innate truth, that it is no truth at all ; it being a command, and not a proposition, and so not capable of truth or falsehood. To make it capable of being assented to as true, it must be reduced to some such proposition as this : It is the duty of parents to preserve their children.” But what duty is, cannot be understood without a law, nor a law be known or supposed without a lawmaker, or without reward and punishment ; so that it is impossible that this or any other practical principle should be innate, i. e., be imprinted on the mind as a duty, without supposing the ideas of God, of law, of obligation, of punish- ment, of a life after this, innate : for that punishment follows not in this life the breach of this rule, and consequently that it has not the force of a law in countries where the generally allowed practice runs counter to it, is in itself evident. But these ideas (which must he all of them innate, if anything as a duty be so) are so far from being innate, that it is not every studious or thinking man, much less every one that is born, in whom they are to be found clear and distinct ; and that one of them, which of all others seems most likely to be innate, is not so, (I mean the idea of God,) I think, in the next chapter, will appear very evident to any considering man. 13. From what has been said, I think we may safely con- clude, that whatever practical rule is in any place generally and with allowance broken, cannot be supposed innate, it being imf^-Hisible that men should, without shame or fear, confidently and serenely break a rule which they could not 168 OF HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. [bOOK t but evidently know that God had set-up, and would certainly punish the breach of, (which they must, if it were innate,) to a degree to make it a very ill bargain to the transgressor. Without such a knowledge as this, a man can never be certain that anything is his duty. Ignorance or doubt of the law, hopes to escape the knowledge or power of the law-maker, or the like, may make men give way to a present appetite; but let any one see the fault, and the rod by it, and with the transgression, a fire ready to punish it; a pleasure tempting, and the hand of the Almighty visibly held up and prepared to take vengeance, (for this must be the case where any duty is imprinted on the mind,) and then tell me whether it be possible for people with such a prospect, such a certain know- ledge as this, wantonly, and without scruple, to ofiend against a law which they carry about them in indelible characters, and that stares them in the face whilst they are breaking it] whether men, at the same time that they feel in themselves the imprinted edicts of an Omnipotent Law-maker, can with assurance and gaiety slight and trample underfoot his most sacred injunctions'? and lastly, whether it be possible that whilst a man thus openly bids defiance to this innate law and supreme Lawgiver, all the bystanders, yea, even the governors and rulers of the people, full of the same sense both of the law and Law-maker, should silently connive, without testi- fying their dislike or laying the least blame on it *? Principles of actions indeed there are lodged in men’s appetites, but these are so far from being innate moral principles, that if they were left to their full swing they would carry men to the overturning of all morality. Moral laws are set as a curb and restraint to these exorbitant desires, which they cannot be but by rewards and punishments that will over- balance the satisfaction any one shall propose to himself in the breach of the law. If, therefore, anything be imprinted on the minds of all men as a law, all men must have a certain and unavoidable knowledge, that certain and unavoidable punishment will attend the breach of it. For if men can be ignorant or doubtful of what is innate, innate principles are insisted on, and urged to no purpose; truth and certainty (the things pretended) are not at all secured by them ; but men are in the same uncertain floating estate with as without them. An evident indubitable knowledge of unavoidable CHAP. III.] NO INNATE PEACTICAL PRINCIPLES. 169 punisiiment, great enough to make the transgression very uneligible, must accompany an innate law, unless with an innate law they can suppose an innate Gospel too. I would not here be mistaken, as if, because I deny an innate law, I thought there were none but positive laws. There is a great ^eal of difference between an innate law, and a law of nature ; between something imprinted on our minds in their very original, and something that we being ignorant of, may attain to the knowledge of by the use and due application of natural faculties.’^ And I think they equally forsake the ti-uth who, running into contrary extremes, either affirm an • innate law, or deny that there is a law knowable by the light of nature, i. e., without the help of positive revelation. 14. Those who maintain innate practical Principles, tell ns not what they are . — The difference there is amongst men in their practical principles is so evident that I think I need say no more to evince that it will be impossible to find any innate moral rules by this mark of general assent ; and it is enough to make one suspect that the supposition of such innate principles is but an opinion taken up at pleasure, since those who talk so confidently of them are so sparing to tell us which they are. This might with justice be ^expected from those men who lay stress upon this opinion; and it gives occasion to distrust either their knowledge or charity, who, declaring that God has imprinted on the minds of men the foundations of knowledge and the rules of living, are yet so little favourable to the information of their neigh- bours or the quiet of mankind, as not to point out to them which they are, in the variety men are distracted with. But, in truth, were there any such innate principles there would be no need to teach them. Did men find such innate pro- positions stamped on their minds, they would easily be able to distinguish them from other truths that they afterwards learned and deduced from them, and there would be nothing more easy than to know what and how many they were. There could be no more doubt about their number, than ‘ there is about the number of our fingers ; and it is like then every system would be ready to give them us by tale. But since nobody, that I know, has ventured yet to give a cata- * This is a refutation of the opinions mentioned by Hume, that ‘‘in- nate ’ is synonymous with “natural.” See ante, note 1, p. 89 . — Ed. / 170 OF HUMAN UNDERSTANBTNG. [bOOK L logue of them, they cannot blame those who doubt of these innate principles, since even they who require men to believe that there are such innate propositions, do not tell us what they are. It is easy to foresee, that if different men of different sects should go about to give us a list of those innate practical principles, they would set down only such as suited their distinct hypotheses, and were fit to support the doctrines of their particular schools or churches ; a plain evidence that there are no such innate truths. Nay, a great part of men are so far from finding any such innate moral principles in themselves, that by denying freedom to mankind, and thereby making men no other than bare machines, they take away not only innate, but all moral rules whatsoever, and leave not a possibility to believe any such to those who cannot conceive how anything can be capable of a law that is not a free agent ; and upon that ground they must necessarily reject all prin- ciples of virtue who cannot put morality and mechanism to- gether, which are not very easy to be reconciled or made consistent.''^ 15. Lord Herbert's innate Principles examined. — When I had written this, being informed that my Lord Herbert had, in his book Be Yeritate, assigned these innate principles, I presently consulted him, hoping to find in a man of so great parts, something that might satisfy me in this point, and put an end to my inquiry. In his chapter De Instinctu Naturali, p. 72, edit. 1656, I met with these six marks of his Notitice Communes: 1. Prioritas. 2. Independentia. 3. Universal * Compare with this idea the following passage of a very distinguished writer : ‘ ‘ That law which, as it is laid up in the bosom of God, they call eternal, receiveth, according unto the different kinds of things which are subject unto it, sundry and different kinds of names. That part of it which ordereth natural agents, we call usually nature’s law; that which angels do clearly behold, and without any swerving observe, is a law celestial and heavenly ; the law of reason, that which bindeth creatures reasonable in this world, and with which by reason they most plainly perceive themselves bound ; that which bindeth them, and is not known but by special revelation from God, divine law. Human law, that which out of the law, either of reason or of God, men probably gathering to be expedient, they make it a law. All things, therefore, which are as they ought to be, are conformed unto this second law eternal; and even those things which to this eternal law are not conformable, are notwith- standing in some sort ordered by the first eternal law.” (Hooker, Eicclesi, Polit. book i. § 3.) — Ed. CHAP. III. NO INNATE PKACTICAL PRINCIPLES. 171 litas. 4. Certitudo. 5. Necessitas^ i. e., as he explains it, fad imprinted on the minds of all men speaking the same language, a name for himself, but not les homines est suffisante? Oui, dit-il. — Et ndanmoins elle n’a nui effet sans grace ejfficace? Cela est vrai, dit-il. — Et tons n’ont pas Vefficace? 11 est vrai, dit-il. — C’ est- k- dire, lui dis-je, que tons ont assez de grace, et que tout n’en ont pas assez; c’ est- k- dire, que cette grace suffit, quoiqu’elle ne suffice pas; c’est-k-dire, quelle est suffisante de nom, et insuffisante en effet. En bonne foi, mon pbre, cette doctrine est bien subtile. Avez-vous oublid, en quittant le monde, ce que le mot de suffisant j signifie? ne vous souvient-il pas qu’il enferme tout ce qui est ndcessaire pour agir? Mais vous n’en avez pas perdu la mdmoire; car, pour me servir d’une comparaison qui vous sera plus sensible, si Ton ne vous servoit k table que deux onces de pain et un verre d’eau par jour, seriez-vous content de votre prieur qui vous diroit que cela seroit suffisant pour vous nourrir, sous prdtext(3 qu’avec autre chose qu’il ne -vous donneroit pas, vous auriez tout ce qui vous seroit ndcessaire pour vous nourrir?” (Lettres Provinciales, i. 23 et seq.) — Ed. * Plato had already, in his day, begun severely to animadvert on the anworthy notions which the pagans entertained of God. In his great work on the Republic, teeming with the noblest philosophical speculations, we find an extraordinary picture of the arts whereby the begging priests contrived to turn the follies of paganism to account. Like the mendicant friars, and other religious impostors of Christian Europe, they travelled about the country, besieging especially the houses of the rich, whose personal crimes, together with those of their ancestors, they professed themselves able to expiate by charms and incantations. According to their account of the matter, they had the gods completely under their thumb, and could compel them, not only to grant absolution for past of- fences, but indulgence for sins to come. See the whole passage, with iihe notes of Stallbaum, vol. i. p. Ill et seq. — E d. VOL. I. O 194 OF HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. [book I. any idea; since those people who agreed in the name, had, at the same time, far different apprehensions about the thing signified. If they say that the variety of deities worshipped by the heathen world, were but figurative ways of expressing the several attributes of that incomprehensible Being, or several parts of his providence, I answer, what they might be in the original I will not here inquire, but that they were so in the thoughts of the vulgar I think nobody will affirm. And he that will consult the voyage of the Bishop of Beryte, c. 13, (not to mention other testimonies,) will find that the theology of the Siamites professedly owns a plurality of gods ; or, as the Abbe de Choisy more judiciously remarks in his Journal du Yoyage de Siam, it consists properly in ac- knowledging no God at all.* * Though I have already shown, even from La Loubbre himself, that the Siamese believe, like all other nations, in the existence of a God, and it might, perhaps, have been sufficient to say that they are Budd- hists, I will yet add two or three testimonies to show with how great in- justice they are, by the Abb^ de Choisy, accused of impiety. Sir Thomas Herbert observes, in his account of this people, that they ‘‘have groves and altars, on which they offer flesh, fruits, and flowers ; and many times, when their Tallapoi tells them their Beumo is melancholy they make harmonious music to them to make them cheerful. Others, by break of day, run to their pagods with a basket of rice, hoping that day will be happier. The Tallapoi preach usually every Monday (their sabbath) in the market, and call the people together by the sound of a copper basin. They seem mendicants by profession ; yet what by their policy, and what by their incantations, (for they foretell future events, and have great knowledge in things past, present, and to come, by magic, and moral observations, resolving, dissuading, applauding, and directing them,) they are had in ver^ great estimation: these are their priests.” (In Harris’s Coll., where the text is somewhat modernized. See orig. p. 358.) Tavernier having remarked on the great number of priests and pago- das. adds, that the Siamese “say that the God of the Christians and theirs are brothers, but theirs was the eldest.” (In Harris’s Coll. vol. ii. p. 388.) But the most positive testimony is that of Mandelslo, accord- ing to whom, ‘ ‘ they believe one Creator of the universe, who governs the world by divers inferior gods. They say that the soul is immortal, and after it is purified, by passing through several bodies, is either con- demned to eternal torments, or enjoys beatitude. They tell you that this has been transmitted to them by tradition, time out of mind ; for the rest, they hold that good deeds, and especially charity, are the chief means to attain salvation ; which is the reason they extend their charity even to beasts, such as birds and fish, which they buy to set them at liberty, as believing the transmigration of the soul. This is the reason, also, why they never condemn any other religion, or dispute with them.” (In Harris’s Coll. ii. 128 .) — Ed. NO INNATE PEINCIPLES. CHAP. IV.] 195 If it be said, that wise men of all nations came to bave true conceptions of the unity and infinity of the Deity, I grant it. But then this, First, Excludes universality of consent in anything but. the name; for those wise men being very few, perhaps one of a thousand, this universality is very narrow. Secondly, It seems to me plainly to prove, that the truest and best notions men had of God were not imprinted, but acquired by thought and meditation, and a right use of their faculties : since the wise and considerate men of the world, by a right and careful employment of their thoughts and reason, attained true notions in this as well as other things ; whilst the lazy and inconsiderate part of men, making far the greater number, took up their notions by chance, from common tradition and vulgar conceptions, without much beating their heads about them. And if it be a reason to think the notion of God innate, because all wise men had it, virtue too must be thought innate, for that also wise men have always had. 1 6. This was evidently the case of all Gentilism ; nor hath even amongst Jews, Christians, and Mahometans, who acknow- ledge but one God, this doctrine, and the care taken in those nations to teach men to have true notions of a God, prevailed so far as to make men to have the same and the true ideas of him. How many even amongst us will be found upon in- quiry to fancy him in the shape of a man sitting in heaven, and to have many other absurd and unfit conceptions of him ! Christians as well as Turks have had whole sects owning and contending earnestly for it, and that the Deity was corporeal, and of hum.an shape : and though we find few among us who profess themselves Anthropomorphites, (though some I have met with that own it,) yet I believe he that will make it his business may find amongst the ignorant and uninstructed Christians many of that opinion. Talk but with country people, almost of any age, or young people of almost any con- dition, and you shall find, that though the name of God be frequently in their mouths, yet the notions they apply this name to are so odd, low, and pitiful, that nobody can imagine they were taught by a rational man, much less that they were chai'acters written by the finger of God himself Nor do I see how it derogates more from the goodness of God, that he o 2 / 196 OF HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. [bOOK I. has given us minds unfurnished with these ideas of himself, than that he hath sent us into the world with bodies un- clothed, and that there is no art or skill born with us; for, being fitted with faculties to attain these, it is want of industry and consideration in us, and not of bounty in him, if we have them not. It is as certain that there is a God, as that the op- posite angles made by the intersection of two straight lines are equal. There was never any rational creature that set himself sincerely to examine the truth of these propositions that could fail to assent to them, though yet it be past doubt that there are many men who, having not applied their thoughts that way, are ignorant both of the one and the other If any one think fit to call this (which is the utmost of its extent) uni- versal consent, such an one I easily allow; but such an uni- versal consent as this, proves not the idea of God, any more than it does the idea of such angles, innate. 17. If the Idea of God he not innate, no other can he supposed innate. — Since then, though the knowledge of a God be the most natural discovery of human reason, yet the idea of him is not innate, as I think is evident from what has been said; I imagine there will scarcely be any other idea found that can pretend to it : since if God hath sent any impression, any character on the understanding of men, it is most reasonable to expect it should have been some clear and uniform idea of himself, as far as our weak capacities were capable to receive so incomprehensible and infinite an object. But cur minds being at first void of that idea, which we are most concerned to have, it is a strong presumption against all other innate characters. I must own, as far as I can observe I can find none, and would be glad to be informed by any other. 18. Idea of Substance not innate. — I confess there is another idea which would be of general use for mankind to have, as it is of general talk, as if they had it ; and that is the idea of substance, which we neither have nor can have by sensation or reflection. If nature took care to provide us any ideas, we might well expect they should be such as by our own faculties we cannot procure to ourselves ; but we see, on the contrary, that since by those ways whereby our ideas are brought into our minds this is not, we have no such clear idea at all, and therefore signify nothing by the word sub- stance, but only an uncertain supposition of we know not NO INNATE PKINCIPLES. 197 CHAP. IV.] what, i. e., of something whereof we have no particular dis- tinct positive idea, which we take to be the substratum or support of those ideas we know. 19. No Propositions can he innate, since no Ideas are in- naie. — Whatever then we talk of innate, either speculative or practical, principles, it may with as much probability be said that a man hath £100 sterling in his pocket, and yet denied that he hath either penny, shilling, crown, or other coin out of which the sum is to be made up, as to think that certain propositions are innate when the ideas about which they are can by no means be supposed to be so. The general recep- tion and assent that is given, doth not at all prove that the ideas expressed in them are innate; for in many cases, how- ever the ideas came there, the assent to words expressing the agreement or disagreement of such ideas, will necessarily follow. Every one that hath a true idea of God and worship, will assent to this proposition, ‘Hhat God is to be wor- shipped,” when expressed in a language he understands; and every rational man that hath not thought on it to-day, may be ready to assent to this proposition to-morrow; and yet millions of men may be well supposed to want one or both those ideas to-day. For if we will allow savages and most country people to have ideas of God and worship, (which con- versation with them will not make one forward to believe,) yet I think few children can be supposed to have those ideas, which therefore they must begin to have some time or other; and then they will also begin to assent to that proposition, and make very little question of it ever after. But such an assent upon hearing, no more proves the ideas to be innate, than it does that one born blind (with cataracts which will be couched to-morrow) had the innate ideas of the sun, or light, or saffron, or yellow, because when his sight is cleared he will certainly assent to this proposition, “ that the sun is lucid, or that saffron is yellow;” and therefore if such an assent upon hearing cannot prove the ideas innate, it can much less the propositions made up of those ideas. If they have any innate ideas, I would be glad to be told what and how many they are. 20. No innate Ideas in the Memory. — To which let me add, if there be any innate ideas, any ideas in the mind, which the mind does not actually think on, they must be lodged in the 198 OF HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. [book I. memory-j and from tlience must be brought into view by re- membrance; i. e., must be known when they are remembered to have been perceptions in the mind before, unless remem- brance can be without remembrance. For to remember is to j)erceive anything with memory, or with a consciousness that it was known or perceived before : without this, whatever idea .comes into the mind is new, and not remembered; this con- sciousness of its having been in the mind before, being that which distinguishes remembering from all other ways of thinking. Whatever idea was never perceived by the mind, was never in the mind.* Whatever idea is in the mind, is either an actual perception, or else having been an actual per- ception, is so in the mind, that by the memory it can be made an actual perception again. Whenever there is the actual perception of an idea without memory, the idea appears per- fectly new and unknown before to the understanding. When- ever the memory brings any idea into actual view, it is with a consciousness that it had been there before, and was not wholly a stranger to the mind. Whether this be not so, I apjDeal to every one’s observation : and then I desire an in- stance of an idea pretended to be innate, which (before any impression of it by ways hereafter to be mentioned) any one could revive and remember as an idea he had formerly known ; without which consciousness of a former perception there is no remembrance ; and whatever idea comes into the mind with- out that consciousness is not remembered, or comes not out of the memory, nor can be said to be in the mind before that appearance ; for what is not either actually in view or in the memory, is in the mind no way at all, and is all one as if it had never been there. Suppose a child had the use of his eyes till he knows and distinguishes colours; but then cata- racts shut the windows, and he is forty or fifty years perfectly in the dark, and in that time perfectly loses all memory o.' the ideas of colours he once had. This was the case of a * This point has been discussed with much perseverance by Condillac, who in some things a mere reflection of Locke, affects in others to differ from him, for the purpose, perhaps, of keeping up a show of ori- ginality. He observes on the question here treated of, “Les objets agiroient inutilement sur les sens, et I’^me n’en prendroit jamais con- noissance si elle n’en avoit pas perception. Ainsi le premier et le moindre d^gr^ de connoissance, c’est d’appercevoir.” (Essai sur I’origine des connoissances humaines, Part 1. § 2. ch. 1. 1. i. p. 24 .) — Ed. CHAP. IV.] ^siO INNATE PRINCIPLES. 199 blind man I once talked with; who lost his sight by the small- pox when he was a child, and had no more notion of colours than one born blind. I ask whether any one can say this man had then any ideas of colours in his mind, any more than one born blind '? And I think nobody will say that either of them had in his mind any idea of colours at all. His cata- racts are couched, and then he has the ideas (which he re- members not) of colours, de novo, by his restored sight con- veyed to his mind, and that without any consciousness of a former acquaintance : and these now he can revive and call to mind in the dark. In this case all these ideas of colours which, when out of view, can be revived with a consciousness of a former acquaintance, being thus in the memory, are said to be in the mind. The use I make of this is, that whatever idea, being not actually in view, is in the mind, is there only by being in the memory ; and if it be not in the memory, it is not in the mind ; and if it be in the memory, it cannot by the memory be brought into actual view without a perception that it comes out of the memory ; which is this, that it had been known before, and is now remembered. If therefore there be any innate ideas, they must be in the memory, or else nowhere in the mind ; and if they be in the memory, they can be revived without any impression from without; and whenever they are brought into the mind they are re- membered, i. e., they bring with them a perception of their not being wholly new to it. This being a constant and dis- tinguishing difference between what is and what is not in the memory or in the mind ; that what is not in the memory, whenever it appears there, appears perfectly new and unknown before ; • and what is in the memory or in the mind, whenever it is suggested by the memory, appears not to be new, but the mind finds it in itself, and knows it was there before. By this it may be tried whether there be any innate ideas in the mind, before impression from sensation or reflection. I would fain meet with the man who, when he came to the use of reason, or at any other time, remembered any one of them ; and to whom after he was born, they were never new. If any one will say there are ideas in the mind that are not in the memory, I desire him to explain himself, and make what he says intelligible. 21. Frindples not innate, because of little use or little c&r-- 200 OF HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. [bOOK I. tainty , — Besides what I have already said, there is another reason why I doubt that 'neither these nor any other prin- ciples are innate. I that am fully persuaded that the in- finitely wise God made all things in perfect wisdom, cannot satisfy myself why he should be supposed to print upon the minds of men some universal principles ; whereof those that are pretended innate and concern speculation are of no great use ; and those that concern practice, not self-evident ; and neither of them distinguishable from some other truths not allowed to be innate. For to what purpose should characters be graven on the mind by the finger of God, which are not clearer there than those which are afterwards introduced, or cannot be distinguished from them? If any one thinks there are such innate ideas and propositions which by their clear- ness and usefulness are distinguishable from all that is adven- titious in the mind and acquired, it will not be a hard matter for him to tell us which they are, and then every one will be a fit judge whether they be so or not; since if there be such innate ideas and impressions, plainly different from all other perceptions and knowledge, every one will find it true in himself. Of the evidence of these supposed innate maxims I have spoken already ; of their usefulness I shall have occasion to speak more hereafter. 22. Difference of Men's Discoveries depends upon tJie differ €fnt Application of their Faculties . — To conclude : some ideas forwardly ofier themselves to all men’s understandings; some sorts of truth result from any ideas as soon as the mind puts them into propositions; other truths require a train of ideas placed in order, a due comparing of them, and de- ductions made with attention, before they can be discovered and assented to. Some of the first sort, because of their general and easy reception, have been mistaken for innate ; but the truth is, ideas and notions are no more born with us than arts and sciences, though some of them indeed offer themselves to our faculties more readily than others, and therefore are more generally received; though that too be according as the organs of our bodies and powers of our minds happen to be employed; God having fitted men with faculties and means to discover, receive, and retain truths, according as they are employed. The great difference that is to be found in the notions of mankind, is from the different CHAP. IV.j NO INNATE PRINCIPLES. 201 use. they put their faculties to: whilst some, (and those the most,) taking things upon trust, misemploy their power of assent by lazily enslaving their minds to the dictates and dominion of others in doctrines which it is their duty carefully to examine, and not blindly, with an implicit faith, to swallow; others, employing their thoughts only about some few things, grow acquainted sufficiently with them, attain great degrees of knowledge in them, and are ignorant of all other, having never let their thoughts loose in the search of other inquiries. Thus, that the three angles of a triangle are quite equal to two right ones, is a truth as certain as any- thing can be, and I think more evident than many of those propositions that go for principles ; and yet there are millions, however expert in other things, who know not this at all, because they never set their thoughts on work about such angles: and he that certainly knows this p^i’oposition, may yet be utterly ignorant of the truth of other propositions, in mathematics itself, which are as clear and evident as this; because in his search of those mathematical truths, he stopped his thoughts short and went not so far. The same may happen concerning the notions we have of the being of a Deity ; for though there be no truth which a man may more evidently make out to himself than the existence of a God, yet he that shall content himself with things as he finds them in this world, as they minister to his pleasures and passions, and not make inquiry a little further into their causes, ends, and admirable contrivances, and pursue the thoughts thereof with diligence and attention, may live long without any notion of such a Being. And if any person hath by talk put such a notion into his head, he may perhaps believe it ; but if he hath never examined it, his knowledge of it will be no perfecter than his, who having been told that the three angles of a triangle are equal to two right ones, takes it upon trust, without examining the demonstration, and may yield his assent as a probable opinion, but hath no knowledge of the truth of it; which yet his faculties, if carefully employed, were able to make clear and evident to him. But this only, by the by, to show how much our knowledge depends upon the right use of those powers nature hath bestowed upon us, and how little upon such innate principles as are in vain supposed to be in all mankind ‘202 OP THE UNDERSTAKDING. [bOOK L for their direction ; which all men could not but know if they were there, or else they would be there to no purpose; and which since all men do not know, nor can distinguish from other adventitious truths, we may well conclude there are no such. 23. J^en must think and know for themselves . — What censure, doubting thus of innate principles, may deserve from men, who will be apt to call it pulling up the old foundations of knowledge and certainty, I cannot tell; I persuade myself at least that the way I have pursued, being conformable to truth, lays those foundations surer. This I am certain, I have not made it my business either to quit or follow any authority in the ensuing discourse : truth has been my only aim, and wherever that has appeared to lead, my thoughts have impartially followed, without minding whether the footsteps of any other lay that way or not. Not that I want a due respect to other men’s opinions; but, after all, the greatest reverence is due to truth : and I hope it will not be thought arrogance to say, that perhaps we should make greater progress in the discovery of rational and contempla- tive knowledge, if we sought it in the fountain, in the con- sideration of things themselves, and made use rather of our own thoughts than other men’s to find it; for I think we may as rationally hope to see with other men’s eyes, as to know by other men’s understandings. So much as we our- selves consider and comprehend of truth and reason, so much we possess of real and true knowledge. The floating of other men’s opinions in our brains, makes us not one jot the more knowing, though they happen to be true. What in them was science, is in us but opiniatrety; whilst we give up our assent only to reverend names, and do not, as they did, employ our own reason to understand those truths which gave them reputation. Aristotle was certainly a knowing man, but nobody ever thought him so because he blindly embraced or confidently vented the opinions of another. And if the taking up another’s principles, without examining them, made not him a philosopher, I suppose it will hardly make anybody else so. In the sciences every one has so much as he really knows and comprehends. What he believes only, and takes upon trust, are but shreds ; which, however well in the whole piece, make no considerable addition to his stock who CHAP. IV. J NO INNATE PRINCIPLES. .203 gathers them. Such borrowed wealth, like fairy money, though it were gold in the hand from which he received it, will be but leaves and dust when it comes to use."^ 24. Whence the Opinion of Innate Principles . — ^When men have ^ found some general propositions that could not be doubted of as soon as understood, it was, I know, a short and easy way to conclude them innate. This being once received, it eased the lazy from the pains of search, and stopped the inquiry of the doubtful concerning all that was once styled innate. And it was of no small advantage to those who affected to be masters and teachers, to make this the principle of principles, “ that principles must not be questioned : ” for having once established this tenet, that there are innate principles, it put their followers upon a necessity of re6eiving some doctrines as such; which was to take them off from the use of their own reason and judgment, and put them on believing and taking them upon trust without further exami- nation: in which posture of blind credulity they might be more easily governed by and made useful to some sort of men who had the skill and office to principle and guide them. Nor is it a small power it gives one man over another to have the authority to be the dictator of principles and teacher of unquestionable truths; and to make a man swallow that for an innate principle, which may serve to his purpose who teacheth them : whereas had they examined the ways whereby men came to the knowledge of many universal truths, they would have found them to result in the minds of men from the being of things themselves when duly considered; and that they were discovered by the application of those * Locke had possibly read in Galland’s translation of the Arabian Nights the story of the barber’s fourth brother, El-kooz-el-Aswanee, the butcher of Bagdad, of whom it is related, that ‘ ‘ being in his shop one day, there accosted him an old man with a long beard, who hai^ded to him some money, saying, Give me some meat for it. So he took the money, ftnd gave him the meat. And when the old man had gone away, my brother looked at the money which he had paid him, and seeing that it was of a brilliant whiteness, put it aside by itself. This old man con- tinued to repair to him during a period of five months, and my brother always threw his money into a chest by itself ; after which period he desired to take it out for the purpose of buying some sheep ; but on opening the chest, he found all the contents converted into white paper, clipped round. ” (Lane’s Translation, vol. i. p. 396 .) — Ed. OF HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 204 [book 1. faculties that were fitted by nature to receive and judge of them when duly employed about them. 25. Conclusion . — To show how the understanding proceeds herein is the design of the following discourse, which I shall proceed to when I have first premised, that hitherto, to clear my way to those foundations which I conceive are the only true ones whereon to establish those notions we can have of our own knowledge, it hath been necessary for me to give an account of the reasons I had to doubt of innate principles. And since the arguments which are against them do some of them rise from common received opinions, I have been forced to take several things for granted, which is hardly avoidable to any one, whose task is to show the falsehood or improba- bility of any tenet ; it happening in controversial discourses as it does in assaulting of towns, where, if the ground be but firm whereon the batteries are erected, there is no further inquiry of whom it is borrowed, nor whom it belongs to, so it affords but a fit rise for the present purpose. But in the future part of this Discourse, designing to raise an edifice uniform and consistent with itself, as far as my own ex- perience and observation will assist me, I hope to erect it on such a basis that I shall not need to shore it up with props and buttresses, leaning on borrowed or begged foundations; or at least, if mine prove a castle in the air, I will endeavour it shall be all of a piece and hang together. Wherein I warn the reader not to expect undeniable cogent demonstra- tions, unless I may be allowed the privilege, not seldom assumed by others, to take my principles for granted, and then, I doubt not, but I can demonstrate too. All that I shall say for the principles I proceed on is, that I can only appeal to men’s own unprej udiced experience and observatior whether they be true or not ; and this is enough for a man who professes no more than to lay down candidly and freely his own conjectures, concerning a subject lying somewhat in the dark, without any other design than an unbiassed inquiry after truth. CHAP. I.J THE ORIGINAL OF OUR IDEAS. 205 BOOK IL CHAPTEE L OF IDEAS IN GENERAL, AND THEIR ORIGINAL. 1. Idea is the Object of Thinking. — Every man being con- scious to himself that he thinks, and that which his mind is applied about whilst thinking, being the ideas that are there, it is past doubt that men have in their minds several ideas, such as are those expressed by the words whiteness, hardness, sweetness, thinking, motion, man, elephant, army, drunken- ness, and others. It is in the first place then to be inquired how he comes by them. I know it is a received doctrine that men have native ideas and original characters stamped upon their minds in their very first being. This opinion I have at large examined already ; and I suppose what I have said in the foregoing book will be much more easily admitted when I have shown whence the understanding may get all the ideas it has, and by what ways and degrees they may come into the mind; for which I shall appeal to every one’s own observation and experience. 2. All Ideas come from Sensation or Reflection . — Let us then suppose the mind to be, as we say, white paper,* void of all characters, without any ideas; how comes it to be fur- nished h Whence comes it by that vast store which the busy and boundless fancy of man has painted on it with an almost endless variety] Whence has it all the materials of reason and knowledge] To this I answer in one word, from expe- rience ; in that all our knowledge is founded, and from that it ultimately derives itself, f Our observation employed either * Upon this comparison I have already remarked in a former note. — E d. t It would at first sight, and to an unprejudiced person, appear that Locke in this passage had expressed himself with sufficient clearness, but Mr. Dugald Stewart found it to be either obscure in itself, or directly at variance with the comments which the philosopher has elsewhere made on the doctrine it contains. His remarks are too long to be introduced into a note, but the result to which he supposes them to lead is stated in the following sentences : “If the foregoing remarks be well- founded, they are fatal to a fundamental principle of Locke’s philosophy, which has been assumed by most of his successors as a demonstrated 206 OF HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. [book II. about external sensible objects, or about the internal opera- tions of our minds, perceived and reflected on by ourselves, is that which supplies our understandings with all the materials of thinking. These two are the fountains of knowledge from whence all the ideas we have or can naturally have do spring. 3. The Objects of Sensation one Source of Ideas, — Eirst, our senses, conversant about particular sensible objects, do convey into the mind several distinct perceptions of things, according to those various ways wherein those objects do affect them : and thus we come by those ideas we have, of yellow, white, heat, cold, soft, hard, bitter, sweet, and all those which we call sensible qualities ; which when I say the senses convey into the mind, I mean, they from external objects convey into the mind what produces there those per- ceptions. This great source of most of the ideas we have, depending wholly upon our senses, and derived by them to the understanding, I call sensation.* truth, and which, under a form somewhat disguised, has served to Hume as the basis of all his sceptical theories. It appears to me, that the doc- trines of both these eminent authors, with respect to the origin of our ideas, resolve into the supposition, that consciousness is exclusively the source of all our knowledge. Their language, indeed, particularly that of Locke, seems to imply the contrary ; but that this was really their opinion, may, with certainty, be inferred from their own comments.’"' (Phil. Essay, p. 82, et seq.) — Ed. * On this subject see Wolf’s Logic, p. 11. Logique de Hu Marsais, p. 20 et seq. This latter writer takes of the whole question the views of a mere materialist. “EUe (I’ame) sent imm^diatement par les sens efx- teiieurs, et elle sent m^diatement par les organes du sens interieur du cerveau.” Descartes undertakes to explain the very manner in which ideas are obtained by sensation: “Les choses ext^rieures, ” says he, “mettant les esprits vitaux en mouvement par les impressions qu’eUes produisent, ces esprits remontent au cerveau, et y forment un canal ou type, qui correspond aux impressions et a leur matibre determinbe. Ce type n’est pas I’idbe de I’objet lui-mbme, mais fame en prend connais- sance, et alors voit en elle-meme I’idbe, qui diffbre done totalement du type et de I’objet qui cause! impression.” (Buhle, Hist, de la Phil. Mod. vol. iii. p. 20.) Aristotle on this question appears to have entertained the same opinions as Locke. (See De Anima, ii. 5, 6, 12.) Though, as Dr. Gillies has already observed, the celebrated axiom, ‘ ‘ Hihil est in intellectu quod non fuit prius in sensu,” appears not to be at present found in the works of the Stagirite. (Ethics and Politics, Anal. I. 46.) This doctrine, before the time of Locke, had already been adopted by Hobbes. “II n’y a dans I’^me aucune idbe qui n’ait btb precedemment produite, en toute ou en partie, par un des sens.” (Buhle, Hist. PhU. Mod. vol. iii. 203 .) — Ed. THE OKIGINAL OF OUK IDEAS. 207 CHAP. I.] 4. The Operations of our Minds ^ the other Source of them . — Secondly, the other fountain, from which experience furnisheth the understanding with ideas, is the perception of the opera- tions of our own mind within us, as it is employed about the ideas it has got ; which operations, when the soul comes to reflect on and consider, do furnish the understanding with another set of ideas, which could not be had from things without ; and such are perception, thinking, doubting, believ- ing, reasoning, knowing, willing, and all the different actings of our own minds; which we being conscious of, and observ- ing in ourselves, do from these receive into our understandings as distinct ideas, as we do from bodies affecting our senses. This source of ideas every man has wholly in himself; and though it be not sense, as having nothing to do with external objects, yet it is very like it, and might properly enough be called internal sense.* But as I call the other Sensation, so I call this Beflection, the ideas it affords being such only as the mind gets by reflecting on its own operations within itself. By reflection then, in the following part of this discourse, I would be understood to mean that notice which the mind takes of its own operations, and the manner of them; by reason whereof there come to be ideas of these operations in the understanding. These two, I say, viz., external material things, as the objects of sensation; and the operations of our own minds within, as the objects of reflection; are to me the only originals from whence all our ideas take their beginnings. The term ^operations here I use in a large sense, as compre- hending not barely the actions of the mind about its ideas, but some sort of passions arising sometimes from them, such as is the satisfaction or uneasiness arising from any thought. o. All our Ideas are of the one or the other of these . — The understanding seems to me not to have the least glimmering of any ideas which it doth not receive from one of these two. External objects furnish the mind with the ideas of sensible qualities, which are all those different perceptions they pro- duce in us; and the mind furnishes the understanding with ideas of its own operations. These, when we have taken a full survey of them, and their several modes, combinations, and relations, we shall find to contain all our whole stock of ideas; and that we have * See on this subject the writings of Stewart, Hutcheson, &c. — E d. 208 OF HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. [book II. notliing m oiir minds, which did not come in one of thes6 two ways. Let any one examine his own thoughts, and thoroughly search into his understanding ; and then let him tell me, whether all the original ideas he has there, are any other than of the objects of his senses, or of the operations of his mind, considered as objects of his reflection: and how great a mass of knowledge soever he imagines to be lodged there, he will, upon taking a strict view, see that he has not any idea in his mind, but what one of these two have im- printed ; ^ though, perhaps, with infinite variety compounded and enlarged by the understanding, as we shall see hereafter. 6. Observable in Children , — He that attentively considers the state of a child, at his first coming into the world, will have little reason to think him stored with plenty of ideas, that are to be the matter of his future knowledge : it is by degrees he comes to be furnished with them. And though the ideas of obvious and familiar qualities imprint themselves before the memory begins to keep a register of time or order, ^ Mr. Dugald Stewart supposes himself to be controverting this doC’ trine in the following passage ; but if such be really the case, I confess he does not carry my understanding along with him : ‘‘It is surely an intuitive truth, that the sensations of which I am now conscious, and aU those of which I retain any remembrance, belong to one and the same being, which I call myself. Here is an intuitive judgment, involving the simple idea of personal identity. In like manner, the changes of which I am conscious in the state of my own mind, and those which I nerceive in the external universe, impress me with a conviction that some cause must have operated to produce them. Here is an intuitive judg- ment, involving the simple idea of causation. To these, and other in- stances of the same kind, may be added our ideas of time; of number ; of truth; of certainty; oi probability ; — all of which, while they are ma- nifestly peculiar to a rational mind, necessarily arise in the human un- derstanding, when employed in the exercise of its different faculties. To say, therefore, with Cudworth, and some of the Greek philosophers, that Keason, or the Understanding, is a source of new ideas, is not so ex- ceptionable a mode of speaking as it may appear to be at first sight, to those whose reading has not extended beyond Locke’s Essay. Accord- ing to the system there taught. Sense furnishes our ideas, and Reason perceives their agreements or disagreements. But the fact is, that what Locke calls agreements and disagreements are, in many instances, simple ideas, of which no analysis can be given, and of which the origin must therefore be referred to reason, according to Locke’s own doctrine.” (Phil. Ess. p. 98 et seq.) Now in my judgment, these observations, designed to subvert Locke’s doctrine, only tend more completely to esta- blish it, for his term ‘ reflection’ includes all those operations of the mind alluded to rather than described by Mr. Stewart. — E d. THE ORIGINAL OP OUR IDEAS. 209 CHAP, l] yet it is often so late before some unusual qualities come in the way, that there are few men that cannot recollect the begin- ning of their acquaintance with them ; and if it were worth while, no doubt a child might be so ordered as to have but a very few, even of the ordinary ideas, till he were grown up to a man. But all that are born into the world being sur- rounded with bodies that perpetually and diversely affect them, variety of ideas, whether care be taken of it or not, are imprinted on the minds of children. Light and colours are busy at hand everywhere, when the eye is but open; sounds and some tangible qualities fail not to solicit their proper senses, and force an entrance to the mind; but yet, I think, it will be granted easily, that if a child were kept in a place where he never saw any other but black and white till he were a man,* he would have no more ideas of scarlet or green, than he that from his childhood never tasted an oyster or a pine-apple has of those particular relishes. 7. Men are differently furnished with these^ according to the different Objects they converse with . — Men then come to be furnished with fewer or more simple ideas from without, ac- cording as the objects they converse with afford greater or less variety; and from the operations of their minds within, according as they more or less reflect on them. Eor though * Plato has drawn a picture of men thus mewed up in a cavern and haunted by the shadows of external objects, imagining also what would be their feelings when first they should stumble forth into the light of the sun. (Be Pepub. 1. vii. t. vi. p. 326. Bekk.) A similar picture has likewise been drawn by his great disciple, as we find him interpreted by Cicero. (De Nat. Deor. ii. 37.) “Si essent qui sul* terra semper habitavissent, bonis et illustribus domiciliis, quae essent ornata signis atque picturis, instructaque rebus iis omnibus, quibus abundant ii qui beati putantur, nec tamen exissent unquam supra terram: accepissent autem fam^ et auditione esse quoddam numen, et vim deorum : deinde aliquo tempore, patefactis terrae faucibus, ex illis abditis sedibus evadere in haec loca quae nos incolimus, atque exire potu- issent: cum repente terram, et maria, coelumque vidissent: nubium magnitudinem, ventorumque vim cognovissent, aspexissentque solem, ej usque lucis magnitudinem, pulchritudinemque, turn etiam efficientiam cognovissent, quod is diem efficeret, toto coelo luce diffusa : cum autem terras nox opacasset, turn coelum tot\ m cernerent astris distinctum et ornatum, tumque luminum varietatem turn crescentis, turn senescentis, eorumque omnium ortus et occasus, atque in omni aeternitate solos im- rautabilesque cursus : haec cum viderent, profecto et esse deos, et haeo tanta opera deorum esse arbitrarentur.*' — E d. VOL. L IP 210 OF HUMATf UNDERSTANDING. [bOOK II. lie that contemplates the operations of his mind, cannot but have plain and clear ideas of them ; yet, unless he turns his thoughts that way, and considers them attentively, he will no more have clear and distinct ideas of all the operations of his mind, and all that may be observed therein, than he will have all the particular ideas of any landscape, or of the parts and motions of a clock, who will not turn his eyes to it, and with attention heed all the parts of it. The picture or clock may be so placed, that they may come in his way every day; but yet he will have but a confused idea of all the parts they are made up of, till he applies himself with attention to con- sider them each in particular. 8. Ideas of Reflection later, because they need Attention . — And hence we see the reason why it is pretty late before most children get ideas of the operations of their own minds ; and some have not any very clear or perfect ideas of the greatest part of them all their lives; because, though they pass there continually, yet, like floating visions, they make not deep impressions enough to leave in their mind clear, distinct, lasting ideas, till the understanding turns inward upon itself, reflects on its own operations, and makes them the objects of its own contemplation. Children when they come first into it, are surrounded with a world of new things, which, by a constant solicitation of their senses, draw the mind constantly to them, forward to take notice of new, and apt to be delighted with the variety of changing objects. Thus the first years are usually employed and diverted in looking abroad. Men’s business in them is to acquaint them- selves with what is to be found without ; and so growing up in a constant attention to outward sensations, seldom make any considerable reflection on what passes within them till they come to be of riper years, and some scarce ever at all. 9. The Soul begins to have Ideas when it begins to perceive . — To ask at what time a man has first any ideas, is to ask when he begins to perceive; having ideas, and perception, being the same thing. I know it is an opinion, that the soul always thinks,* and that it has the actual perception of ideas * It has been seen above, that this was maintained by Pythagoras ; and among the modems, by Leibnitz and Descartes. Aristotle controverts the opinion of those who taught that the soul is a self- moving principle, (De Anim. i. 3,) and Locke here follows that THE ORIGINAL OF OUR IDEAS. 211 CHAP. I.J in itself constantly, as long as it exists, and that actual thinking is as inseparable from the soul as actual extension is from the body; which if true, to inquire after the beginning of a man’s ideas, is the same as to inquire after the beginning of his soul : for by this account, soul and its ideas, as body and its extension, will begin to exist both at the same time. 10. The Soul thinks not always; hut this wants Proofs . — But whether the soul be supposed to exist antecedent to, or coeval with, or some time after the first rudiments of organi- zation, or the beginnings of life in the body, I leave to be disputed by those who have better thought of that matter. I confess myself to have one of those dull souls, that doth not perceive itself always to contemplate ideas ; nor can con- ceive it any more necessary for the soul always to think, than for the body always to move ; the perception of ideas being (as I conceive) to the soul, what motion is to the body, not its essence, but one of its operations; and therefore, though thinking be supposed ever so much the proper action of the soul, yet it is not necessary to suppose that it should be always thinking, always in action. That, perhaps, is the privilege of the Infinite Author and Preserver of thiugs, who never slumbers nor sleeps; but it is not competent to any finite being, at least not to the soul of man. We know certainly, by experience, that we sometimes think, and thence draw this infallible consequence, that there is something in us that has a power to think ; but whether that substance perpetually thinks or no, we can be no further assured than experience informs us; for to say that actual thinking is essential to the soul, and inseparable from it, is to beg what is in question, and not to prove it by reason, which is necessary to be done, if it be not a self-evident proposition. But whether this, ‘Hhat the soul always thinks,” be a self-evident pro- position, that everybody assents to at first hearing, I appeal to mankind. It is doubted whether I thought at all last night or not ; the question being about a matter of fact, it is begging it to bring, as a proof for it, an hypothesis, which is the philosopher. On the opinion of Descartes, the reader who does not choose to toil through his crabbed and voluminous works, may consult Buhle, (Hist, de la Philosophic Moderne, 1, iii. p. 10 et seq.) and Tennemann’s manual. (§ 325 et seq.) This historian’s bird’s-eye view of Leibnitz’s philosophy (§ 346 et seq.) may also be compared with Buhle’a much longer account. (1. iv. p. Ill et seq.) — E d. / 212 OF HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. [bOOK IL very thing in dispute; by which way one may prove any- thing: and it is but supposing that all watches, whilst the balance beats, think, and it is sufficiently proved, and past doubt, that my watch thought all last night. But ht) that would not deceive himself, ouglit to build his hypothesis on matter of fact, and make it out by sensible experience, and not presume on matter of fact, because of his hypothesis; that is, because he supposes it to be so ; which way of proving amounts to this, that I must necessarily think all last night, because another supposes I always think, though I myself cannot perceive that I always do so. BuIt men in love with their opinions may not only suppose what is in question, but allege wrong matter of fact; how else could any one make it an inference of mine, that a thing is not, because we are not sensible of it in our sleep ? I do not say there is no soul in a man, because he is not sensible of it in his sleep ; but I do say, he cannot think at any time, waking or sleeping, without being sensible of it. Our being sensible of it is not necessary to anything but to our thoughts, and to them it is, and to them it always will be necessary, till we can think without being conscious of it. 11. It is not always conscious of it. — I grant that the soul, in a waking man, is never without thought, because it is the condition of being awake : but whether sleeping without dreaming be not an affection of the whole man, mind as well as body, may be worth a waking man’s consideration, it being hard to conceive that anything should think and not be conscious of it. If the soul doth think in a sleeping man without being conscious of it, I ask whether, during such thinking, it has any pleasure or pain, or be capable of happi- ness or misery? I am sure the man is not, any more than the bed or earth he lies on; for to be happy or miserable without being conscious of it, seems to me utterly inconsistent and impossible. Or if it be possible that the soul can, whilst the body is sleeping, have its thinking, enjoyments, and concerns, its pleasures or pain, apart, which the man is not conscious of nor partakes in, it is certain that Socrates asleep and Socrates awake is not the same person: but his soul when he sleeps, and Socrates the man, consisting of body and soul when he is waking, are two persons; since waking Socrates has no knowledge of or concernment for that happi- CHAP. I.] THE OKIGINAL OF OUR IDEAS. 213 ness or misery of his soul, which it enjoys alone by itself whilst he sleeps, without perceiving anything of it, any more than he has for the happiness or misery of a man in the Indies, whom he knows not; for if we take wholly away all consciousness of our actions and sensations, especially of plea- sure and pain, and the concernment that accompanies it, it will be hard to know wherein to place personal identity.'^ * However awkwardly Locke may in this passage express himself, it geems very clear to me that he never meant to affirm, as Bishop Butler and Mr. Stewart suppose, that consciousness constitutes personal identity. Indeed, he teaches the direct contrary, contending that the sleeping man and the waking man are identical, though the waking man be conscious of nothing he may have performed in his sleep. Nevertheless, as the reader may desire to compare the remarks of his opponents with the passage in the text, I subjoin from each of these writers an extract containing the pith of his objections. “But though consciousness of what is past does thus ascertain our personal identity, to ourselves, yet, to say that it makes personal identity, or is necessary to our being the same persons, is to say that a person has not existed a single moment, nor done one action but what he can remember ; indeed, none but what he reflects upon. And one should really think it self-evident, that con- sciousness of personal identity presupposes, and therefore cannot con- stitute, personal identity, any more than knowledge, in any other case, can constitute truth which it presupposes.” (Butler, Ess. on Pers. Iden. p. 332.) “ As the belief of our present existence necessarily accom- panies every act of consciousness, so, from a comparison of the sensations and thoughts of which we are now conscious, with those of which we recollect to have been conscious formerly, we are impressed with an irresistible conviction of our personal identity. Notwithstanding the strange difficulties that have been raised upon the subject, I cannot conceive any conviction more complete than this, nor any truth more intelligible to all whose understandings have not been perplexed by metaphysical speculation. The objections founded on the change of substance in certain material objects to which we continue to apply the same name, are plainly not applicable to the question concerning the identity of the same person, or the same thinking being, inasmuch as the words sameness and identity are here used in different senses. Of the meaning of those words, when applied to persons, I confess I am not able to give a logical definition ; but neither can I define sensation, memory, volition, nor even existence; and if any one should bring himself, by this and other scholastic subtilties, to conclude that he has no interest in making provision for to-morrow, because personality is not a permanent, hut a transient thing, I can think of no argument to convince him of his error.” (Stewart, Phil. Ess. p. 77.) Thucydides, in his account of the plague of Athens, speaks of persons who, when they recovered from the disorder, found that it had expunged from their memory all record of past transactions, and even of their own former existence, so that it was as if they had been born anew: “ Kai \riQri kXdatave Trap avrUa dvacrraprag twv T rdvTwv opoiiog, Kalriyvorjaav 214 OF HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. [book II. 12. If a sleeping Man thinks without knowing it, the sleeping and vmking Man are two Persons. — •• The soul, duiing sound sleep, thinks,” say these men. Whilst it thinks and perceives, it is capable certainly of those of delight or trouble, as well as any other perceptions ; and it must necessarily be conscious of its own perceptions. But it has all this apart; the sleeping man, it is plain, is conscious of nothing of all this. Let us suppose, then, the soul of Castor, while he is sleeping, retired from his body ; which is no impossible supposition for the men I have here to do with, who so liberally allow life, without a thinking soul, to all other animals;* — these men cannot, then, judge it impossible, or a contradiction, that the body should live without the soul, nor that the soul should subsist, and think, or have perception, even perception of happiness or misery, without the body; — let us then, I say, suppose the soul of Castor separated, during his sleep, from his body, to think apart ; let us suppose, too, that it chooses for its scene of thinking the body of another man, v. g. Pollux, who is sleeping without a soul (for if Castor’s soul can think whilst Castor is asleep, what Castor is never conscious of, it is no matter what place it chooses to think in) ; t — we have here, then, the bodies of two men with only G(paQ Is avTovQ Kai rovg sTTLTTjdeiovg.** (ii. 49.) That these were the same individuals who fell sick of the pestilence, no one can doubt ; but for themselves, they had, upon their restoration to health, no conscious- ness of anything an hour old, — Ed. * He proceeds with his attacks on Cartesianism, which taught that animals were mere living machines. This doctrine appears likely to be revived in our own day, to judge from a paper in Blackwood’s Magazine, in which insects are taught to be little else than machines. One of the most remarkable experiments undertaken to prove that insects are insensible to pain, is that described by Le Vaillant, who says: “ Je pris une grande sauterelle k ailes rouges de Cap ; je lui ouvris le ventre, lui enlevai les intestins, en les remplagant par du coton, et, dans cet dtat, je I’attachai dans une boite avec une epingle qui lui traversait le corselet. Elle y resta cinq mois, et au bout de ce temps elle remuait encore et ses pates et ses antennes (Voy. t. iv. p. 182, ed. Par. 1830.) It was once the fashion to consider man himself in this light, when La Mettrie pushed the thing so far as to contend that we are but so many plants endued with locomotive powers ! Having proceeded thus far, philosophy, finding it impossible to descend any lower, began to look upwards, and man accordingly has ceased to be confounded with hops and potatoes — Ed. t Upon this notion, that souls can detach themselves from the bodies to which they belong, and travel about independently, I constructed my MEN THINK NOT ALWAYS. 215 CHAP. I.] one soul between them, which we will suppose to sleep and wake by turns; and the soul still thinking in the waking man, whereof the sleeping man is never conscious, has never the least perception. I ask, then, whether Castor and Pollux, thus with only one soul between them, which thinks and perceives in one what the other is never conscious of nor is concerned for, are not two as distirict persons as Castor and Hercules, or as Socrates and Plato were*? and whether one of them might not be very happy, ajid the other very miserable? Just by the same reason they make the soul and the man two persons, who make the soul tliink apart what the man is not conscious of; for I suppose nobody will make identity of persons to consist in the soul’s being united to the very same numerical particles of matter ; for if that be necessary to identity, it will be impossible, in that constant flux of the particles of our bodies, that any man should be the same person two days or two moments together. 1 3. Impossible to convince those that sleep without dreaming^ that they think. — Thus, methinks, every drowsy nod shakes their doctrine, who teach that the soul is always thinking. Those, at least, who do at any time sleep without dreaming, can never be convinced that their thoughts are sometimes for four hours busy without their knowing of it; and if they are taken in the very act, waked in the middle of that sleeping contemplation, can give no manner of account of it. 14. That Men dream without remembering it, in vain urged . — It will perhaps be said, that the soul thinks even in the soundest sleep, but the memory retains it not.” Tha.t the soul in a sleeping man should be this moment busy a thinking, and the next moment in a waking man not re- member nor be able to recollect one jot of all those thoughts, is very hard to be conceived, and would need some better proof tlian bare assertion to make it be believed; for who can without any more ado, but being barely told so, imagine that the greatest part of men do, during all their lives, for several story of the “ Prophet of Clazomenae, ” which relates to the adventures of a disembodied spirit. The belief was common among the ancient Greeks, and still prevails in Hindhstan, where the Sanyases and other religious devotees pretend to possess the power of detaching themselves from their bodies when they please. — E d. 216 OF HUMAN UNDEKSTANDING. [bOOK II. hours every day, think of something, which if they were asked, even in the middle of these thoughts, they could remember nothing at all of! Most men, I think, pass a great part of their sleep without dreaming. I once knew a man that was bred a scholar, and had no bad memory, who told me he had never dreamed in his life till he had that fever he was then newly recovered of, which was about the five or six and twentieth year of his age. I suppose the world affords more such instances ; at least every one’s acquaintance will furnish him with examples enough of such as pass most of their nights mthout dreaming.* 15. Upon this Hypothesis the Thoughts of a sleeping Man ought to he most rational. — To think often, and never to retain it so much as one moment, is a very useless sort of thinking; and the soul, in such a state of thinking, does very little, if at all, excel that of a looking-glass, which constantly receives variety of images, or ideas, but retains none ; they disappear and vanish, and there remain no foot- steps of them ; the looking-glass is never the better for such ideas, nor the soul for such thoughts. Perhaps it will be said, that in a waking man the materials of the body are employed and made use of in thinking, and that the memory of thoughts is retained by the impressions that are made on the brain, and the traces there left after such thinking ; but that in the thinking of the soul, which is not perceived in a sleeping man, there the soul thinks apart, and making no use of the organs of the body, leaves no impressions on it, and consequently no memory of such thoughts.” Not to mention again the absurdity of two distinct persons, which follows from this supposition, I answer, further, that whatever ideas the mind can receive and contemplate without the help of the body, it is reasonable to conclude it can retain without the help of the body too; or else the soul, or any separate spirit, will have but little advantage by thinking. If it has no memory of its own thoughts; if it cannot lay them up for its own use, and be able to recall them upon occasion; if it cannot reflect upon what is past, and make use of its former experiences, reasonings, and contemplations, to what purpose does it think ? They who make the soul a thinking * I have myself known an instance of a person who, up to sixteen, scarcely ever dreamt at all. — E d. CHAP. I.] MEN THINK NOT ALWAYS. 217 thing, at this rate, will not make it a much more noble being than those do whom they coirdemn, for allowing it to be nothing but the subtilist parts of matter. Characters drawn on dust, that the first breath of wind effaces, or impressions made on a heap of atoms, or animal spirits are dtogether as useful, and render the subject as noble, as the thoughts of a soul that perish in thinking, that, once out of sight, are gone for ever, and leave no memory of themselves behind them. Nature never makes excellent things for mean or no uses : and it is hardly to be conceived that our infinitely wise Creator should make so admirable a faculty as the power of thinking, that faculty which comes nearest the excellency ot his own incomprehensible being, to be so idly and uselessly employed, at least a fourth pai-t of its time here, as to think constantly, without remembering any of those tnoughts, without doing any good to itself or others, or being any way useful to any other part of the creation. If we will examine it, we shall not find, I suppose, the motion of dull and sense- less matter, any where in the universe, made so little use ot , and so wholly thrown away. 16. On this Hypothesis, the Soul must ha/ve Ideas not derived > from Sensation or Reflection, of which tlwre is no Appearance.— It is true, we have sometimes instances of perception whilst we are asleep, and retain the memory of those thoughts ; but how extravagant and incoherent for the most part they are, Ilow little conformable to the perfection and order ^ rational being, those acquainted with dreams need not be told.* This I would willingly be satisfied in, whether the soul,’ when it thinks thus apart, and as it were separate from the body, acts less rationally than when conjointly with it, or not. If its separate thoughts be less rational, then these * On the nature and causes of dreams Hobbes has constructed a peculiarly ineenious theory, in which he attempts to explain, upon physiological principles, the reasons of their existence and variety. ‘‘When present sense is not,” observes he, as in sleep, there the images remaining after sense, (when there be ma,ny,) ^ in dreams, are not obscure, but strong and clear, as m sense itself. The reason is, that which obscured and made the conceptions weak, namely, sense, and present operation of the object, is removed ; for sUep is the privation of the act of sense, (the power remaining,) and dreams are the unagmation of them‘d that sleep.” (Human Nature, c. iii. § 2.) See the following sections for the remainder of this theory. Ed. 218 OF HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. [book li. men must say tliat the soul owes the perfection of rational thinking to the body ; if it does not, it is a wonder that our dreams should be, for the most part, so frivolous and irra- tional, and that the soul should retain none of its moi-e rational soliloquies and meditations. 17. If I think when I know it not, nobody else can know it . — Those who so confidently tell us that ^Hhe soul always actually thinks,” T would they would also tell us what those ideas are that are in the soul of a child, before, or just at the union with the body, before it has received any by sensation.'^ The dreams of sleeping men are, as I take it, all made up of the waking man’s ideas, though for the most part oddly put together. It is strange, if the soul has ideas of its own that it derived not from sensation or refiection, (as it must have, if it thought before it received any impressions from the body,) that it should never, in its private thinking, (so private, that the man himself perceives it not,) retain any of them, the very moment it wakes out of them, and then make the man glad with new discoveries. Who can find it reasonable that the soul should, in its retirement, during sleep, have so many hours’ thoughts, and yet never light on any of those ideas it bor- rowed not from sensation or reflection; or, at least, preserve the memory of none but such, which, being occasioned from the body, must needs be less natural to a spirit h It is strange * Upon the doctrine alluded to in this passage, Mr. Stewart makes the following observations: Mr. Locke's quibbles ( ! ) founded on the word innate, were early remarked by Lord Shaftesbury. ‘Innate is a Word he poorly plays upon; the right word, though less used, is connatural; for what has birth, or the progress of the foetus out of the womb, to do in this case? The question is not about the time the ideas entered, or the moment that one body came out of the other ; but whether the constitution of man be such, that being adult or grown up, at such or such a time, sooner or later, (no matter when,) certain ideas will not infallibly, inevitably, necessarily spring up in him.’ ” (Letters to a Student at the University, lett. 8.) “I have,” says Mr. Stewart, “substituted, in this quotation, the phrase certain ideas, instead of Shaftesbury’s example, — the idea^ of order, administra.'- tion, and a God, — with the view of separating his general observation from the particular application which he wished to make of it, in the tract from which this quotation is borrowed.” (Phil. Ess. p. 104 et seq.) This dangerous practice of tampering with the text of the authors he quotes, would have enabled Mr. Stewart to make them say whatever he pleased. Upon the opinions which he and his noble coadjutor put for- ward in this passage it is unnecessary to comment. — E d. / CHAP. I.] men think not always. 219 % the soul should never once in a mans whole life recall o^er any of its pure native thoughts, and those ideas it had before it borrowed anything from the body; never bring into the waking man’s view any other ideas but what have a tang of the cask, and manifestly derive their original from that umon. If it always thinks, and so had ideas before it was united, or before it received any from the body, it is not to be supposed but that during sleep it recollects its native and during that retirement from communicating with the body, whilst it thinks by itself, the ideas it is busied about should be, sometimes at least, those more natural and congeniy ones which it had in itself, underived from the body, or its own operations about them: which, since the wakmg man never remembers, we must from this hypothesis conclude, either that the soul remembers something that the man does not, or else that memory belongs only to such ideas as are derived from the body, or the mind’s operations about them. 18 Haw knows any one that the Soul always tUnksl ^ if it be not a self-eouhnt ProposUwn, it n^ds Proo/— I would be glad also to learn from these men, who so confidently pro- nounce that the human soul, or, which is all one, that a man always thinks, how they come to know it; come to know that they themselves think, when Aey them- selves do not perceive it. This, I am afraid, is to be sure without proofs, and to know without perceiving; it is, 1 suspect, a confused notion taken up to serve an hypothesis, and none of those clear truths that either their own evidence forces us to admit, or common experience makes it impuden<^ to deny For the most that can be said of it is, that it is possible the soul may always think but not always retam it Fn memory: and I say, it is as possible that the soul may not always thLk, and much more P™bable that it times not think, than that it should often think, and that a long while together, and not be conscious to itself the next moment after, that it had thought. . j t n-o 19. That a Man should he busy in Thinking^ and yet not re- tain it the next mment, very improbable.— 'io suppose the so^ to think, and the man not to perceive it, is, as has been said, to make two persons in one man: and if one considers weU TeS m^F’s^way of speaking, one should be led into a sus- they do L; to the, »ho tell » that the sod 220 OF HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. [bOOK II. always thinks, do never, that I remember, say that a man always thinks. Can the soul think, and not the man? or a man think, and not be conscious of it? This, perhaps, would be suspected of jargon in others. If they say the man thinks always, but is not always conscious of it, they may as well say his body is extended without having parts; for it is alto- gether as intelligible to say that a body is extended without parts, as that anything thinks without being conscious of it, or perceiving that it does so. They who talk thus may, with as much reason, if it be necessary to their hypothesis, say that a man is always hungry, but that he does not always feel it; whereas hunger consists in that very sensation, as thinking consists in being conscious that one thinks. If they say that a man is always conscious to himself of thinking, I ask how they know it ? Consciousness is the perception of what passes in a man’s own mind. Can another man per- ceive that I am conscious of anything, when I perceive it not myself? man’s knowledge here can go beyond his expe- rience. Wake a man out of a sound sleep, and ask him what he was that moment thinking of. If he himself be conscious of nothing he then thought on, he must be a notable diviner of thoughts that can assure him that he was thinking : may he not, with more reason, assure him he was not asleep? This is something beyond philosophy ; and it cannot be less than revelation, that discovers to another thoughts in my mind, when I can find none there myself ; and they must needs have a penetrating sight who can certainly see that I think, when I cannot perceive it myself, and when I declare ' that I do not; and yet can see that dogs or elephants do not think, when they give all the demonstration of it imaginable, except only telling us that they do so. This some may suspect to be a step beyond the Kosicrucians;* it seeming easier to make one’s self invisible to others, than to make another’s thoughts visible to me, which are not visible to himself. But it is but defining the soul to be “ a substance that always thinks,” and the business is done. If such definition be of any authority, I know not what it can serve for, but to make many men suspect that they have no souls at all, since they find a good part of their lives pass away without thinking; for no * On the system of these mystics, see Pope’s Preface to the Rape o*f the Lock, and the Memoirs of the Comte de Gabalis, passim. — Ed, CHAP. I.] MEN THINK NOT ALWAYS. 221 definitions that I know, no suppositions of any sect, are of force enough to destroy constant experience ; and perhaps it is the affectation of knowing beyond what we perceive, that makes so much useless dispute and noise in the world. 20. No Ideas hut from Sensation and Refection , evident^ if we observe Children , — I see no reason, therefore, to believe that the soul thinks before the senses have furnished it with ideas to think on; and as those are increased and retained, so it comes, by exercise, to improve its faculty of thinking in the several parts of it, as well as, afterwards, by compounding those ideas and reflecting on its own operations ; it increases its stock, as well as facility, in remembering, imagining, reasoning, and other modes of thinking. 21. He that will suffer himself to be informed by obser- vation and experience, and not make his own hypothesis the rule of nature, will find few signs of a soul accustomed to much thinking in a new-born child, and much fewer of any reasoning at all; and yet it is hard to imagine that the rational soul should think so much, and not reason at all. And he that will consider that infants newly come into the world spend the greatest part of their time in sleep, and are seldom awake but when either hunger calls for the teat, or some pain (the most importunate of all sensations) or some other violent impression on the body forces the mind to perceive and attend to it; he, I say, who considers this, will perhaps find reason to imagine that a foetus in the mother’s womb differs not much from the state of a vegetable, but passes the greatest part of its time without perception or thought, doing very little in a place where it needs not seek for food, and is surrounded with liquor, always equally soft, and near of the same temper; where the eyes have no light, and the ears so shut up, are not very susceptible of sounds ; and where there is little or no variety, or change of objects to move the senses. 22. Follow a child from its birth, and observe the alterations that time makes, and you shall find, as the mind by the senses comes more and more to be furnished with ideas, it comes to be more and more awake; thinks more, the more it has matter to think on. After some time it begins to know the objects which, being most familiar with it, have made lasting impressions: thus it comes by degrees to know the 222 OF HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. [bOOK II. persons it daily converses with and distinguishes them from strangers, which are instances and effects of its coming to retain and distinguish the ideas the senses convey fco it. And so we may observe how the mind, by degrees, improves in these, and advances to the exercise of those other faculties of enlarging, compounding, and abstracting its ideas,* and of reasoning about them, and reflecting upon all these ; of which I shall have occasion to speak more hereafter. 23. If it shall be demanded, then, when a man begins to have any ideas, I think the true answer is, when he first has any sensation; for, since there appear not to be any ideas in the mind before the senses have conveyed any in, I conceive that ideas in the understanding are coeval with sensation, which is such an impression or motion made in som’e part of the body, as produces some perception in the understanding. It is about these impressions made on our senses by outward objects, that the mind seems first to employ itself in such operations as we call perception,, remembering, consideration, reasoning, &c. 24. The Original of all our Knowledge . — In time the mind comes to reflect on its own operations about the ideas got by * Berkeley, Hume, Tooke, and many others, deny the power of ab- straction altogether. (See Berk., Works, i. 5 — 16.) — “It seems to me,” observes Hume, ‘ ‘ not impossible to avoid these absurdities and contra- dictions, (see his Essay on Sceptical Philosophy,) if it be admitted that there is no such thing as abstract in general ideas, properly speaking ; but that all general ideas are, in reality, particular ones, attached to a general term, which recalls, upon occasion, other particular ones, that resemble, in certain circumstances, the idea present to the mind. Thus when the term ‘ horse ’ is pronounced, we immediately figure to ourselves the idea of a black or a white animal, of a particular size or figure ; but as that term is also used to be applied to animals of other colours, figures, and sizes, these ideas, though not actually present to the imagination, are easily recalled, and our reasoning and conclusion proceed in the same way as if they were actually present. If this be admitted, (as seems reasonable,) it follows that all the ideas of quantity, upon which mathematicians reason, are nothing but particular, and such as are suggested by the senses and imagination, and consequently cannot be infinitely divisible. ’Tis sufficient to have dropped this hint at present, wdthout prosecuting it any further. It certainly concerns all lovers of science not to expose themselves to the ridicule and contempt of the ignorant by their conclusions; and this seems the readiest solution of these difficulties.” (Hume’s Essays, p. 371, n. c., ed. 1758.) But why should philosophers seek to avoid the ridicule of the ignorant? It is the only compliment they can pay them. — E d. MEN THINK NOT ALWAYS. 223 CHAP. I.] sensation, and thereby stores itself with a new set of ideas, which I call ideas of reflection. These are the impressions that are made on our senses by outward objects that are extrinsical to the mind, and its own operations, proceeding from powers intrinsical and proper to itself ; which, when reflected on by itself, becoming also objects of its contem- plation, are, as I have said, the original of all knowledge. Thus the first capacity of human intellect is, that the mind is fitted to receive the impressions made on it, either through the senses by outward objects, or by its own operations when it reflects on them. This is the first step a man makes towards the discovery of anything, and the groundwork whereon to build all those notions which ever he shall have naturally in this world. All those sublime thoughts which tower above the clouds, and reach as high as heaven itself, take their rise and footing here : in all that good extent wherein the mind wanders, in those remote speculations it may seem to be elevated with, it stirs not one jot beyond those ideas which sense or reflection has ofiered for its con- templation.* 25. In the Reception of simple Ideas^ the Understanding is for the most part passive. — In this part the understanding is merely passive; and whether or not it will have these beginnings, and, as it were, materials of knowledge, is not in its own power: for the objects of our senses do, many of them, obtrude their particular ideas upon our minds whether we will or not ; and the operations of our minds will not let us be without, at least, some obscure notions of them. No man can be wholly ignorant of what he does when he thinks. * Hume has imitated and paraphrased this passage, but has fallen short of its vigour and sublimity. “Nothing,” says he, “at first view, may seem more unbounded than the thought of man, which not only escapes all human power and authority, but is not even restrained within the limits of nature and reality. To form monsters, and join incongruous shapes and appearances, cost no more trouble than to conceive the most natural and familiar objects. And while the body is confined within one planet, along which it creeps with pain and difficulty, the thought can in an instant transport us into the most distant regions of the universe, or even beyond the universe, into the unbounded chaos, where nature is supposed to be in total confusion. What never was seen nor heard of, may yet be conceived ; nor is anything beyond the power of thought, except what implies an absolute contradiction.” (Essays, p. 290.) The same idea has been employed by the authors of the Syst^me de la Nature to taunt and humiliate man. — E d, 224 OF HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. [bOOK II, These simple ideas, when offered to the mind, the under- standing can no more refuse to have, nor alter, when they are imprinted, nor blot them out, and make new ones itself, than a mirror can refuse, alter, or obliterate the images or ideas which the objects set before it do therein produce. As the bodies that surround us do diversely affect our organs, the mind is forced to receive the impressions, and cannot avoid the perception of those ideas that are annexed to them. / CHAPTER II. OF SIMPLE IDEAS. 1 . TJ ncompounded Appearances, — The better to understand the nature, manner, and extent of our knowledge, one thing is carefully to be observed concerning the ideas we have; and that is, that some of them are simple and some complex. Though the qualities that affect our senses are, in the things tliemselves, so united and blended, that there is no separation, no distance between them; yet it is plain, the ideas they produce in the mind enter by the senses simple and unmixed. For though the sight and touch often take in from the same object, at the same time, different ideas; as a man sees at once motion and colour; the hand feels softness and warmth in the same piece of wax; yet the simple ideas thus united in the same subject, are as perfectly distinct as those that come in by different senses: the coldness and hardness which a man feels in a piece of ice being as distinct ideas in the mind, as the smell and whiteness of a lily, or as the taste of sugar, and smell of a rose. And there is nothing can be plainer to a man, than the clear and distinct perception he has of those simple ideas ; which being each in itself uncompounded, contains in it nothing but one uniform appearance or conception in the mind, and is not distinguish- able into different ideas. 2. The Mind can neither 'inoke nor destroy them . — These simple ideas, the materials of all our knowledge, are suggested and furnished to the mind only by those two ways above mentioned, viz., sensation and reflection.* When the under- standing is once stored with these simple ideas, it has the * See Locke’s first letter to the Bishop of Worcester. — Ed. OF SIMPLE IDEAS. 225 CHAP. II.] power to repeat, compare, and unite them, even to an almost infinite variety, and so can make at pleasure new complex ideas. But it is not in the power of the most exalted wit, or enlarged understanding, by any quickness or variety of thought, to invent or frame one new simple idea in the mind, not taken in by the ways before mentioned : nor can any force of the understanding destroy those that are there. The dominion of man, in this little world of his own under- standing, being muchwhat the same as it is in the great world of visible things ; wherein his power, however mamaged by art and skill, reaches no farther than to compound and divide the materials that are made to his hand; but can do nothing towards the making the least particle of new matter, or destroying one atom of what is already in being. The same inability will every one find in himself, who shall go about to fashion in his understanding one simple idea, not received in by his senses from external objects, or by re- flection from the operations of his own mind about them. I would have any one try to fancy any taste which had never affected his palate, or frame the idea of a scent he had never smelt; and when he can do this, I will also conclude that a blind man hath ideas of colours, and a deaf man true distinct notions of sounds, 3. This is the reason why, though we cannot believe it impossible to God to make a creature with other organs, and more ways to convey into the understanding the notice of corporeal things than those five, as they are usually counted, which he has given to man ; yet I think it is not possible for any one to imagine any other qualities in bodies, howsoever constituted, whereby they can be taken notice of, besides sounds, tastes, smells, visible and tangible qualities. And had mankind been made but with four senses, the qualities then which are the object of the fifth sense, had been as far from our notice, imagination, and conception, as now any belonging to a sixth, seventh, or eighth sense can possibly be ; which, whether yet some other creatures, in some other parts of this vast and stupendous universe, may not have, will be a great presumption to deny. He that will not set himself proudly at the top of all things,* but will consider * Upon this theme Montaigne declaims with much force and eloquence in VOL. I. Q 226 OF HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. [bOOK IL the immensity of this fabric, and the gi*eat variety that is tc be found in this little and inconsiderable part of it which he has to do with, may be apt to think, that in other mansions of it there may be other and different intelligent beings, of whose faculties he has as little knowledge or apprehension, as a worm shut up in one drawer of a cabinet hath of the senses or understanding of a man : such variety and excellency being suitable to the wisdom and power of the Maker. I have here followed the common opinion of man’s having but five senses, though, perhaps, there may be justly counted more; but either supposition serves equally to my present purpose.* CHAPTER III. OF IDEAS OF ONE SENSE. 1. Division of simple Ideas. — The better to conceive the ideas we receive from sensation, it may not be amiss for us to consider them in reference to the different ways whereby they make their approaches to our minds, and make them- selves perceivable by us. First, then. There are some which come into our minds by one sense only. his “Apologie pour Raymond de Sebonde,” wherein I am persuaded Pope found the first materials for his “ Essay on Man.” Probably there ' may in other parts of the universe exist creatures superior in intellectual powers to us. The sun, for example, may ripen poets more instinct with fire, more brilliant with imagery, more alive with passion, and energy, and sublimity than Homer, and Shakspeare, and Milton. In my inmost thoughts I would not call in question the efficacy of God’s will. Yet since the ideas of man have overflowed this visible universe, and risen like a flood to the very throne of God, it is not impossible that they may have reached the limit set to the apprehensions of created beings, and that between us and the Divinity there is, in intellect, no higher link. In Milton, Plato, Shakspeare, and Homer, we have seraphs enshrined in human clay. Pope’s views are rather those of a sathist thiin of a philosopher : What would this man! — now upward would he soar, And, little less than angel, would be more. How, looking downward, just as grieved appears. To want the strength of bulls, the fur of bears.” — Ed. * Does he allude here to the internal sense afterwards maintained by Hutcheson \ — Ed. CHAP. III. OF IDEAS OF ONE SENSE. 227 Secondly, There are others that convey themselves into the mind by more senses than one. Thirdly, Others that are had from reflection only. Fourthly, There are some that make themselves way, and are suggested to the mind by all the ways of sensation and reflection. We shall consider them apart under their several heads. Ideas of one Sense, as Colours, of Seeing; Sound, of Hearing, the power of my fancy.” (Life of Locke.) — E d. CHAP. VII.] IDEAS OF SENSATION AND REFLECTION. 239 enjoyment of Him, with whom there is fullness of joy, and at whose right hand are pleasures for evermore. 6. Pleasure and Pain. Though what I have here said may not, perhaps, make the ideas of pleasure and pain clearer to us than our own experience does, w’hich is the only way that we are capable of having them, yet the consideration of the reason why they are annexed to so many other ideas, serving to give us due sentiments of the wisdom and goodness of the Sovereign Disposer of all things, may not be un- suitable to the main end of these inquiries, the knowledge and veneration of him being the chief end of all our thoughts, and the proper business of all understandings. 7. Existence and Unity. — Existence and Unity are two other ideas that are suggested to the understanding by every object without, and every idea within. When ideas are in our minds, we consider them as being actually there, as well as we consider things to be actually without us ; which is, that they exist, or have existence: and whatever we can consider as one thing, whether a real being or idea, suggests to the understanding the idea of unity. 8. Power. — Power also is another of those simple ideas which we receive from sensation and reflection : for, observing in ourselves that we can at pleasure move several parts of our bodies which were at rest; the eflfects, also, that natural bodies are able to produce in one another, occurring every moment to our senses, we both these ways get the idea of power. 9. Succession. — Besides these there is another idea, which, though suggested by our senses, yet is more constantly oflered to us by what passes in oui minds ; and that is the idea of succession. For if we look immediately into ourselves, and reflect on what is observable there, we shall find our ideas always, whilst we are awake or have any thought, passing in train, one going and another coming, without inter- mission. 10. Simple Ideas the Materials of all our Knowledge . — These, if they are not all, are at least (as I think) the most considerable of those simple ideas which the mind has, and out of which is made all its other knowledge ; all which it receives only by the two forementioned ways of sensation and reflection. 240 OF HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. [bOOK IL Nor let any one think these too narrow bounds for the capacious mind of man to expatiate in, which takes its flight further than the stars, and cannot be confined by the liinits of the world; that extends its thoughts often even beyond the utmost expansion of matter, and makes excursions into that incomprehensible inane.* I grant all this, but desire any one to assign any simple idea which is not received from one of those inlets before mentioned, or any complex idea not made out of those simple ones. Nor will it be so strange to think these few simple ideas sufficient to employ the quickest thought or largest capacity, and to furnish the materials of all that various knowledge, and more various fancies and opinions of all mankind, if we consider how many words may be made out of the various composition of twenty-four letters ; or if, going one step further, we will but reflect on the variety of combinations that may be made with barely one of the above-mentioned ideas, viz., number, whose stock is inexhaustible and truly infinite: and what a large and immense field doth extension alone afibrd the mathematicians I CHAPTEE YIII. SOME FURTHER CONSIDERATIONS CONCERNING OUR SIMPLE IDEAS 1 . Positive Ideas from 'privative Causes. — Concerning the simple ideas of sensation, it is to be considered, that what- soever is so constituted in nature as to be able, by affecting our senses, to cause any perception in the mind, doth thereby produce in the understanding a simple idea, which, whatever be the external cause of it, when it comes to be taken notice of by our discerning faculty, it is by the mind looked on and * Beyond the visible diurnal sphere Urania whose voice divine Following above the Olympian hill, I soar Above the flight of Pegasean wing.” “ Upled by thee, Into the heaven of heavens I have presumed, An earthly guest, and drawn empyreal air, Thy lending.” — M ilton. “ Extra flammantia moenia mundi.” — L ucbetius. Ed. SIMPLE IDEAS.. 241 CHAP. VIII.] considered tliere to be a real positive idea in tbe under- standing as much as any other whatsoever, though, perhaps, the cause of it be but a privation of the subject. 2. Thus the ideas of heat and cold, light and darkness, white and black, motion and rest, are equally clear and positive ideas in the mind; though, perhaps, some of the causes which produce them are barely privations in subjects from whence our senses derive those ideas. These the under- standing, in its view of them, considers all as distinct positive ideas, without taking notice of the causes that produce them, which is an inquiry not belonging to the idea, as it is in the understanding, but to the nature of the things existing without us. These are two very different things, and carefully to be distinguished, it being one thing to perceive and know the idea of white or black, and quite another to examine what kind of particles they must be, and how ranged in the superficies, to make any object appear white or black. 3. A painter or dyer who never inquired into their causes, hath the ideas of white and black, and other colours, as clearly, perfectly, and distinctly in his understanding, and perhaps more distinctly, than the philosopher, who hath busied himself in considering their natures, 'and thinks he knows how far either of them is in its cause positive or privative; aod the idea of black is no less positive in his mind than that of white, however the cause of that colour in the external object may be only a privation. 4. If it were the design of my present undertaking to inquire into the natural causes and manner of perception, I should offer this as a reason why a privative cause might, in some cases at least, produce a positive idea; viz., that all sensation being produced in us only by different degrees and modes of motion in our animal spirits, variously agitated by external objects, the abatement of any former motion must as necessarily ’produce a new sensation as the variation or increase of it, and so introduce a new idea, which depends only on a different motion of the animal spirits in that organ. * See Buhle’s Histoire de la Philosophie Moderne. The hypothesis which assumes the existence of a subtle fluid in the nerves, propagated by their means from the brain to the different parts of the body, is of VOL. I. R / 242 OF HUMAN UNDERSTxVNDTNG. [bOOK IR 5. But whether this be so or not I will not here determine, but appeal to every one’s own experience whether the shadow of a man, though it consists of nothing but the absence of light, (and the more the absence of light is, the more dis- cernible is the shadow,) does not, when a man looks on it, cause as clear and positive idea iu his mind, as a man himself, though covered over with clear sunshine? and the picture of a shadow is a positive thing. Indeed, we have negative names, which stand not directly for positive ideas, but for their absence, such as insipid, silence, nihil, &c., which words denote positive ideas, v. g., taste, sound, being, with a signifi- cation of their absence. 6. Positive Ideas from privative Causes . — And thus one may truly be said to see darkness."^' For, supposing a hole perfectly dark, from whence no light is reflected, it is certain one may see the figure of it, or it may be painted ; or whether the ink I write with makes any other idea, is a question. The privative causes I have here assigned of positive ideas are according to the common opinion ; but, in truth, it will be hard to determine whether there be really any ideas from a privative cause, till it be determined whether rest be any more a privation than motion. 7. Ideas in the Mind^ Qualities in Bodies . — To discover the great antiquity, and is certainly less repugnant to the general analogy of our frame than that by which it has been supplanted. How very generally it once prevailed, may be inferred from the adoption into common speech of the phrase ‘animal spirits,’ to denote that unknown cause which, according to Johnson’s definition, gives vigour or cheerful- ness to the mind, a phrase for which our language does not at this day afford a convenient substitute. The late Alexander Monro, one of the most cautious and judicious of medical inquirers, speaks of it as a fact which appeared to him almost indisputable. The existence of a liquid in the cavities of the nerves is supported by little short of demonstrative evidence. See some observations of his, published by Cheselden in hjj* Anatomy, Stewart, p. 9. — Ed. * No doubt; and this was the view which Milton, himself a philosopher, took, when he said, “No light, but rather darkness visible. Served only to discover sights of woe, Regions of sorrow, doleful shades, where peace And rest can never dwell, Hope never comes That comes to all, but torture without end Still urges, and a fiery deluge, fed With ever-burning sulphur unconsumed.” (Paradise Lost, i. 63 et seq.) — E d. SIMPLE IDEAS. 243 CHAP. VIII.] nature of our ideas the better, and to discourse of them intelligibly, it will be convenient to distinguish them as they are ideas or perceptions in our minds, and as they are modi- fications 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 some- thing inherent in the subject; most of those of sensation being in the mind no more the likeness of something existing without us, than the names that stand for them are the likeness of our ideas, which yet upon hearing they are apt to excite in us.'^ 8. Whatsoever the mind perceives in itself, or is the im- mediate object of perception, thought, or understanding, that I call jdea ; and the power to produce any idea in our mind, T call quality of the subject wherein that power is. Thus a snowball having the power to produce in us the ideas of white, cold, and round, the power to produce those ideas in us, as they are in the snowball, I call qualities; and as they are sensations or perceptions in our understandings, I call them ideas ; ^hich ideas, if I speak of sometimes as in the things themselves, I would be understood to mean those qualities in the objects which produce them in us. 9. Primary Qualities . — Qualities thus considered in bodies are, first, such as are utterly inseparable from the body, in what state soever it be; such as in all the alterations and changes it suffers, all the force can be used upon it, it con- stantly keeps; and such as sense constantly finds in every particle of matter which has bulk enough to be perceived and the mind finds inseparable from every particle of matter, though less than to make itself singly be perceived by our senses, v. g., take a grain of wheat, divide it into two parts, each part has still solidity, extension, figure, and mobility ; divide it again, and it retains still the same qualities; and so * Pursuing the same train of speculation, Berkeley says, “That neither our thoughts nor passions, formed by the imagination, exist without the mind, is what everybody will allow ; and it seems no less evident that the various sensations or ideas imprinted on the sense, however blended or combined together, (that is, whatever objects they compose,) cannot exist otherwise than in a mind perceiving them. I think an intuitive knowledge may be obtained of this by any one that shall attend to what is meant by the term exist, when applied to insen- sible things.” (Berk. Principles of Human Knowledge, § HI.) — Ed. 2 R 244 OF HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. [bOOK II. divide it on till the parts become insensible, they must retain still each of them all those qualities. For division (which is all that a mill, or pestle, or any other body, does upon another, in reducing it to insensible parts) can never take away either solidity, extension, figure, or mobility from any body, but only makes two or more distinct separate masses of matter, of that which was but one before ; all which, distinct masses, reckoned as so many distinct bodies, after division, make a certain number.'^' These I call original or primary qualities of body, which I think we may observe to produce simple ideas in us, viz., solidity, extension, figure, motion or rest, and number. 10, Secondary Qualities. \ — Secondly, such qualities which in truth are nothing in the objects themselves, but powers to produce various sensations in us by their primary qualities, i, e., by the bulk, figure, texture, and motion of their insensible parts, as colours, sounds, ta.stes, &c., these I call secondary qualities. To these might be added a third sort, which are * Aristotle, in whose time the doctrine of atoms had been already exploded, contends that there exists neither line nor particle which cannot be divided, and the parts thus divided, being still capable of separation, the process may go on ad infinitum, (t. xvi. 35 et seq. Consult likewise the paraphrase of George Pachymer, p. 46 et seq.) Berkeley attempted to revive a modification of the old atomic theory, accommodated to his own peculiar views. “The infinite divisibility of finite extension,” says he, ‘ ‘ though it is not expressly laid down either as an axiom or theorem in the elements of that science, yet it is throughout the same everywhere supposed and thought to have so inseparable and essential a connexion with principles and demonstrations in geometry, that mathematicians nevei admit it into doubt or make the least question of it.” Having stated the matter thus, he proceeds to his demonstration, which is rather ingenious. ‘ ‘ Every particular finite extension which may possibly be the object of our thought, is an idea existing only in the mind, and consequently each part thereof must be perceived. If, therefore, 1 cannot perceive innumerable parts in any finite extension that I consider, it is certain they are not contained in it ; but it is evident that I cannot distinguish innumerable parts in any particular line, surface, or solid, which I either perceive by sense or figiire to myself in my mind, wherefore 1 conclude they are not contained in it.” T^rinciples of Human Knowledge, § 123 et seq.) — E d. b On this subject, see the remarks of Beid, Inquiry, &c., chap. v. sect. 5 ; Stewart’s Phil. Essays, 250 ; Berkeley’s Principles of Human Knowledge, § 9 ; Payne Knight’s Analytical Inquiry into the Principles of Taste, Part I. chap. iv. ; Hobbes’ Human Nature, chap. ii. Compare with these the remarks of Plato, in his examination of the theory of Protagoras, Opera, t. iii. p. 199 . — Ed. SIMPLE IDEAS. 245 CHAP. VIII ] allowed to be barely powers, though they are as much real qualities in the subject, as those which I, to comply with the common way of speaking, call qualities, but for distinction, secondary qualities. For the power in fire to produce a new colour or consistency in wax or clay, by its primary qualities, is as much a quality in fire as the power it has to produce in me a new idea or sensation of warmth or burning, which I felt not before, by the same primary qualities, viz., the bulk, texture, and motion of its insensible parts. 11. jffow 'primary Qualities produce their Ideas . — The next thing to be considered is, how bodies produce ideas in us; and that is manifestly by impulse, the only way which we can conceive bodies to operate in.'^ » 12. If then external objects be not united to our minds when they produce ideas therein, and yet we perceive these original qualities in such of them as singly fall under our senses, it is evident that some motion must be thence con- tinued by our nerves or animal spirits, by some parts of our bodies^ to the brain, or the seat of sensation, there to produce in our minds the particular ideas we have of them. And since the extension, figure, number, and motion of bodies of an observable bigness, may be perceived at a distance by the sight, it is evident some singly imperceptible bodies must come from them to the eyes, and thereby convey to the brain some motion, which produces these ideas which we have of them in us. 13. How secondo/ry . — After the same manner that the ideas of these original qualities are produced in us, we may conceive that the ideas of secondary qualities are also pro- duced, viz., by the operations of insensible particles on our senses. For it being manifest that there are bodies and good store of bodies, each whereof are so small, that we cannot by any of our senses discover either their bulk, figure, or motion, as is evident in the particles of the air and water, and others extremely smaller than those, perhaps as much smaller than the particles of air and water, as the particles of air and water are smaller than peas or hail-stones ; let us suppose at present, that the different motions and figures, bulk and number, of such particles, afiecting the several * See on this point the authors cited in the last note, more particularly Hobbes. — Ed. 246 OF HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. [book it. organs of our senses, produce in us those different sensations which we have from the colours and smells of bodies; v. g., that a violet, by the impulse of such insensible particles of matter of peculiar figures and bulks, and in different degrees and modifications of their motions, causes the ideas of the blue colour and sweet scent of that flower to be produced in our minds; it being no more impossible to conceive that God should annex such ideas to such motions, with which they have no similitude, than that he should annex the idea of pain to the motion of a piece of steel dividing our flesh, with which that idea hath no resemblance. 14. What I have said concerning colours and smells may be understood also of tastes and sounds, and other the like sensible qualities; which, whatever reality we by mistake attribute to them, are in truth nothing in the objects them- selves, but powers to produce various sensations in us, and depend on those primary qualities, viz., bulk, figure, texture, and motion of parts, as I have said. 15. Ideas of pHmary Qualities are Resemblances; of secondary^ not . — From whence I think it easy to draw this observation, that the ideas of primary qualities of bodies are resemblances of them, and their patterns do really exist in the bodies themselves; but the ideas produced in us by these secondary qualities have no resemblance of them at all. There is nothing like our ideas existing in the bodies them- selves. They are in the bodies we denominate from them, only a power to produce those sensations in us; and what is sweet, blue, or warm in idea, is but the certain bulk, figure, and motion of the insensible parts in the bodies themselves, which we call so. 16. Flame is denominated hot and light; snow, white and cold ; and manna, white and sweet, from the ideas they produce in us; which qualities are commonly thought to be the same in those bodies that those ideas are in us, the one the perfect resemblance of the other, as they are in a mirror ; and it would by most men be judged very extravagant if one should say otherwise. And yet he that will consider that the same fire that at one distance produces in us the sensation of warmth, does at a nearer approach produce in us the far different sensation of pain,* ought to bethink * See Hume’s Essays, 4to. p. 289. Berkeley denies the fire to be the WHAT IDEAS RESEMBLANCES. 247 CHAP. VIII.] himself what reason he has to say that this idea of warmth, which was produced in him by the fire, is actually in the fire; and his idea of pain, which the same fire produced in him the same way, is not in the fire. Why are whiteness and coldness in snow, and pain not, when it produces the one and the other idea in us ; and can do neither, but by the bulk, figure, number, and motion of its solid parts'? 17. The particular bulk, number, figure, and motion of the parts of fire or snow are really in them, whether any one’s senses perceive them or not, and therefore they may be called real qualities, because they really exist in those bodies ; but light, heat, whiteness, or coldness, are no more really in them than sickness or pain is in manna. Take away the sensation of them; let not the eyes see light or colours, nor the ears hear sounds ; let the palate not taste, nor the nose smell; and all colours, tastes, odours, and sounds, as they are such particular ideas, vanish and cease, and are reduced to their causes, i.e., bulk, figure, and motion of parts.'^ 1 8. A piece of manna of a sensible bulk is able to produce in us the idea of a round or square figure; and by being removed from one place to another, the idea of motion. cause of the pain we suffer from a too near approach to it. He con- siders it merely as a sign that a cause of pain exists there, a spiritual cause, which excites the idea of burning in us. We will lay before the reader, however, this comical speculation in his own language: “The fire which I see is not the cause of the pain I suffer after my approaching it, but the mark that forewarns me of it.” (Prin. Hum. Knowledge, § 66.) — Ed. * By pushing a little further the idea of Locke, Berkeley came to deny altogether the existence of the visible world, which for us undoubtedly exists only so far as it is perceived. This subject is dis- cussed in his first dialogue of Hylas and Philonous, at the conclusion of which the materialist is compelled to acknowledge that properly and immediately nothing can be perceived but ideas. All material things, therefore, are in themselves insensible, and to be perceived only in our ideas. Upon this the idealist inquires, “Ideas, then, are sensible, and their archetypes, or originals, are insensible?” To which the advocate of matter replies in the affirmative. But (continues his triumphant adversary) “ how can that which is sensible be like that which is insensible? Can a real thing, in itself invisible, be like a colour, or a thing which is not audible be like a sound? In a word, can anything be like a sensation or idea, but a sensation or idea?” To which Hylas answers, “ I must own I think not, and the whole visible universe melts away at the force of the magical word.” (See his work, vol. i. p. 159, 8 VO.) — Ed. 248 OF HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. [bOOK II. This idea of motion represents it as it really is in the manna moving : a circle or square are the same, whether in idea or existence, in the mind or in the manna; and this both motion and figure are really in the manna, whether we take notice of them or no : this everybody is ready to agree to. Besides, manna, by the bulk, figure, texture, and motion of its parts, has a power to produce the sensations of sickness, and sometimes of acute pains or gripings in us. That these ideas of sickness and pain are not in the manna, but effects of its operations on us, and are nowhere when we feel them not, this also every one readily agrees to. And yet men are hardly to be brought to think that sweetness and white- ness are not really in manna, which are but the efiects of the operations of manna, by the motion, size, and figure of its particles on the eyes and palate; as the pain and sickness caused by manna are confessedly nothing but the effects of its operations on the stomach and guts, by the size, motion, and figure of its insensible parts, (for by nothing else can a body operate, -^s has been proved); as if it could not operate on the eyes and palate, and thereby produce in the mind particular distinct ideas, which in itself it has not, as well as we allow it can operate on the guts and stomach, and thereby produce distinct ideas, which in itself it has not. These ideas being all effects of the operations of manna on several parts of our bodies, by the size, figure, number, and motion of its pai-ts ; why those produced by the eyes and palate should rather be thought to be really in the manna, than those produced by the stomach and guts ; or why the pain and sickness, ideas that are the effect of manna, should be thought to be nowhere when they are not felt ; and yet the sweetness and whiteness, effects of the same manna on other parts of the body, by ways equally as unknown, should be thought to exist in the manna, when they are not seen or tasted, would need some reason to explain. 19. Ideas of •primary Qualities are Resemblances; of secondary^ not . — Let us consider the red and white colours in porphyry : hinder light from striking on it, and its colours vanish, it no longer produces any such ideas in us ; upon the return of light it produces these appearances on us again.* * But this reasoning proves nothing, for darkness is a mere curtain, which conceals the object altogether. By the same method we might 249 CHAP. VIII. J WHAT IDEAS RESEMBLANCES. Can any one think any real alterations are made in the porphyry hy the presence or absence of light, and that those ideas of whiteness and redness are really in porphyry in the light, when it is plain it has no colour in the dark 1 It has, indeed, such a configuration of particles, both night and day, as are apt, by the rays of light rebounding from some parts of that hard stone, to produce in us the idea of redness, and from others the idea of whiteness ; but whiteness or redness are not in it at any time, but such a texture that hath the power to produce such a sensation in us. 20. Pound an almond, and the clear white colour will be altered into a dirty one, and the sweet taste into an oily one. What real alteration can the beating of the pestle make in any body, but an alteration of the texture of it*? 21. Ideas being thus distinguished and understood, we may be able to give an account how the same water, at the same time, may produce the idea of cold by one hand and of heat by the other whereas it is impossible that the same water, if those ideas were really in it, should at the same time be both hot and cold; for if we imagine warmth, as it is in our hands, to be nothing but a certain sort and degree of motion m the minute particles of our nerves or animal spirits, we may understand how it is possible that the same water may, at the same time, produce the sensations of heat in one hand and cold in the other; which yet figure never does, that never producing the idea of a square by one hand which has produced the idea of a globe by another. But if the sensation of heat and cold be nothing but the increase or diminution of the motion of the minute parts of our bodies, caused by the corpuscles of any other body, it is easy to be understood, that if that motion be greater in one hand than in the other, if a body be applied to the two hands, which has in its minute particles a greater motion than in those of one of the hands, disprove the existence of extension and figure, since in the dark they can no more be perceived than colour, at least by sight. — E d. \ * Philosophical illustrations, like theatrical wit, appear to be hereditary. Berkeley, a very great borrower of ideas, makes use of this example, v^ich may possibly have passed down through a hundred works: ‘ ‘ Suppose, now, one of your hands hot and the other cold, and that they both at once be put into a vessel in an intermediate state, will not the water seem cold to one hand and warm to the other?” (Dialogue the First, p. 119 .) — Ed. 250 OF THE HUMAK UNDERSTANDING. [bOOK II. and a less than in those of the other, it will increase the motion of the one hand and lessen it in the other, and so cause the different sensations of heat and cold that depend thereon. ^ 22. 1 have in what just goes before been engaged in phy- sical inquiries a little further than perhaps I intended; but it being necessary to make the nature of sensation a little understood, and to make the difference between the qualities in bodies, and the ideas produced by them in the mind, to be distinctly conceived, without which it were impossible to discourse intelligibly of them, I hope I shall be pardoned this little excursion into natural philosophy, it being necessary in our present inquiry to distinguish the primary and real qualities of bodies which are always in then^ (viz., solidity, extension, figure, number, and motion, or rest,; and are some- times perceived by us, viz., when the bodies they are in are big enough singly to be discerned,) from those secondary and imputed qualities which are but the powers of several com- binations of those primary ones, when they operate without being distinctly discerned; whereby we may also come to know what ideas are, and what are not, resemblances of something really existing in the bodies we denominate from them. 23. Three Sorts of Qualities in Bodies . — The qualities, then, that are in bodies, rightly considered, are of three sorts. First, the bulk, figure, number, situation, and motion or rest of their solid parts ; those are in them, whether we per- ceive them or not ; and when they are of that size that we can discover them, we have by these an idea of the thing as it is in itself, as is plain in artificial things. These I call primary qualities. Secondly, the power that is in any body, by reason of its insensible primary qualities, to operate after a peculiar manner on any of our senses, and thereby produce in us the different ideas of several colours, sounds, smells, tastes, &c. These are usually called sensible qualities. Thirdly, the power that is in any body, by reason of the particular constitution of its primary qualities, to make such a change in the bulk, figure, texture, and motion of another body, as to make it operate on our senses difierently from what it did before. Thus the sun has a power to make wax CHAP. VIII.] SECONDARY QUALITIES. 251 white, and fire to make lead fiuid. These are usually called powers. The first of these, as has been said, I think may be pro- perly called real, original, or primary qualities, because they are in the things themselves, whether they are perceived or not ; and upon their different modifications it is that the secondary qualities depend. The other two are only powers to act differently upon other things, which powers result from the different modifi- cations of those primary qualities. 24. The first are Resemblances; the second thought Resem- hlamces, hut are not ; the third neither are, nor are thought so . — But though the two latter sorts of qualities are powers barely, and nothing but powers, relating to several other bodies, and resulting from the different modifications of the original qualities, yet they are generally otherwise thought of; for the second sort, viz., the powers to produce several ideas in us by our senses, are looked upon as real qualities in the things thus affecting us; but the third sort are called and esteemed barely powers; v. g., the idea of heat or light, which we receive by our eyes or touch from the sun, are commonly thought real qualities existing in the sun, and something more than mere powers in it. But when we consider the sun in reference to wax, which it melts or blanches, we look on the whiteness and softness produced in the wax, not as qualities in the sun, but effects produced by powers in it; whereas, if rightly considered, these qualities of light and warmth, which are perceptions in me when I am warmed or enlightened by the sun, are no otherwise in the sun, than the changes made in the wax, when it is blanched or melted, are in the sun. They are all of them equally powers in the sun, depending on its primary qualities ; whereby it is able, in the one case, so to alter the bulk, figure, texture, or motion of some of the insensible parts of my eyes or hands, as thereby to produce in me the idea of light or heat; and in the other, it is able so to alter the bulk, figure, texture, or motion of the insensible parts of the wax, as to make them fit to produce in me the distinct ideas of white and fiuid. 25. The reason why the one are ordinarily taken for real qualities, and the other only for bare powers, seems to be, because the ideas we have of distinct colours, sounds, &c., 252 OF HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. [book it. containing nothing at all in them of hulk, figure, or motion, we are not apt to think them the effects of these primary qualities, which appear not, to our senses, to operate in their production, and with which they have not any apparent congruity or conceivable connexion. Hence it is that we are so forward to imagine that those ideas are the resem- blances of something really existing in the objects themselves; since sensation discovers nothing of bulk, figure, or motion of parts in their production ; nor can reason show how bodies, by their bulk, figure, and motion, should produce in the mind the ideas of blue or yellow, &c. But in the other case, in the oj^erations of bodies, changing the qualities one of another, we plainly discover that the quality produced hath commonly no resemblance with anything in the thing pro- ducing it ; wherefore we look on it as a bare effect of power. For though receiving the idea of heat or light from the sun, we are apt to think it is a perception and resemblance of such a quality in the sun; yet when we see wax, or a fair face, receive change of colour from the sun, we cannot imagine that to be the reception or resemblance of anything in the sun, because we find not those different colours in the sun itself. For our senses being able to observe a likeness or unlikeness of sensible qualities in two different external objects, we forwardly enough conclude the production of any sensible quality in any subject to be an effect of bare power, and not the communication of any quality, which was really in the efficient, when we find no such sensible quality in the thing that produced it; but our senses not being able to discover any unlikeness between the idea produced in us, and the quality of the object producing it, we are apt to imagine that our ideas are resemblances of something in the objects, and not the effects of certain powers placed in the modification of their primary qualities, with which primary qualities the ideas produced in us have no resemblance. 26. Secondary Qualities twofold; first, immediately 'per- ceivable; secondly, mediately perceivable . — To conclude, beside those before-mentioned primary qualities in bodies, viz., bulk, figure, extension, number, and motion of their solid parts, all the rest whereby we take notice of bodies, and distinguish them one from another, are nothing else but several powers in them depending on those primary qualities, whereby they OF PERCEPTION’. 253 CHAP. IX.] are fitted, either by immediately operating on our bodies, to produce several different ideas in us, or else, by operating on other bodies, so to change their primary qualities as to render them capable of producing ideas in us different from what before they did. The former of these, I think, may be called secondary qualities, immediately perceivable; the latter, secondary qualities, mediately perceivable. CHAPTER IX. OF PERCEPTION. 1. Perception the first simple Idea of Rejlection. — Percep- tion, as it is the first faculty of the mind exercised about her ideas, so it is the first and simplest idea we have from reflec- tion, and is by some called thinking in general: though thin ki ng , in the propriety of the English tongue, signifies that sort of operation in the mind about its ideas, wherein the mind is active; where it, with some degree of voluntary attention, considers anything. For in bare naked perception, the mind is, for the most part, only passive; and what it perceives, it cannot avoid perceiving. 2. Is only when the Mind receives the Impression. — What perception is, every one will know better by reflecting on what he does himself, what he sees, hears, feels,